With no small amount of apprehension, Harry allowed Hermione to lead him back to the hospital wing. Ron was sitting by Ginny's bed, Percy in the middle, and George was sitting next to Fred's bed, with his head resting on one arm on the mattress, and one hand covering his twin's. Percy looked up as Harry came behind the screen and smiled weakly. It made him look younger.

"You ought to be here too, Harry."

Well. Harry certainly hadn't expected that. Hermione had gone to sit down next to Ron, and Harry realized there was another chair there now. Shaking a little, he went and sat down.

George sat up and looked at Harry for the first time since the attack. Harry held his breath, but George smiled and held out an arm without speaking. The sparkle of mischief hadn't returned to his eyes—Harry knew it wouldn't until Fred woke up—but the haunted look was fading. Harry gratefully hugged George, then watched him return to the exact same position on the edge of the bed, staring at Fred's face.

A long time later, there were hushed voices outside the screen, then Madam Pomfrey came in with Professor McGonagall. She smiled at all of them, but said, "I suppose it's useless asking any of you to go and get some sleep?" Ron snorted, Harry and Hermione smiled, and Percy shook his head. "Well, George Weasley, you at least should rest." George ignored her, or maybe he didn't hear.

Professor McGonagall exchanged glances with Madam Pomfrey and rolled her eyes slightly. Then she went over to the bedside where George was leaning on the mattress and patted his shoulder fondly. Getting no response, she rested her hand on top of his red hair and began gently stroking his forehead with her thumb.

Harry and the others sat up in surprise as George's eyes drooped closed and his head drifted down onto his arm. When Professor McGonagall removed her hand, George was out. She smiled at them, took an extra blanket from Madam Pomfrey and draped it over George. "Shh," she said to them, and walked serenely from behind the screens.

Harry exchanged open-mouthed looks with the others. "Is that legal?" Percy wondered.

"Probably not," Hermione whispered, smiling at the twins, "but it was the right thing to do."

Movement from the other bed made them all turn. "Percy?" Ginny mumbled sleepily.

Hermione gave Percy her chair, and she and Harry stood behind Ron's, each with a hand on his shoulder as Percy went to sit with his sister. "How are you feeling, Gin?"

"Na' s'bad. When'd you get here?"

"A few hours ago. I'm sorry it wasn't sooner." Harry had never seen Percy this way before. His voice was very soft, his entire manner very…brotherly. And as close to tears as he was, he bore a striking resemblance to his mother.

Ginny smiled and said, "Glad you're back, you stupid git. Missed you."

"Me too. I…sorry, Gin. I'm sorry for everything." Percy rested his head on the edge of Ginny's pillow, talking softly with his eyes never leaving her face.

That was the sight that greeted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie when they came in around midnight. "Percy!" Bill gasped.

Harry and the others spun around. "Mum!" Ginny said weakly.

Mr. Weasley's eyes darted from his bedridden daughter to the twins, and he quietly sobbed into his hands. Mrs. Weasley, to Harry's astonishment, did not cry. She went to Ginny first, embracing her carefully. Then she hugged Ron, then Percy (so tightly that Harry feared both their ribs would break), then she went to the sleeping twins, gently kissing each one on the forehead.

"They'll be fine, Molly," said Professor Dumbledore's voice from behind them. Mr. Weasley didn't look up from where he was sitting on the twins' bed, but Mrs. Weasley turned. "Fred had a close shave, but we pulled him through."

"What was he hit with?" Bill asked Hermione.

"Remember the curse Dolohov used on me at the Department of Mysteries?" she muttered grimly. "It seems to be a Death Eater favorite—and this one had his voice. We're lucky he wasn't as skilled as Dolohov."

Harry shivered. Just then, Mrs. Weasley glanced over and seemed to see him for the first time. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Harry's heart began turning cartwheels, and it became hard to breathe. Ron, Hermione, even Percy in a roundabout way had told him they didn't blame him, and he had assumed Mrs. Weasley would be the same.

But now, with one son almost dead and her only daughter seriously hurt…Harry wondered: would she still care for him? She had once counted Harry as one of her sons—to Sirius, no less—but…after this…would she still? Or would she want nothing more to do with him? Harry swallowed hard as Mrs. Weasley came toward him, thinking matter-of-factly that if she pushed him away, he'd walk calmly up to the Astronomy Tower and jump off.

