This is just a random idea that popped into my head and it's set when Harry is 10. I have no idea where this is going to go, but I really want to write it so...


Chapter One

Harry sat in the darkness of his cupboard, thinking about his miserable life. Usually, the thought that someone somewhere was worse off than him could make his thoughts slightly less dismal, but today, nothing could help.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"

Harry cracked his head on one of the shelves as he sat up. Was it his imagination, or had someone screamed?

He leant over, pressing his ear to the door.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my GOD!" said a hysterical female voice, making Harry jump again. "Why did I listen to you? WHY? You've taken me hostage, I know it! Oh my god, oh my-"

"Be quiet you stupid girl," hissed a man who sounded a lot closer to the cupboard. "Do you want to wake the whole house up?"

"No wonder she thinks she's been kidnapped, the way you're treating her," said a second man.

"If you value your life, Weasley, you will keep quiet."

"Stop bickering and start searching," said a woman, coldly. Harry heard muffled footsteps and the sound of gentle tapping on walls. He shrank back, frightened. What were these people looking for?

"Molly," said the second man, excitedly, "Molly, come and see this."

"I'm not Molly, you idiot!" snapped the cold female voice.

Someone shushed them, and the tapping resumed.

"Arthur!" whispered another woman, sounding inches away from Harry's door. "There's a flight of stairs here!"

"Where?"

"Where are you?"

"Here?"

"No, not there."

"Oh, this is so stupid. Lumos."

Harry had no idea what 'lumos' meant, but it clearly helped, because the whispering ceased, immediately.

Harry sat frozen for about a minute, waiting.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Harry pressed his whole body against the wall, his breathing ragged. Someone was knocking on the cupboard door!

"Do you reckon-"

"Of course he's in there, you stupid man."

"What if he's asleep?"

"Not with the racket she made."

"But-"

"Oh get on with it!"

"Shall I...?"

"Do it."

The door flew open, causing Harry to yell in fright. He dived under his thin blankets, squeezing his eyes tight shut.

"Well that was a silly thing to do," scolded the kinder sounding woman. "We've scared him stiff."

Harry felt someone's breath in his ear and an arm around his shoulders.

"It's OK," the woman whispered in his ear. "We won't hurt you."

"That won't work, stupid." The arm was rapidly withdrawn, and he heard the unpleasant voice of the first man very close to him.

"Get up, Potter," said the man. "You have a potentially lethal weapon pointing at you, and I will use it if you force me to."

Harry looked up.

There were five people framed in the doorway. The one closest to him was a tall, blonde man, who was pointing a stick at him in a very threatening manner. Looking over his shoulder in concern was a red haired, plump woman with a soft expression on her face. A pale woman with long blonde hair stood a little way away, also holding a stick aloft, and there was a bright light issuing from its tip. She had her arm firmly clamped around a girl who couldn't have been much older than himself. The girl had brown, bushy hair and a nervous look on her face. The man standing beside her was thin and balding, but his face was alive with excitement as he peered at Harry.

"Not much, is he," sneered the blonde man, scrutinising Harry.

Harry gulped and took a deep breath. "Excuse me," he said timidly. "Who exactly are you?"

***

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The balding man opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by the man nearest to Harry.

"We don't have time!" he snapped. "Potter, we have to go now."

Harry suddenly felt a little scared. These people were ruthless maniacs; they had already kidnapped one child, and they knew his name, so it wasn't just a random attack. Why should he trust them?

"I'll go with you... if you tell me who you are."

"Did you not hear what I just said? We don't have time."

"Honestly, Lucius," said the balding man wearily. " 'There's no time like the present'." He looked at Harry kindly. "However, Harry, it might be best if we went somewher a little more... private."

"If you so much as touch me," Harry bluffed, "I'll shout for my parents and they'll-"

"Of course your parents will come running," said the blonde man with a smirk. "Why let a little thing like being dead stop you?"

Harry felt like he had been doused in icy water. How much did they know?

"But... my aunt and uncle..."

"Will be glad to see the back of you I'm sure," the blonde man finished. "Let's go."

He tried to make a grab at Harry, but Harry knocked his arm away and shouted, "HELP!"

The blonde man swore loudly and threw himself on top of Harry, who kicked and struggled, but felt a hand close around his wrist that he couldn't throw off.

He felt the man's arm twisting away from him, but Harry still couldn't wriggle his way out of his iron grip.

He made a wild grab for something solid to stop himself being dragged away, but, quite suddenly, his cupboard wasn't there.

There was nothing but darkness. Crushing darkness. It compressed him on all sides and forced his streaming eyes backwards into his skull.

He was going to die...

He slammed into the ground and his knees bucked underneath him. He was finally released, and he lay there on the cold earth like a beached whale, gasping.

"Oh not again!"

Harry looked up through streaming eyes and saw a group of people sprinting towards him and the man. There were the four people who had been at Privet Drive, and a man whose face was hidden in shadow. Behind them was a figure who looked so... huge... that Harry thought that he must be imagining things.

"Are you sure you've got an Apparition license, Lucius?" said the balding man with a chuckle. "You're about 50 metres off target."

"You can carry the boy next time," snarled the blonde man, hoisting Harry to his feet.

Quite unexpectedly, the giant of a man at the back burst into tears.

"It's little Harry," he managed to choke. " Home at last!"

What an odd thing to say, Harry thought, gazing round at the little street that he was standing in. It was filled with what looked like shops.

"Where are we?" he wondered aloud.

The man who's face was in shadow moved into a patch of moonlight, revealing sallow skin and a hooked nose. He looked Harry up and down and then said slowly, "Harry Potter. Welcome to Hogsmede."

***

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Chapter Two

"Where?"

The hook-nosed man blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Hogsmede.." Harry tried again, "...What the hell?"

An unpleaseant smile crept across the man's face. "You don't know?"

It was Harry's turn to blink. "What?"

"You don't know?" He took a step closer, still smirking.

"Don't know what?"

The giant man was watching Harry closely. "D'you mean ter say... tha' yeh don' know anything? Abou'... abou' us?"

" 'Us'?"

Everyone was staring at him now. He felt very uncomfortable.

"What is there to know?" he said, a little agressively. "You've abducted me. That's all."

"Abducted?" The balding man looked disappointed. "Were we really that bad?"

Harry opened his mouth to say yes, but he was interrupted.

"Ah. You've arrived."

One second, there was nobody there, the next, there was. However, there was something reassuring about the tall man with silver hair and beard and twinkling blue eyes almost hidden behind half-moon spectacles. He surveyed them all cheerily.

"I have temporarily lifted the charm on the Great hall," he said to the hook-nosed man. "We can apparate straight inside."

Someone grabbed Harry's arm, and he was pulled through the suffocating darkness again. This time, the floor he collapsed on was cold hard stone. He stood up shakily.

They were in a kind of cavernous hall, with a high ceiling and...

Wait a minute. The ceiling!

Harry stared. it was as if there was no ceiling. There was nothing but sky...

Head spinning, he looked back at the floor. At least THAT was still there.

He became suddenly aware of a distant yelling, growing louder and louder.

The doors at the other end of the hall flew open and two boys ran in. Both of them were shouting.

The taller of the two, who was doing the chasing, rugby tackled the other boy, bringing him to the floor with a thud. They rolled around for a few seconds before the two women from Privet Drive hurried forwards and pulled them off eachother.

"Are you all right-"

"-oh my goodness-"

"-leave you for two minutes-"

"-honestly-"

"-what were you thinking-"

"-don't know what was going through your head-"

"-I mean really."

The two boys pulled themselves free, still glaring at eachother.

"He started it," they said in unison.

"Severus," said the man with the silver beard. "If you would go back to Hogsmede, the Ministry officials should be here any minute."

The hook nosed man disappeared with a soft pop.

"Ministry officials?" The blonde man raised an eyebrow. "You've really gone all out, Dumbledore."

