The Potter Conspiracy

A/N: Thanks to all those who have read and reviewed.  Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter. JKR and her partners do.

Chapter Five – Of Feasts and Ferrets

August 31st, 1995 – Hogwarts, The Owlery

Harry Potter sat in a window overlooking the quidditch pitch and looked out over the darkening horizon.  Hedwig was perched on his knee and was enjoying a very thorough scratching of her feathers.  Harry had been neglecting his duties to his familiar of late, so tonight he was spending some time in her Hogwarts home, just the two of them.  Well, if you didn’t count the hundred or so other owls perched in various places inside the room.

His owl and his elf were the only two people in his life who didn’t make unreasonable demands of him, and Harry wanted to make sure they both felt appreciated.  To Hedwig he could offer little but his affection; to Dobby he could offer his bond, a protection of sorts, but he wanted to do more for the little elf.  Dobby had been a miracle worker for Harry during his imprisonment at the Dursleys, and he deserved more than a simple thanks.

So Harry had gone to Dumbledore and gotten an “allowance” for the first few months of the school year.  It took everything in Harry’s power to choke down his disgust at having to do so, but there was nothing to be done about it.  Dumbledore had given Harry 100 galleons and told him to spend it wisely; Harry had immediately owl-ordered a small 10-galleon gold chain that Dobby could wear around his wrist.  Harry thought it was a bit gaudy, and he would never wear such a thing himself, but he didn’t want to risk buying Dobby something that resembled clothing.  He wanted to talk Dobby into abandoning his tea towel, but wasn’t sure how to broach the subject.

Dobby was now the only house elf in Hogwarts to own gold jewelry.  After Harry had assured him that he wasn’t giving him clothes, just a reward for his friendship, the little green guy had hugged Harry’s legs and sobbed for five minutes straight.  I’m going to have to do something about Dobby’s behavior, especially in public, Harry had thought.  It was embarrassing, really, to have someone prostrate themselves before you so slavishly.  Still, Harry would trade almost any amount of embarrassment in exchange for the help Dobby could provide him.  He had a feeling he was going to need that help quite often in the coming year.

That year begins tomorrow morning, thought Harry.  Someone would be apparating him to King’s Cross so he could ride the Hogwarts Express with the rest of his classmates.  And then the fun would begin.  He would finally get to see Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins, and his long summer of isolation would be over.  He would also have to face a horde of classmates who probably believed he was a murderous thug.  They had already been suspicious of him at the end of last year, some even blaming him personally for Cedric’s death, and Harry could only imagine what the effect of the Daily Prophet’s smear campaign would be.

Harry’s last week at Hogwarts had gone by quickly.  He had spent some time every day in the Come-and-Go Room, and he felt like he was improving slightly in his ability to cast spells.  It still felt like he was trying to wade through chest-high water, but his training sessions now lasted longer before he succumbed to exhaustion.  

He had spent several hours each day looking through various books on magical exhaustion, magical illnesses, and magical theory, but he could find nothing that explained his sudden lack of magical power.  Nor could he find anything related to the subject of brother wands; he could only reckon that the phenomenon was extremely rare.

Harry had also decided to organize his two rambling, disorganized spell notebooks into something more accessible.  Harry planned to use the Come-and-Go Room for training throughout the school year, and he knew that Ron and Hermione would insist on training with him.  Being his friends could put them in grave danger, so Harry planned to make sure they would know enough powerful magic to defend themselves.  They could all use his new “grimoire” to focus on those spells most likely to save their lives.

The rest of Harry’s time at Hogwarts was spent finishing up his summer essays and doing everything in his power to avoid Snape.  The potions master had returned to the castle just four days before term was to begin, and could usually be found striding arrogantly through the corridors leading to and from the Headmaster’s office.  Harry had managed to avoid the man for the last four days, and he thanked whatever deities there were for that stroke of luck.

