After being on his best behavior for the rest of Saturday, Madam Pomfrey let Harry return to Gryffindor Tower on Sunday. But Sunday was spent frantically working making up homework and listening to the previous week's lectures almost word-for-word from Hermione. Predictably, the Sunday Prophet came out with an article about Harry's experience in Voldemort's hands, with a screaming banner headline:

Boy-Who-Lived Recounts Horror of Torture, Imprisonment in Headquarters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!

As melodramatic as it sounded at first glance, the article, written by Rita Skeeter, was mostly accurate. But the part that caught Harry's eye was close to the end:

Harry Potter made his report to the Minister surrounded by over a dozen supportive classmates, who repeatedly sprang to the defense of him and others. Flanking Potter from beginning to end were young Ronald Weasley, son of respected Ministry worker Arthur Weasley, and Muggle-born Hermione Granger. While questions persist about possible romantic involvement between Potter and Gryffindor Prefect Granger, both have repeatedly denied the rumors, but Granger and Weasley remain the closest and most devoted friends of the Boy-Who-Lived.

This reporter has had it from multiple sources that the Weasley family has all but adopted the orphaned Potter. Ronald and his younger sister Ginevra Weasley remain young Potter's classmates and most outspoken supporters, and sources report that Fred and George Weasley, founders of burgeoning new joke business Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, received their startup funding from Harry Potter's winnings from the Triwizard Tournament. On the fateful night of the Third Task of the Tournament—now acknowledged by the Ministry as the most probable date of Lord You-Know-Who's return—the Weasleys were present as observers in support of the Boy-Who-Lived where the other champions were supported by their own families.

No wizard can deny Harry Potter will need such friends in the coming dark days, and this reporter can only hope Harry Potter appreciates those who have stood by him through the thick and thin of the past few years.

"I do," Harry whispered to himself as Ron and Hermione were sitting on Ron's bed, arguing.

Ron glanced over and saw Harry looking at them. "What's Rita Skeeter have to say, mate?"

Harry held out the paper. "Something I'm actually glad to see, for once." He pointed to the end of the article. "People getting their due, and all."

Hermione came to join them as Ron sat down on Harry's bed to read the paper. Harry grinned as his jaw dropped. "They…they…talk about us!" Ron scanned the end of the article again. "All…all about us! We're… 'respected Ministry worker, Arthur Weasley,'" he read to himself softly, a smile of utter delight spreading slowly across his face.

The mattress creaked as Hermione reached swiftly across Harry to take the paper from Ron, burying her nose in it. Ron was still in shock, staring alternately at Harry and into space, as though he couldn't believe the Daily Prophet would find him and his family important enough to devote a whole paragraph to.

Harry grabbed him and began knuckling his head, "And if Harry Potter had been asked, he would have told 'this reporter' that he's thankful every day of his life that he's got such terrific friends, and it's about bloody time 'this reporter' bothered to mention them!"

Hermione lowered the paper a moment later, but her face was far less enthusiastic. Ron shrugged at her, "What, Hermoninny, you got loads of mentions during the Triwizard Tournament—well, they weren't all good, but they did say you were pretty!"

"It doesn't really bother you, does it?" asked Harry when she didn't reply.

In a low voice, Hermione said, "Harry…Ron…I don't know if I like this."

Ron stopped dancing with Harry's dressing gown on the bed and looked hurt. "Why not? They say good things about us! And Mum and Dad have practically adopted Harry—they love him as much as—"

Hermione scooted over to him and grabbed his hand, pulling him down. "I know, I know. It's all very sweet, but that's not what scares me!" She looked from Ron to Harry then back to Ron again. "Don't you see, Ron? Don't you realize what this means?"

"It means they're being treated like the family they've treated me as all these years!" Harry said indignantly. "Don't spoil it!"