Mrs. Weasley stopped in front of him, then seized the sides of his face in her hands and cried, "Don't you dare blame yourself for this, Harry Potter!"

Behind them, Ron sniffled loudly, Hermione burst into tears, and Harry gladly hid his face in Mrs. Weasley's shoulder to stop himself from doing the same. The rest of the Weasleys came to echo their matriarch's sentiment, and soon after that, Fred and George woke up.

Fred stirred first, just a little, causing a hush to fall over the rest of them, and George was up like a shot, grabbing Fred's hand and watching him with wild eyes. With Madam Pomfrey's approval, Bill bundled Ginny in her blanket and carried her over to the twins' bedside.

As they all watched silently, Fred's eyelids fluttered and slowly opened. His groggy gaze traveled over all of them to finally settle on his white-faced twin. He licked his lips and murmured, "'Lo, old boy. Wha'd I miss?"

George collapsed onto the mattress, sobbing, as Fred grinned weakly and patted his head. Then Mrs. Weasley was crying, then all of them were crying—but laughing at the same time.

It was a fitting way for Fred Weasley to wake up.

HOGWARTS ATTACKED!

Wards Compromised Temporarily, Aurors Report…

The first inter-House Quidditch match at Hogwarts School was tragically interrupted Saturday by fourteen Death Eaters apparating into the grounds. Victims appear to have been targeted at random, resulting in more than forty injuries among the student body and faculty, however no deaths are reported. Some witnesses have told the Daily Prophet that the assailants paid particular attention to the Gryffindor House Quidditch team, whose Seeker is Harry Potter.

It is confirmed that the Boy-Who-Lived was among the wounded, but reports conflict over whether he was injured during the attack itself or immediately beforehand in a Quidditch accident. It is unquestionable, however, that Potter was targeted by the Death Eaters, and two of the worst injuries were sustained by Fred and Ginevra Weasley in their heroic defense of the Boy Who Lived.

Harry sighed heavily, looking at the picture of himself draped over the motionless Fred and Ginny as Aurors ran toward them immediately after the battle. "I wasn't injured," he muttered. "Just bloody useless."

"Stop talking that way!" Hermione scolded. "Obviously those dizzy spells happened because Voldemort did something to you to keep you down."

"She's right," said Ginny, taking the paper away. "He probably knew between you and Dumbledore, you'd make short work of the Death Eaters." She sat back against the piled-up pillows of her hospital bed and read aloud, "'Early Auror speculation is that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was present at the edge of Hogwarts grounds and that he was able to disable the wards in time for his followers to apparate in. However, as the Death Eaters were unable to apparate out again and thus were apprehended, the Ministry says that we may consider this a failed attack.

'However, many parents of injured students are finding this poor consolation, and demand increased security at the school.'"

Harry smiled at her. "You skipped the part about my being a potential danger to the school."

"I do not read twaddle," Ginny replied primly.

Hermione gave Harry a warning look, so he bit back all he wanted to say. Still, that didn't stop him from thinking it. They were the targets, not me. I've made them all targets.

Just then, Percy came in with Professor Dumbledore and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Fred and George were both asleep again. "Feeling all right?" Percy asked Ginny, kissing her forehead.

"Better," she replied.

Dumbledore remarked, "Perhaps we should obtain an extra bed for George while his brother is here."

"That might be wise," chuckled Mrs. Weasley. "I can't see anyone prying him out until Fred is released." She shook her head. "I suppose it's too much to hope they'll be less reckless after this."

"For one, maybe," said Percy, looking at the slumbering twins. "Fred might still think himself immortal, but I think George has had a scare he won't soon forget." He sighed. "I'd much prefer they hadn't."

Everyone nodded grimly. A quiet word with Hermione after being evicted from the hospital wing the previous night had revealed to Harry just how close to death Fred had come. It still made him sick to think about it.

Mrs. Weasley had gone to fuss over Ginny, so Harry stood up to give them space. Percy stepped toward him then. "Harry, may I have a word?" he asked quietly.

