Harry knew the first few days after his possession would be bad—and he was right. The wards around Gryffindor Tower had to be reinforced because he was seeing green again in his sleep, and he had another nightmare about Sirius that kept him awake for hours.

As for the morning after…

Hermione came up the stairs into the boys' dormitory before Harry and Ron had finished getting dressed. "Oy! Hermione!" exclaimed Dean Thomas, diving behind his bed curtains. "Not everyone's decent here!"

"Sorry," she said absently, turning her back. "Hurry up, you two. It'll be better if we're already there when the Great Hall starts filling up."

Hastily tucking in his shirt behind his own curtains, Harry muttered, "Maybe I shouldn't go."

"Forget it, mate. If that lot wants to be stupid, it's their business. And they can skip meals. You need to eat," Ron told him.

"And you tell me not to lecture him!"

Ron started to lean out from behind the curtains to argue with Hermione—until he remembered he had no shirt on and ducked back quickly to a chorus of "Ooooohs" from Harry and the other boys.

"Do you think it'll be really bad?" Harry asked, coming out once he was fully dressed.

Hermione sat down on Ron's trunk, pulling a face. "I don't know. Maybe we should talk to Professor Lupin?"

"For what? Permission to hex anyone who stares at me?" he groaned.

She shrugged. "Just a thought. No, truthfully, I don't know how everyone's going to react to what happened."

"Look at it this way," asked Ron, "is it better than second year, worse than fourth year, 'bout the same as fifth year?"

"Huh?" chorused Harry, Hermione, Neville, Dean, and Seamus.

"I'm talking about all the other times this ruddy school's turned on you," said Ron.

"Oh." Harry laughed sheepishly. "Well, it's a lot like second year…"

"Figures," Ron agreed.

"But not as bad as fourth year, at least not to me."

"Why not?" Ron asked curiously.

"Because you haven't turned on him this time," said Hermione.

"Oh." Ron blushed.

"I wasn't going to mention that," Harry muttered, feeling blood rushing to his face as well. Hermione had the grace to look chagrinned. "In any case, this is different from all the other years."

"Why?" his friends asked.

"Because this time they're right about me."

"What!"

"That is not true, Harry!"

"Where do you get ideas like that—"

"Why do you put yourself through—"

His friends' loud protests did not stop until Neville, of all people, went to get a pillow and began beating Harry about the head with it. "HEY!" Harry protested, but the others gleefully followed suit, arming themselves with pillows and chasing Harry round the dormitory until Seamus caught him in a flying tackle onto Ron's bed and pinned him down so the rest could pummel and tickle him until he was breathless.

Hermione called a halt with a shriek of, "We're going to be late!" and sent them all scrambling down the stairs.

And so, Harry wound up one of the last people to arrive for breakfast.

Never had his entry into the Great Hall been quite like this: every single head turned as he, his dorm-mates, and Hermione came in, and the entire room went silent. Ron and Hermione each stepped closer and nudged him toward the Gryffindor table. They walked to where Ginny and the Creevy brothers were waving at them, as Harry tried to ignore the whispers now filling the Hall. Even the staff table was quiet.

"All right?" Ginny asked him cheerfully. He nodded and sat, staring at the table top. Ginny pushed a plate of his favorite buns toward him. "Go on, eat. Ignore that lot."

Harry did so, and conversations gradually sprang up again around the room. Then the mail came. Hermione took the rolled-up Daily Prophet from Hedwig before Harry could get at it and pulled a face at them all before opening it. "Oh, bother."

Judging by the whispers and hisses erupting all around the room, other people had the Prophet too, and all Percy's efforts to keep Harry's possession from becoming public had failed. Ron and Ginny leaned over Hermione's shoulder to read the front page story. All of them rolled their eyes in disgust.

"Should I see it?" Harry muttered.

"No," they all said firmly, and Hermione folded it briskly in half and tossed it aside, where he couldn't reach it.

"Ruddy Fudge," growled Ron. "He better lay off you."

"What's he saying?"

"Never mind, Harry," said Ginny, scowling. "Nothing you can't guess."

Ron shook his head and opened a note from the twins. "They and Zonko are making a right party out of this! There's going to be free hot butterbeer and biscuits for everyone, and prizes for people who volunteer to demonstrate."