Dumbledore had told him the day before that he would meet with Harry after the Welcoming Feast to discuss advanced training for the year, and Harry could hardly contain his anticipation.  He hadn’t really believed that the old man would train him, but maybe he had misjudged him.  Had Tonks been able to sway him?  He couldn’t wait to find out what was being planned for him.

If he had known, he would have grabbed his broom and flown as far away from Britain as possible.

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September 1st, 1995 – The Hogwarts Express

Harry Potter sat alone in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, anxiously practicing a quick-draw release with his newly-acquired wand holster.  It had taken him a few days to master the intricacies of his gift from Tonks, but now he could flick his wrist and his wand would appear almost instantly in his hand.  I wonder why everyone doesn’t have one of these, Harry mused.  It makes so much more sense than carrying your wand around in a pocket or a bag.

Professor McGonagall had apparated Harry to King’s Cross over half-an-hour before the train was scheduled to depart.  Harry had wanted to arrive early so that he could get a seat without having to wade through a crowd of people who thought him deranged.  He had found a free compartment easily, and now sat waiting on his friends to show up.  He was still somewhat irritated with them for being so willing to follow Dumbledore’s orders, but he had missed their companionship terribly over the past three months.  Harry had decided that yelling at them for “abandoning” him wouldn’t do anything to relieve his sense of isolation.

Neville was the first to show.  Harry had never been particularly close to Neville, but they were friendly.  Neville was, unfortunately, the odd-man-out in their dorm room.  Harry and Ron were best mates, and so were Seamus and Dean.  Neville seemed content to stay in the background and not attract attention to himself.

He opened the door to Harry’s compartment hesitantly and peered in.

“Hey Harry, mind if I join you?”

It relieved Harry immeasurably that Neville, at least, hadn’t seemed to take the Daily Prophet’s garbage seriously.

“Not at all, Neville.  Come on in.”

The Gryffindors chatted amiably for a few minutes about their summers, when the door was suddenly flung open and Hermione rushed in.  Harry stood to greet his best friend, and was nearly tackled to the floor.

“HARRY!” she cried, giving him a face-full of bushy brown hair.

“Nice to see you too, Hermione,” he chuckled.  And then she took a step back to see him better.  Harry barely restrained himself from gasping.

Hermione looked terrible.

Her hair was more unkempt than usual, and she looked like she had lost considerable weight over the summer.  She had dark circles under her eyes and her skin had an unhealthy pallor to it.

“Hermione, what—,” Harry started, but she cut him off.

“I know, Harry, I know,” she sighed.  “I’ve been sick recently, but it was just the flu.  I’m getting better, and it’s nothing to worry about,” she said quickly.

If you’re getting better, Harry thought, I’d hate to have seen you at your worst.

“Okay, Hermione,” he frowned.  “But make sure you see Madam Pomfrey, alright?  You don’t look healthy.”

Hermione just smiled at him sadly.  “I will, Harry.  Don’t you worry about me.  I’ll be alright.”

Harry nodded, and the door was flung open again, this time admitting Ginny Weasley.  She was followed closely by Ron, who seemed to be using his bulk to prod her forward.  Behind Ron was a tiny, odd-looking girl with wispy blond hair and a serene look on her face.  The compartment was suddenly very full.

“Er, hi everyone,” said Harry, glancing curiously at the blond stranger in the back.

“Harry, mate,” Ron nearly shouted, stepping around Ginny and clasping him on the arm.  “Glad to see you’re in one piece.  And looking pretty fit, I might add.”

“Thanks, Ron.  I tried to get in better shape this summer.”

“H..Hi, Harry,” came Ginny’s hesitant voice, after a glance from Ron in her direction.

“Hi, Ginny.  It’s good to see you,” Harry smiled.  He had almost stepped forward to hug her, but stopped himself at the last instant.  Where had that come from? he wondered.

Harry’s eyes traveled to the last person in the compartment, the small girl with the blond hair and the big, protuberant eyes.

“You’re Harry Potter,” she informed him.

“Erm, yes.  Yes, I am,” he said, glancing sideways when Ron coughed.