"I shall abandon all modesty," said the man with the beard gravely. "The discovery I have made will change the course of wizard history."

***

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"Oh, and this must be, Harry."

Harry looked reluctantly up into a pair of electric blue eyes.

"That's where we have a problem," said the bonde man quickly. "He doesn't know. I don't know what you where hoping for, but he was kept in the dark. Literally, I'm afraid."

"I sleep in a cupboard," Harry supplied. The old man's forehead creased.

"Oh, dear. Dear dear dear dear dear." He glanced over at the door. "Oh, dear."

"Um..."

"Harry, you have to understand, I would tell you, but as it is..."

He couldn't seem to hold back a knowing smile.

"You'll see."

There were several loud pops, and Harry let out an involentary squeak as about ten figures materialised out of thin air.

"Dumbledore, you'd better have a reason for this madness," said a portly man in a vibrant pin-striped suit wearily. "High security prisoner...Removal...No laughing matter...I mean, you could have at least let the Dementors..."

The tall bonde woman had turned her back very pointedly on the unfolding struggle.

At first, Harry thought that the strong looking men were wrestling with a wild animal. He backed away slowly, trying desparately not to imaginer what sort of creature could make those sort of noises.

"It's no good," someone yelled from inside the fray,"We're going to have to stun her!"

There was a sudden flash of red light, and the horrible snarls ceased immediately. Panting, the men drew apart, revealing something very unexpected.

It was a woman, her long black hair spread out in matted clumps around her shoulders. Her breathing was ragged, but the expression on her face was almost peaceful.

The old man frowned. "Just the one?"

The portly man sighed. "Give me five minutes. Then we'll go and fetch Black."

Chapter Three

Harry was tired. He was hungry and confused. He was used to people ignoring him, but there was something about the excited vibrancy of the atmosphere in that hall that made him feel quite indignant.

So many people had been coming and going that Harry no longer started every time someone appeared out of thin air. He had secretly been listening to passing conversations - though there was really very little he could gather - but there were two things that he had picked up. The old man with the twinkling eyes was called 'Dumbledore'. The portly man with the lime green bowler was called 'Fudge'.

"There," said Fudge exasperatedly, as his men finished tying the wild looking woman and an equally wild looking man to chairs. "And that's all I'm doing Dumbledore. No more."

Dumbledore looked down at a piece of parchment-like paper that he was holding. Craning his neck slightly, Harry could see that it was some sort of list.

"Molly, Arthur, you may need to bring the rest of your family," said Dumbledore, frowning slightly.

"I'll go," said the balding man ('Arthur') quickly.

"Wait!" said Dumbledore, urgently. "Also bring... Percy's rat."

It was clear from the expression on Arthur's face that he didn't understand this statement at all, but he vanished obediently.

"Minerva, if you would be so kind, could you fetch Quirinus Quirrel?"

Dumbledore handed a rather severe looking woman what seemed to be a map. She glanced at it, and then too vanished.

"Quirinus Quirrel? The Weasley family rat?" said the hook-nosed man with a smirk. "You've got a lot of explaining to do Dumbledore."

There was a sudden explosion of chatter that echoed off the cavernous walls and supposedly non-existent ceiling. Seven redheads had appeared out of thin air and had all started talking at once.

"Mum!"

"Dad!"

"Ron!"

"Dumbledore!"

"What-"

"Explain-"

"Fudge! What's-"

"Children," cried Arthur, vainly, "please, quiet down."

"BOYS!" roared the plump red haired woman who didn't look quite so warm and kind any more. "GINNY!"

The babble ceased immediately.

"You have the rat?" said Dumbledore urgently.

A tall boy with horn-rimmed glasses stepped forward importantly.

"Here you are, sir," he said pompously.

Dumbledore took a very worn looking rat from his outstretched hand and held it at eye level.

He smiled triumphantly and walked over to the man who was tied to a chair.

"You see?" he said, showing him the rat. "Nine toes."

This clearly meant something to both man and rat. The man began to struggle violently, somehow unable to make any noise, but mouthing obscenities all the same. The rat gave a terrified squeak and tried desperately to get free.

"Oh no you don't, Peter," said Dumbledore, calmly. He whipped out his long, thin stick and tapped the rat once.

This time, it wasn't only Harry who jumped. The rat vanished and in it's place stood a squat little man with watery eyes and an incredibly nervous expression on his face.

There was a shocked silence.

"Peter Pettigrew?" said Fudge, cautiously.

The man made a dash for the door, but Dumbledore reacted quickly, waving his stick and conjuring a chair covered in chains.

The man was immediately bound tightly to the chair, where he continued to wriggle silently. Everyone stared at Dumbledore.

"But-"

"How-"

"All in good time," said Dumbledore, checking his watch.

Suddenly, the hall filled with shouting again. Instead of seven people, however, it was only two.

Minerva, the severe looking woman, was tussling with a pale, jumpy young man, and, considering his countenance, he was putting up a good fight.

Several people in the room sprung into action. They flung themselves into the midst of the fight and simply made it a lot noisier and a lot worse.

There were several loud bangs and around the edges of the group, people straightened up and dusted themselves off.

As everyone broke apart, the young man came into view. He seemed to be unconscious but he was clutching a small mirror as if it were his own son.

Dumbledore managed to wrestle the mirror outer of the man's grip and peered at it.

"I thought so," he whispered. He cleared his throat. "Show yourself, Lord Voldemort, darkest sorcerer since the beginning of time."

The blonde man's face drained of colour. The wild looking woman let out a cackle which no one could hear because of the sort of charm that had been placed on her. Fudge let out an indignant squawk and all of the redheads shuddered simultaniously.

Then, from the depths of the mirror came a voice, a voice so terrible that Harry knew it would haunt his dreams forever.

"I have answered your call, old man. Look on me as I truly am, and be afraid."

***

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"Very clever, Tom," Dumbledore murmured. "But I know your secret. That, and more, I dare say."

"The full crowd, I see, Dumbledore. May I enquire as to the occasion?" said the voice, making the hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickle.

"I beg your pardon, but I'm afraid I don't understand a word you're saying."

Harry blinked. Was Dumbledore deaf or something? The nightmarish voice was speaking perfectly clearly.

Dumbledore suddenly turned his gaze on Harry.

"You understand him, of course."

"Yes, but-"

Dumbledore winked and put a finger to his lips. Then he focused again on the mirror.

"I'm offering you a choice Tom. Co-operate, and listen to what I have to say. Or continue to resist, and I will turn you over to the ministry."

"Are you threatening me, old man?"

"Please, Tom. Parsletongue is a good dramatic effect, but it does get rather boring after a while."

The thing in the mirror laughed, a cold, spine-tingling laugh that chilled Harry to the bone.

"Why doesn't HARRY POTTER tell you my answer? Never!"

"What did he say, Harry?" said Dumbledore sharply.

"He..." Harry took a deep breath. "He said, 'Never'."

"Oh that's unfortunate," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "Are you sure, Tom? You won't listen to me first? I assure you, it's worth it."

There was a pause.

"Very well. I will listen."

Harry caught Dumbledore's eye. "He said yes."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Good, good. Now, if you wouldn't mind coming out of that mirror. It's such a primitive vessel..."

"It is of my choosing, so perhaps it is less primitive than you think."

"I am taking that to mean no. Very well, we will proceed."

He waved his stick, and about thirty chairs appeared.

"Take a seat," he said, gravely.

Everyone uncertainly made their way over to a chair. Dumbledore waved his stick again, and the unconscious form of Quirinus Quirrel disappeared, but Harry didn't even flinch. He was starting to think that he might be dreaming.

"Under your seats," said Dumbledore, a little louder than was necessary, for everyone had realized the seriousness of the situation, and had fallen silent, "you will find seven books, stacked one on top of the other. Please take the top one and-"

"Sorry we're late."