"What sort of prizes?" asked Lavender Brown.

"Mm…free Wheezes, vouchers for Zonkos, sweet-baskets from Honeydukes, and gift-boxes from Dwarvish & Banges," Ron read. "And money prizes."

"Gonna try for one of those, Weasley, or is it family excluded?" hissed Malfoy from the Slytherin table. "Some old rule against making money?"

Ginny put a restraining hand on Ron's arm. "No, but we thought you and your mates will need to try for it," she replied breezily. "So you can buy your dads' ways out of Azkaban."

"You little—" Malfoy started to jump up, but Professor Lupin, who had been strolling toward them, cleared his throat loudly. Malfoy muttered something about, "mudbloods and monsters," and turned back to his breakfast.

Ron grinned at Lupin and said to Harry, "They did say we could have a go on the flying carpet."

"Are they going to have time for lunch?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, it starts at ten, there's a break from one to two, then it goes till five. Just what we need, eh?" Ron grinned, handing the letter to Ginny. "Some good, wholesome Wheezing. Even Mum's excited."

"Really?" Harry was surprised. Mrs. Weasley's disapproval of her twins' chosen vocation was well-known.

Ginny pulled a face. "After what happened to Fred, I don't think she'd mind if they joined forces with Mundungus Fletcher. Anyway, I can't wait for the games."

Dean leaned over to read over Ginny's shoulder. "Jacob's Ladder, Musical Chairs—Weasley style—ooh, I'm not missing this!"

"Better not, it's the Hogsmeade event of the year!" declared Ron. "And mostly legal," he added in a whisper that made them all giggle.

Specialized Defense was relatively uneventful, aside from Malfoy attempting to hex Harry outside the door and then insisting he'd seen Harry's eyes changing color. Fortunately, even the most skittish students knew better than to believe Malfoy.

"You should have seen him yesterday when you…you know," Ernie MacMillian told Harry as they entered class.

"Screaming for his mummy?" asked Ron.

"Close! His eyes bugged right out of his head. He was one of the first ones out the door!" said Terry Boot. "Ran Crabbe and Goyle right over!"

"Hah!" Harry had to quash a loud laugh as Professor Smythe-Wellington glanced at them, and they hurried to their seats.

They thought the events of the previous day had made the harsh Professor back off Harry, for she pretty much left him alone during class (aside from scolding him for not concentrating hard enough on the Dark Arts Detection spells they were doing.) But then she told him to remain after class.

"Now what's she on about!" Ron muttered in disbelief.

"Out, Weasley, Granger!"

And Harry was left standing in front of Professor Smythe-Wellington's desk, listening to the hollow thud of the door closing behind the last of his classmates. Professor Smythe-Wellington peered at him, steepling her fingers. He found himself wondering if she knew Legilimency, from the way her cold, hard eyes seemed to bore into his head. "Sit down, Mr. Potter." Harry sat. "How did you feel this morning?"

Harry was so surprised that he simply stared at her. Of course, Smythe-Wellington managed to voice an inquiry after his health with a tone of unconcern worthy of Snape, but the fact that she'd asked at all was shock enough. Once he recovered, he blurted, "Fine!"

He got that hated raised-eyebrow look in response. "Indeed. And your classmates in the dormitory?" Oh. So that was what she was getting at. He couldn't resist glancing longingly at the door. "Potter."

Harry stared at the desk top. "They're not scared of me."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

He looked up at her and then down again. He hated that stare of hers. "Are you not concerned for your friends' safety?"

The question seemed to knock the wind out of him. Not that he hadn't been brooding frantically over that very matter for most of the term, but Professor Smythe-Wellington was the absolute last person he wanted to discuss it with. And hadn't Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Remus been telling him not to worry about it? Staring hard at the scuffed wood of the desk, he muttered, "No."

"No?"

"No!" Lord, he hated being patronized, especially by her.

At the moment, she was shaking her head at him. "Are you in the habit of letting your friends make your judgment calls for you, Mr. Potter?"

"No," he practically snarled. What did she want him to do, leave Hogwarts? Maybe, he suddenly thought. Maybe that's exactly what she wants.

