Harry flew one last lap around the grounds. Neville was at the back door to the house waving. Algie and Enid must have left then. Harry pointed his broom toward the ground. He did several loops before landing a few feet away from Neville.

"I hope Gran didn't see that," Neville said with a smile.

Harry shrugged. Mrs. Longbottom didn't mind Harry taking the occasional flight of the grounds or having a pickup game of Quidditch when he and Neville's friends visited. However, she vocally disapproved of foolhardy and showboating stunts. She was convinced Harry did to make Neville feel inadequate.

“Are Algie and Enid gone then?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Neville confirmed. "We both just got owls from the Ministry."

"Who's we?" Harry asked as the boys walked the short distance to the broom shed on the side of the house.

"Us," Neville motioned his hand between the two of them.

"What's the Ministry want with us?" asked Harry.

"I don't know," Neville admitted. "Gran wanted me to get you so we could open them together. She thinks it's probably about the same thing since they came together."

Harry nodded. That made sense, why send multiple owls to the same place on the same matter? Still, Harry didn't know what the Ministry might want with him. Was Scrimgeour going to make yet another request for Harry to show his support for the Ministry? If that was the case, why did Neville have a letter too?

"That was a foolish stunt, Potter," Mrs. Longbottom said with a disapproving sniff as the boys entered the sitting room.

"Sorry," Harry said not showing the least bit of remorse. It was a little over two weeks before he turned seventeen years old. He would be free to leave Mrs. Longbottom's care and start his hunt for the Horcruxes. It wouldn't hurt to have his flying skills well-tuned, tricks and all.

"Did Neville inform you of the Ministry's missive?" Mrs. Longbottom said handing Harry a cup of tea. There were two of his favorite biscuits sitting on the saucer. Harry smiled at the sight, Mrs. Longbottom may be hard on him and Neville but the little things she did were a reminder that she truly did care. She was just old fashioned in the way she displayed it.

Harry nodded, "Do you know what it could be about? "

"I have no idea better idea than you, Potter. I suggest that you open them."

Neville set down his cup, gesturing for Harry to do the same. Harry followed his friend's lead and picked up the parchment. They broke the seals of their envelopes together. Harry read through the letter twice the words never sinking in properly. Neville sat beside him, his lips moving silently as he read his letter.

"And what did the Ministry request, Potter," Mrs. Longbottom asked when Harry lowered the letter.

“They want to come here," Harry said looking down to the parchment again.

"In regard to what," demanded Mrs. Longbottom.

"Dumbledore's left me something in his will," Harry informed her.

"You too?" Neville asked.

Harry nodded. "Why would he have done that?" asked Harry. At the glare for the perceived slight of her grandson, Harry elaborated, "I mean, why would Dumbledore leave me anything?"

"You were his favorite," Neville said easily, "everyone knows that.”

"I wasn't," Harry tried to protest but stopped with the exasperated look on the other boy's face.

"Harry, who else could do half the things we did and not get in trouble?" Neville asked dumbfounded. "The man gave you points for breaking rules."

“He didn't," Harry refuted.

"What do you call our winning the House Cup our first year?” Neville replied.

"You and Hermione were there too. You got points too," Harry reminded him.

"Only because you were there too," Neville said shaking his head.

“Neville, you will write the Ministry official that sent that and tell them in no certain terms they will not be allowed to come here," Mrs. Longbottom informed her grandson promptly ending any further discussion of the deceased headmaster. “You will do the same, Potter."

"Why me, Gran? Shouldn't it be you? " asked Neville surprised by the concealed anger in the old woman's voice.

"I will be writing the Minister himself. He knows I want nothing to do with him," Mrs. Longbottom said firmly.

Harry looked over at his friend. Neville gave a small shrug. As if to answer the boys’ unasked question Mrs. Longbottom said, "If he was doing his job properly, your mother and father would still be here Neville. Scrimgeour was the head of Magical Law Enforcement Office at the time.”

“What are we supposed to say, Gran?” Neville asked looking back to the letter.

“You will tell the Ministry that under no circumstances will you meet with any minister official in our residence or the Ministry of Magic itself. You will do the same, Potter.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t want to meet with the Ministry about anything. After his experiences with Umbridge, he had no love for the bureaucracy. Even Minister Scrimgeour’s desire to use him as a mascot was enough to not for him not to want to cooperate with the Ministry’s request.

Harry happily wrote his response in a moment. Neville was a bit more hesitant to do the same. The boys sent their response back with Hedwig after lunch.

Hedwig returned the next morning at breakfast. One of the house elves, Harry still didn’t know all of their names, brought the letters to the table.

“It’s from the Minister himself,” Harry said reading the signature line.

“What does he have to say for himself?” Mrs. Longbottom asked.

“He understands our reluctance to come to the Ministry or to welcome him into our home. The matter he needs to discuss if the utmost of importance so he would like to schedule a meeting at a neutral location such as the Leaky Cauldron or Gringotts.”

“Gringotts,” Mrs. Longbottom said firmly.

“Does yours say the same?” Harry asked Neville.

The other boy nodded, still stunned to receive personal correspondence from the Minister of Magic.

“You can suggest a time next week. We will busy with your birthdays and Weasley wedding the week after,” Mrs. Longbottom offered.

Harry nodded. He wondered what could be so important that the Minister of Magic would be taking time out of his day to write Harry and Neville. The Minister responded that we would meet them at the bank on the following Wednesday at ten in the morning.

~ ~ ~ · · · · · ~ ~ ~ · · · · · ~ ~ ~

Harry woke up on Wednesday morning before dawn, too nervous to get back to sleep. He sank down on his floor opening his trunk. Both of the summers he had stayed with the Longbottoms, Mrs. Longbottom had requested Harry clean out his trunk properly. He had never done it. The first year, he had a hard-enough time getting himself out of bed in the morning to worry about cleaning out the torn clothes and broken quills that had fallen to the bottom of his supplies. He was not trying to make room for his supplies for his last year at Hogwarts. No, he was only looking for the things that would be of use to him on his hunting Horcruxes.

Harry smiled softly as his fingers closed around the soft red leather cover of the photo album that Hagrid gave him at the end of his first year at Hogwarts. He flipped the book to the last page to the photograph of his mother. She was so young and beautiful in this picture. Harry’s heart broke a little thinking out about receiving this photo. It was not in the album when Hagrid had presented it to him. He had gotten it in the owl post on his way back to Little Whinging. Professor Snape had sent it to him because the half-giant had not bothered to ask Lily’s onetime best friend if he had any pictures he might want to contribute to the project.

Harry moved the album into a rucksack he had purchased during his one trip to Muggle London with Sirius. Harry was shocked to learn his godfather; the product of Pureblood fanatics had spent a good amount of time in Muggle London before his time in Azkaban. He had spent a few nights living rough on the streets until he came into a small inheritance from one of his uncles.

Harry pulled out a large stack of books from the side of the trunk. The cast his eye down the titles quickly setting all but one aside. It was not a class text like all the others. It was one of the most practical gifts he had ever received, though. Harry sighed as he put the book on wizarding first aide into the backpack. There was a good chance he might need that in the near future.