An old woman, a man, a round-faced boy and a girl with long dirty blonde hair took the seats just behind Harry.

"We met up on the journey," said the woman, in a voice that said quite clearly what she thought of the bizarre looking man and his daughter.

"Augusta, Xenophilius, Neville and Luna," said Dumbledore, acknowledging each one of them in turn. "So glad you made it. Please take out the top book from under you're seats."

Everyone did so. Harry turned the small paperback over in his hands eagerly, and then caught sight of the title.

He froze. Several other people gasped.

He stared at the title.

There must be some mistake, he thought, desperately.

"I give you my solemn promise," said Dumbledore, "that every word of it is true. I would like you to read them, please. But bear in mind that these pages hold tales of terrible things." His gaze lingered on Harry for a moment. "Things that can, and will be changed. Hold no grudges, feel no remorse for actions that are yet to come. Please start."

Chapter Four

Harry read. Every so often, he would glance upwards, trying to match a description with a face. Sometimes, he would have success, but sometimes, the particular person was absent, and he would have to keep reading with a mental picture of them in his mind's eye.

The more he read, the more things started to make sense. It never occurred to him for a second to doubt Dumbledore's words. There was something about him that you couldn't help trusting.

So, Harry read about his own life, watched it unfold before his eyes. He flew on a broomstick, he battled trolls, he turned matchsticks into needles (or, at least, his friend Hermione did), and that was only in his first year.

On and on he read, book after book. He could have been in that hall (or, as he now knew, the Great Hall) for a year, but he wouldn't have noticed. All he wanted was to keep reading, to keep unlocking the secrets of his past and future.

For his whole life, he had been starved of knowledge, and now, in front of him, was all he would ever need.

Even as he turned the last page of the last book, he knew that what he had just read was not the tale of a normal boy. He was special. The Chosen One.

He seemed like nearly the last one to finish.

One of the Weasley twins kept sitting in front of him kept muttering, "I die... I die ..."

"Everybody finished?" asked Dumbledore. Too shocked to speak, everyone simply nodded.

"Dumbledore?" Fudge was the first to break the silence. "Dumbledore... None of us would do anything like that... Simply ridiculous..."

"Seemed pretty believable to me," said Mrs Longbottom sharply. "Particularly where you denied the Dark Lord's return. Typical you, don't you think?"

"But," blustered Fudge,"some of those Death Eaters... I know them personally... They would never... Swore innocence..."

"Think about it logically, Cornelius," snapped Professor McGonagall. "It all makes sense. No one could just make that up."

"What I object to, Dumbledore," said Snape coldly, "is you revealing people's deepest secrets."

"Severus, you were going to confess your love for Lily to Harry on your deathbed. Do you not prefer him finding out now, when you are not about to die?"

"What was the point in showing us all that?"

"I fail to see, Tom, why you ask a question in Parsletongue when you know I will be unable to answer it due to the fact that I will not understand you."

"He wanted to know what the point was," said Harry, his mind still mulling over what he had just read.

"The point?" Dumbledore smiled. "Well, I'll tell you."

***

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"As many of you will have realized, if you keep going the way you're going, you will end up miserable or dead. None of you wants this anymore than I do. I need your help."

There was silence. Even Voldemort had the sense to keep quiet. Dumbledore looked round at them all again.

"I need your help," he repeated.

"I will."

Harry turned his head so fast that he cricked it. Rubbing it furiously, he looked over at who had spoken, and his voice joined in the gasps as he saw who it was.

Dumbledore's face broke into a relieved smile.

"Thank you, Lucius, it is much appreciated."

Mr Malfoy nodded, and then sat back down again. Mr Weasley got up with a funny expression on his face.

"I'm in," he said quietly. Dumbledore nodded gently and Mr Weasley sat back down again. Harry saw that he was shaking slightly.

Now he came to think of it, everyone looked a little ill. Narcissa Malfoy was crying and Hermione was as white as a sheet. Even Professor McGonagall looked a little green.

Nevertheless, one by one, everyone stood up and accepted Dumbledore's offer, until there was only one person left.

"Tom," said Dumbledore seriously. "We need you too."

"I made a lot of mistakes..." said Voldemort slowly, in English.

"We can help you," said Dumbledore earnestly.

"I made a lot of mistakes..." Voldemort repeated, rising slowly out of the mirror like a contorted ghost. "But thanks to you, Dumbledore, I won't make them again!"

And with that, he zoomed out of the great hall.

***

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Four years later...

Chapter Five

"Harry," said Dumbledore, getting up to pace around the room, "you must understand. Nobody knows Voldemort as I do. If he is going to act, he will act now."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Professor, I understand your concern, but think about it. The stone is gone, the unicorns have been moved out of the Forest, Peter Pettigrew's on our side, Mr Malfoy destroyed the diary, Barty Crouch has been put back in Azkaban, even the Triwizard Tournament has been cancelled. What could possibly go wrong?"

Dumbledore looked at Harry gravely.

"Harry, we have been searching for the Horcruxes for four years. There is no trace. Coincidence?"

Harry shifted slightly again. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Yes, Harry, you may go. Have a good Christmas. Give my regards to Molly."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry quickly, before tearing from the office and sprinting as fast as he could to the Entrance Hall.

"There you are, Harry!" said Ron, relieved. "The train is literally about to leave."

"Where's Hermione?" he gasped as they ran down the path and leapt into a carriage.

"She's gone ahead with Draco."

The carriage rattled along noisily, with Ron muttering "Hurry up," at random moments.

Ron wrenched the door open before they had stopped and threw himself out. Together, they managed to slip through the door that Neville was holding open for them and collapse onto the seats in their rather full compartment.

"Wow, Ron," said Harry, looking round at everyone. "This is going to be some Christmas."

"And this is only the kids," said Fred, grinning. "Sirius, Lupin and Mad-Eye are meeting us at the station. Even Bellatrix is coming!"

"She got out of St. Mungo's last month," supplied Draco. "I think they’ve taken out her brain and replaced with a different one. She's so.. so... nice."

Bellatrix had spent four years in hospital after discovering that her beloved lord and master was destined to die. The last time Harry had seen her, she'd tried to shoot him with a Muggle pistol that had been lying around.

"And Peter, and Fudge, and the Malfoys, and the Grangers-"

"So pretty much everyone on the planet," Harry laughed. He loved the Weasley Family Christmas party, and this one was all set to be the best one ever.

Throughout the journey, everyone talked and joked and trod on eachother's feet. Halfway through an outrageous game of spin the bottle, Harry felt a sudden violent pang that made him gasp and clutch his chest.

Convincing everyone that he just needed to go and confirm the Charms homework with one of the Ravenclaws, he staggered outside and slumped against a wall out of sight.

Why had he suddenly been overcome like that? Was it because everything was not as it should be?

Ah, said an annoying voice in his head, but it isn't, is it?

No, he had to admit that things were different to the events described in those books that he had read four years ago. But surely that was to be expected? One look at the horrors that were yet to come, and everyone had changed for the better. And this was a good thing!

Shaking his head, he got to his feet.

You're just being silly, he told himself as he squeezed into the compartment in time to see Ron and Neville kissing crudely, both very red in the face. The Weasleys have adopted me. Voldemort's gone for good. Slytherins and Gryffindors are almost best friends. Why should I be unhappy?

He laughed along with everyone else as Neville and Ron broke apart, retching. Nobody noticed how forced it was.

***

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The train chugged slowly into the station, and no sooner had it stopped than people began pouring out of it.

"OVER HERE WEASLEYS AND GUESTS!" screamed Mrs Weasley through a megaphone.

The majority of the crowd surged towards her, talking loudly over eachother while she desperately tried to keep order.

"Listen! LISTEN!" she yelled. Everyone stopped talking at once. "I'm going to take a register!"

She looked down at her clipboard.