With an exasperated-sounding sigh, Smythe-Wellington waved him out.

But that wasn't the end of it. After Charms that afternoon, Professor McGonagall called Harry to her office. Professor Lupin was there with her. "Sit down, Potter," she said. There was an almost sympathetic look on her face that alarmed Harry greatly. Remus too seemed regretful. "We must discuss this weekend's Hogsmeade visit.

Harry's stomach lurched. He looked from her to Remus, who lowered his eyes. "Hogsmeade?" he asked faintly, not wanting to hear what came next.

"Yes." Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, while Remus came to pull up a chair near Harry. They must have heard Harry talking with Ron and Hermione about tomorrow, and their plans for the twins' party. Don't tell me, please, don't say it…

They did. "Harry," said Professor Lupin gently. "The teachers have been considering whether it would be…a good idea for you to go…"

"No!" Harry blurted out in a weak voice. "Don't say I can't go!" Professor McGonagall and Remus both sighed, looking at him sadly. "We…the Zonko's party…"

"We know, Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "And we do regret this being necessary; you have done nothing wrong."

"Then why!" Harry demanded, feeling the first sparks of anger flickering to life inside him. Didn't they know how much he was looking forward to this, like one bright spot in a long, dark future? Why were they taking that away when they'd worked so hard to keep him at Hogwarts.

"It is a matter of safety," said Professor McGonagall.

"I thought I wasn't dangerous," he muttered bitterly.

"We know that, Mr. Potter, but if you had read the Daily Prophet this morning, you would have seen that there are many who do not, and who would choose not to believe it even if they saw proof," she told him.

Harry avoided her eyes. "Harry," Remus said urgently, leaning toward him. "You yourself aren't dangerous, we all know that. But we have to consider what might happen if you had…if a…"

"An episode," Professor McGonagall supplied. "If such a thing occurred away from the school, not only would the safety of bystanders be in jeopardy, but you too would be in much more danger. The Minister and the Daily Prophet have seen to it that much of the wizarding public will regard you as just as great a threat as Lord…you know."

"So I'm getting locked up till the war ends?"

"Harry, stop it!" Remus said. "I know it's not fair, but no party in the world is worth your life!"

"But I stopped it," Harry mumbled. "I pushed him out."

"You did, and we're very proud of you. That was a real victory." At any other moment, Lupin's words would have meant a lot. "But remember how your classmates reacted, and what Fudge tried to do. If Voldemort attacks you in public again, away from the school, you could be harmed by the witnesses."

"Consider what happened outside your class this morning, Potter," Professor McGonagall pointed out. "You have many enemies, within this school and without. We can protect you here, but those without would seize any opportunity to strike, even if you were behaving perfectly normal."

"But if they're raising a false alarm, I can protect myself," Harry protested.

"With Malfoy, I daresay you can," said Professor McGonagall with the slightest smile. "But from a crowd of jittery onlookers—all of whom have read today's Daily Prophet—it is less likely, even with the assistance of Miss Granger and the Weasleys. And there again, the safety of others than yourself comes at risk."

Harry sighed heavily. "Obviously, your mind's already made up." It's…not…FAIR!

Professor Mcgonagall narrowed her eyes at his tone, but said, "I'm sorry, Potter. It is."

Harry gritted his teeth; as frustrated as he was, mouthing off at her would be like poking a Hungarian Horntail in the eye. "Can I go then?"

He tried to sound polite, but Professor McGonagall still huffed her breath out. "Very well." Relieved to be out from under her gaze, Harry left in a hurry.

Remus followed him out. "Harry, I am sorry. I know you were excited about this weekend."

Harry turned to face him. "You were the one who told me to keep living!"

"We also want you to stay alive!" Remus told him sharply. "Make no mistake, Harry, Fudge and the rest of them would seize any opportunity to take you from Dumbledore's protection, and a Hogsmeade visit, even with your friends, would be a perfect chance."

"Grand," Harry said bitterly. "What's next, another ban from Quidditch?" The way Remus avoided his eyes made hot anger boil up inside him. "Oh! I see, that too!" he didn't quite shout. "Why not just lock me up in headquarters like—"

"Harry!" Remus exclaimed, and he caught himself. But he was still furious. When it wasn't Voldemort, it was Fudge; when it wasn't Fudge, it was the teachers. "We're trying to keep you safe."