“And you are?” he asked, when the girl gave no indication that she was going to introduce herself.

“Luna Lovegood.  I’m Ginny’s best friend.”

“Well, nice to meet you Luna,” said Harry, and looked around.  “Why don’t we all sit down?  Getting a bit crowded in here, standing up.”

And so they did.  For the next half hour, the group of friends exchanged stories from the summer as the train began its annual trip to Hogwarts.  Neville had spent the summer at his family estate, doing little more than experimenting with magical plants in his greenhouses.  Harry reflected a little guiltily that Neville was probably closer to his plants than anyone at Hogwarts.  Hermione talked animatedly about the wonders of magical France for a solid ten minutes, pausing only to pull French textbooks out of her bag to show everyone.  She seemed unaware that no one else could read them.  Ron and Ginny did not have much to share, as it seemed they had done little more than perform chores and play quidditch at the Burrow.  Luna listened to the conversations intently, but contributed nothing of her own, preferring to read a newspaper she had brought with her.

Harry told Neville and Luna about the dementor attack and the tragedy that had befallen Dudley.  They were horrified at Dudley’s fate and Harry’s narrow escape.  Harry asked them politely to spread the true story around if they heard others badmouthing him about his cousin’s death.

Thirty minutes into the trip, Hermione stood and announced that she and Ron had a prefects’ meeting to attend.  Harry had forgotten that fifth years could be awarded prefect status, and hadn’t even noticed the golden P that was on Hermione’s robes.

“Oh,” Harry said, surprised.  “You should have said something.  I didn’t know…congratulations, you two.”

“Thank you, Harry,” said Hermione, smiling sadly at him again.  Ron just grunted and nodded.

“We should be back soon,” she said, and the two newly-minted Gryffindor prefects left the compartment.

Harry had given no thought to the prospect of becoming a prefect, but now that the honor had been given to Ron…well, he had to admit that he felt slighted.  The prefect positions, while not exactly glamorous, did reflect the confidence that the Hogwarts staff had in their selections.  For them to choose Ron over him—Ron, who could be unthinkingly selfish and lazy—well, that hurt just a little bit.  I guess this is a good thing, sighed Harry.  At least I’ll have more free time to train and read.

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While Hermione and Ron were gone, Harry played absentmindedly with his wand and tried to strike up a conversation with Ginny.  He asked her more questions about her summer, and what classes she was taking, but his questions elicited little more than deep blushes and short, hurried responses.  I’m terrible at this, he thought.  He wanted to get to know Ginny better, maybe even add her to their trio, but the awkwardness of his attempts to converse with her made him give up in frustration.  Luna’s suggestion that Harry’s hair may be infested with nargles was the death knell for his efforts.

Ron and Hermione mercifully returned an hour later, but they weren’t alone.  Trailing in their wake was a pair of tall, smirking twins.

“All hail the New Dark Lord,” exclaimed one red-headed menace loudly as he entered the compartment.

“All hail,” repeated his twin.  Both boys kneeled at Harry’s feet, bowing their heads in mock submission.

Hermione looked horrified at their behavior, but Harry grinned at them, having expected something like this.

“You may rise, my faithful servants,” Harry intoned deeply.  “Your first task for me is to acquire the pelt of a blond ferret, on which I shall rest my evil feet while I contemplate world domination.”

“Consider it done…” said Fred, rising.

“…My Lord,” added George, aping his twin.

Ginny giggled at their antics, and soon everyone was trying to hide a smile.

“Does this mean we’re going to prank Malfoy without mercy this year?” inquired Ron eagerly.

The twins looked at each other.

“Well…”

“WE, little brother, are going to obey the commands…”

“Of our Lord and Master.”  A nod in Harry’s direction.

“YOU would only hinder…”

“The genius of our work.”

“So, to answer your question…yes,” smiled George.

“And no,” added Fred.

Harry laughed as they did a military about-face and saluted him.  Ron’s temper was heating up at being insulted, but he knew better than to annoy the twins.