"In no particular order, Angelina!"

"Yes!"

Angelina broke away from the crowd and made her way to the barrier, where Mr Weasley was waiting.

"Fred! George! Katie! Leanne! Colin! Dennis! Luna! Dean! Percy! Penelope! Draco! Dean! Seamus! Cho! Michael! Amanda! Lillith! Sara! Lavender! Parvati! Padma! Hermione! Sally-Anne! Terry! Neville! Harry!"

Harry said, "See you later," to the people still waiting and followed Neville through the enchanted barrier and out of the station.

He squeezed into one of the ministry cars, squashed between Terry Boot and Sally-Anne Perks, ready for a long and noisy journey.

"That's all that we can fit in," said Mr Weasley to the driver, who nodded and began to move off.

They were half way down the main road when the driver turned around, wearing a peculiar smile.

"Hold on tight!"

Several people screamed as the car surged forward suddenly, going faster and faster and faster and...

With a loud BANG, the tyres hit the solid ground of the Weasley family drive, within a few seconds, they had all piled out of the car and met up with the people who had gone ahead.

"New rooms, mate?" Dean asked Ron, pointing to the shiny new floor tottering on top of the Burrow, which had grown considerably.

"Yeah," grinned Ron. "Oh look, there's the rest of them."

When the final car had been unloaded and Mrs Weasley had stopped yelling at her husband for arranging such an irresponsible use of magic, they all poured inside the cosy Burrow.

"Names are on the bedroom doors!" Mrs Weasley yelled as they rampaged upstairs. "RON, HARRY, GINNY, GEORGE, FRED AND PERCY! CHORES!"

Groaning, the Weasley family trailed down the stairs again. Hermione and Draco followed them.

"We'll help, Mrs Weasley," said Draco brightly. "What do you need doing?"

"It's alright, dear," said Mrs Weasley approvingly. "It's nothing we can't manage. "

"But we want to help," Hermione said determinedly. "What should we do?"

Mrs Weasley glanced at her chore rota. "Well, Harry, Ron and George are degnoming the garden, Ginny's feeding the chickens, Percy's washing up and Fred's sorting out the washing!"

Harry groaned. Degnoming wasn't his favourite chore.

"Well, what needs an extra pair of hands?" asked Hermione.

"Hermione, why don't you help Ginny feed the chickens, and Draco can do some degnoming."

Everyone dispersed to their various stations, and Harry, Ron, George and Draco went out into the garden.

"We'll do this side," said George, grabbing Ron and dragging him over to the far side of the garden.

"We'd best get started," said Draco grimly, closing his eyes and plunging his hand into a begonia.

Harry turned and started rifling through the hydrangeas, his mind still on other things.

He had just seized a particularly fat gnome round the ankle, and was about to swing it when something made him pause.

It was Cedric Diggory, sneaking stealthily through the field of corn just beyond the fence.

"OUCH!"

Harry dropped the gnome quickly just as it tried to kick him again with another knobbly foot.

Cursing it quietly as it disappeared into a bed of petunias, he looked up again in time to see Cedric open a hidden door in a large ash tree and clamber inside.

Without pausing to think, Harry checked that no one was looking before ducking the fence and sprinting after him.

***

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Chapter Six

Harry gasped.

There was a whole tunnel in the tree! It went stretching off into the distance like a huge, straight, Roman road, turning no visible corners.

He slowly descended the set of step, trying hard to make no noise, although Cedric was nowhere to be seen.

No sooner had he reached the bottom than something came rushing up to him. he whipped out his wand, ready for a fight, but it was only a little rickety mine-cart.

He realized with a jolt that he was supposed to get in it. Uncertainly, he glanced over his shoulder, half hoping that a Weasley would come rushing up and drag him back to the house.

With a sigh, he thought, It's now or never, and he got in.

His first thought was that he would never see the pit of his stomach ever again. His second thought was that he was going to be sick. And his final thought before the cart stopped was that he was being sick.

It was all over so quickly, and it was perhaps better that it was , because any longer in that cart and Harry would have probably died.

Checking that all his limbs were still working, Harry clambered out of the cart, still a little dizzy. Another set of steps came into focus.

Now or never, Harry reminded himself, grabbing the handrail.

The higher up he went, the darker it became, until it was so pitch black that he cracked his head on the trap door and swore so loudly that he thought he was done for. No secret fraternity members came running however, so he steeled himself, and pushed the trap door open.

the first words that reached Harry's ears when he poked his head out of the trap door were not exactly what you'd call friendly.

"Avada Kedavra!"

***

Please please please leave feedback to tell me how much you hate me for all these cliffhangers!

Harry's reflexes kicked in and he flattened himself against the musty wooden floor. He felt the spell pass safely over his head, rippling his hair.

"NOOOOOOOOO!"

Harry couldn't resist the urge to peek, but the minute he did, he wished he hadn't.

It was Voldemort. Obviously.

Harry was surprised at how little fear he was feeling. This was the most evil dark wizard in history! The one who'd done all those terrible things in the books he had read. But it was as though his emotions had been shut off as he stared at the man who had murdered his parents.

And then, looking more closely at the face of one of the people standing next to Voldemort, he felt a single emotion. Surprise.

It was Ernie Macmillian.

In fact, standing around Voldemort was every Hufflepuff who went to Hogwarts. And at his feet, killed by the curse that was meant for Harry, was Cedric Diggory.

"It doesn't REALLY matter, Master," piped up Hannah Abbot. " He was hardly a Hufflepuff after all."

"That's right," said Ernie darkly. "More Gryffindor than Hufflepuff."

"Shut up you bunch of pathetic whiners!" snapped Voldemort. "You're the worst! I don't know why I bother!" He glared at them all. "Diggory was the best out of all of you. You're all scum! SCUM!"

Harry could see quite clearly that Voldemort was building up for a mad fit of rage. He, like most of the people from those 'Harry Potter' books, had changed a lot. Harry supposed it was the lack of competent followers.

Suddenly, out of the blue, Voldemort shouted "Crucio!", and one of the Hufflepuffs fell to the floor with a terrible cry of pain.

"I give UP!" Voldemort yelled, positively spitting with rage. "I never want to see another Hufflepuff again! I'm going to get some Slytherins!"

Without warning, he stormed towards the secret trap door, with all the Hufflepuffs trailing behind him like obedient puppies. He threw it open before Harry could do anything, and their eyes met. Voldemort's face cracked into an unpleasant smile.

"Harry. After the tragic death of Mr Diggory, I'd almost forgotten that it was you I was trying to kill!"

***

Seriously, you're feedback keeps me upright!

Chapter Seven

Harry didn't even get a second to contemplate his impending doom. He was whisked off his feet and stuck with some kind of permanent sticking charm to a tree.

Voldemort laughed wildly as Harry kicked and struggled. The Hufflepuff did their best to laugh and sneer, but all that happened was that they ended up looking rather comical.

"I could kill you quickly," Voldemort mused, circling Harry. "But I think I'd best get some information out of you first. After all..." He broke off and looked round expectantly at the Hufflepuffs.

"Um..." said Ernie blankly.

"Oh for goodness sake!" screamed Voldemort. "Information is power! Our slogan! I told you this barely an hour ago."

"Information is power," chorused the Hufflepuffs, far too late.

Voldemort made the split second decision to continue with his monologue or perform mass murder. He chose the monologue.

"Yes, Harry, information is the true source of all power, is it not? Only with information can you escape death."

"So what are you're little hired goons now?" Harry burst out. "The Information Eaters?"

"Oh, always the joker, Harry," Voldemort hissed. "Yes, but humour can't spare you. As you may have noticed, my little band of Hufflepuffs is hardly satisfactory to meet the needs of an evil genius such as myself. So... tell me... what has happened to my loyal Death Eaters? Legilimens!"