Harry's stomach lurched. With that hellish Saturday behind them, he had realized this morning that there were many things left unsaid between himself and Percy. And he wasn't at all looking forward to the interview. Still, judging by the meaningful looks Ginny and Ron were giving their older brother, this wasn't Percy's decision alone, and it would be easier on the rest of the Weasleys if Harry and Percy laid their quarrels to rest. So he nodded and followed Percy out.

They walked outside, where the shocked silence of the school felt less oppressive, and stopped near the greenhouses. Percy toed the dirt, avoiding Harry's eyes, a far cry from the pompous, posturing figure who had strutted along in Fudge's wake before. He took a deep breath and said, "I'm sure you know what this is about, so I'll just come straight out with it: I owe you an apology. Several, in fact—don't interrupt!" he added, as Harry opened his mouth to give the obligatory protest. "There's no denying…I've been…my behavior's been inexcusable to you for over a year."

Harry shrugged, looking awkwardly through the greenhouse windows. "I wasn't exactly nice to you in America."

Percy smiled bitterly. "No, but…you were right. About my family and…my actions."

Swallowing hard, Harry muttered, "You were right about me, too. My being a danger. I'm sorry," he forced himself to look at Percy. "I really am…I wish Ron had never met me."

Percy raised a hand. "No. That's not fair. Harry, I…I understand now. My parents and my brothers and Ginny. Why they care and what it means and…why that's not your fault. And why Ron would die for you."

"Don't say that!" Harry groaned, resting his forehead against the greenhouse wall. "I can't…can't think about that. He shouldn't have to think about that, I'm just his friend."

"You mean as much to him as Fred means to George," Percy said quietly, and Harry buried his face in his hands, hating himself for how those words made him feel. There was nothing good about it. Why did it seem like such a sure thing that Ron might have to die for Harry? Why couldn't Harry die or get hurt for Ron or one of the others? Why were the people Harry loved the ones who had to suffer?

He'd be better off if he'd never met me, Harry thought again. He'd be safe. They'd all be safe. Aloud, he said, "I'm sorry I can't protect them. I didn't know. I swear I didn't know."

"I know now it's not your fault."

"I should've realized," Harry protested. "If I had, if I'd stopped to think…it wouldn't have gone this far, but now it's too late. They'll never be safe."

"That's You-Know-Who's doing," said Percy, with such conviction that Harry stared at him. "Not yours."

Leaning back against the warm glass, Harry asked, "What made you change your mind?"

"Well…" Percy awkwardly looked away. "That's something else I need to tell you—but you'd better sit down first."

Puzzled, Harry followed him to a cluster of tree stumps, and they sat. "What is it?"

"There's something…" Percy glanced around them, then told Harry slowly, "I should have told you sooner, but I honestly didn't realize you hadn't seen anything at all."

"Seen? Seen what? When?" Harry demanded, growing alarmed.

Percy studied his feet. "That day in the Capitol, when the Pillar of Storgé exploded."

Harry's heart began to race. "Something happened…when I was…"

Percy nodded. "I thought you should know, but," he raised a cautionary hand, "it'll come as a shock. A big one."

Harry swallowed thickly. "I understand. Tell me."

With a deep breath, Percy began, "When I saw You-Know-Who…right there, dueling Professor Snape, I just…froze. I couldn't even…didn't even try to help." He shook his head. "Some Gryffindor I am. But then you touched the Pillar, and for a moment the dust was so thick we couldn't see a thing. When it started to settle, I saw Professor Snape getting up. He'd lost his wand, and You-Know-Who was going to kill him."

"I remember," Harry murmured, confused.

Percy continued, "Just then, when Lord…when he was about to kill Professor Snape, I saw something…it looked like the dust was just swirling, but then…there was someone there, next to Professor Snape. Then they got in front of him, to stop You-Know-Who."

"Mum!" Harry breathed, but Percy shook his head.

"No…Professor Snape was so surprised he fell over some debris, but when we looked…the person in the dust, in front of you…it was a man." Percy's face was solemn as he regarded Harry. "I've seen him in pictures, and…you do look just like him."