Harry might not be returning to the castle but he still would have a number of people he cared about still there. He ran an affectionate hand down the worn parchment. The Marauder’s Map joined the book and album in the backpack.

Harry threw the “Potter Stinks” badge across the room. The model of the Hungarian Horntail was set on his night table. The little dragon gave a small yawn before curling up in a ball and napping once more. He found the last thing that he was looking for as he scraped the bottom of his trunk, the two-way mirror that Sirius had meant to give him before he returned from winter holidays. He had never gotten the chance, however, kidnapped and killed by the Death Eaters while they tried to escape Azkaban.

“What’s all this,” Neville asked looking into Harry’s room.

“What?” Harry said dumbly.

“Don’t let Gran see this mess. You know how she like our rooms to be neat,” Neville teased.

Harry shrugged.

“What are you doing?” Neville said more seriously as he took a seat on Harry’s bed.

“Cleaning out my trunk,” Harry explained.

“Then shouldn’t you be putting your books in there?” Neville asked.

Harry shook his head. Neville frowned in confusion.

“I’m not going back,” Harry explained.

“Don’t be daft,” Neville protested.

“I can’t go, Neville,” Harry said slipping the mirror into the backpack.

“You can,” Neville insisted.

Harry shook his head, “No, there’s something more important that I have to do.”

“More important than your education,” Neville asked skeptically.

Harry nodded. “It’s something that Dumbledore asked me to do.”

Neville didn’t get a chance to ask what that would be because his grandmother was yelling they would be late for their appointment with the Minister of Magic.

~ ~ ~ · · · · · ~ ~ ~ · · · · · ~ ~ ~

Harry walked slowly up the marble steps of the Gringotts bank. It was still as intimidating as it was the first time he came at eleven years old. That was just under six years ago. He had been accompanied on that trip by Professor Snape who had rescued Harry for the first of oh so many times. That morning The Daily Prophet had announced the man was to be the new Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.The Daily Prophet had announced the man was to be the new Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Harry was the only person who knew the whole truth of what happened at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Most of the people in the wizarding community thought Snape was the cold-blooded murderer of Albus Dumbledore. Harry bury his thoughts of that night deep under his shields. He didn’t need to see the old man falling off the tower once again.

“Mr. Potter, Mrs. Longbottom,” a goblin greeted as they entered the bank.

Harry and his companions followed the little man down a long hall off to the side of the huge lobby.

“Harry,” Hermione greeted brightly pulling the boy into a tight hug as soon as he entered the room.

“What are you doing here,” Harry asked confused, hugging the girl right back.

“I don’t know exactly,” she admitted. She broke away to give Neville the same greeting, despite the disapproving looks from Mrs. Longbottom.

Harry was free to look around the room now that his vision wasn’t blocked by a mass of curly brown hair. The Minister of Magic sat in a large plush chair by a large window. Next to the Minister were the matching heads of Fred and George Weasley. Then came another unexpected person.

“Luna,” Harry announced.

“Hullo Harry,” the blonde greeted.

Luna motioned for him to come and sit beside her. Harry hesitated. Hermione shoving him between the shoulder blades set him into motion. He sat next to the girl. She gave him a sad smile as she wound her fingers between his.

“If we are ready,” the Minister said curtly cutting off any chance for further greetings. The rest of the group found seats quickly. “I have gathered you here for the reading of the will of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.”

“Why are we doing this now?” Hermione asked.

“What was that Miss Granger?” The minister asked annoyed.

“Why has it taken this long?” Hermione repeated.

“The Ministry needed to ensure that the bequeathed items were safe.” The minister explained tersely.

“You’re only supposed to do that if the items are suspected to contain dark magic,” Hermione protested.

“Hermione,” Harry grumbled.

“Are you planning on following a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?” Scrimgeour asked.

“No,” Hermione said vehemently, “I want to do some good in the world.”

Fred and George laughed at the horrified face of the Minister of Magic.

“The girl has a good question, Rufus. Why are you giving their items now?” Mrs. Longbottom said from the corner.

“It’s because they have to,” Hermione said answering her own question. “They have to give them to us now that the thirty-one-day limit has passed. If they haven’t found anything containing dark magic they are required to give them back.”

Mrs. Longbottom glared at Scrimgeour. “You believed Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of our times, would pass on dark artifacts to school children? Are you really that much of a fool?”

“Why would Dumbledore choose to leave anything thing to students? Were you close to the headmaster, Mr. Weasley?” Scrimgeour demanded of Fred.

Fred shrugged, “Dumbledore and I spent a good amount of time together over the years.”

Harry was impressed at how easily the boy answered the question. Had Fred really known Dumbledore all that well?

“And you Miss Lovegood,” Scrimgeour asked turning to Luna.

“It’s not your place to question their relationship with the man, Rufus,” Mrs. Longbottom warned. “Give the children their items and let us be on our way. We have no desire to keep you from your important Ministry business.” Harry could hear the contempt in her voice as she said that phrase.

“To Luna Lovegood, I leave the painting, Vanishing Girl,” Scrimgeour read as a small framed painting was placed on the goblin’s desk. “Do you have an idea why Dumbledore would leave you a painting Miss Lovegood?”

“I like to make friends with the portraits,” Luna said looking away from the confused Minister of Magic.

“Do you know this particular painting?” The minister demanded.

“Not yet,” Luna said looking at the painting. “She has pretty hair though. I wonder where she is going.”

The Minister moved on not sure how to respond to such comments.

“To Frederick Gideon Weasley,” Scrimgeour began again, “I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it. That is a valuable item, Mr. Weasley. It may be even unique. Certainly, it is of Dumbledore’s own design. Why would he have left you an item so rare?”

“Ahhh,” Fred said airily. “He always did like a good joke.”

“To what use did he think you would put his Deluminator, Mr. Weasley?”

“Maybe he figured it could help me and George put out some lights. It’s so much easier to set a prank in the dark.” Fred answered.

The Minister seemed to accept this answer.

Scrimgeour read the next entry, “To George Fabian Weasley, I leave a vial of phoenix tears from my own familiar Fawkes. The tears of the phoenix are one of the rarest ingredients in existence. They must be freely given. Why would he leave you something so rare? His fondness for jokes again?”

“Probably not,” George admitted. “No, Fawkes took a shine to me. He healed a pretty bad cut I got a while back.”

Scrimgeour’s frown deepened unsure if the young man was lying.

“To Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, in the hope, she will find it entertaining and instructive.” Scrimgeour asked Hermione, “Why would Dumbledore leave you this item?”

“He…He knew I liked books,” Hermione choked out, her voice tight with emotion.

“Why that book? Did you ever discuss passing codes with Dumbledore?” Scrimgeour demanded.

“No,” Hermione said as she wiped her eyes. “If the Ministry didn’t find a code it in the last month, I doubt I will.”
The Minister’s temper was becoming increasingly short.

“To Harry James Potter, I leave the golden snitch that he caught in his first ever Quidditch game at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.”

“Why would he leave you this snitch, Potter?” Scrimgeour demanded.

“I don’t know,” Harry said as he took the ball in hand.
It was clear from the way he watched Harry’s action he expected the ball to react some way.

“Was there something special about that first match?” Scrimgeour asked.

“I don’t remember,” Harry lied, hoping his face didn’t give him away.