Lucius Malfoy helping Mr Weasley take apart a Muggle motorbike... Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange having joint therapy... Amycus and Alecto Carrow running a Muggle hairdressing salon... Fenrir Greyback teaching a werewolf psychology course... Yaxely working as Senior Undersectretary to the minister... Bellatrix Lestrange picking flowers...

"ENOUGH!"

Harry's head slumped as the real world swam slowly back into focus. Voldemort's face was more terrifying than Harry could ever have imagined it to be.

"So..." said Voldemort dangerously. "They have all decided to... reform... We shall just have to look at the next generation. Legilimens!"

Draco Malfoy helping Ron get rid of a rather large gnome... Crabbe and Goyle playing Dungeons and Dragons... Blaise Zabini telling everyone at the Weasley's a hilarious story... Theodore Nott trying to beat Percy at Scrabble...

"ALL RIGHT, I GET IT!"

Voldemort's angry face came into view again.

"The Slytherins have deserted me..." he said, more to himself than anyone else. "The Hufflepuffs are a complete waste of time... The Ravenclaws are too smart to take orders... The Gryffindor's lives are perfect already..."

"Looks like you're pretty stuck now," said Harry weakly.

But Voldemort wasn't listening. He had began to pace up and down, muttering to himself. And then it came to him.

"Durmstrang!"

***

You like? Tell me here.

There was a long pause following this sudden stroke of genius.

"Durm what?" asked Ernie timidly.

Harry winced.

It had been coming for a long time, but now, finally, almost literally, Voldemort exploded.

There was a mad haze of screaming and yelling and loud bangs and flashes of light. When the smoke finally cleared, the Hufflepuffs had mysteriously disappeared, every single one of them.

Harry's breath caught in his chest. Now, more than ever, he realized the gravity of the situation. Voldemort was a brutal, homicidal psychopath.

He seemed to have lost his head completely. He was looking around wildly for more people to torture (thankfully missing Harry). Harry could almost see his temper rising again.

Suddenly, he made the choice. He brandished his wand and screamed to the skies "MORSMORDE!"

Out of the tip of his wand exploded the Dark Mark, ten thousand times worse than Harry could have ever imagined. Voldemort laughed chillingly when he saw it, and began whispering in rapid-fire Parsletongue that Harry had no hope of following. Then, he screamed, "COME TO ME, ALL WHO CALLED YOURSELF MY FOLLOWERS!"

Oh no, thought Harry. He’s not, is he?

There were several pops, and in the clearing appeared several awkward looking people.

At the sight of Bellatrix in an Alice in Wonderland-style dress yelling "But where did the FLOWERS go?" Voldemort seemed to realize what he had done. It didn’t help that Amycus and Alecto were trying to hide their matching hairdryers, or that Greyback was shuffling his notes on werewolf anger management in a sheepish manner.

"EVERYBODY, BE QUIET," he yelled. A hush settled over everyone, except Bellatrix, who was searching noisily for even a pathetic hint of a flower.

"As you can see," said Voldemort, breathing heavily, "I have risen again."

"No!" Harry whispered. "Really?"

"Harry!" said Mr Malfoy, discarding his motorcycle exhaust pipe and giving Harry a hug. "We were wondering where you'd got to."

"I wasn't," said Rodolphus quietly, but everyone ignored him.

"I don’t believe it!" said Bellatrix loudly to a positively apoplectic Voldemort. "Not a SINGLE flower! Not even a DAISY! What am I supposed to do now?"

"Oh dear," said Narcissa distractedly, trying and failing to fake sympathy.

"I mean, you'd think you might at least find some forget-me-nots, because they flourish in these kind of conditions, but-"

"SHUT UP!" Voldemort screamed. There was silence again.

Mr Malfoy slunk back over and darted past Voldemort to snatch his exhaust pipe from the ground. He went back to stand with Rodolphus, cradling it.

"Lucius..." said Voldemort with a kind of forced calm. "What on earth is that?"

"Um..." Mr Malfoy stared at it blankly. "I think Arthur said it was a... resort pipe?"

"Exhaust pipe," Harry corrected.

"Cheers, Harry," said Mr Malfoy gratefully.

"Harry?" Voldemort’s eyes bulged slightly. "HARRY? FIRST NAME TERMS?!"

"Yeah," said Draco as though it were the most obvious thing on earth. "We’re really good friends now."

"YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING!"

"Nope," said Harry unhelpfully. With any luck, Voldemort would have a major heart attack pretty soon.

"So..." said Voldemort, his voice shaking, "The Malfoys are best friends... with Harry Potter..."

Lucius, Narcissa and Draco looked at each other guiltily.

"... Yaxley works for the Ministry..."

Yaxley started trying to edge away, keeping his arms folded over his chest to try and keep the Ministry robes hidden.

"...The Carrows run a MUGGLE hairdressing salon..."

Alecto tried to shove her hairdryer into Amycus's free hand.


"... Greyback is a teacher..."

"Werewolf psychology," interrupted Greyback, "is a very worthwhile subject-"

"AND..." said Voldemort firmly. "Bella... picks... flowers?"

"But they’re so pretty," Bella whined, shoving the bouquet she was clutching in his face.

"INCENDIO!"

Bellatrix screamed and dropped the flaming bundle. She watched it burn to a cinder. Then she burst into tears.

"Now look what you’ve done," said Lucius, patting Bellatrix on the back as she threw herself into his arms. "You’re not supposed to insult the flowers in any way shape or form."

"But-"started Voldemort.

"HE BURNT THEM," wailed Bellatrix.

"They’re just flowers... You used to mercilessly torture people..." said Voldemort weakly as he watched her sob.

"Well, it’s funny," said Harry conversationally, "because Draco was saying the other day-"

"Draco..." said Voldemort, who seemed to have completely forgotten about trying to rally his Death Eaters. "As in... That Draco?" He didn't seem to have come to terms with the fact that Draco and Harry were friends now.

"How many other Dracos might I know? Its not exactly the most normal name in the world."

"Hey!" said Narcissa indignantly.

"Mother," said Draco fairly. "It’s a stupid name. Even I know that."

"We were really drunk that night!" Mr Malfoy argued.

"You were really drunk." Narcissa reminded him. "You were the one who came up with the name in the first place!"

"You agreed!"

"I thought it was cute... at the time," she finished lamely.

"You know," said Voldemort, leaving the Malfoys to start a heated debate, staring thoughtfully at Harry. "I'm sure there was a reason I called all these people here... It can't just have been for a nice chat..."

***

Yeah, that's all I have time for. It might be bloody awful, it might be hysterical. I hope you like it! Please tell me the right/absolutely completely and utterly wrong things I did so I can continue/improve them!

Chapter Eight

Harry held his breath as Voldemort thought hard.

"Nope, it's not coming back to me," said Voldemort blankly. With one sweep of his wand, Harry's bonds were slashed and he fell to the floor panting.

"Thanks for coming," said Voldemort, leading him to the trap door. "Hope to see you again soon."

Harry nodded in a kind of stunned way and smiled nervously. Slowly, he opened the trap door, smiled again and then dived down into the secret compartment under the trap door. Taking the stairs two at a time, he heard a low rumble that told him the rest of the former Death Eaters had also been released. He stumbled slightly at the bottom, but picked himself up and looked wildly around for a mine cart. One came zooming along and knocked off his feet with an 'oof'. He got up, leaped inside the cart and blinked his streaming eyes as they moved off at the speed of sound. The cart jerked to a stop, throwing Harry headfirst out of it. He scrambled through the secret door and didn't stop running until he got inside the boundaries of the Weasley household, where he found an irate Mrs Weasley waiting for him.

"In," she said furiously. Harry followed her meekly inside. "Sit."

Harry sat.

"Explain."

"Well-" Harry began.

"Sorry we're late," Narcissa interrupted, as all of Voldemort's followers piled into the Weasley kitchen. "We got side-tracked. Harry was with us."

