The Potter Conspiracy

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

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

Chapter Nine – Fight and Flight

October 2nd, 1995 – Hogwarts, Fifth Floor Corridor

“Ron!  Hermione!”  Harry called out.

Ron and Hermione, who had been patrolling the fifth floor corridors together in silence, stopped and turned.  They saw Harry Potter emerge from his invisibility cloak and stride over to them.

“Guys, listen,” said a breathless Harry.  “We need to go to the Come-and-Go Room for a few minutes.  I’ve had Dobby spying on Malfoy, and he just found out some disturbing stuff.”

Hermione frowned at him.  “Harry, you shouldn’t be out after curfew.  Couldn’t this wait until tomorrow?”

“C’mon, Mione,” Ron responded, “It’s bloody boring doing patrol, and it sounds like we may be able to bust Malfoy for something.”

“Don’t call me ‘Mione,’ Ron,” Hermione snapped.  “And why can’t you just tell us here, Harry?”

Harry shrugged.  “The walls have ears, Hermione.  C’mon, this will only take a few minutes.”

With that Harry turned and moved swiftly to a nearby staircase, while Ron and Hermione looked at each other once then followed.

When they reached the location of the room, Harry paced back and forth and then held out his hand politely when the door appeared.

“After you, sir and miss,” he smiled, stepping out of their way.

Hermione entered first, followed by Ron.  But she stumbled and fell when the full weight of Ron’s body crashed down on her back.  She had a moment to register the word ‘stupefy’ before her world went dark.

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Hermione awoke to find herself sitting in a chair and bound from neck to toe in tight ropes.  Ron was sitting next to her in much the same condition, but he was not yet awake.

“Hello, Hermione,” said Harry, and she turned her head groggily to look at him.  “I was just about to enervate you.”

Harry was moving toward her position from the side of the room, levitating a large squashy chair behind him.  He placed it directly in front of her and seated himself.  He had been looking forward to this moment all day, the agony of anticipation nearly unbearable as he forced himself to follow his usual routine.  He was going to get some answers before he left Hogwarts.

Adrenalin suddenly flooded through Hermione’s veins, and her heart rate shot up.  She broke out in a sweat that made her gaunt appearance even more sickly-looking.  What the devil is going on?  she thought.  Oh Merlin, did Harry find out?  Oh no. No, no, no.

“Harry,” she began timidly, her voice cracking, “what are you doing?  Why are we tied up like this?”

“Oh, I think you know why, Hermione,” Harry responded nonchalantly, then fell silent.

Hermione made no response, and her lack of outrage proved beyond doubt to Harry that this whole situation was real.  Before he fled Hogwarts, he wanted—no, needed—to confront Ron and Hermione.  A small part of him harbored hope that this was just a colossal misunderstanding.  He needed to hear it from them, especially Hermione, for it to be true.

But now Harry had his confirmation, and his stomach clenched with revulsion.  He was torn between breaking down in self-pity and tearing Hermione to pieces.  He grabbed the hair on the sides of his head, and had to resist the urge to tear it out.

“Why, Hermione?” Harry asked softly, genuinely confused and hurt.  “I thought you were my friend.”

Then the waterworks began.  Hermione’s face scrunched up into an ugly grimace and tears poured from her eyes.

“Oh H-Harry,” she sobbed, shaking her head.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry….I…I’m just so sorry.”

Harry was mildly disconcerted to see Hermione cry, as he always was, but he felt no pity for her.  He needed answers.

“Not good enough, Hermione.  You’re conspiring with the Weasleys and Dumbledore to kill me, and I want to know why.”

As Hermione continued sobbing, Ron’s began stirring and muttering incoherently.  Harry restunned him without even looking in his direction.  He wanted to talk to Hermione alone before he enervated the redheaded bastard.

“Well, Hermione?”  Harry continued.  “I’m waiting.”

“I can’t, Harry,” she whimpered through sobs, her breathing ragged and snot now running out her nose.  “I made…I made an oath….I can’t talk about it.”