The Minister looked as if he was going to argue, but changed his mind, “Mr. Neville Longbottom, I leave the sword of Gryffindor as a reminder that bravery can come in many forms. Sadly, I will not be able to present you this item, Mr. Longbottom.”

“What,” demanded the rest of the group.

“You have no right,” objected Hermione.

“Dumbledore had no right to give the sword away. It was not his personal belonging, but that of Godric Gryffindor. The sword can present itself to any worthy Gryffindor. It did not present itself to Mr. Longbottom, so he can not claim that it was his that way.”

“Oi,” hissed Fred. “That’s uncalled for, Minister. You don’t have to insult Neville. He’s plenty a Gryffindor. He stood up to a twelve-foot mountain troll as a first-year.”

Neville blushed slightly.

“My grandson is worthy of anything that Dumbledore tried to bestow him,” Mrs. Longbottom said. “Come now children, the Minister has things he needs to get to,” Mrs. Longbottom issued the group of young people out of the room before the Minister was able to voice any further objections. Fred and George took Hermione and Luna with them to the shop before they were to return the Burrow that evening.

“Augusta,” Madam Bones greeted Mrs. Longbottom as the re-entered the lobby of the bank.

“Amelia,” Mrs. Longbottom replied.

“May I discuss a matter with you,” Madam Bones requested.
“I was going to take Neville and Potter back to the house,” Mrs. Longbottom protested.

“It’s rather pressing,” Madam Bones pleaded.

“We can go and wait in Fred and George’s shop,” Harry suggested.

Mrs. Longbottom sighed, “Very well, I don’t want to see any of their….products…in the house, Potter.”

“Yes ma’am,” Harry said as he motioned for Neville to follow him out of the bank.

~ ~ ~ · · · · · ~ ~ ~ · · · · · ~ ~ ~

Harry sank in beside Luna on the newly transfigured sofa. The inherited items lay across the coffee table in front of them.

"What are we supposed to do with all of this?" Harry asked the room in general.

"I don't know, mate," Fred admitted. "I don't even know what this is." He picked up the object that resembled a silver cigarette lighter once more.

Fred flicked the button once more, the nearest light was drawn to the Deluminator "Does it do that every time?" Neville asked.
The redhead flicked it again, the light returning to the lamp.

"Why would he leave us that?" George asked. "What good is that going to do?"

"To provide a light in the darkest of times," Luna said airily.
Fred frowned, slipping the lighter into his pocket. Harry's fingers closed around the small gold ball.

"What could be so special about this?" Harry asked.

"They have flesh memories," Luna remarked.

"All snitches have flesh memories," Hermione pointed out.

“What do you think Dumbledore enchanted it so only Harry could open it or something?” asked George.

“It’s possible,” Hermione answered. “You had to notice the way Scrimgeour watched Harry take it from him. He clearly expected something to happen.”

“I didn’t catch this one,” Harry objected.

“Yes, you did,” Neville insisted.

Harry shook his head, “No, I didn’t catch the snitch in my first game, I nearly swallowed it.”

“Why didn’t you say that before?” inquired Hermione.

“I didn’t want Scrimgeour asking too many questions,” Harry said with a smile. He placed his lips on the small gold ball. Words in Dumbledore’s familiar hand appeared, ‘I open at the close.’ Harry read the words aloud.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” demanded George.

“Don’t know George,” Fred said honestly. “Knowing Dumbledore, it’s some sort of puzzle.”

Harry nodded setting the Golden Snitch back on the table.
There was a pause as they stared at the remaining objects. Fred picked up the copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. "You remember what page ‘Babbitty Rabbitty’ was on, George?”

“Fifty-three,” George said easily.

Fred opened the book to find the mentioned page but groaned a moment later. “It’s in ancient ruins. Who wants to do all that work for ‘The Wizard and the Hopping Pot?’”

Hermione took the book back from him. “Clearly it wasn’t left to you for a reason.” She opened the book flipping through the book for the requested story.

“That’s strange,” Luna said pointing at a symbol at the top of one of the pages.

Harry frowned. “What’s strange?”

“That’s not a ruin,” she said indicating the mark once more.

“It’s not?” Harry asked.

Hermione studied if for a moment. “It’s not one I’m familiar with if it is. Do you have a copy of Spellman’s Syllabary?”

“Why in the name of Merlin would we have one of those?” George asked. “We didn’t take Ancient Ruins.”

Hermione shook her head in disapproval.

“You wouldn’t find it in there,” Luna insisted. “It’s not a ruin, it’s the Hollows.”

Hermione ignored the comment and instead asked, “Why would Dumbledore leave us a painting?” She turned to the blonde girl that had had a comment to everything in the past. “Do you know who she is?”

“No,” Luna said firmly. “She has lovely hair though...”
Harry sighed.

"The tears of a phoenix make sense," Harry said picking up the small glass vial.

"Really?" protested George.

Harry nodded. "They've saved my life once already. Down in the Chamber of Secrets. I would have died from the basilisk bite if it weren’t for Fawkes."

"Why did Dumbledore try and leave me the sword?" Neville asked. His fingers twisted the hem of his shirt. "Harry's the one that drew the sword from the Sorting Hat."

"You're just as much of Gryffindor as I am," Harry said with a smile. "You've been with me every step of the way."

"Not every," Neville protested. "You faced You-Know-Who alone at the graveyard."

Harry shook his head. "You would have been there if you could."

“I agree with Neville, he isn’t the logical choice to leave the sword. It should have been you, Harry. You’re the one who removed it from the Sorting Hat. Why did Dumbledore think we need the sword anyway?”

Harry sighed, “That’s something I need to tell you all.”

“What’s that?” Fred asked.

“Is there something you haven’t told us before?” Hermione asked finally putting her book away.

Harry nodded. “Dumbledore didn’t want me to tell you anything. He was worried that the more people knew the greater the risk the information could fall into the wrong hands.”

“Then shouldn’t you obey his wishes,” Neville said uneasily.

“No,” Harry insisted, “Dumbledore…I understand why he wanted to do that way. But I need you to all to understand. There’s so much…”

“Harry,” Hermione grabbed Harry’s hand anxiously.

The boy pulled his hand away. He rose and ran a hand through his already messy hair.

“What do we need to know?” Fred asked as Harry paced the small room.

Harry sighed.

“Is it about You-Know-Who?” Neville suggested.
Harry nodded.

“Does it have to do with the sword too?” added George.
Harry shook his head then hesitated, “I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?” asked Hermione.

Harry sighed. “I don’t know. There were so many things I didn’t get a chance to ask him. Things he didn’t explain. But there are things you should know. Things you will have to know if for whatever reason I’m not there…”

“Don’t say that,” Hermione pleaded.

“It’s war, Hermione,” Harry said flatly. “We have to acknowledge that anybody can die.”

“I know…” Hermione said weakly.

“What is that we need to know?” Fred said directing them back to the original topic.