Harry nodded emphatically. Mrs Weasley's mouth was still a thin line of disapproval, but she jerked her head towards the door, and Harry interpreted this as permission to leave. Giving Draco a meaningful look, Harry left the kitchen and climbed the stairs, following the noise to find the room everyone was in.

"Harry!" said just about everyone as he entered.

"Where were you mate?" asked Ron, slapping him on the back.

"We were so worried," said Hermione, looking him up and down in careful examination.

"Can we talk to you two?" said Draco, with a certain air of mystery. Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, but followed Harry and Draco into Fred and George's private broom cupboard.

Harry shut the door and turned around to sit on the upturned crate in the corner. The trouble was, there was already someone sitting on it.

"I get the impression that you have something to tell me, Harry," said Dumbledore gravely, fixing Harry with a searching gaze.

***

It's not very much I know, but I've been ill lately and I haven't quite got back into the swing of things. Please leave feedback.

So so so so sorry, but I was completely isolated from all normal human contact over Christmas...

Anyway, here is a brand spanking new update!!

***

For a few seconds, Dumbledore looked mildly amused as Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco gaped at him.

"I think 'I told you so' would be appropriate in this context, do you not agree Harry?" said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. Then his voice lost some of it's cheerful tone. "I hope that the four of you realize exactly how serious this situation is. Needless to say, it took Lord Voldemort the space of exactly 6 and a half seconds after you all left to remember exactly why he had called you there. He is currently on his way to Durmstrang as we speak." He sighed. "I highly doubt that Igor Karkaroff will be quite so brave in the face of danger as his fellows. As you may have noticed, he wasn't present at the... rather amusing meeting that took place just now, but I fear that direct confrontation with his former master may tell a different story..."

Harry exchanged nervous glances with the others. It had been hard to take Voldemort seriously when he was surrounded by quivering Hufflepuffs or trying in vain to order around a gravely altered Bellatrix, but actual capable wizards, highly trained in the Dark Arts, was another story.

"So... What are we going to do?" asked Harry a little desperately. He felt completely lost. It was one thing to read about being a hero, but actually having to face the most evil Dark Wizard in history? He went weak at the knees just thinking about it.

"Are you seriously saying that... You-Know-Who," said Ron slowly, "is back?"

"Yeah," said Draco awkwardly. "We were going to tell, you, but..."

Hermione went a little green and Ron's mouth opened and shut like a goldfish. A realization hit Harry faster than a small asteroid.

"Professor? Now that he's... back... does this mean... the prophecy..."

Dumbledore fixed Harry with his electric-blue gaze.

"Yes, Harry," he said sadly. "I'm afraid that exactly what it means."

"But," said Draco quickly,"if we just get everything back to normal then... He'll die won't he? Like he did in the end?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "What's done is done. Even the slightest change could end in... disaster."

Harry didn't need to ask what kind of disaster. He looked helplessly out of the window, lost for words. In seemingly another world, he heard Mrs Weasley call "LUNCH!" from downstairs and felt Hermione support him downstairs.

Neither can live while the other survives... Neither can live while the other survives...

Mrs Weasley caught him as he made towards the garden, where six tables had been set together to accomodate the guests.

"Are you all right, dear?" she asked, her voice strangely faint and far-off. "You don't look so good."

"I'm fine," someone said, equally distant and faint. It took him a few seconds to realize that it was him.

Mrs Weasley released him and he drifted over to a seat between Terry Boot and Lee Jordan.

"Harry!"

He fell back to reality with a jolt. Hermione had sat opposite him. She was still a little green, but there was a steely glint in her eye.

"Are you all right?" she asked, more accusingly than symphathetically. Harry nodded emphatically.

"Good," she said firmly. From across the lawn, Mr Weasley exclaimed how delightful it was that Dumbledore had joined them, and conjured an extra chair for him at the head. He caught Harry's eye as he sat down, apologizing to Mrs Weasley for the short notice and allowing her to lay down various plates spoons and knives for him. He was immediately engaged in a conversation with Sirius and was forced to take his eyes off Harry.

"What do you think, Harry? Harry?" Terry Boot nudged him, and Harry pretended to be interested about what he and Colin Creevey were saying, and after a while, he subconsciously relaxed, and the thought that the most evil wizard in the world was after him and it was either kill or be killed slipped from his mind. It wasn't until long after the plates had been cleared and Dumbledore had got up to speak that he remembered, and realized how badly everyone else would react.

***

I hope it's all right. I tried my best to get a little chunk of actual plot line in. I solemnly swear that I will dedicate as much time as possible to getting some more done. But in the meantime... Feedback

Chapter Eight

"It seems a shame," said Dumbledore, as the babble of talk died down, "to disrupt such a peaceful gathering with such... grave news."

He had everyone's attention. Lucius glanced at his wife and then back at Dumbledore, biting his lip. Even Bellatrix had the sense to put the flowers she was cradling back into the glass vase.

"I regret to inform you that, despite our best efforts, the Dark Lord Voldemort, has returned."

There was a shocked silence. Mrs Weasley had her hand on her heart, a pained expression on her face. Bellatrix got slowly to her feet.

"Dark Lord... Voldemort..." she said thoughtfully, her eyes screwed up as though she were trying very hard to remember.

"No, no, Bella," said Narcissa quickly. "He didn't say that. He said..." she looked around her for support.

"Dart Board," suggested Sally-Anne Perks.

"Wal-de-mart," piped up Dennis Creevey.

"Exactly," said Narcissa, nodding her thanks. "I don't know how you could have heard anything different... Maybe you should go lie down..."

She gently led her sister away from the table. As soon as she was out of earshot, Dumbledore looked questioningly at Mr Malfoy.

"It's all of her previous life that she could possibly latch onto," Lucius explained. "His name. It might bring about a relapse."

Despite her obsession with all things floral, Harry was certain that he preferred the new Bellatrix much more than the old one.

"Where was I?" said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "Oh yes. Voldemort." He sighed. "The reason I gave you all those 'Harry Potter' books, was so that you could be prepared. That is sadly no longer possible. We are leaving behind all that we thought we knew, and entering the dangerous territory of the unknown." He gave a dry smile. "It is exactly as it would have happened, if not worse. We know nothing."

There was a long pause. Dumbledore stared thoughtfully into space, seemingly debating something with himself. Finally, he spoke.

"What we need…" he said slowly. "Is an insider…"

He peered over his half-moon glasses at a man sitting half way down the table. All eyes were immediately fixed on Severus Snape.

"No," Snape said, comprehension dawning. "No way. I've already done my spy-time. No, no, no and no."

"You're the ONLY one Severus," said Dumbledore quietly.

"But… But…" Snape struggled to find an alternative. "Why can't Lucius do it?"

"He's already seen what's happened to me," Mr Malfoy explained patiently. "He no doubt considered you a lost cause, due to what he had read in those books…"

"You just need to convince him otherwise," said Dumbledore, gently but firmly.

"We could pretend that Bella had reverted back to her old self…" said Snape, fully aware that he was grasping at straws.

"We'd have to put her under the Imperius Curse for it to even have a chance of working," said Lucius, shaking his head. "And even then, it wouldn't look natural enough."

"Lucius!" Snape snapped, rounding on him. "Do you have ANYTHING constructive to say?"

"Severus, we really have no other choice," said Dumbledore. "You have to go to Durmstrang."

"And how do you propose I go about that in the subtle way that is necessary?" asked Snape sourly. "You know full well that I can't simply turn up without arousing suspicion."

Dumbledore thought for a moment, then smiled. "Which is why," he said, "we must arrange the world's first Wizarding exchange!"

***

Author's note: just in case you don't know, an exchange is where a students from one school go to another school in another country and stay with the families of the students there, maybe travelling with two or three teachers. It's usually something you do to learn about another language or culture (i.e. my school has a French exchange, a Spanish exchange, a Chinese exchange and a German exchange).