"This was Smythe-Wellington's idea, wasn't it?"

"It doesn't make any difference."

"No, I guess it doesn't," Harry muttered bitterly.

"Harry—"

"Save it!" Harry snapped. "See you in class, Professor." He walked away, leaving Remus standing in the corridor.

"You can't go!" Ron was horrified. "But…but…tomorrow's going to be…"

"The Hogsmeade event of the year, I know," Harry growled, but it wasn't Ron he was angry at. He paced around the common room, which had cleared (with much yelping) of most other occupants when Harry had stormed in. "Smythe-Wellington put them up to it."

Now righteously outraged, Ron jumped out of the armchair by the fire, sending Bastet tumbling to the floor with a yowl. "That…that…dirty…beastly…"

"My thoughts exactly," Harry said.

"How could she? Does she want you to go nutters, cooped up in here? What next, Quidditch!"

"Yes."

"NO!" Ron had gone purple in the face, his fists were balled, and he began raging back and forth in front of the fireplace. "She will NOT ruin the bloody Quidditch team, I don't—we have to talk to Dumbledore!"

"Talk to Dumbledore about what!" Hermione exclaimed, coming through the portrait hole, her eyes widening as she saw Harry and Ron enraged. "What's happened!"

Ron pointed at her indignantly. "Smythe-Wellington does have it in for Harry!"

Hermione stared from Ron to Harry, then at Ron again. "Why—how? What's she done?"

"I'm not allowed to go to Hogsmeade," Harry told her miserably. He threw himself into a chair. "And they're talking about pulling me off Quidditch."

"Oh Harry!" Hermione cried, grabbing the sides of her head. "I'm so sorry!"

"Never mind sorry," said Ron savagely. "We've got to do something about it!"

Hermione blinked, not lowering her hands. "Do something?"

Harry sat up a little in his armchair. That was odd; Hermione wasn't usually the slow one. Ron too was staring at her in surprise. "Yeah," he said, a little more mildly. "About Smythe-Wellington."

"But…" Hermione glanced from Ron to Harry. "She hasn't really done anyth—"

"HASN'T DONE ANYTHING!" Harry and Ron roared in chorus, leaping out of their chairs and causing Hermione to stumble backwards onto the sofa.

"She treats him like dirt!" Ron bellowed.

"She hates me, Hermione, just like Snape!"

"Haven't you seen how she watches him in class!"

"Well, you haven't seen how she is at my detentions!"

Hermione sat cringing until they paused for breath, then asked, "So she made the decision herself? You didn't mention it at lunch."

Harry shook his head. "Lupin and McGonagall told me this afternoon."

"So it wasn't just her," mused Hermione.

"Why are you defending her?" Ron demanded.

"I'm only saying that if the others agree with her, it can't be her doing alone—"

"She put them up to it!"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Ronald!" Hermione snapped. "I'm sorry you think so little of Professor Lupin's ability to stand up for himself, but can you really stand there and tell me Professor McGonagall would allow anyone to 'put her up to' anything?"

Ron faltered and looked at Harry. Harry scowled and stared at the floor. Hermione went on more quietly, "Harry, I know you really wanted to go to Hogsmeade, but whatever you think of Professor Smythe-Wellington, Remus and Professor McGonagall wouldn't do this if it wasn't for a good reason."

Harry was running out of energy to be angry. "So you think I should be locked up too?" he muttered, moodily nudging a chair with his foot.

"No, I don't, and you know that!" Hermione cried. "But I don't want you to be hurt or killed or kidnapped for the sake of a bloody joke party or Quidditch cup!"

"Hermione, he's not going to be—"

She pointed furiously at the window. "In case you two haven't noticed, there's a war going on! And Harry's the only—the most important person in it! Every time you step outside Hogwarts and away from Professor Dumbledore, you're risking—"

"Dumbledore again," Harry muttered in disgust.

"Harry, he's trying to help you—"

"Yeah, by never telling me anything—"

"Why do you resent him so much? After all he's done for you—"

"DONE FOR ME!" Harry bellowed, rounding on her. She recoiled with a yelp, shaking and teary-eyed, and he forced himself to quiet down. But his voice still shook with anger.