"I'm sorry!" she cried. "I really am, it's just…haven't you thought about it? I'm sure…well, pretty sure…that Rita Skeeter's just being her usual nosy self, but…Ron, don't you realize that the entire wizarding world now knows how close your family is to Harry? Can you imagine what Voldemort's followers could do with that information?"

Pride for Ron turned to ashes in Harry's mouth, and the color drained from Ron's face. They looked at each other in horror. "Harry…" Ron whispered.

Harry grabbed the article. "You…Ginny…your parents…Merlin's beard, the twins' joke shop! It tells everything!"

In anguish, Hermione held Ron's hand tighter. "People already probably knew about you being Harry's best friend, but now it's common knowledge about your whole family! And anything in there the Death Eaters could use to get to Harry!"

Ron wrenched away and jumped off the bed. "I've got to owl my dad," he said thickly. "And Fred and George. We need to warn them!"

"I've got a better idea," said Hermione, jumping up and running after him. "Let's talk to Professor McGonagall. She can get to them all a lot quicker through the Order. Come on, Harry!"

Harry didn't know why, but he had a horrible, sick feeling of dread churning inside that by the time they got to Professor McGonagall, word would already have arrived of some terrible attack on one of the Weasleys by Death Eaters. They frightened poor Professor McGonagall out of her wits when they burst into her office—she'd come to associate the sight of a frantically-running Harry with catastrophe. Once they babbled out their concerns, she ordered them all to sit down and went to dispatch a message to the Order.

The three of them waited in her office until she returned, holding seven letters in her hand. "I asked your parents and brothers to respond, Mr. Weasley, just to make certain all was well," she said, handing the notes to Ron. "Now, calm yourself. You are pale as a ghost. Have a biscuit." She held the tin out to him, but smiled sideways at Harry.

"Sorry, Professor," Ron mumbled as he nibbled on a piece of shortbread. "I guess I panicked a bit, when Hermione told us…"

"No apologies necessary, Miss Granger was very perceptive, and you were right to take this precaution," said Professor McGonagall, folding her hands in her lap. "Each member of your family outside of Hogwarts has been warned to take extra care of their safety, and the Order will keep close watch on them all."

Harry couldn't help thinking of the picture Mad-Eye Moody had shown him of the old Order and all the people who had died…obviously it hadn't been possible to keep close watch on them. But he wouldn't dream of telling Ron that. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"Whatever for?" demanded Professor McGonagall.

"For putting Ron's family in danger," said Harry.

"Rubbish," she snapped. "You are a child, Mr. Potter; a talented, resourceful child who has been through a great deal, but a child nonetheless. It is expected of your elders and caretakers to put themselves at risk on your behalf. To do otherwise would be unpardonable."

"But the Weasleys aren't—" Harry began, but Ron's hand on his shoulder cut him off.

"Yes, we are," Ron said quietly. "And either way, it's not your fault."

Hermione patted his other shoulder, and Harry sighed. "I still wish it didn't have to be like this for people I lo—for people close to me."

"As do we all, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "As do we all."

The week after the article appeared, to the intense relief of them all, passed without incident, although Monday brought a new, more pleasant shock for Ron in the form of several owl-loads of letters from Daily Prophet readers. "Fan mail!" Ginny cried when the owls landed in front of her and Ron. "We've got fan mail!"

Harry got quite a few letters from well-wishers himself, but was far more interested in what people had to say to Ginny and Ron. Once the initial alarm had worn off, Ginny dismissed Harry and Hermione's worries that the references to the Weasleys might make them Voldemort's targets. "Maybe the general public didn't know how close you are to our family, Harry, but Voldemort's Death Eaters almost certainly did. It's not as if we've kept it a secret. No doubt they've been searching for ways to get to you for years, and if they haven't gone after us already, this article's not going to make them do it any sooner," she told him. "And even if they do, it's still not your fault."

"Tha's wha' I keep telling 'im!" Ron said, his mouth full of bacon. "Oy! Listen to this. 'Dear boy, you and your family are such angels, a true, shining example of kindness and charity to the wizarding world. Bless you for all you've done for the poor Boy-Who-Lived…' Blimey, they make you sound like a poor, crippled Squib, Harry!"