Just thought I'd mention it! Please please please please (etc) leave feedback!!

Chapter Nine

Despite the fact that he was standing in the middle of a gloomy hall that had obviously been recently cleaned, surrounded by a neat formation of students in their best uniform, Igor Karkaroff gave the impression that he hadn't been expecting the Hogwarts students, and that they had interrupted some dubious activity.

"Welcome, welcome," he said, in a voice that was clearly meant to be pleasant but didn't quite manage it. "Welcome to Durmstrang."

"Professor Karkaroff," said Snape cordially. "Albus sends his kindest regards, and regrets that he could not be present."

"Such a shame, such a shame," said Karkaroff. "Ah well. And these are your chosen students, are they?" His cold gaze swept over the group. "Excellent, excellent."

"He's creepy," Ron whispered, a little too loudly. Snape shot him a warning look. Karkaroff's smile flickered, but he turned to his students and gave a small sign. They all stepped smartly forward.

There was an awkward pause, but eventually the students began to mingle, the one's from Durmstrang scrutinizing pieces of parchment in their hands. Harry was approached almost immediately by a rather greasy looking boy of his own age.

"You are Harry Potter, correct?" he said, speaking with a slight accent. Harry nodded. Next to him, Ron was responding with a series of shrugs to his Durmstrang counterpart, who was talking rapidly in a Scandinavian sounding language.

"I am Inolmir Sklandinsky," the greasy boy said to Harry. He stared slightly over Harry's left shoulder, as though he was afraid of looking straight at him. It gave him a shifty, furtive look.

"It is my pleasure to be welcoming you to the Durmstrang Institute," he said mechanically. "While you are hear you will be sleeping in Grindenwald House."

"Grindenwald?" said Harry casually. "Would, I have, erm, heard of him?"

"He was a very famous wizard, that is correct," said Sklandinsky. "You may have learnt about him in your lessons in the Dark Arts."

"We don't..." Harry began, but Sklandinsky had turned to look expectantly at Karkaroff.

"Students of Hogwarts," said Karkaroff. "I hope your stay will be pleasant. My own students will ensure that you get an accurate picture of life here at the Durmstrang Institute. You may now go to your houses."

Harry saw Snape approach Karkaroff as the rest of them filed off with the Durmstrang students. They walked down a low-ceilinged corridor until it branched off in six different directions. With apologetic looks at Harry, the other Hogwarts students went down different paths to him. However, Draco's student took the same path as Sklandinsky.

"I cannot believe that father wanted me to come here," Draco whispered to Harry as they continued through the semi-darkness.

Harry was too busy staring at the walls to here him. Every now and then, though getting more frequent the further they went, was what Harry knew was the Hallows symbol, and he couldn't help shuddering a little every time he passed one.

"Here we are," said Sklandinsky. The corridor stopped abruptly and they found themselves outside, staring down a long stone bridge. An iron sign arching overhead read Grindenwald House.

Beside him, Harry heard Draco gasp. "Oh!" he said loudly. "I just remembered. Grindenwald!"

The two Durmstrang students stared at him. He went a little pink. "I just know who he is, that's all," he mumbled.

"Perhaps you have learnt about him in you Dark Arts lessons," said the other Durmstrang student in the same dull tone that Sklandinsky spoke to Harry with.

"We don't have Dark Arts lessons," said Draco defiantly. Sklandinsky and the other student exchanged glances and then wordlessly turned and led the way into Grindenwald House. Harry and Draco paused, staring up at the sign for a split second, and then followed them.

***

Okay, not very exciting, but hopefully next chapter can have some more drama... Please do leave feedback, it makes me feel happy...

It only took Harry the space of about a day to decide that he much preferred Hogwarts to Durmstrang. Everything was dark and dank: it was like the whole school was made up of a series of Snape's dungeons. The students were all dull and monotonous, and ever so slightly shifty. The lessons all evolved around the Dark Arts, and the imposing shadow of Grindenwald hung over the school. This atmosphere seemed to affect Draco the most, who had several heated debates with various professors on the questionable morality of the Dark Arts.

It was sometime on the fifth day when, walking around the grounds alone, Harry saw Snape and Karkaroff, heads bowed, hurrying along a path. The last time Harry had decided to follow someone suspicious-looking it had not come off well, but he hadn't full learnt his lesson. He estimated there were about two hours left until final curfew; ample time to try and find out what Snape was planning. Staying at a safe distance, he followed Snape and Karkaroff right to the very edge of the school grounds, to a remote cliff face, where they finally stopped, and Harry was able to conceal himself in a conveniently placed bush.

"He was most curious about you, Severus," said Karkaroff, pulling back his left sleeve, his arm silhouetted in the half-light. "But he did not know if he could fully trust you after..."

"I have some information for him to prove my loyalty," said Snape stiffly. Karkaroff nodded and placed his index finger on his forearm.

There was a load roar that drowned out the crashing of the waves, and a black whirlwind swept through the air, settling in front of Karkaroff and Snape.

"Restrain him," said a high, cold voice. Harry saw Karkaroff roughly grab Snape's arm and fumble for his wand. Snape remained still and silent.

"Just a precaution, you understand, Severus," said Voldemort circling his captive. "You can't believe everything you read, of course, but one has to be careful."

"I have seen the future," said Snape, his voice flat and toneless. "I know what lies in store for me if I continue my double-agent life. Death. I could hove chosen either side. I chose this one."

"And am I supposed to take your absolute faith for granted, Severus?" asked Voldemort, but from his tone, Harry could tell that he was smiling. "You always were outstanding at Occlumency, you see."

"Dumbledore has been alerted to your presence," said Snape. "He plans to restart the Order."

There was a pause.

"Go on," said Voldemort slowly.

"He always thought the obvious was the least likely to be thought of, especially by you," said Snape, with a trace of contempt in his voice, but whether for Dumbledore or for Voldemort, Harry couldn't tell. "The Headquarters will be at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London."

There was another pause. Then, "Let him go."

Karkaroff relinquished his hold.

"Thank you, Severus," said Voldemort, and Harry saw him shake Snape's hand. "Your information has proved useful. In the meantime, remain in Dumbledore's good books. We will talk later."

The wind howled loudly, and he was gone.

***

Chapter Ten

"The funny thing is," said Draco, staring out over the lake, "Dumbledore IS starting up the Order again. And it IS going to be at Grimmauld Place."

They were back at Hogwarts. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco were sitting in the shade of a willow tree on the edge of the lake. Their Durmstrang students had finally left them; they hadn't had a chance to speak to each other alone since the night when Harry had hid in the bush on the cliff. He had told them everything.

"Yeah, that's right," said Ron, rolling onto his stomach. "I heard mum talking about it."

"But why would Snape say that?" said Hermione, picking at the grass. "If he could fool Voldemort into thinking that he wasn't working for Dumbledore, why didn't he give a false address."

Harry wondered whether or not he should tell them his theory. He decided to give it a shot.

"What if..." he began. "What if Snape didn't need to fool him. What if Snape is really working for him?"

"Harry!" said Hermione incredulously. "You can't really think that! Snape's on our side!"

"Dumbledore told him to go to Voldemort, Harry," said Ron. "Remember?"

"It's just what I think!" Harry snapped back. They all stared at the black surface of the lake in silence for a few minutes.

"Harry! Hey, Harry!"

Harry looked over his shoulder. Neville was jogging towards them, wielding a copy of the Evening Prophet.

"Have you seen this?" he panted, dropping the newspaper in front of Harry. "Just saw it... Dumbledore..."

Harry pulled the paper towards him, glanced at the headline, and then stared.


Harry quickly devoured the article, an unpleasant knot developing in his stomach. He suddenly felt sick; the true horror of all Voldemort could do was unfolding before him.

"Sirius..." he said finally. "He..."