"I'll tell you what he did for me, Hermione. After my parents died, he sent me to the Dursleys. The Dursleys, even though he knew I'd be a danger to them—not to mention that he knew from the beginning exactly how they felt about wizards. And we know how that turned out, don't we? I spent ten years locked in a cupboard. I've never had a birthday party.

"He said it was for my protection, but we know how that turned out too. That so-called protection didn't do my uncle much good in the end, did it? Or me! And then I spent all last year having visions, never knowing what was going on, while my godfather got shut up in a place he hated as much as I hated Privet Drive. And the great Dumbledore never told us what was going on, so in the end we both fell into Voldemort's trap. And now Sirius is dead. That's when Dumbledore finally decided to tell me the prophecy." Harry had to pause and catch his breath, but then he asked, "How grateful am I supposed to be?"

Ron had gone very still, listening to Harry solemnly, and Hermione was crying softly. "I…I'm sorry," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I didn't know! Harry, I'm so sorry!"

"Don't worry about it," Harry said gruffly, turning away and feeling a little embarrassed. He hadn't meant to upset them. None of this was their fault.

Ron swallowed. "We'll stay here tomorrow, mate, and do something here together."

Harry blinked at him as Hermione nodded eagerly, then he shook his head. "No, don't do that. I don't want you to miss out—"

"Fred and George will understand," Hermione said.

"No!" Harry insisted. "I don't want you to. I'll be okay. They exchanged glances. "Really, I've missed Hogsmeade visits before and…you two could have a date then," he added quickly, knowing it would distract them.

Ron and Hermione both went crimson. Staring at his shoes, Ron muttered, "You're sure, mate? We mean it; we'd stay if you'd feel better."

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm sure. Go to the party. Tell Fred and George I'm sorry I couldn't be there."

"We'll bring you back lots of stuff," Hermione promised. "Butterbeer, and sweets from Honeyduke's, and…"

"Wheezes," said Ron, nodding eagerly. "And the twins are coming back to Hogwarts with us; we'll have them give a few demonstrations for you that night."

"Sounds great," said Harry, making himself sound as pleased as he could.

"Maybe you could go talk to Remus like you used to third year," Hermione suggested. "You know, get some extra defense lessons or plan our next D.A. meeting."

Harry nodded mechanically. "Yeah, that's a great idea."

But all Harry's reassurances couldn't ease the bitter feeling inside as the rest of his dormitory-mates got up and got ready to leave on Saturday morning. The weather was bright and crisp outside and even though Ron and the others avoided talking about the Weasley twins' party in front of Harry, he could sense their anticipation. Ron suggested that maybe Harry could use today to sleep in, but Harry went downstairs to see them off.

"Want me to stay, Harry?" Ginny offered, giving him a sly smile. "Then these two could make a proper date of it—"

"Ginny, ssh!" Hermione squeaked, checking to make sure the four of them were alone in the common room.

Mustering a laugh, Harry shook his head. "That's okay. You can chaperone them."

"Harry!"

And so Harry accompanied Ron, Hermione, and Ginny out to the entrance, forcing himself to ignore the excited chatter (and mutterings as he passed.) Professor McGonagall eyed him as the departing students assembled, so he came to a stop by the entryway. "Have a good time."

"There'll be more," Hermione whispered, giving him a quick hug that made him blush. "Just be patient. This'll all be over one day."

"Yeah," he muttered, pulling away. "I know. Thanks."

As they headed off, Harry watched stragglers running to join the others and sighed to himself.

"What's this? Ohh, poor old Potter, left behind again!" drawled a voice behind them.

Harry turned and saw Draco Malfoy lounging against the wall, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle as usual. "Get lost, Malfoy."

Malfoy sneered, checked to see that Professor McGonagall was preoccupied, then remarked, "You're not much like your dad, are you, Potter?"

Harry's stomach did a painful lurch. "What?"

With a nasty grin, Malfoy said, "My dad said your father was at least brave, even if he was stupid. Wonder what he's think of you hiding behind Dumbledore's robes—"

It was as though someone had set off a firecracker inside Harry's head. Light flashed in his eyes, sound roared in his ears, and the next thing he knew, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were screaming for help as the windows above the entryway shattered and wind like a tornado in the corridor knocked them to the floor, sending them sliding along it like out-of-control ice skaters.