“See you around, Harry.  We’re going to go find some more prefects to annoy,” said George.

And with that, the two left the compartment.

Now that they had returned from their meeting, Ron and Hermione wanted to rant about the other prefects.  It seemed that Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson had been selected as the Slytherin prefects, a move that everyone should have expected but that still seemed outrageous.  Now every Gryffindor could expect increased harassment from Slytherin House.

When Ron finally stopped swearing that he’d give Malfoy detention every day—Hermione hadn’t bothered to remind him that he couldn’t do that—the topic of conversation turned to the disappearance of Emmanuel Ollivander.

A week ago Ollivander had failed to open his shop.  He hadn’t opened it the next day, either, or the day after that.  “Ollivander’s Wands” was an institution in Diagon Alley, and the old man’s disappearance had caused problems almost immediately for incoming Hogwarts students.  A few young witches and wizards, mostly muggleborns, had yet to purchase their new wands.  They had been forced to rummage through second-hand wands in other stores or to go to inferior wand shops in the shadier Knockturn Alley.

The Ministry had finally gotten involved, and the Daily Prophet had printed an official statement declaring that Mr. Ollivander had gone on holiday and would return to his shop soon.  That had reassured most people, but it was still unnerving to pass by Ollivander’s shop and see a huge “CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE” sign on its front window.  Practically everyone in the British magical world had met Ollivander, and his absence from Diagon Alley seemed somehow ominous.

Harry didn’t know what to make of the man’s absence, but he dearly hoped that the old wandmaker had not been kidnapped by Voldemort.  If Voldemort had decided that he needed a new wand after their graveyard encounter, he could have decided to “recruit” Ollivander’s help.  That would be ominous indeed.

Growing bored with the conversation as soon as Ron and Hermione started bickering about their prefect duties, Harry left the compartment and made his way to the loo.  Seven hours was a long time for 300+ teenagers to be cooped up on a train, and the “toilet car” got quite a workout every year.

As he weaved his way through small groups of students, Harry noticed that all conversation stopped as he went by.  He got a few dirty looks, but most of his peers were content to look at their feet until he was safely out of earshot.  Harry sighed.  These bloody people believe everything they read.  At least they’re not openly attacking me, he thought.

Harry reached his destination and opened the door to the car just as Padma Patil was about to open the door from the other side.  He stepped politely to the side to allow her to pass.

“Thank you.  It appears you have some manners after all,” Padma nodded to him as she went by.

“Huh?” asked Harry in confusion.  “What do you mean?”

Padma crossed her arms and looked at him.  “What do you mean ‘what do I mean?’  You know perfectly well what I mean.”

Harry was thinking furiously, but couldn’t think of a single time that he had snubbed or insulted Padma Patil.  He had only talked to her a handful of times in his entire time at Hogwarts.  He looked back at her, still confused.

“The Yule Ball, you moron.”

And then it clicked.  She was talking about Parvati—that is, his treatment of her at said ball.  He hadn’t spoken much to Parvati in the weeks after the ball, but she hadn’t seemed that angry with him.

“Oh,” he said.

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” replied Padma.  “You were the worst date in the history of bad dates.  I didn’t really care about the ball, but Parvati did, and this summer my entire family asked her about her date with the famous Boy-Who-Lived.  They were so excited about it she couldn’t bear to tell them the truth.  I had to listen to her pretend she had a wonderful time every time she talked about it.  She even told them not to believe that rubbish they’re printing about you in the newspaper, which is more than you deserve.”

“Right,” said Harry nervously.  “I was, um, a bit distracted that night.  It was a rough year all around.  I’ll, er, I’ll apologize to her later, okay?”

Padma just nodded and moved on, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief at her departure.  He seemed to be making enemies left and right, and this one was entirely his fault.  There were already too many people who thought him evil or deranged; he didn’t need to add people to that list just because he was absolute shite with girls.  Harry moved on the toilet car, wondering how to go about apologizing to Parvati.