"They found his body," said Neville in a cracked voice. The knot in Harry's stomach tightened violently. "Apart from that, no one we know."

Harry turned to Ron, Hermione and Draco. He felt like he was in a dream. A horrible nightmare.

"He did this," he said quietly. "Snape killed them all. HE TOLD VOLDEMORT WHERE THE ORDER WAS!"

"Harry," said Hermione weakly.

"Harry," Neville interjected quickly, "Dumbledore wants to talk to you. He's in his office."

Harry considered not going, but he wanted answers, and he knew Dumbledore could give them to him. He got up hurridly and walked away towards the castle, his heart pounding.

Why did he have to die? Why did Snape kill him, kill them all? He didn't understand anything, and now that the initial anger was subsiding, despair was creeping through his veins.

Voldemort had made the first move, and now it was his turn. But he didn't know how to play the game.

***

Phew, two chapters in one go! That's got to earn some feedback...

The door swung open in front of Harry, but he remained hovering in the passage, unwilling to face Dumbledore.

"Good afternoon, Harry."

Harry looked around. It had been Dumbledore who had opened the door, and now he was standing right in front of him, peering at him over his half-moon glasses. His blue eyes had lost their customary twinkle. He looked like an old man.

"Please come in," he said solemnly. Harry faltered for a second, but went over to the seat indicated for him in front of Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore went behind the desk and sat down heavily. Harry, however, remained standing.

"Harry..." Dumbledore sighed. "I understand that you must be feeling-"

"It was Snape," said Harry bluntly. "Snape told Voldemort where the Order was." Harry felt his temper rising. "SNAPE KILLED SIRIUS!"

"Harry, Harry!" said Dumbledore quickly, raising a hand to try and stop him going any further. "I don't think we're quite ready to point the finger-"

"DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND??" Harry roared, all his anger for Snape pouring out of him. "SNAPE-"

"Professor Snape," said Dumbledore weakly.

"-IS A MURDERER!"

"Harry Potter, sit down!" said Dumbledore, his eyes flashing suddenly. Harry's anger rushed out of him like water in a burst dam, and he sank into his chair, defeated.

"Harry, I know you think you know what is going on," said Dumbledore, compulsively straightening the parchment on his desk in an agitated manner, "but believe me, it's more complicated than you think."

Harry waited for Dumbledore to explain it all to him, to apologize for keeping him in the dark. But nothing came except an uncomfortable silence.

"Harry," said Dumbledore finally. "I beg of you. Whatever you might see... Whatever you might hear..." he leaned forward. "Don't let it distract you from the truth."

Harry looked into those electric blue eyes, searching to find an answer, a reason for Sirius's death.

"Now," said Dumbledore, sitting up straight, the kindly tone in his voice returning, "Harry, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to take some extra classes with me for a while."

Harry found his voice. "R-really, sir?"

Dumbledore gave a small smile. "I'll let you know when you need to come," he said, indicating that Harry could leave.

Harry got half way to the door before he turned.

"Er... Goodbye, sir," he said quietly. Dumbledore nodded, looking slightly sad again. Quickly, Harry turned and left his office.

***

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Chapter Eleven

Harry rubbed his scar irritably as he tried to focus on his Transfiguration homework. It had been hurting constantly lately, a dull constant throb not bad enough to complain about but not mild enough to ignore. It made schoolwork very irritating; then there was the fact that everyone had been giving him a wide berth recently. Ron and Hermione had been treating him like he was a patient at St Mungo's, and Draco had become increasingly reclusive, spending half of his time in the library and the other half merlin-knows-where. The only reason Harry could come up with was that Draco was also upset about Sirius' death, but this thought just made Harry even angry. Why couldn't Draco just deal with it like he had to? Sirius was, what, his second cousin? First cousin once removed? Something like that. It wasn't like he was his godfather or anything.

Harry was distracted from the parchment by an insistent banging on the common room window. Glancing at his watch as he went over to let in the poor owl, he saw that it was three o'clock in the morning. Absent mindedly opening the window and wondering whether it was time to call it a night, the bedraggled owl started attacking him frantically.

"Ouch! Oi, get off!" Harry managed to brush the bird aside long enough to swipe at the letter attatched to it's leg.

Harry,

My office, as soon as you can. Its important.

Albus Dumbledore

P.S. Did you know that I liked lemon bonbons?


Harry read the letter several times over to make sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, but it still sat in his hand saying exactly the same thing.

"But it's three o'clock in the morning," he said aloud. The owl, now shivering on the back of an armchair, made a movement that looked strangely like a shrug.

Deciding that no harm could come of it, Harry left his homework spread out on the desk and, still rubbing his scar, stumbled out of Gryffindor tower.

***

"Lemon bonbons," Harry said, stifling a yawn. The gargoyle sprung to life, and Harry stepped onto the moving staircase behind it. No sooner had he reached the top, than the door to the office was flung open and Dumbledore had dragged Harry inside.

"Sir, what..."

"Harry, we have located a Horcrux!" Dumbledore said urgently, rushing round his office with uncharacteristic haste. "We finally have our chance to strike a blow."

Harry rubbed his heavy eyes as he watched Dumbledore fly around the room, gathering things together. He didn't need long to work out where the information about the Horcrux's location had come from.

"Sir?" Dumbledore paused in his activity and looked at Harry, using his familiar piercing gaze. "Did, um, Professor Snape tell you where the Horcrux was?"

"Harry, I have made it clear to you that I trust Severus Snape. I request that you please trust him too." Dumbledore turned away from Harry and continued with what he was doing. Harry swallowed and tried not to let the shadows of mistrust creep into his sleep-deprived mind.

"When Bellatrix Lestrange was rehabilitated, a series of memory charms placed upon her meant that one of her secrets was hidden forever, and Voldemort has decided to take advantage of this," Dumbledore explained hurridly, pointing his wand at the wall, conjuring a marble fireplace complete with roaring fire and pot of what looked like floo powder.

"And... What was this secret, sir?" Harry asked, trying to follow what Dumbledore was saying through the ache of his scar and tired brain.

"A vault in Gringotts," said Dumbledore, Summoning the pot of floo powder and taking a handful. "So secret that only one goblin knows of it's existence, and they believe that it belongs to a certain Barbara Butterworth." He offered the pot to Harry. "I am positive that there is at least one Horcrux inside, all we need to do is get acess."

Harry took a handful of floo powder too, a little confused. "And how would we do that, sir?" he asked as he and Dumbledore stepped towards the fireplace. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "You are forgetting, Harry, that we have unlimited acess to Bellatrix Lestrange's private vault, where the key was hidden. If we can just find the key, we can open the vault!"

Harry didn't have time to process all of this: he was pushed towards the fireplace and he hurridly yelled, "Gringotts" before stepping into the now emerald flames.

***

Harry was tossed unceremoniously onto the marble floor of Gringotts Bank (that hurt quite a bit). Dumbledore stepped out of the grate after him, dusting himself off and looking around the large hall. There were a few tired-looking goblins filling in what looked like tedious paperwork, and trying to desperately ignore the fully grown woman prancing about like she was a five year old.

"Dumbie," Bellatrix cried when she saw the pair of them. "Hellooo!"

Dumbledore smiled politely at her, and held onto her wrist so that she couldn't skip away.

"I would like to open the vault of Mrs Bellatrix Lestrange," he said to the nearest goblin. The goblin stared at the Bella, who was humming to herself.

"If I could just run a few tests," he said, hopping down from his chair and taking out what appeared to be a Muggle torch. He tugged on Bella's robes so that she was brought down to his height, and shone the torch briefly in her eye. It made a whirring sound, and he held it to his ear. "It's all in order," he said finally. "I shall escort you down myself."

He motioned for them to follow him, and together, they left the marble hall to go plunging into the heart of Gringotts.

***

A bad place to end I know, but I have to go now. More coming soon! Please leave me feedback