"Hey, this one sent flowers!" said Neville, shooing an owl toward them.

"Oh, how sweet!" Ginny exclaimed. "Snapdragons!" She took the card that came with them. "They say they would've sent Snapping Dragons but they're not owl-safe. Ron, can I take these?"

"Sure, put 'em in water by your bed—or…" Ron smiled. "We could send 'em on to Mum."

Ginny looked up from the card. "No need. They say they sent some to Mum and Dad too."

"Hey, Weasel! Any of your fans send money? Think they'd realize that's what your lot really needs?" yelled Malfoy from the Slytherin table.

Ginny shoved Ron back into his seat when he started to jump up and yelled, "At least we don't have to pay people to send us flowers, Malfoy!"

Harry howled with laughter along with the rest of the Gryffindors (and Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws,) and Ron looked a little less disgruntled. Seamus and Dean started off a round of "Weasley Is Our King" that crescendoed through the Great Hall for several verses until Hermione decided Ginny deserved some recognition and switched it to "Weasley Is Our Queen." Harry sang along gustily with one arm around Ron and the other around Ginny until he was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

Walking to Hagrid's for Care of Magical Creatures still took Harry a bit longer than the rest of the class. On the other hand, it provided him with a legitimate excuse not to have to tussle with Daisy—which was the name Hagrid had finally bestowed upon his Chimaera.

(Ron had suggested Dolores, but Hagrid had replied, "No, Ron, if I ever get meself a Gorgon, her I'll name Dolores!")

On Tuesday afternoon, Hagrid invited Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny to his cabin for tea. "'Bout time people gave yer family the praise they deserves, Ron, Ginny," said Hagrid, making room for them all to sit. "Mighty proud I was, readin' 'bout yeh in the Prophet. Done right by Harry, you have."

"And have to be in hiding for it," Harry muttered. Hermione thumped him on the back of the head.

"Now don't you be talkin' like that, Harry," said Hagrid sternly. "It ain't yer fault."

"We keep telling him!" Ginny exclaimed in exasperation. "But he's acting the hero as usual trying to protect all of—ow!" Ron had jammed his elbow into her ribs, and she turned and saw Harry's face. "Harry, what did I…"

Hermione grabbed Harry's elbow. "She wasn't there when we…had that conversation. It's not her fault."

Harry took a deep breath, and Hagrid pushed a cup of tea into his hand. He took a gulp and let it scald his mouth. "Don't worry about it," he said gruffly. "Just…touchy…"

Ron came and sat down next to him. "Never mind that," he said. "There's nothing wrong with you trying to help people."

"Right he is, Harry," said Hagrid. "Nothing wrong with worryin' either, heaven knows we lot have done enough of it. While you were…you know…" Harry nodded and forced a smile. Hagrid grinned. "Anyway! I brought you all here with Miss Ginny 'cause I got me hands on a little somethin' I thought she might like! Remembered she doesn' have a pet, yeh see, an' I really got no time ter take care o' this one."

Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny gaped at each other as Hagrid went to a large basket from which shuffling sounds could be heard. A look of utter panic was slowly spreading across Ginny's face. "Er…Hagrid…that's very sweet of you, but I don't know…I mean, it's very sweet, but there's only certain types of animals we're allowed to have in the dorm, safety and all…"

"What?" Hagrid protested, reaching into the basket. He pulled out what looked like a ball of fuzzy black yarn. "It's a kitten!"

Ginny blinked. The ball of fuzz uncurled itself, raised a tiny head that blinked open large amber eyes, then let out a massive yawn, stretching out skinny black legs. Hermione let out a soft "ohhh!" as Ginny slowly held out her cupped hands.