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The rest of the trip to Hogwarts passed without incident.  Harry had missed Draco Malfoy’s annual pilgrimage to his compartment when he stepped out to use the loo.  The blond boy had settled for insulting Hermione’s sickly appearance and provoking Ron with jokes about poverty, but he and his goons had departed before a fight could occur.  

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Hogwarts, Great Hall, The Welcoming Feast

Harry and his friends entered the Hogwarts Great Hall and headed toward the Gryffindor table while Luna Lovegood veered toward Ravenclaw.  Harry seated himself and turned to speak to Ron, only to find that Ron had allowed Ginny to sit between them.  She glanced up at him and smiled shyly, which Harry found charming.  She seems so fragile, he thought.  I’ll have to make sure she’s protected this year too.  Maybe I could ask her train with us later.  He smiled back at her, but for the life of him couldn’t think of anything to say to her.  The only “adventure” they had shared had almost cost both of them their lives, and Harry didn’t think she wanted to be reminded of having been possessed by Voldemort for an entire year.

So he settled for watching the first years enter the castle.  They were looking around wondrously, and Harry noted that a few of them shot nervous glances in his direction.  They weren’t the only ones.  There was a lot of whispering going on, and judging by the amount of surreptitious glances being sent his way, Harry figured he was the topic.  He was starting to feel like a funny-looking animal on display in a zoo.  It was only a matter of time before they started throwing food at him through his bars.  These people are going to feel pretty damned stupid when Voldemort starts killing people again, Harry thought bitterly.

The sorting passed while Harry was brooding over the stupidity of his classmates.  Dumbledore made his usual abbreviated welcome to everyone, and soon platters full of traditional British food were being devoured by hungry students.

Harry ate with relish, grateful to have the attention of his peers turned elsewhere.  He now took the time to look carefully at Hermione.  She looked even worse in the harsh, low light of the Great Hall.  Something is seriously wrong with her, Harry thought.  I’ll have to keep an eye on her.  He caught Parvati’s eye once during the meal, and smiled at her.  She looked confused, but returned his smile.  When everyone was finished except for Ron, Dumbledore stood and clapped his hands.  The room soon quieted and the food disappeared from the tables.

Dumbledore went through his usual list of prohibitions, and then introduced the newest faculty member, Dolores Umbridge.  Harry got his first good look at the woman who had wanted to put him on trial for defending himself.  

She was hideously ugly, and almost as wide as she was tall.  Harry thought she looked like the result of a magical experiment gone horribly wrong: a combination of human, toad, and troll somehow transfigured into one being.  Her appearance was not helped at all by the enormous pink cardigan that she wearing over her robes.  Merciful Merlin, Harry thought, what could this woman possibly know about defense?

Harry’s opinion of her was not improved by the short speech she gave following her introduction.  Her allusions to “tradition,” “change,” and “pruning” were not lost on Harry.  It appeared that Professor McGonagall’s warning had been spot on.  This woman had come to Hogwarts for one reason: to spy on Harry and Dumbledore, and to insure no one believed them about Voldemort’s return.  He was going to have to heed McGonagall’s advice.

When the feast ended, Harry told his friends to leave without him and walked eagerly to the head table.  He had been waiting on this moment all day.  Dumbledore was finally going to talk to him about his plans to provide Harry with advanced defense training.  Seeing him approach, Dumbledore nodded at Harry and motioned him toward a side exit.  Harry could hardly contain his anticipation.  Finally, he thought.

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Hogwarts, Headmaster’s Office

Harry followed the Headmaster into his office.  Fawkes trilled happily at his entrance, and Harry walked around Dumbledore’s desk to the firebird’s perch.

“Hello, old friend,” Harry said fondly.  Fawkes sang a brief but beautiful note in response.

“Maybe you won’t have to save my bacon this year, yeah?”  Harry inquired, petting the bird’s long red feathers gently.  Fawkes had saved his life twice now, and Harry wished there was something he could do to thank the mysterious phoenix.