Harry's mouth was too dry for words. Dad? My dad was there too? "My dad…"

Percy nodded, looking at his feet. "I don't think I've ever seen Professor Snape so shocked, you see…your dad looked at him, just for a moment, before facing off You-Know-Who again. Then Professor Snape looked back for you, and so did I….that's when we saw your mother."

"I felt her," Harry whispered. "She…they…"

"You were just sitting up," said Percy. "The dust swirled up, then there was a woman, kneeling beside you. She put her arms round you, like she was shielding you, and you just sort of went limp."

"She was protecting me…"

Percy nodded. "You-Know-Who just stared at them, then disapparated. They scared him off somehow."

"Then what happened?" Harry demanded.

"It was…weird. Your father turned and looked at you and your mother, smiling a little. Then they both looked at Professor Snape. I couldn't really see your father's face, but your mother, the way she looked…almost like she was asking him for something. Pleading, sort of. Then they disappeared."

Harry was quiet for a long time. The truth was, he forgot Percy was even there. His mind was reeling, his heart pounding, his throat painfully tight; his parents had been with him. Both of them. His father had faced down Voldemort while his mother had held him and whispered in his mind that everything would be all right. His dad had even protected Snape

No wonder Snape had been acting so odd. Harry wondered idly what his father had looked like to Snape, and what his mother had been trying to ask.

Why had everyone else been able to see Harry's parents except Harry himself? He tried and failed to quash a surge of resentment. To Percy, he muttered, "Thanks. For telling me." But why did I have to hear it from YOU! Dumbledore must have known, and couldn't Snape have been decent enough for THAT if nothing else! They're my PARENTS!

Percy said reluctantly. "Harry…there's one other thing. You ought to know, but…I can't tell you unless you swear it goes to no one else. Not Ron, not Ginny, not Hermione. Especially not the twins."

Harry was startled; he didn't like the thought of keeping anything from his friends now, not with all the other things he had to hide to protect them. "Why?"

"Because the consequences for both of us will be very severe if this gets out," Percy said firmly. "I'm sorry, I know you don't keep many secrets from Ron, but if he or any of the others found out," he smiled wryly. "I'm afraid my siblings would be too proud of me to keep their mouths shut."

Baffled, Harry let curiosity get the better of him. "All right."

"I have your word?"

"Yes."

Percy looked sheepish. "You know I saw what happened outside the Pillar chamber." Harry nodded. "I was very…rattled; I went straight back to tell the Minister. It wasn't to hurt you," he added hastily. "I thought the Minister could help. He and Dumbledore, I mean. I thought they could find a way to stop You-Know-Who from…taking over you like that."

Harry nodded. "It's not fun. What happened?"

Percy sighed, frustration and bitterness vivid on his face. Harry recognized that look, of someone whose every ideal and faith had been beaten down. He'd worn it himself fairly recently. "He…the Minister…wanted to tell the Daily Prophet," he said, in a voice fraught with betrayal. "After I'd written my report, he told me to take it to them, and…he was talking about taking you from Hogwarts."

"What! What for?"

Percy's eyes were dark and a little frightened. "He said maybe the Aurors could watch you until the next time it happened, and then…"

Harry's heart went to his throat. He remembered Dumbledore's words: His aim in possessing you would not have been my destruction. It would have been yours. "But…that wouldn't destroy Voldemort," he said faintly. "Only kill me. That's why he does it."

"I know!" Percy exclaimed in despair. "I gathered that from what you—he—said to Professor Snape!" He clenched his fists. "And I tried to tell the Minister, but he didn't care. He was almost…excited when I told him, as though…he'd been waiting for an opportunity like this. He wanted…" Percy's voice was disbelieving, "I don't understand. He kept ranting about Dumbledore using you to get all the glory. I told him he'd be killing you, but he said…you were the reason You-Know-Who came back in the first place."

Harry had his arms wrapped around his knees, but still felt very cold. Fudge wanted him dead. That was what Percy was trying to say, trying to warn him. Fudge really did have it in for him. "So…how come I haven't been arrested?" he joked weakly.

Percy's ears began glowing red the same way Ron's did. It made Harry feel a little better, for some reason. "I…this is why you can't mention it to the others. When the Minister wouldn't see reason, I destroyed the report, and…I Obliviated him."