The jet black kitten was easily small enough to fit into them. Harry and Ron leaned over her shoulders to scrutinize the creature, still half-afraid it would start breathing fire or unfurling spikes on its tail. But no, upon close examination, they determined that Ginny's new pet was, unmistakably, pure cat. If a miniature one.

"Hagrid," Ginny breathed as the kitten snuggled into her palms. She looked up with wide eyes at him. "She's…she's…perfect!"

"Thought yeh'd like her," said Hagrid, beaming. "She wouldn'a liked livin' here with Fang. What'll yeh name her?"

"How about Dolores?" suggested Ron.

"Never!" cried Ginny, cuddling the kitten to her chest. "She's adorable!"

"Wonderful, another mad, feline fiend," Ron grumbled, shaking his head.

Hermione eyed the black fur ball. "Oh, I don't know about this one, Ron. She seems pretty harmless."

"Give her a few months, and she'll be attacking Pigwidgeon."

Ginny shook her head. "You wouldn't do that, would you, Precious?"

"Gonna call 'er Precious?" suggested Hagrid.

"Oh, no, not that, it's not dignified enough," said Hermione, kneeling at Ginny's feet for a close inspection of the kitten, who sat up primly to meet her gaze. "She's darling, Hagrid. A right little goddess…Ginny! Call her Bastet!"

"The Egyptian cat goddess!" Ginny crowed. "Perfect! Why, she even looks like a statue we saw in one of the tombs, remember, Ron?"

"She does, a bit," Ron admitted. "Well, maybe this one'll turn out to be sane, unlike some people's mad, half-breed Kneazles!"

"Crookshanks knew something was shady about Scabbers, that's all!" Hermione said indignantly.

"And before you said it was in his nature!"

"He helped Sirius—oh lord, sorry, Harry," Hermione said quickly.

"'s all right," Harry muttered, torn between pain at the memory and irritation at the way they all minced around him. He forced his mind away from it, then leaned forward to tentatively stroke Bastet's head with his finger. The black kitten closed her eyes and leaned into his caress, purring loudly. "I think she's okay, Ron. Perfectly cat-like."

Ginny deposited Bastet in Hermione's lap and threw herself into Hagrid's arms. "Thank you so much, Hagrid! What a wonderful present! I love her!"

"Aw, well, yer welcome," said Hagrid, blushing.

It was too much to expect, they later reasoned, that a kitten discovered by Hagrid would not have a few, shall we say, eccentricities.

On their way back, Bastet decided she did not want to be carried in Ginny's hands, nor in the open pouch of her book bag, and climbed up Ginny's arm to sit on her shoulder! "Blimey! I've seen birds do that, but how can she balance!" Ron exclaimed, as Bastet sat upright with perfect dignity as her mistress walked.

"I don't know," Ginny mused, looking to her left to meet the cat's eyes. Bastet blinked at her once, then returned to examining the scenery. "Welcome to Hogwarts, my little goddess!"

"She is lovely," Hermione sighed. "So quiet and proper!"

They were walking down the corridor toward Gryffindor Tower to show off their new acquisition in the Common Room when Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode went by. "Hey, Weasley! What's that on your shoulder! Growing yourself a fur coat one animal at a time?"

Harry started to say, "Sod off, Parkinson," but was interrupted by a window-shattering screech of "RREEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOW!"

On Ginny's shoulder, Bastet had gone from an elegant little black statue to a wild-eyed demon puffed up to three times her previous size, and before the Slytherins could react, the kitten launched herself across five feet of open air to land directly upon Pansy Parkinson's face.

"AAUGH! Ohmigawd! Geditoff! Geditoff! HELP!" Pansy screamed, staggering sideways into the wall, arms flailing wildly with what looked like a rabid vampire bat attached to her head. Millicent had long since fled, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stood in dumb amazement until Pansy finally managed to yank the cat off and race off down the hall, hands over her thoroughly-clawed face.

Their gazes fell to the kitten on the ground. Bastet sat up, gave herself a thorough shake, then strode back over to leap up and settle herself on Ginny's shoulder again.