“You made an oath,” repeated Harry.  “You made an oath to murder your best friend and keep it a secret from him.”  Harry didn’t really think Hermione wanted him dead—especially after the Patil twins’ description of her argument with Ron—but he did think she deserved to suffer for her role in this mess.

“No, Harry, no….not that…never that…please…please, Harry….I can’t talk about it,” she whimpered again, unable to meet his eyes.

Harry nodded, his irritation with her growing.  It seemed that he wouldn’t be able to get the information he needed from them.  “And when did you make this oath, Hermione?  Can you tell me that?”

Hermione snuffled loudly, her face an unsettling display of grief, pain, and regret.  She nodded bleakly.

“After second year.  I’m so sorry, Harry, I’m so sorry,” she choked out, then convulsed as her anguish finally overcame her.  She closed her eyes and wailed in earnest, the burden she had borne for the last two years finally becoming too much for her.

Harry exhaled noisily and stared at the ceiling, stunned.

“Second year,” he whispered, mostly to himself.  “Merlin.”

Harry closed his eyes as they watered, heartsick at this betrayal and at the bitter sight of Hermione weeping so uncontrollably.  She was clearly sincere in her regret, perhaps had even been tricked into taking the oath, but that didn’t excuse it.

Harry sighed and turned to Ron.  He looked at the unconscious boy in disgust, suddenly wanting to hurt him very badly.  He would never hit Hermione, but he wasn’t above taking out his anger on Ron.

“Enervate,” he said, pointing his wand at Ron, and the redhead began to stir.  He looked around confusedly for a second, shocked at being restrained and at the sound of Hermione’s weeping.

“Welcome back, you worthless bastard,” Harry greeted him.

“Huh…what’s happening?” asked Ron stupidly.

“What’s happening is, I’m about to break your face, you fucking traitor.”

Suddenly the situation became very clear to Ron, and his face flushed with anger.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Harry, but you better let us go right now.”

“Or what?”  Harry retorted.  “Would you care to tell me why you’re plotting to murder me, Ron?  Or why your family has been dosing me with love potion since the summer?  Why you’re trying to break your sister’s heart, maybe?”

Ron didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then stated simply, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His lack of confusion or outrage was just more confirmation for Harry that Ron was deeply involved in this conspiracy.

“Why are you doing this, Ron?”  Harry asked spitefully, getting right in the other boy’s face.

Ron wouldn’t meet Harry’s eyes, and decided to just continue claiming ignorance.  “You’re fucking crazy, Harry.  I don’t know what you’re talking about.  Now let me go.”

Harry took a few steps back and pointed his wand at Ron.  “Petrificus Totalus.”

Ron’s body snapped to rigidity, and he could move nothing save his eyes.

“This is going to hurt like a bitch, Ron, and I’m happy to say you won’t be able to do a thing about it,” Harry said.

“H-Harry, please,” Hermione pleaded through her tears.  But she was in no position to convince Harry of anything right now.

Harry drew back his fist and punched Ron in the nose with all the force he could put behind it.  A loud pop and a squelching noise were the only sounds that emanated from Ron.

“Bloody hell,” muttered Harry, stepping back and shaking his hand.  “That hurt, Ron.  I can only hope it hurt you worse.”

The redheaded boy’s nose was now red and misshapen, clearly broken.  A small tendril of blood began seeping out one nostril toward his mouth.  His eyes watered and he blinked furiously, but otherwise was unable to move.

“Finite Incantatem,” said Harry, taking off the petrification charm.

“Fug you, ‘Arry,” Ron bellowed, unable to breathe through his nose.  He shook his head in an attempt to clear his stinging eyes.

“Language, Ronald,” chided Harry.  “Now, are you going to answer my questions, or am I going to have to start breaking fingers?”

Ron made no response except a small groan, so Harry continued.  “I can only assume you’re under some kind of oath too, Ron.  When did you swear it?”

“Fug you,” Ron repeated thickly.

“No, fuck you, Ron,” Harry snapped.  “I’m not the one plotting my best friend’s murder, although you’re doing your best to talk me into it.”