Harry felt his jaw drop. Percy Weasley! Attack the MINISTER OF MAGIC!

"Uh…thanks."

"Lee took over the shop for this week," Ron told Harry in the common room Sunday night. "And Percy and Bill are helping. Fred should be released next week, maybe by Sunday if he follows Madam Pomfrey's instructions."

"Fat chance of that," said Ginny, coming to join them. She'd been released that afternoon.

Hermione, sitting next to Ron checking his Transfiguration homework, nibbled on her quill thoughtfully. "I don't know. Percy may be right about George after this. He's at least realized they're not immortal."

Ron shuddered, scooting closer to her. "I wish they hadn't had to find out like this."

Harry tried to concentrate on his Specialized Defense homework. He couldn't stop thinking about what Percy had told him. Percy and Snape had seen Harry's parents. Cornelius Fudge was willing to kill him, and the Daily Prophet was already speculating that he was putting the school in danger.

And what had passed between his parents and Snape? The questions teemed in his head.

"Harry?"

He blinked. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were watching him with guarded expression, then they exchanged glances in a way that made him snap, "What!"

"Nothing!" Hermione exclaimed. "We just…you were looking distracted, and we wanted—I mean—if you were okay," she mumbled awkwardly.

Harry grabbed his books. "I'm fine," he said crossly. "And if you're all just going to whisper and nudge each other and not tell me what's going on, I'll go upstairs and leave you to it!" He stomped peevishly up to the dormitory.

After he'd been tossing around in his bed for some time, he heard someone come in. "Harry?" said Ron tentatively. "You all right?"

Harry sighed; he shouldn't have snapped at them. They weren't the ones he was really upset with. "Yeah."

"Is…anybody else in here?"

"Don't think so."

The sound of Ron investigating the beds and bathroom made Harry look up curiously. Ron's face was already fully red when he came back. "What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"I…guess I've got something to tell you." Ron stared at his feet. "Hermione's right; it's a stupid thing to keep secret from you."

Harry was getting nervous. What had they been whispering and elbowing each other about all this time? Bloody hell, I don't know how many more earth-shattering revelations I can face today! Nonetheless, he waited, and Ron came and sat on the foot of his bed, staring at the wall. "Well? What's going on?"

"Well…" Ron was so flushed there was sweat on his face. "Uh…er…it's me and Hermione, you see, we…ah…we're what's going on."

"You and Hermione…" Harry frowned in confusion. "What are you and Herimione…wait a minute…" In his head, something clunked into place. He gaped at Ron. "You and Hermione!"

"Shh!" Ron hissed, even though the dormitory was empty. His face looked like a tomato. He dared a quick glance at Harry, then stared at the floor again. "Yeah. That's it. I mean, that's all, I mean, not that it's nothing, but I mean…I wish she hadn't made me tell you myself," he grumbled. "She's better at this sort of thing."

Still in shock, Harry asked vaguely, "Why, er, why did she want you to do it?"

Ron shrugged. "Something about this being a 'man-to-man' conversation. I think she was just scared to tell you."

"Why would she be scared?"

"Well…" Some of the redness was starting to leave Ron's face at last. "You have been a bit…touchy. I mean, we'd have told you sooner, but you'd been sick, and then it just…never seemed the right time…" he trailed off, watching Harry as though waiting for an explosion.

Exploding didn't occur to Harry; he was too busy trying to put it all together. "So…" he said slowly, "you and Hermione…I mean…Hermione's your girlfriend?"

Blood rushed to Ron's face again. "Uh, well, I guess she's…kind of…uhm…yeah." He gave a jerky little nod of finality. "Yeah."

Harry rested his chin on his knees. "When did that happen?" he wondered out loud.

"Well…you see, we didn't actually mean for it to," Ron stammered. "It was kind of weird…it was over the summer, when you were missing, and we were just…sort of…crying on each other's shoulders all the time." He shrugged helplessly. "Anyway, it just sort of…happened. You're not upset, are you?" he blurted.

"No," Harry said automatically. "No, of course not."

But wasn't he? Why wasn't he happy for them? He ought to laugh, he ought to tease Ron and Hermione mercilessly, he ought to feel…something. But he just felt strange.