Harry was only vaguely aware of the chaos erupting around him, even of Malfoy and his friends' predicament; his mind was filled with nothing but the echo of those vicious words and a roaring, howling cyclone of rage.

At length, a voice broke throught the maelstrom. "HARRY!"

The wind died; Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle hit the wall with loud grunts. Harry blinked. The students who had been about to leave for Hogsmeade, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny among them, were hovering outside the entry behind Professor McGonagall, all watching Harry with wide eyes.

In front of Harry was Professor Lupin, slowly lowering his wand. "Harry?"

Anger, like a cold fire inside him, still made him shake a little. But he made himself look at Lupin. "I…yeah…"

Professor McGonagall strode up to Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. "If you three wish to go to Hogsmeade, I suggest you join your classmates before they leave without you. Professor Lupin, I trust you will…handle this?"

"I'll take care of it, Minerva," said Lupin, and beckoned to Harry. With the eyes of everyone still on him, Harry followed Lupin back into the school. When they'd gone a ways down the main corridor, away from anxious eyes and ears, Remus turned to him. "What happened, Harry?"

Wonder what he'd think of you… Harry avoided Lupin's eyes. "Nothing, just…Malfoy was on about my dad. I got angry."

Remus chuckled. "Angry, eh? That was some 'angry'. What did he say?"

The sun was sparkling on the tentacles of the giant squid as it made a small whirlpool in the lake. Harry stared out the window at it. "It's not important," he muttered.

Your father was at least brave…

You're less like your father than I thought…

He couldn't talk to Remus about that, could he?

The risk would have made it fun for James.

"Harry, are you listening?"

He blinked. "Sorry. What?"

Remus was watching him closely. It reminded Harry a little of Dumbledore, in a way. Of course, Remus didn't give off that impression of power that Dumbledore did, but he did seem able to see right through Harry just by meeting his eyes. And his eyes were just as gentle. Maybe more.

Now, Remus patiently said, "Draco snipes at you nearly every day, and you don't normally react like that. You were more than angry."

Harry shrugged, looking away. In the mood he was, the concern in Remus' eyes was unbearable. Trying to keep his voice steady, he said, "Really, I…don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry I lost my temper."

He heard Remus sigh quietly. "All right, then. If you tell me you didn't mean to spawn a hurricane indoors, I won't take House points." Harry had to smile. "Do you want to come back to my office for a cup of tea?"

"Er…no, I…not now…I just…want to be alone for a bit," Harry stammered. He didn't want Remus to feel bad, but he was tired of prying eyes and questions. "Sorry."

"That's all right," said Remus, and to Harry's relief he didn't seem put out. "If you want to stop by later, the door is open."

Harry nodded and forced a smile. "Thanks. I'll just…see you later." He quickly walked away.

But getting back to the common room, he found himself facing the hissing and cringing of the first and second-year Gryffindors. Euan Abercrombie and a group of boys Harry had never had the chance to properly meet, broke off their Gobstones game when he came in and refused to look up until he went upstairs.

Harry stormed into the sixth-year dormitory and threw himself onto his bed. James and Sirius grew up during the war too, Harry.

Yes, but that didn't stop them living their lives. Harry glared out the window.

He ought to stop brooding and go have breakfast. He ought to find Remus and talk to him.

He ought…as clear as if he'd actually heard it, Sirius's voice echoed in his head: You ought to shake that dust out of James's cloak and go to Hogsmeade.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was kneeling in front of his trunk with the shimmery folds of the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauders' Map beckoning to him like secret treasures. He pulled the Cloak out, hands shaking this time with excitement.

The risk would have made it fun for James…

Live your life… Those last words he recalled were Remus's, and for a second, he faltered, seeing Remus's face in his mind's eye—no, this was definitely not what Remus had meant, but…at Harry's age, this is what Remus and his father and Sirius would have done.

With a soft whoosh of the Cloak sweeping over his head and a rustle of the Marauder's Map being stowed in a pocket, Harry swept unseen back down the stairs, out the portrait hole, and was gone.