“Tell me about Ginny,” Harry continued.  “Does she know about this?  Does she know about the potions?  And what about the twins?”

Ron coughed, then leaned his head back and spat a wad of blood and saliva onto Harry’s robes.

Harry was stunned at Ron’s boldness, and watched the blood trail down his robes as he contemplated his next move.  He had not expected quite this much resistance, and he wanted Ron to be utterly humiliated before he left this room.

“So be it,” said Harry.  “The next time I see you, Ron, I’m probably going to kill you.”

With that, he pointed his wand directly at Ron’s right shin and incanted a bludgeoning curse.  With no ability to dodge, the curse impacted Ron’s leg at point-blank range and snapped his tibia with a loud crack.  A few coils of rope also snapped, but it wasn’t enough to help him get free.  Ron howled in agony for a few seconds before Harry finally stunned him again to stop the noise.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed, mentally reminding himself not to use any more magic.  He felt like breaking every bone in Ron’s body, but he was already tiring slightly from the spells he had cast over the last half hour.  He would need all of his available strength when he left this room.

He turned again to Hermione.  Her head was lolling on her chest as she breathed heavily and continued to cry; she looked broken.

“I’m leaving now, Hermione.  I have no plans to stick around and let you murdering bastards sacrifice me to Voldemort for Merlin knows why.  I thought about leaving you two in here to rot forever, but I’m not as cruel as you are.  Those ropes binding you are real; I didn’t conjure them, so they’ll never wear off.  In 24 hours Dobby will return here and free you.  Your wands are in that corner,” he said flatly, pointing at them.

Harry turned to leave, but hesitated at the door.  He turned back around and looked at her one last time.

“You’re dead to me, Hermione,” he whispered, and left the room.

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Hogwarts, Headmaster’s Private Quarters

Albus Dumbledore awoke with a start and peered in the direction of the noise coming from his office.  One of his detection devices was shrieking loudly.  He sighed and rolled out of his bed, wondering what could be going on at one o’clock in the morning.

When he reached his office, he comforted an indignant Fawkes and then peered closely at his silvery instruments.  What he saw left him momentarily breathless.  “Bloody hell,” he swore.

Harry Potter had just left the Hogwarts grounds.

Dumbledore grabbed his wand and performed a complicated movement in the air.  Hmmm, he thought.  He’s in Hogsmeade already.  How did he get there so fast, and how did he get through the suppression ward?  Is he sneaking into Honeydukes for some candy?

But he was disabused of that notion rather quickly as his charm chirruped and showed Harry’s location as London.  “Shite,” he said aloud, “he’s making a run for it.”

Growing alarmed, Dumbledore turned to Fawkes to make a desperate plea.

“Fawkes,” he said quickly, “I need your help, you must—,”

But he never finished his sentence, as Fawkes squawked once and stuck his head under his wing, his intentions clear.

Dumbledore glared at the bird then moved swiftly to his fireplace.  He wouldn’t be able to apparate to Harry’s location without leaving the grounds himself, and that would take some time.  He called on the one person he knew was ready for action at all times.

“Alastor Moody,” he yelled into his now-green fire.

Ten seconds later Moody’s head appeared in the fire, looking disgruntled and wary.  “What is it, Albus?  Do you know what time it is?”

“Alastor, we have an emergency,” Dumbledore said hurriedly.  “Harry Potter escaped from Hogwarts just a few moments ago.  He’s already in London, and I don’t know what he’s planning.  It seems that he has discovered something and is trying to hide.”

“I’m on it,” Moody responded, now fully awake.  “I’ve got a charm or two of my own on that cloak of his.  Don’t worry; he’ll be back in his bed within the hour.”

Dumbledore nodded, relieved that Moody had been available, and hurriedly left his office.  As he practically ran through the halls of his school, he wondered just what had made Harry Potter run and whether it could be obliviated from his memory.

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Hogwarts Grounds, Minutes Earlier

Moments before Albus Dumbledore was destined to be roused from his sleep, Harry Potter sat astride his Firebolt and looked wistfully at Hogwarts Castle.  He was hovering fifty feet in the air, and the castle was breathtakingly beautiful when lit up against the darkness.