There was a very odd sort of queasiness in his stomach. He couldn't be jealous of Ron, could he? Over Hermione? Hermione was just his friend; he'd never felt that way about her, had he?

No, when it came down to it, thinking about her like that just seemed odd. So if he wasn't jealous, why wasn't he happy for them?

He heard Ron get up and leave, but was so consumed with his own thoughts that he didn't call after him. Why did this feel so funny? If they were happy, wasn't that all that mattered?

My best friend's got a girlfriend…who happens to be my other best friend. And they didn't tell me.

Why had they kept it a secret? Now that they were…them…would they keep other secrets? Would they want to go to Hogsmeade together without Harry tagging along? Will they still have time for me? whined a plaintive little voice in his mind.

Ron and Hermione were…Ron and Hermione. So where did that leave Harry?

I've got no right to think like this, he told himself angrily. I've never been a really good friend, and they're a lot better off with each other than with me! He thought of the way he'd treated them, especially last year, and cringed. No wonder this had happened, really, he'd practically driven them into each other's arms. But they said they'd stand by me, the little voice whined again.

A commotion in the stairwell broke through his musings. "Oh, honestly, Ronald, I told you what needed to be said!"

"Why couldn't you explain it then, I thought you were his friend too!"

"Will you two please—"

"Stay out of this, Ginny!"

"You're only going to upset him more!"

"We just have to explain—"

Harry braced himself as two red heads and one brunette burst into the dormitory, all talking at once.

"Harry, I'm sorry, Ron made it sound like—"

"This doesn't change anything!"

"Just let them sort themselves out, Harry—"

"You're our best friend in the world—"

"We're not going to abandon you—"

"We promise!"

Ron and Hermione looked on the verge of pouncing on Harry, but Ginny hauled them both away with a wave of her wand. "HEY! Don't smother the man!"

"This doesn't concern you, Ginny!" Hermione huffed.

"THAT'S IT! OUT! Both of you, OUT!" Ginny roared, causing Ron, Hermione, and Harry to jump in surprise. Ron and Hermione might have protested, but Bastet decided to enforce her mistress's command and launched herself at them with a screech, sending them sprinting for their lives back down the stairwell.

As the savage yowls echoed away down the stairs, Harry stared after them until Ginny turned around, calmly brushing a lock of hair from her face. "Well, now that the happy couple are taking a breather," she plunked herself down upon Ron's bed. "How do you feel about it?"

"I…aah…" Harry hemmed nervously. Her bluntness was both refreshing and disconcerting.

Ginny's face softened a little, and she came to sit on the foot of Harry's bed. "Are you okay with it? It's all right to tell the truth."

"Um…I…" Harry took a deep breath and pulled his scattered thoughts together. "I…really, I am okay with, er, with them being…"

"Them?" Ginny finished slyly. He forced a smile and nodded. "Pfft, I told Hermione that 'man-to-man' business wouldn't work. Ron, explain his feelings? Hah!"

Harry folded his feet beneath him, examining the bedspread. "I guess it just surprised me. It's just…" before he knew it, words came tumbling out. "It's always been the three of us, as long as I can remember. The three of us. I just…didn't expect it to be the two of them."

"It is still the three of you, Harry," said Ginny firmly. "Don't you see? Didn't Ron tell you anything about how they, well, got to be them in the first place?"

"Not really," he said. "Something about last summer."

Ginny looked solemnly at him. "You can't begin to imagine what it was like when you were missing. Ron and Hermione felt it worse than anyone, except maybe Professor Lupin." She smiled sadly. "They were worse than me—and that's saying something. They just sort of wound up…holding on to each other. All the time, it was just how they coped, until one thing sort of led to another." She grinned. "Between that and the fact that Ron's been mad about her for two years—"

"What!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake," said Ginny, rolling her eyes in a fashion disturbingly like Hermione. "You boys! How can you not have noticed? He's been pining after Hermione since the Yule Ball!"

Harry pondered Ron's behavior at the Ball and since, and frowned to himself. "Is that why he gave her perfume last Christmas?"

Ginny giggled and nodded.

"And why he gets so cross when she writes to Viktor Krum?"

"Yep!" she said with a grin.