"Ginny," said Ron. "I like that cat."

"Yes," Ginny mused as Bastet began leisurely licking her paws. "I think she'll fit in quite nicely."

And so it was that Bastet was borne back to Gryffindor Tower in glory, and Ginny and Hermione rushed up into the girls' dormitory to show her off to Ginny's roommates. "What is it about girls and cats?" Ron mused as they sat down at a table with a wizards' chess set between them.

"I like cats well enough," said Harry, moving a knight. "I didn't when I was younger because of Mrs. Figg, but since they've been watching out for me, I guess they're all right. Smart, it seems."

"This one sure is," said Ron, grinning with relish at the memory. "Still just a baby and attacking a Slytherin without even being asked! Good instincts!"

"Very good!" Harry laughed.

All at once, the quiet common room rang with shrieks and screams from upstairs and the frenzied, high-pitched yowls of a miniature attack cat. "Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed as he and Harry sprang to their feet. "Who's she attacking now!"

"Obviously someone's up there that she doesn't like the looks of…" Harry began, then from the girls' stairwell came first a massive blur of orange fur, yowling and spitting in outrage as it ran for its life, followed by what looked like a little black missile, then Ginny and Hermione tearing down the stairs with half of the Gryffindor girls.

"Bastet! No!"

"Crookshanks!"

Crookshanks tore around chairs, over tables, up curtains, and down bookcases with Bastet at his heels, both screeching and hissing as if they were mortal enemies, until Hermione finally pounced on Crookshanks and raced back up the stairs, shielding him protectively from Bastet and yelling at Ginny, "That thing is mad! Mad!"

Ron and Harry gaped as Bastet realized her quarry was no longer within reach. She tilted her head at the two of them as though wondering what they were looking at, then jumped up onto the abandoned chess board to give herself a bath. Ginny stared too. "I never imagined…"

"Ginny," gasped Ron. "I LOVE that cat!"

As a fuming Hermione came back down the stairs and sharply warned Ginny to "keep that little beast out of the sixth year dormitory," Ron threw himself to his knees in front of the kitten:

"O great Bastet, O high and exalted goddess, I bow before you! Let me worship you! Catnip! I will bring you catnip, and tuna fish, and cream, whatever your furry little heart desires, I will bring…"

Hermione grabbed a pillow off a chair and began hitting him with it as Harry and Ginny collapsed with laughter. "Oh, go on, Hermione!" Harry gasped, wiping his eyes. "You've got to admit, the shoe's on the other foot!"

Wednesday morning was N.E.W.T. Potions. At breakfast, Harry was as nervous as he'd been before his first Quidditch match. "Harry, just eat a little something," Hermione pleaded. "You know it's mad to go to Potions on an empty stomach."

"I know," Harry muttered, trying to force himself to swallow some toast. "Don't know why I'm so tense."

"I don't blame you, mate," said Ron. "I feel weird every time I see Snape these days. He doesn't look at me, though."

"Oh, he looks at me, all right," said Hermione. "With all his usual vitriol. But I wonder how he'll react to Harry after—"

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed. "Must I have a preview?"

"Sorry," she said. "Don't fret too much. It probably won't be so bad."

"Yeah, and you'll have Hermione to hold your hand through it," Ron muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Ron!" Hermione snapped.

"Harry's not a baby, Hermione, stop mothering him! He's got my mum for that!"

"For heaven's sake, you are the most tactless, uncaring—"

"Will you both please shut it!" Harry snapped at them. They did, although Hermione still looked…well…motherly, and Ron still looked disgruntled.

But the roiling mass of dread in Harry's stomach got to be so bad by the time he and Hermione got to the dungeons that he worried he would lose what little he'd eaten for breakfast. His heart felt like it would pound its way out of his chest. "Just relax," Hermione murmured to him as they walked through the door.