Fawkes crooned at him sadly, and Harry was not heartened by that response.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and Harry blushed lightly and returned to the other side of the desk.  Settling into one of the comfortable chairs, he waited for the Headmaster to begin.

“Well, Harry, I know you have been anxious to learn some new magic, and given the circumstances I cannot blame you.  Alas, I do not have the time to train you myself, and Nymphadora has other important duties.  But I believe I have come upon a solution that will satisfy you,” he smiled.

Harry was momentarily confused.

“Who’s Nymphadora?” he asked.

“Oh,” Dumbledore started, then grimaced ever so slightly.  “That is Miss Tonks’ given name.  She is not fond of it, and I would be eternally grateful if you did not inform her where you heard it.”

Harry smiled and nodded.  It was an odd name, and if it meant what Harry thought it did….  It would be nice to have some ammunition to use against her the next time she tried to embarrass him.

“You said you had a solution, sir?”

“Right,” said Dumbledore.  “Given your need to defend yourself against Death Eaters, I believe it appropriate that—“

But he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Enter,” Dumbledore called loudly, and Severus Snape marched authoritatively into the office.

Harry had turned to see who was interrupting, and he suddenly realized just what the Headmaster was proposing.  Snape.

“No,” Harry spat, before either of the other men could speak.  “Absolutely bloody not.  No, no, no.  I will not learn dangerous spells from a man who hates me.  Headmaster, have you gone mad?”  Harry was now standing; his adrenalin was spiking and he desperately wanted to draw his wand on both of these imbeciles.

Snape just loomed by the door, looking distastefully down his nose at Harry.  Dumbledore held up his hands in a placating manner and tried to calm him down.

“Harry,” he began soothingly, “Professor Snape has ample experience with the Dark Arts.  He knows how the Death Eaters fight, and he can show you how to defend yourself properly.  Professor Snape does not hate you, but if you are concerned I will personally guarantee your safety during his sessions.”

Snape had the audacity to smile at Harry.  It was the creepiest thing he had ever seen.

Harry had no intention of subjecting himself to the non-existent mercies of Snape when his magic felt so weak.  The slimy bastard would probably “accidentally” kill him while showing him a new spell.  Dumbledore may trust him, but Harry knew that Snape was out to get him.

Harry clenched his fists, looked the Headmaster in the eye, and spoke lowly.  “You’re a liar.  This was a set up, and don’t tell me it wasn’t.  I will NOT spend one moment of my free time with Professor Snape, so you had better find someone else to train me.  And you had better do it fast.”

Harry turned and brushed roughly past Snape as he exited the room.  Both Dumbledore and Snape could hear the echo of Harry’s angry footsteps as he descended the stairs and then slammed open the gargoyle entrance.

“Well,” smirked Snape, “Problem solved, I’d say.”

Dumbledore just sighed, wishing that Harry Potter had waited longer to seek his independence.

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Hogwarts, Sixth Floor Corridor

Harry stalked angrily through the corridors of Hogwarts, unconsciously making his way toward the Come-and-Go Room on the seventh floor.  Students who encountered his glowering visage quickly found other places to be or made themselves inconspicuous.  When homicidal would-be Dark Lords are angry, it’s best not to attract their attention, after all.

How fucking DARE that old man!  Harry thought viciously.  He swore he would train me!  I should have known it was a trap.  Train with Snape.  Bleeding hell.  I should have seen this coming.

Harry was starting to realize that his dreams of learning how to defend himself properly were just that.  Dumbledore had never had any intention of teaching him advanced magic.  Just what the hell is he playing at?  wondered Harry.  Is he TRYING to get me killed?  Do I have to take on the whole damn world all by myself?

Harry’s strides had taken him to the bottom of the stairs that would lead him to the seventh floor and his haven.  He desperately wanted to blow something up, preferably something that looked a lot like Dumbledore or Snape.  But it was not to be.

From behind him, a hated voice called out mockingly.