"Wow. I never did notice," Harry mused, feeling the tight knot in his insides starting to loosen. "I thought he was just being…Ron."

"Ron is mad about Hermione—and that's yet another reason why he gets cross when she mothers you," Ginny added smugly.

"What?" Harry felt blood rushing to his face. "But I…but she's not…"

"Just ignore it," Ginny said. "You know he gets jealous of you for silly reasons." She scooted closer to Harry and patted his knee. "Never mind. He knows he's the one she likes, even if she fusses over you." She rolled her eyes. "And he knows you need a little fussing over."

"I do not!" Harry exclaimed.

"Do too!" she teased.

"Do not!"

A little while later, Harry came downstairs to find Ron playing one-man wizard's chess in the common room. "Where's Hermione?" he asked.

"Upstairs, defending Crookshanks from Bastet."

"Oh." Harry sat down across from Ron and reset the board. Ron was watching him nervously. At last, Harry looked up at him and grinned. "So…does this mean you've kissed her?"

"Harry!"

Classes began normally on Monday, though about twenty students were still in the hospital wing. But Harry found himself once again the target of almost-constant whispers and hostile or fearful stares. It wasn't as bad as second year, when half the school had thought he was the heir of Slytherin, or fourth year, when everyone thought he'd entered himself in the Triwizard Tournament (or even fifth year when they'd all thought he was stark, raving mad.) But it was still unpleasant. People shied away from him, looking around when he passed in the corridors as though expecting to see Death Eaters trailing after him.

What made this so much worse was that this time, Harry knew their feelings were justified. As long as he was at Hogwarts, Voldemort would threaten the school.

It bothered him so much that he went to Professor Lupin after NEWT Defense and asked if he'd be better off at Headquarters. "I don't want to endanger anyone."

Lupin handed Harry a cup of tea and sat down at a desk next to him. "You don't really want to leave Hogwarts, do you? For Headquarters of all places?"

"No, of course not!" Harry exclaimed. "But I don't want Voldemort to keep coming after Hogwarts and hurting people."

He stared at the top of the desk as Lupin leaned toward him. "Harry, you are not the only reason Lord Voldemort is targeting Hogwarts. If you left today, it would not spare us his attentions."

Harry sighed. "Maybe divert them for a bit."

"Not likely. Besides, to send you away would greatly reduce your own safety."

"I'm not more important than everyone else!" Harry said angrily. "I'm not worth that. It's not fair!"

Lupin put a hand on his shoulder. "No one ever said it was fair. You're quite right that it isn't—and as for what your life is worth, I beg to differ, but that's another matter. You are as entitled to safety as any other student, and the safest place for anyone in times like these is Hogwarts."

Harry got up and walked over to the grindylow's tank. "I hate this," he muttered. "I hate them being in danger because of me."

"It's not because of you. It's because of Lord Voldemort. We keep telling you, Harry, all you need to do is believe us. You are not to blame." Remus came and stood beside him. "Stop hating yourself. That's the last thing your parents and Sirius would want."

Biting his lip, Harry nodded. "I…I know. I just wish I knew what to do."

"What you've been doing: live your life. And pay attention in Defense," Remus smiled, and Harry had to return it. "Just live, and don't give up. It's not up to you to save the world."

But it is up to me, Harry thought miserably. He wished he could tell Remus, but it would only upset him to hear the prophecy. Not to mention giving Voldemort another reason to go after him.

All day Monday, Harry found himself almost looking forward to Occlumency, although not because he missed the pleasure of Snape's company. Snape had seen Harry's parents in the Pillar chamber. They had looked at him; if Percy was right, they had tried to tell him something. Harry couldn't stop thinking about it—not even when he noticed that Ron and Hermione were holding hands under the table during dinner. They were his parents! He had a right to see them!

So when Filch came to collect him, he went almost eagerly, and had his wand out almost as soon as he walked into Snape's office. "I trust there have been no more…communications from the Dark Lord, Potter?"

"No, nothing else," Harry said distractedly.

Snape frowned at him. "Then what is the matter with you?"

"Nothing," Harry lied—badly. Why couldn't they just start?