In spite of all his efforts, his eyes were drawn straight to the front of the room to a sallow face curtained by greasy hair and two cold black eyes. Harry stopped dead as he and Snape made eye contact, but Snape immediately looked away. Swallowing hard, he hurried to join Hermione at a table next to Dean and Seamus. "Have you handed in your homework?" she whispered.

"Oh damn," he muttered, pulling it out and glaring at it. He thought the essays were rather good, having been checked over twice by Hermione during his stint in the hospital wing, but of course, if Snape were up to his old tricks he'd be lucky to scrape an "Acceptable." "I don't suppose you could take them up for me."

Hermione looked startled by the depth of his resistance to speaking to Snape. Then she looked at Snape and sighed, understanding how Harry felt. "You know that's against the rules. You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to. Just put it on his desk. He has to take it." Harry still hesitated, balling his fists in frustration. Hermione glanced across the room and scowled. "Malfoy's watching."

The next thing Harry knew, he had the parchment rolls in his hand and was marching toward Snape's desk, trying not to see or hear anything. Not that there was much to see or hear; the entire room had gone silent, all watching Harry's approach to his rescuer. Snape kept his eyes fixedly on the class notes he was working on, and when Harry deposited the scrolls on his desk, he simply picked them up and dropped them into a pile with the other homework, not once looking up. Returning to his desk, Harry didn't know whether to be relieved or not.

Snape finally got up, slapped his palm down on Malfoy's desk for attention, and began lecturing on the use of powdered bicorn horn and other thinning agents for potions. He was as scornful and derisive toward the Gryffindors as ever, as vicious to Hermione as ever, and startled the entire class by taking points from Slytherin when Malfoy loudly whispered a snide remark about turncoats.

He looked sour. He looked bitter. He looked defiant.

But he never once looked at Harry.

"It's not as if I expected anything," Harry remarked to Ron while they sat on Ron's bed taking refuge from the cat fight (literally) going on in the common room. "I mean…I know it's not as if he owes me. I think. I don't remember much of him bringing me out. I know he yelled at me," he added dryly.

"It was weird, when he turned up. None of us even knew he'd gone after you," said Ron.

"I wonder if he regrets it," Harry said dryly.

Ron made an odd face. "I don't think he'd go into that kind of danger if he didn't want to. He was hurt when he got back. You said he dueled Death Eaters."

Harry nodded, fiddling with the bedspread, then glanced around to make sure no one else was in the dormitory. "I saw him use Avada Kedavra on one of them. And when we came out of one of the tunnels, there was a body there."

Ron goggled at him. "Blimey, Harry…he did that for you?"

"I know!" Harry shook his head helplessly. "That's why it's all so weird! He hated Sirius—I'm sure he's glad about…what happened. And I think he still hates me—maybe more than ever."

"Well, he did lose a lot. Blew his cover as a spy, shot his main job with the Order—not his fault of course, but the fact that he did it on your account has to rankle. I'll bet that now Snape's the only person Voldemort would like to see dead as much as you." Ron reached into the sweet stash beside his bed and pulled out two Chocolate Frogs, tossing one to Harry.

Harry missed the toss and had to jump off the bed to get it. Glancing at his own disorderly trunk, he noticed the red and gold diary edge peeking out of it. Ron watched as he slowly pulled it out. "I've been wanting to find out what happened."

"There's not that much in there, mate," said Ron, coming to join him. "Just a lot of us wandering around and trying to figure out what to do. And crying a lot. Though we did…"

"What?"

"Well, we got into big trouble for it, but we Flooed to Mrs. Figg's house when the Aurors started coming back and…well…" Ron indicated the diary. "Want to see? Hermione won't mind if we go without her." Harry slowly nodded. Ron took the diary and opened it between them on Harry's bed. "Where do you want to start?"

"The night of the attack," said Harry quietly.

"Right. Hand on the diary. Easy enough, it's Page One." Ron put his own hand on the diary, looked at Harry, and swallowed. "July First!" And the book sucked them in.