Harry sat back down and told them all about what his lessons with Dumbledore had covered. He told them of Voldemort’s miserable childhood in the orphanage, his propensity to steal items from those he terrorized. He explained everything he knew about Horcruxes, the way the dark magic could get to those who spent time with them, the diary that possessed Ginny in her first year at school the first Horcrux to be destroyed, how Voldemort had placed protective magic around them, the ring had carried a deadly curse that had lead to the death of the greatest wizard in a century, what had happened in the cave the night Dumbledore died. The only thing he didn’t tell them what he learned from Professor Snape after the attack on Malfoy.

The group determined that Harry and Hermione would leave on the hunt directly from the wedding. If anything were to go wrong between then and the wedding they were to meet at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. They would determine what to do from there.

Mrs. Longbottom came in some time later. Whatever business Madam Bones needed to discuss with her must have been very complicated. It was nearly dinner time by the time they arrived back to the Longbottom’s house.

Neville’s grandmother retired not long after dinner. Harry and Neville said goodnight to her and moved into the study to play a game of chess.

“Harry,” Neville said as he moved his pawn in his opening move.

“What is it Neville,” Harry said moving with practiced ease to counter the move. Neville almost always opened with the same move. It was later in the game that he got more inventive and hard to predict.

“I’ve been with you since we went through the trap door in first-year,” Neville said as he studied Harry’s move.

Harry nodded. “I know.”

Neville took a deep breath, “You’re not going back to Hogwarts.”

“I’m not,” Harry confirmed. “What’s wrong, Neville?”

Neville took another deep breath, mumbling something into his chest.

“What was that?” Harry asked apologetically.

“I can’t come with you this time,” Neville said nervously.

Harry’s hand paused as made to move his bishop.

“I know you probably want me to come. I would. I don’t want to leave you without support. But Gran…” Neville rambled.

“Neville, stop,” Harry ordered.

Neville stopped speaking, his eyes wide.
“I knew you wouldn’t be coming,” Harry said setting the forgotten bishop into an almost random square.

“You did,” Neville asked shocked.

Harry nodded. “Your gran is too important to you. She would murder me if something were to happen to you.”

Neville gave him a weak smile. “She would. She won’t be too happy to hear that you’re not going back to school. You know how important education is to her.”

“I know,” Harry said with a chuckle. “That’s why I’m not going to tell her.”

“What!” Neville demanded. “You’re just going to disappear?”

Harry shook his head. “I going to leave a note for her to find after the wedding.”

“You know she’ll murder you for that the next time she sees you,” Neville asked.

“What else can I do?” Harry asked.

Neville sighed and shook his head. “At least you’re not taking the Knight Bus in the middle of the night.”

“I’m never taking that bus again if I can help it,” Harry said with a grin.

“Can you believe Stan Shunpike is a Death Eater,” Neville asked with a shake of his head.

“The Ministry said he was one,” Harry corrected. “If Stan really is a Death Eater I’ll kiss Malfoy.”

Neville’s outburst of laughter at the statement woke a very disgruntled portrait of the boy’s great-great-grandfather.

~ ~ ~ · · · · · ~ ~ ~ · · · · · ~ ~ ~

Harry sat next to Neville at the dining table at the Burrow on the night before the wedding, Neville’s birthday.

“I have held onto this for you for a long time,” Mrs. Longbottom said passing over a small box.

Neville carefully ran a finger under the tape. His fingers twitched as he revealed a brown leather box to display a handsome gold pocket watch. With great love and care touched the face of the watch.

“This was Dad’s,” Neville said softly.

“And his grandfather’s before him,” his grandmother supplied. “I told you it would be yours.”

Neville nodded. “I know, Gran. I’ll take good care of it.”

She gave him a warm smile. “I trust you will.” She handed Harry a slightly large box than Neville’s had been. “I know you haven’t spent much time in your family’s vault. As your guardian, William was able to grant me access to collect this for you.”

Harry looked over to Bill who shrugged. Harry pulled back the paper. He frowned at the small hinged bits of wood. He removed it from the box opening it to see two faces.

“Good Lord it’s bright,” complained the male face on the right side. Harry studied his features. He had seen this man’s face once before in the Mirror of Erised. He had the small bit of hair that stuck up at the back of his head that Harry and James both had. “Hello, James.”

“Language dear,” the woman scolded lightly. “That’s not James, dear. James didn’t have such lovely green eyes, his eyes were hazel.”

“Right,” grumbled the man.

“James was my dad,” Harry informed the pair.

“That makes us your great-grandparents,” the woman said with a warm smile, “I am Genevive and my husband is Thaddeus. What is your name, love?”

“Harry,” the boy said, “Harry Potter.”

“That’s lovely, we are pleased to meet you, Harry,” the old witch said.

Harry did his best to hide the tears that were accumulating the corner of his eyes during this short exchange.

Sensing the need to move on, Remus took a box from Tonk and handed it to Neville saying, “I can’t say mine will have as much meaning as your Gran’s but I hope you like it.”

Neville wiped at the corner of his own still misty eyes. “That’s fine, Remus. You didn’t have to get me anything.”

Remus had gotten Neville a text on the care of a fanged teruntella plant, to go along with the small cutting of the plant. If the boy, now young man took care of it properly, it would grow into a huge predatory plant capable of eating rats and other small mammals within a year.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” Remus reassured, “we didn’t get you a plant.”

Harry gave the werewolf a small smile, “Thanks.” Then realizing what the man had said, “Who's we?”

“Me and Dora,” Remus answered.

“Dora,” Harry repeated looking to the werewolf, then to the woman beside him.

“It’s still Tonks to you,” the witch said. Her hair was back to the shocking pink Harry always associated with the witch.

“What else would it be,” Harry said confused.

“Merlin, you’re thick, Potter,” George complained exasperatedly.

“Look at her hand, Harry,” Fred ordered. “Are you sure that we are depending on you to win this war?”

Harry did as he was told and looked at Tonks’ hands. On the left, she wore a thin gold band with a small diamond between two equally small rubies.

“Wait,” Harry demanded. “Remus, you got married?”

The werewolf nodded. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to let you attend. We’ve kept it pretty quiet. The Ministry has been particularly anti-werewolf at the moment.”

Harry shook his head in dismissal. “Nevermind that,” Harry said with a grin. “This is the most brilliant thing I’ve heard in ages.”

Remus sighed in relief. He must have been concerned how Harry might have taken the news.

“That’s not your present,” Tonks interjected.

“It’s not?” Harry asked, surprised.

“Of course not,” Tonks said as if it was the most obvious thing.

Tonks passed him over a small wooden box. Harry opening it to see it was filled with a number glass vials filled with many different colored liquids. Harry read the names of a few.

“They’re healing potions,” Harry observed.

“They are,” Remus confirmed, “I didn’t brew them and I know you don’t care for brewing. I thought you might appreciate these to assist with such a task if you were in need.”

Harry’s head bobbed up and down, “These will be very useful, I’m sure.”

Mrs. Weasley’s gifts were next. For Neville, she had purchased a new pair of dragon-hide gloves. To Harry, she gave a watch. “I’m sorry this isn’t new,” she apologized.

Harry recognized it in an instant. “This was Mr. Weasley’s,” Harry said rubbing a speck of dirt from the face.

“Arthur would have wanted you to have it,” Mrs. Weasley said softly.