“What’s your hurry, Potty?  Going to meet your pet mudblood in a broom closet?”

Draco fucking Malfoy, Harry seethed mentally, closing his eyes.  The perfect end to a perfect day.

Harry turned and saw Malfoy and his two bookends standing thirty feet away.  They had to have been following him to run into him up here.

“Are you stalking me, Malfoy?  I’m not into blokes like you Slytherin boys are.  Sorry to disappoint you.”

Draco had not drawn his wand, but he and his goons walked slowly toward Harry, trying to look as intimidating as they could.

“Amusing, Potter.  Make jokes while you can.  You won’t be laughing very much when the Dark Lord dismembers you.  With any luck I’ll be there to watch.”

Harry didn’t respond.  He just watched them approach.  He was in a violent mood from the constant stress he had been under that day, not to mention his recent encounter with Dumbledore, and these Death Eater wannabes had chosen a very risky time to provoke him.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle stopped about five feet away from Harry and spread out to block his escape in their direction.

“You’ll soon be nothing but an unpleasant memory, Potter.  Maybe I’ll console your mudblood in her grief.  She could be a serviceable concubine before I slit her filthy throat.  Tell me, is she talented?”  Malfoy smiled at Harry.

Harry was taken aback at Malfoy’s words.  He had always known Malfoy was a spoiled little wanker, but this level of sheer malice actually surprised him.  He must really feel entitled to do anything he wants now, thought Harry.  Well, fuck that.

Harry took a step toward Malfoy and lifted the fringe off his brow, revealing his lightning-shaped scar.

“Come here, Malfoy.  I want to show you something.”

Draco looked uncertain for a moment, but with Harry’s wand not visible, he decided to risk it.  He stepped forward and leaned in to peer closely at Harry’s scar.

As soon as Malfoy’s eyes rose to his forehead, Harry took a sudden step forward and drove his knee into Malfoy’s groin with all the force he could muster.  Malfoy went down instantly, clutching himself and turning as white as a sheet.

Harry took a step back and quick-drew his wand from its new holster.  He stunned Goyle and then swiftly turned his wand on Crabbe, stunning the hulking boy before he could get even his wand out of his robes.  His wonky magic made it difficult for him to use advanced spells, but he could still handle a couple of weak stunners with no difficulty.

Harry leaned over Malfoy’s prone form and drew the boy’s wand out of his robes.  The blond ponce had not even reached for it, so focused he was on his pain.  He was in the fetal position, clutching his balls with both hands and coughing violently, tears welling up in his eyes.

“What’s the matter, Draco?  Having visions of the Malfoy line suddenly coming to an end?  I certainly am.”

Harry now leaned over the agonized boy, so close that he only needed to whisper.

“I wasn’t joking about the scar, Malfoy.  I got that the first time I killed your daddy’s Master.  And if I have to, I’ll kill him again.  You stay out of my way, Draco, or you won’t like the consequences.  Do you hear me?”

Harry knew that this was his anger and adrenalin talking.  He actually wasn’t feeling all that great about his chances against Voldemort at the moment.  But Draco didn’t know about his problems with magic, and Harry really couldn’t resist the opportunity to put a little “fear of Harry” into the arrogant shite.

Draco’s only response was a groan and a sudden violent spasm that sent the remains of that night’s welcoming feast hurtling across the corridor.  Filch was going to discover a lovely start-of-term gift in the near future.

Harry couldn’t resist a laugh at the boy’s distress.  “That’s disgusting, Draco.  Looks like you shouldn’t have had the treacle tart.”

“One last thing, ickle Draco—if you threaten my friends, if you attack my friends, if you even look at my friends funny, I will end the Malfoy line permanently.  Things are going to change this year.  Do you understand?”

Draco was now wincing at both his pain and the smell in the corridor, but he looked up at Harry defiantly.

“Fuck you, Potter,” he gasped.  “When my father finds out what—,”

But Harry’s snort cut him off.  “When your father finds out, because you went crying to him, Draco?  You really are the most pathetic little turd in the whole castle, you know that?  Tell your father the same thing I told you.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have better company to keep and the smell is a bit rank around here.”