But Snape did not raise his wand. His cold, hard gaze seemed to bore right through Harry, and Harry wondered bitterly what he was seeing. "Potter, answer me."

Harry's throat tightened, and frustration burned his insides. It wasn't fair! He glowered at the floor. "Why didn't you tell me what really happened in America?"

Well, that certainly got Snape's attention. The Potions Master stepped back so quickly he bumped into his chair, which in turn fell over and knocked a jar of dragon liver off the wall shelf. Snape repaired it before turning back to fix Harry with a fierce glare. "How do you know about that?" he hissed.

"Percy Weasley told me!" Harry burst out. "You were there, you must have told Dumbledore about it, every bloody wizard in the chamber that day saw it, and I had to hear it from Percy!"

Trembling with anger, Snape growled, "That is none of your affair—"

"They're my parents! It is! I had a right to see them!"

"That is not my problem, Potter—"

"They told you something, didn't they? What did they tell you?"

"POTTER! I have nothing to say about it!" Snape roared.

Shaking with fury, his stomach churning, eyes stinging, Harry hissed, "Why is it you got to see them?" The small, lingering fragment of rationality in him said that it wasn't Snape's fault, but Harry didn't care about being rational.

White-faced, easily as angry as Harry was, Snape snarled, "Had I the choice, I would not have, and this matter has nothing to do with the task at hand. Now stop this ridiculous whining and clear your mind!"

Harry had no intention of doing any such thing; he thought he knew one way to find out what had happened. He'd never tried to do this intentionally, but…he concentrated hard as Snape raised his wand. "Legilimens!"

It worked—at least the first part did. Images rolled past Harry's mind, but he was so set on his own objective that he paid no attention to them, and it was only a few seconds before he was able to raise his own wand. "Protego!"

He blasted into Snape's mind, no longer helplessly carried on the current of his spell but actively searching. He saw a blonde boy with his arm around a greasy-haired teenager…Voldemort was aiming his wand at Snape with the Pillar glowing behind them…There!

"ENOUGH!" A Disarming Spell hit Harry so hard that he was thrown backwards into the wall and crashed to the ground. Winded and gasping, he rolled onto his back and saw Snape glaring at him. "You're transparent as glass, Potter, I knew you would try that."

Harry scowled and pulled himself to his feet without answering. Snape went on, "If you do not learn to manage your emotions, you will be completely useless in this war."

"You're a fine one to talk!" Harry shot back. "Sir!"

Snape's lip curled. "Perhaps so. But I am not the one upon whom the fate of the entire wizarding world unfortunately rests. How many more will be dead or wounded before you shed your arrogant refusal to control yourself?"

"You bloody hypocrite!" Harry shouted. Snape's grudges were the reason Sirius had died, the reason Harry hadn't been able to shield himself last year, the reason Sirius wasn't freed and Lupin had lost the DADA job third year! Voldemort might never have come back if it hadn't been for Snape! "You've always got an excuse, don't you? It's okay for you to refuse to let old grudges die and make people as miserable as possible even when they're on your side! Wasn't your old job important? Why'd you spend so much time undermining the Order if this war was so very, very important to you!"

Snape bared his teeth, eyes blazing, and roared, "OUT!"

"GLADLY!" Harry shouted back and dashed for the door. He stormed back to Gryffindor Tower and went up to the dormitory without talking to Ron and Hermione. He tossed and turned for a long time, but couldn't sleep. Snape was such…a…bloody…bastard!

It's not my fault! I'm trying! Maybe if he weren't pulling the floor out from under me every other lesson… He fell asleep eventually, still fuming.

He was standing in a very dark doorway, looking out as moonlight filtered through a very deep green canopy of trees. There were no sounds from the woods, and the moon's light did not reach the forest floor, nor did it touch the stone stairs beneath Harry's feet.

There were people behind him; he could sense them, awaiting his decision. One of them, robed in black with a white mask like the others, stepped hesitantly forward. "Are you pleased with it, Master?"

As it happened, he was most pleased with it, but he had no intention of letting them know. His servants needn't become complacent. He turned his back on the dark woods, and the black-robed, masked wizards pulled back even so slightly.

Harry spoke, his voice high and cold, but betraying the slightest hint of the satisfaction he felt. "This will do."