Harry removed the watch from its box and strapped it to his left wrist. Hagrid had gotten both boys the same thing, a fuzzy drawstring pouch made of mokeskin, they could wear them around their necks. The sacks could only be opened by its owner. They were weightless despite how full they were and could expand to more than ten times their size.

Harry knew at once what he was going to put in his sack. There were few items that were important to him, that would not fit in it. The only things that would not were his Firebolt, Hedwig, and possibly the photo album. Everything else from his rucksack could fit in there.

Neville seemed a bit more confused what to do with the gift. Unlike Harry, he had never had to worry about hiding his prized possessions from those who might want to take or destroy them. Hermione gave them each a Sneakoscope. Luna had presented Neville with a dirigible plum. Her gift to Harry was a bit less straightforward, an enchanted box. Her card said the box would not let the dark escape. Harry smiled and kissed her not sure what he could possibly do with the box. He would make sure to add it his pouch later away. Luna normally had a reason for what she did, even if it seemed totally mad to anyone else.

~ ~ ~ · · · · · ~ ~ ~ · · · · · ~ ~ ~

The morning of the wedding was chaotic as everyone prepared for the ceremony that evening. Harry, along with the twins, and Ron were serving as ushers. Percy and Charlie were the groomsmen and best man respectively. Harry didn’t mind the job. Many were surprised to see the famous Harry Potter helping out in such away. The only person he hadn’t enjoyed helping find their seat was Great Auntie Muriel. She made several comments about his messy hair. It reminded him greatly of Aunt Petunia. He expected this is what she would be when she was this old.

As he left to help the next guest Harry heard her making comments to the person beside her about the quality of the decorations.

“Is she always like that?” Harry asked.

“There’s always something wrong?” asked George.

“That you’re not good enough?” Fred continued.

“Asking questions she has no right to?” said George.

Harry nodded.

“Always,” the twins answered together.

“Our Muriel isn’t happy when there’s not something to complain about. And when there’s nothing to complain about, she’ll complain about that,” explained Fred.

“She’s not that bad,” Percy insisted as he joined the small group at the back of the tent.

“Then you take care of her during the reception,” ordered Ron. “Ronald, you must do something about that hair. Ronald, what’s that fuzz on your lip?”

They all laughed.

“I’ll take care of her,” Percy agreed.

Harry sat in the row just behind the Weasley family, Luna to his left, Hermione on his right. Krum sat on Hermione’s far side, but he seemed to be leaning away from her. Harry watched curiously as they aged wizard conducted the bonding ceremony that was a wizarding wedding. The only thing he could compare it to was what he had seen on television. It didn’t seem all that different from a Muggle ceremony.

The reception was one of the biggest parties Harry had ever been to. The dance floor was crowded with guests. Ron was stepping all over Lavender's toes as they stumbled their way around the floor. Harry was doing his best not to do the same to Luna.

As they made their way around the floor Harry spotted Hermione. The girl’s features were tense. He did his best to follow her line of sight as he spun Luna under this arm. Krum stood by the drinks table, talking with Ginny. The redheaded girl was laughing at something Krum must have said.

“What’s wrong,” Luna asked as Harry narrowly avoided crashing into another of the house elf loaded down with goblets.

He gestured to Hermione. “Should we go talk to her?”

Luna pulled Harry off the dance floor. Hermione stood fuming where she was before.

“Come,’ Luna said moving the girl to one of the back tables.

“Can you get us some drinks, Harry?” Luna asked.

Confused Harry left the girls to talk.

“Potter,” Krum said.

“That girl, Ginny, I was talking to, is she still dating your friend… Neville,” Krum asked.

“Yeah, she is and he’s the jealous type,” Harry said for good measure.

Krum muttered something under his breath in Bulgarian.

Harry grabbed three mugs of butterbeer heading back to the table. He dodged around the tables as house elves moved around with trays of things. He almost crashed into a table as he tried to avoid crashing into a pushed out chair.

“Your reflexes are still excellent James,” an old woman said.

Harry frowned at the comment, “Mrs. Bagshot it’s Harry.”

“You were always Albus’ favorite son, James. He would want you to see this,” Mrs. Bagshot said removing something from her bag.

Harry took the offered item, “This is Rita Skeeter’s book. How did you get a copy?”

The old woman had toddled off before she answered his question. Harry slipped the book under his arm as he picked up the mugs of butterbeer once more.

“What’s that,” Hermione said taking her mug from Harry.

“A copy of Rita Skeeter’s new book,” Harry said giving Luna her own mug.

“Why do you have it?” Hermione asked, picking it up to look at the cover.

“Bathilda Bagshot though I was my dad. She said he was always Dumbledore’s favorite son.” Harry explained.

“Favorite son,” Hermione repeated confusedly.

Harry shrugged, “They told us last summer she’s gone a bit batty.”

“Hermione,” Krum said getting the girl’s attention.

“Have you come to apologize?”

“What do I have to apologize?” Krum demanded.

“You were flirting with Ginny! She’s Neville’s girlfriend,” Hermione snapped.

Krum made a disapproving noise, “That’s not important now!”

“It’s not,” Hermione said dangerously. “What could be so much more important?”

“Who is that man,” Krum demanded, pointing at Mr. Lovegood across the way, his yellow robes easy to spot.

“Mr. Lovegood,” Harry said cautiously, “He’s Luna’s father.”

Krum looked from Harry to his girlfriend. “Why does your father wear the sign of Grindelwald?”

“Are you sure it’s Grindelwald’s sign?” Harry asked.

“I am not mistaken,” Krum said coldly. “I walked past the sign for several years, I know it well.”

Harry sighed.

Luna was much more down to earth than usual when she spoke. “It’s not Grindelwald’s sign.”

“I am not mistaken,” Krum insisted as his fingers curled around the hilt of his wand.

Luna’s response was cut short as a silver lynx came running onto the dance floor. It spoke in the low, slow, and deep voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt. “The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”

~ ~ ~ · · · · · ~ ~ ~ · · · · · ~ ~ ~

Hermione grabbed Harry and Luna’s wrists and Apparated them away. Harry opened his eyes once the world stopped spinning to see a familiar door, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

“Where are we,” Luna asked.

“A place I once called home,” Harry said morosely pushed open the door.

The hall was dark as they entered. Harry carefully avoided where troll leg umbrella stand normally stood. He frowned when he spotted it on the ground.

Harry shook his head. The temperature dropped as a black cloud in the shape of Albus Dumbledore came rushing toward them, his head out stretched.

“We didn’t kill you,” Harry yelled. The cloud disappeared in a black puff.

“Moody must have done that after Dumbledore’s...after that night…” Hermione said her voice still shaken.

Harry nodded as he stepped further into the house, righting the umbrella stand as he went. Hermione lit a few of the glass lamps as they walked into the house.

Harry led the way to the familiar space of the drawing room. The abandoned game of chess he and Sirius were playing over Christmas before his disappearance still sat on the low table, untouched. Harry was half-tempted to overturn the board. Instead, he sank into Sirius’ favorite chair.

The girls sat next to each other on the sofa. The room was filled with a heavy silence, the only sound, the soft ticking of the mantle clock Sirius had gotten Remus for his birthday during Harry’s fourth year at Hogwarts.

The creaking of the stairs had all three on their feet, wands drawn in an instant.