Harry stepped over Draco’s body, which was still in the fetal position, and strode back in the direction he came from.  When he was a safe distance away he tossed Malfoy’s wand to the ground.  His adrenalin was still pumping, but he felt much better than he had before this little encounter.  No need to visit the ol’ “Come-and-Go” tonight, Harry smiled internally.  Damn that felt good.

Harry’s improved mood continued as he made his way toward Gryffindor Tower.  He knew that what he had just done could get him in a lot of trouble, especially since he had threatened Malfoy’s life, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  Besides, now that he knew Dumbledore was his magical guardian, he wasn’t as intimidated by the prospect of detention or even expulsion.  He was more worried about his weakened magic and the prospect of a real magical fight.  He was going to have to solve that problem, and in a hurry.

I can’t wait to tell Ron about Malfoy, Harry thought gleefully as he stepped through the portrait hole and entered the Gryffindor Common Room.  He looked around quickly, but didn’t spot Hermione or any redheads.  I wonder where everybody is, Harry thought.  He made his way up the stairs to his dormitory and went inside.  Neville was sitting on his bed reading, but Ron was nowhere in sight.

“Hey Nev, have you seen Ron?”

“Not since dinner, Harry.  Sorry.”

Harry nodded, opening his trunk to retrieve the Marauder’s Map.  He was in the mood to have a laugh at Malfoy’s expense, and hoped his friends would be too.  Stepping into the bathroom to activate the map, Harry quickly scanned the castle to locate his friends.

What he discovered caused him to frown in confusion.

Ron and Hermione were currently in the Headmaster’s Office, along with Snape and Dumbledore.  What the hell?  Harry thought.  He contemplated this for a few moments, but couldn’t think of a good reason for them to be there.  If it was a prefects’ meeting, McGonagall would be present.  Maybe Dumbledore’s trying to convince them to talk to me about training with Snape.  I’m sure I’ll hear about it later, he thought.

Harry deactivated the map and returned to the dorm room, having decided that Neville would make a good audience for his tale instead.

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Hogwarts, Headmaster’s Office

Ron and Hermione had just departed the Headmaster’s office, leaving only Dumbledore and Snape standing behind the Headmaster’s desk.

“Well, Severus?”

“The plan is almost ready, Headmaster.  I’ve got a few details to work out, but we’re going to use Avery and Nott for the polyjuice.  I think I can arrange things so that the Manor is nearly deserted for the first Hogsmeade weekend.”

“That will be acceptable, I think,” nodded Dumbledore thoughtfully.  “But what of Ollivander?  Will he last that long?”

Snape frowned.  “It is…doubtful.  He is already in very bad shape.  But the Dark Lord is commissioning a wand, so the old man needs to recover first.  It’s possible, but not likely.”

Dumbledore shook his head sadly.  “We shall have to risk it.”

“And you are certain that Voldemort has no plans to take Harry before we act?”  he added.

“As certain as I can be, Headmaster.  He does not trust me fully.”

Dumbledore nodded.  “Very well.  That gives us five weeks.  I will be ready, and so will Kingsley and the others.  This nightmare is almost over, my friend.”

Dumbledore grasped Snape’s shoulder in a somewhat paternal gesture.  “You’re doing a great thing for our world, Severus.  I know how difficult your task is; never forget how grateful I am for your sacrifices.”

Snape merely nodded.  “I know, Headmaster.  I can only hope that this works.  If it doesn’t…”

Neither man needed to finish that sentence aloud.  If their plan to end this war once and for all failed, they would likely be dead before the end of October.

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A/N: Hope you’re enjoying this; it’s been great fun to write so far.

Next chapter, we cover the first month of the term and things continue to get worse for Harry.  But don’t worry: his situation is not quite as hopeless as it appears.  Can anyone guess what Dumbledore and Snape’s plan involves, or what’s up with Hermione?