“It’s only me,” Remus said holding up his hands.

“Prove it,” Harry demanded not lowering his wand.

Remus nodded. “Ask anything you like?”

“What was the only thing Sirius could fix for breakfast,” Harry asked.

“Beans on toast,” Remus said with a sad smile. “What was sitting in my office the first time Harry Potter and I had tea?”

“A grindylow,” Harry said, finally lowering his wand.

“Luna, Hermione,” Remus said, “You would do well to express some of Harry’s caution.”

“Yes sir,” Hermione replied instantly.

Remus shook his head.

“What’s happening?” Harry asked. “How’s everyone? Did they catch anyone?”

“Everyone escaped,” Remus informed him. “The Weasleys are being questioned but are unhurt. They will be under the watch of those calling themselves the Ministry for the foreseeable future.”

Harry looked to Hermione who shook her head so slightly that it was almost unnoticeable.

“What is it?” Remus asked.

“Nothing,” Harry dismissed. “Don’t you need to get home?”

Remus sighed, “Yes, Dora was quite upset.”

“Is she okay?” Harry asked worriedly.

“Fine,” Remus reassured, “she was unharmed, just shaken up.”

“Then what?” Harry began.

“It’s nothing…” Remus said.

“Can you take Luna back with you,” Harry requested.

“I want to stay,” Luna said looking up to Harry.

“No,” Harry said firmly, “I can’t let you come.”

“It’s not your decision to make,” Luna told him.

“Luna,” Harry sighed, “I can’t put you in that much danger. This is different than anything else we’ve ever done. Besides, you’re underage. You’ll still have the Trace on you.”

“Harry,” Luna said her tone much lower, pleading.

“No,” Harry said firmly, “I can’t do that to you. You matter too much to me.” He pulled the blonde close to his chest. “I need you to be safe. That means away from me. You’ll go back to Hogwarts in a month. The teachers will protect you there.”

Luna held tightly onto Harry. “We’ll wait for you to return.”
Harry dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I know you will.” He gave her a tight squeeze before letting her go. He pushed her gently away toward the werewolf.

Luna took the man’s hand and they were gone in the blink of an eye, leaving Harry and Hermione alone in the once again silent room.

“We should get some sleep,” Harry said unsure what else to do.

“Can we…can we stay here tonight…together…I don’t think I could stand being alone right now.” Hermione pleaded.

Harry watched as Hermione removed two large squishy sleeping bags from the beaded bag she had carried with her at the wedding.

“What do you have in there?” Harry asked.

“Everything I could think we might need,” she said easily. “I have your rucksack with your clothes, my belongings, some books, the products Fred and George gave you for your birthday…”

“Everything,” Harry summarized with a grin. He really could never fully capture in words how grateful he was for his friend’s preparedness.

Harry let Hermione take the sofa as he lay a few inches from the piece of furniture below her. He drifted off into an uneasy slumber sometime later, lulled to sleep by the gentle sounds of Hermione’s slow deep breaths. He woke early, the light coming through the curtains still the purpley black of pre-dawn. He stretched to get the ache of sleeping on the floor out of his back.
Restless, Harry wandered the house, his feet leading him, his destination unknown.

Harry found himself upstairs standing outside Sirius’ bedroom door. In all the time, he lived here he had never been inside his Godfather's bedroom. Harry pushed open the door not sure what to expect.

The room was covered in faded red and gold banners of Gryffindor. There were Muggle posters of motorcycles and bikini clad girls. Harry ran a hand over the bureau. His hand found a piece of parchment. He picked it up letting his eyes take in the words.

It was a letter from his mother, Lily to Sirius. They were already living in Godric’s Hollow. James was anxious to escape, even for a little while, but Dumbledore had his Invisibility Cloak. What was most interesting to Harry was the mention of Bathilda Bagshot and what she had to say about Dumbledore.

“Harry,” Hermione called. “Harry,” she called again, sounding a bit more panicked.

“Up here,” Harry called back.

“Thank goodness,” Hermione said joining Harry in Sirius’ room.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked.

Harry shrugged. “I’d never been in here. Not the whole time we lived together.”

“Oh Harry,” Hermione said softly running a hand over his back.
Harry shook his head, “I’m fine,” he passed her the letter he found.

Hermione smiled as she read. “Where’s the rest?”

“I don’t know. I want to go to Godric’s Hollow, Hermione. I want to know what Bagshot was on about at the wedding.” Harry inform his friend.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Harry?” Hermione asked. “I’m sure he’ll expect you to do there. He’ll be watching it. Maybe later, after we’ve found a Horcrux or two.

Harry sighed, “We have no idea where they are, Hermione. I can’t help feeling that Dumbledore would want me to go there. It would make sense that You-Know-Who left a Horcrux there.”

“Harry, I’m having a hard time believing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could have made as many as seven Horcruxes. From what I’ve been reading, the soul becomes unstable after making one. To make seven is…” Hermione drifted off.

“Is pushing magic beyond its limits,” Harry finished.

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. Her stomach growled, breaking the tension of the room.

“Let’s get some breakfast,” Harry said pushing her back out of the room.

“Are you going to move back into your old room?” Hermione asked as they entered the hallway.

Harry looked at the door across from Sirius’ room. “I don’t know. May-”

“Harry,” Hermione said worried as Harry had stopped speaking mid-sentence.

“Look at the sign, Hermione,” Harry said pointing at the door to Regulus’ bedroom.

The sign read, “Do not enter without the express permission of Regulus Arcturus Black.”

“R.A.B. Do you think it’s the same RAB from the locket?” Hermione asked excitedly.

“Professor Snape said Regulus was a Death Eater. If he got disenchanted with what You-Know-Who was doing. He could have stolen the necklace,” Harry said speaking faster as he went.

“There was a necklace. Remember when we were cleaning up that first summer?” Hermione asked.

“Nobody could open it,” Harry agreed. “Do we know what happened to it?”

“We threw everything out,” Hermione said uncertainly.

“No,” Harry countered. “Sirius wanted to, but Kreacher snuck tons of things back,” Harry said very clearly, “Kreacher.”

The ugly old elf appeared before them an instant later.

“Master called,” Kreacher croaked.

“What happened to that necklace that no one could open from when we were clearing up those years ago?” Harry asked. Then he added before Kreacher could answer, “You must not lie to me.”

“Kreacher took back Master Regulus’ locket,” the elf answered.

“Bring it to me, Kreacher,” Harry ordered.

“Kreacher can’t,” the elf said brokenly.

“Why?” Harry demanded.

“Mundungus Fletcher stole all of Kreacher’s things,” The elf said between sobs.

“Go find him,” Harry ordered.

The elf disappeared with a crack.

“Now what do we do?” Harry asked softly.

Harry made the two of them breakfast. Hermione read Harry several of the tales out of “Beedle the Bard,” as they waited.

The rest of the day passed as they waited anxiously for news. Harry and Hermione had decided to move upstairs. Harry was back in Regulus’ old room, Hermione in the room next door.

“Hermione, what happened to that book Bagshot gave me at the wedding?” Harry asked over lunch their second morning at number twelve.

“It’s in my bag,” she answered distractedly as she read through
The Tales of Beedle the Bard once more.

“Of course, it is,” Harry said. He should have expected nothing less from his friend.

“Is there something you wanted to see,” Hermione asked.

“I don’t know. There are so many things he didn’t tell me.” Harry said uneasily.

“And you think Rita Skeeter is the best place to start looking for answers,” Hermione asked skeptically. “You know what she’s like, Harry. How much truth do you really think is in that book?”

“How much truth did Dumbledore tell me?” Harry shot back frustrated. “He never told me anything. He waited for me to go running into a situation and hope that I came out of it alright. He only ever told me the least amount of information that I needed afterward to explain what happened.”

“How is reading lies about Dumbledore going to make up for that Harry,” Hermione asked calmly.

Harry sighed. “How can we know they’re lies?”

“Harry,” Hermione said cautiously.

“Auntie Muriel and some of Neville’s gran's friends have said some things,” Harry said.

“Said things about what?”

“About Dumbledore when he was young, about his family. He never told me about them,” Harry said uncertainly. “There’s something about them he didn’t want anyone to know.”

“And you think that might be in the book,” Hermione guessed.

“Maybe,” Harry said with a shrug.

Hermione dug the book out from the depth of her bag and handed it to Harry, with a look of disapproval.

~ ~ ~ · · · · · ~ ~ ~ · · · · · ~ ~ ~

Hermione spent the next several days going through the books Sirius left Harry to see if anything might be useful in their hunt. There was little she considered truly useful. The other ones she added to the beaded handbag she always had now.

As they were sitting down to lunch on the third day there was the sound of the front door opening. Harry and Hermione drew their wands as the intruder faced the cloud Dumbledore.

“Who's there?” Harry demanded meeting them at the end of the hall.

“It’s us you spotted git,” Fred said coming into view.

“What did Fred and George try and send me my first stay in the Hospital Wing after the thing with Quirrell?” Harry asked wand still pointed at the nearer of the twins.

“A toilet seat you git,” George snapped. “Now lower your bloody wands.”

Harry did as requested, “You alright?”

“As good as we can be. The Ministry spent the last two days interrogating us about where you might be,” Fred answered.

“Everyone okay,” Harry asked leading them down to the kitchen.

“Everyone’s fine. They think that Ron should know where you are,” George replied casually.

“Ron!” Hermione and Harry said together.

“The lot they sent us obviously aren’t the sharpest quill in the pot,” George said with a grin.

“They didn’t ask Ginny hardly anything. Maybe because Neville was still at the wedding when you lot disappeared,” Fred explained. “When is Neville joining us or is he here already?”

“He’s not coming,” Harry said softly.

“What was that Harry?” Hermione asked.

“Neville’s not coming,” Harry said again loud enough for all to hear.

“Don’t tell me that he’s chickened out now,” Fred said.

“Don’t say that,” Hermione said hitting him in the upper arm. “Neville wouldn’t do that.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s for his gran. He can’t leave her not knowing where he is or what he’s doing.”

“You didn’t tell her anything?” Hermione asked. “Does she know we’re not going back to school?”

“She will now. I left her a note about what we’re doing… or that Dumbledore left us with something to do.” Harry said uneasily.

“What do you mean she’ll know now?” Hermione demanded.

“I left her a note,” Harry answered guiltily.

“Harry James Potter! How could you do that!” Hermione scolded.

“There's no way she would have let me out of her sight if I told her what we were doing,” Harry said in his own defense.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest.

“Come on Hermione,” Fred cajoled, “You know Harry’s right.”

“That wasn’t very nice Harry,” Hermione said in the same disapproving manner.

“I don’t know what else to do,” Harry sighed.

“Enough of that,” George said trying to ease the tension. “So, what’s next? Where are those Horcruxes?”

Harry told the twins about the necklace, Kreacher and Regulus, how the elf was searching for Mundungus and stolen necklace, the arrival of the twins gave Harry and Hermione things to do while they waited for Kreacher to return with the thief. Harry called Dobby to give him the mirror to Luna. The mirror would do him little good while they were on the run but if the girl was in danger she could call on Remus for help. Harry knew the werewolf would do all he could to help her.

It was a week before the house elf returned with a furious Mundungus Fletcher. The hound-dog faced wizard no longer had the necklace it was taken from him by Dolores Umbridge.
“How are we going to break into the Ministry of Magic?” Harry asked as Mundungus left. “We would have to be the luckiest people alive to do that successfully.”
Fred snickered.

“What’s so funny about that Fred,” Hermione asked.

“It’s a good thing that we started brewing a batch of Felix Felicis,” Fred answered with a cocky grin.

“Felix takes six months to be prepare,” Hermione reminded them.

“Ahh…well after Ron nearly kicked it in March we figure we thought we might have used all the luck our family was allotted for this war,” George explained.

“You started brewing it in March,” Harry asked astonished.

“Yep,” Fred confirmed. “It should be done the first week of September.”

“That’s great,” Harry said with a grin.

“Don’t you think we would be doing something before we try to break into the Ministry?” Hermione asked.

“Like what,” Harry asked.

“We need to figure out a way to destroy the Horcrux once we get hold of it,” the girl suggested.

“We can’t just depend on luck mate,” Fred added. “We’ll need to come up with a plan on how to get into the Ministry.”

“She’s still the Under Secretary for the Minister of Magic,” George added. “You know she will be deep in the Ministry.”

Harry sighed. “What do you think we should do?”

“We’ll need to find out what is going on in the world,” Hermione answered instantly.

“We can’t exactly have The Daily Prophet delivered here,” Harry protested.

“We can nick copies from the Ministry folks, pick up the day-old issues from the trash,” Fred answered. “Lee Jordan is running a radio station too.”

“Lee’s running a radio station,” Hermione repeated confused.

“He’s going to talk about what the Order is doing to resist You-Know-Who and things,” George clarified.

“How is that going to work?” Harry asked with a furrowed brow. “If he’s running a radio station doesn’t that mean anyone of the Death Eaters can find out what they’re planning?”

Fred shook his head, “You have to know the frequency before you can tune in, then there’s a password you have to say too before you can listen.”

“How do you get the password,” Hermione asked curiously.

“It’s at the end of every show,” explained Fred.

“That’s interesting,” Hermione said.

The four decided they would have to use the Polyjuice to sneak into the Ministry. They would break in after the Felix was ready. In the meantime, Hermione began brewing the Polyjuice so it would be ready to go when the twins’ Felix was complete.

“Can you believe that slimy git is taking Dumbledore’s place?” Fred demanded, clearly disgusted.

“You-Know-Who thinks he’s one of his most loyal followers,” Hermione pointed out. “He’s been in the school for eighteen years. An experienced teacher is a better choice than someone who has never worked in the school.”

“He killed Dumbledore,” George objected. “He is a loyal follower. He played us all. None of the professors are going to trust him.”
Harry said nothing, not trusting himself to speak.

“Are you alright mate,” Fred asked spotting the look on Harry’s face.

“Fine,” Harry said pushing away from the table. “I think I’m going to have a lie-down.”

Harry wandered upstairs. He lay on his bed staring up at the faded green and silver hanging on his bed.

There was a knock on his door, “Can I come in?” Hermione was at his door.

“Yeah,” Harry said scooching over to give her a place to sit.

“What’s bothering you, Harry? Is it Snape?” Hermione asked softly.

“No…Yes…” Harry said pushing his hair back away from his eyes.

“You don’t think he should be Headmaster?” Hermione suggested.

“George is right, none of the professors are going to trust him,” Harry began.

“But you still do,” Hermione observed.

“You weren’t there Hermione. You don’t know what happened. You don’t know everything that I do.” Harry said with a soft sigh.

“Then tell me. That’s why we’re all here. You’re mad at Dumbledore for not telling you everything you needed to know. Do you want to do the same thing?” She asked.

“This is different,” Harry objected.

“How,” protested Hermione.

“It has to be me. I’m the one that will have to face You-Know-Who in the end. I know everything that I need to,” Harry explained.

“And the rest of us don’t deserve to know the same,” Hermione asked pointedly.

“No,” Harry said sitting up. “It’s not like that. It’s just…it’s like with Mrs. Weasley or Mrs. Longbottom. They need to know that we’re doing something Dumbledore left us to do, but if we told them more they would be in danger.”

“And here I was thinking you didn’t tell Mum what we were up to because you were scared she’d be mad at you,” Fred said leaning casually on the door.

“By the guilty look on his face, I’d say that’s part of it, Fred,” George said standing behind his brother. “Harry, you’ve seen the papers. You are Undesirable Number One, wanted for questioning in the death of Albus Dumbledore. I would bet my last knut that makes Hermione Undesirable Number Two. Me and Fred, we’ve got to be pretty high on that list too if they even suspect we are on the run with you. If we get caught, we’re dead already.”

“Don’t say that,” Hermione scolded.

Harry sighed. George was right. He would have to tell them something. They were putting their lives in danger, just as much as he was.

“What is it, Harry?” Hermione said gently placing a hand on Harry’s knee.

Harry took a deep breath before speaking. “Professor Snape…” Harry began.

“What about the slimy git,” Fred snapped standing up right.

Harry shook his head. “Don’t call him that. Dumbledore, he knew, he knew he was dying. His hand was cursed after he put on You-Know-Who’s ring. Professor Snape helped to contain the curse but he couldn’t stop it. Dumbledore asked him to kill him...when the time came. He didn’t want to do it. Dumbledore didn’t want to die at the hands of a Death Eater… for Malfoy to become a killer…”

“Oh my,” Hermione breathed softly.

“You said it,” Fred agreed.

Hermione came up with a schedule for each of the four of them they took turns using the Invisibility Cloak to watch the entrance to the Ministry watching the coming and goings of the Ministry officials as they arrived in the morning and left in the evenings.

All employees were now being forced to enter the Ministry to enter via a new guest entrance. Muggle-borns were being forced to register. Snape was the newly appointed Headmaster of Hogwarts.

The four of them needed to find members that arrived at a similar time each day and left at a similar time. Fred and George had the first several turns as they knew many people who worked in the building from coming to work with their father and licensing their own products. Hermione didn’t want to mistakenly replace a high-level official and get pulled into an important meeting and lose the little time they would have under cover with Polyjuice Potion.

The four of them practiced defensive magic for at least two hours a day preparing for any sort of battle that might occur if their plans didn’t work out. The Felix required more attention as it grew closer to the last stages of completion. Fred and George were taking turns monitoring its condition. They were already lucky the Death Eaters had not found it when they conducted the search of the shop. After their practice sessions, they would listen to Lee’s radio program that now always included in the list of the most recently fallen.

As September first drew closer Harry’s mood darkened. The Ministry under the control of Voldemort now required all children of half-blood or better status attend Hogwarts. Harry knew friends were in heading into danger and he could not help.
Harry was in a particularly bad mood the last night of August. His scar ached with Voldemort’s anger, over what Harry was uncertain. He went upstairs to take a bath to relax his sore muscles intentionally missing Lee’s nightly broadcast. When he came down stairs, the looks on his friends' faces told him something was wrong.

“What is it,” Harry demanded without preamble.

“You might want to take a seat mate,” George advised.

“What is it,” Harry repeated unmoving.

“Harry,” Hermione said softly.

“Was is on the list,” Harry demanded.

Fred nodded.

“Who is it? Not Remus,” Harry pleaded.

Hermione shook her head. “No, Remus is fine as far as we know.”

“Hagrid,” Harry guessed.

“No mate,” Fred said. “It’s your family.”

“The Dursleys,” Harry said confused, “What about them?”

“The Order was trying to move them to safety. They thought the Death Eaters might want to kidnap them to use them as leverage or something.” Fred explained.

“They’re Muggles. What could they possibly know,” Harry asked dumbly. “Are they okay?”

“The Death Eaters were waiting for the Order there was a battle. Amelia Bones was killed. The house burned down,” continued Fred.

“Dudley, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon,” Harry asked.

“They’re all gone, Harry,” Hermione said softly.

“Why,” demanded Harry numbly. “I haven’t spoken to them in years. They didn’t even like me…”

“I’m so sorry Harry,” Hermione said hugging her friend.

“You all need to go,” Harry said standing up.

“Go,” Hermione repeated.

“Go,” Harry insisted. “I can’t let you come with me. I’m putting you all and your families at too much risk. I have no one left.”

“Don’t talk rubbish,” George ordered. “You have plenty of family, Harry. When will you get that through your thick head you’re one of us.”

“Besides,” Fred added, “Mum would kill us if she found out we let you run off to play the hero by yourself. She’d murder you too for being an idiot. A noble idiot is still an idiot.”

“Hermione,” Harry begged. “What about your parents?”

“They’re safe. They…they don’t know where I am…. They don’t even realize they have a daughter.” Hermione said her voice becoming choked with emotion.

“What do you mean they don’t know they have a daughter,” George asked the girl.

“I wanted them to be safe. I wanted to make sure that they didn’t know anything that might put them in danger.” Hermione explained. “They think their names are Wendell and Monica Jones and their life’s ambition was to move to Australia, which they’ve done. If I survive the war, I’ll go and lift the enchantment and return them to who they used to be. If I don’t, I hope they’ll be happy.”

“Hermione,” Harry said stunned by the length his friend would go to protect those she loved.

“Just make it worth it,” Hermione said poking him in the chest with it each word.

Harry sighed and nodded.

Harry watched the mantle clock as it ticked past eleven o’clock the next morning. For the first time in seven years, he was not at King’s Cross Station. The twins were at the shop working on the position. Hermione was reading on something or other. Harry spent the day stewing waiting for some sort of news, his eyes on the Marauder's Map waiting for names to appear on it.

“What are you doing Harry,” Hermione asked when she found him the in the library around dinner.

Harry motioned to the map, “Just waiting to see they got there safely.”

Hermione pulled out her DA coin. “Neville sent a message that the train was searched, they were looking for you. Everyone is fine.”

Harry sighed in relief. Then removed his coin from the pouch around his neck. It was blank. “Why didn’t he message me as well?”

“Oh, he didn’t? We talk sometimes, Harry. You must know that,” Hermione said trying to sound casual but the blush creeping its way into her cheeks betrayed her.

At least his friends should be safe once more inside the protective wards of Hogwarts.