This castle had been Harry’s true home for the past four years, and it was hard for him to believe that he was voluntarily leaving it.  If things didn’t go well, this could be the last time he laid eyes on it.

He was leaving most of his possessions behind; they were to be hidden by Dobby in a place only he could access.  His parent’s photo album, his glasses, and his clothes were locked securely in his trunk.  Harry was taking only his wand, his key, his money, his invisibility cloak, and his Firebolt.  Even those were incredibly risky, given the likelihood of tracking charms, but Harry felt their usefulness outweighed their risk.

Harry had tried to empty his vault before he fled Hogwarts, but found that he could not do so via Dobby.  He had sent Dobby to Gringotts with his key and a note signed with his blood, which Dobby had insisted upon, but Dumbledore had left instructions with the goblins that forbade house elf access.  That meant Harry would have to show up in person to withdraw any money, and that was not a risk he was willing to take just yet.  His 75 galleons would have to last for awhile.

A few hours earlier he had said a tearful goodbye to Hedwig in the owlery.  He, Parvati, and Padma didn’t know if she could be tracked, so it was dangerous for her to be anywhere near Harry.  She would have to stay at Hogwarts or fend for herself in the forbidden forest while Harry sorted out his situation.  He bitterly hated to leave his faithful familiar behind, but he saw no help for it.  His heart had nearly broken at the reproachful look she gave him when he explained what was happening.

Harry blinked at the slight wetness in his eyes, and steeled himself for the trial to come.  What happened next was going to happen fast, and he would need extraordinary concentration and luck.

The Patil twins had come through for him, and he was to be meeting Dinesh Patil just outside the Leaky Cauldron in a few minutes.  They had planned as well as they could, but there was no way to be certain how easily Dumbledore could track Harry.  Padma had transfigured new glasses for him to remove that threat, but they would only last for a couple of days before they reverted back to a small hand mirror.  He was wearing clothes that Dobby had pilfered from somewhere, and Harry knew better than to ask where they came from.  He only hoped that he wasn’t wearing Draco Malfoy’s castoffs.  Dobby might be amused by such an irony.

Taking one last longing look at Hogwarts, Harry turned his broom toward Hogsmeade and took a deep breath. The village lights glimmered invitingly three miles in the distance.  At the broom’s top speed, it would take him just over 60 seconds to reach The Three Broomsticks, which would be serving the last of its late night customers.

No time like the present, Harry thought, and accelerated on his broom like his life depended on it, which, in fact, it did.  When he reached the castle gates, he was flying twenty feet off the ground and going over 160mph.  

Harry never remembered exactly what happened next.  He saw a bright flash of blue light, felt a sudden compression in his chest, and a few seconds later found himself staring dazedly up at the night sky.  He was lying on his back on the road to Hogsmeade, just beyond the castle gates.  He had apparently been knocked off his broom by some kind of ward, and had fallen 20 feet to the ground.  The fall had bruised his arse and back terribly, and the breath was knocked out of him, but otherwise he seemed to be okay.

Standing woozily and swaying, Harry got his bearings and tried not to panic.  Whatever had just happened, someone probably knew about it, and he was just standing here out in the open.  Recovering his broom and wrapping his cloak around his arm, Harry turned toward Hogsmeade and shot off as fast as the Firebolt could carry him.  His paranoia was in overdrive, and he expected spell fire to erupt around him at any second.

The next minute seemed to take an eternity to Harry.  The dark landscape of the road to Hogsmeade rushed by him at a breakneck pace, but it seemed to him like he was crawling.  Almost there, he thought, come on, come on…

Finally he pulled up sharply in front of the old café and jumped off his broom.  He whipped his invisibility cloak around himself and sprinted into The Three Broomsticks, not caring that the broom he was carrying would be visible to all.  The café had only three customers at this hour, all of whom looked to be in advanced stages of inebriation, and Madam Rosmerta was leaning against her elbow in a slight doze.  Her eyes opened at the sound of her floo activating, but she heard only the words “Leaky Cauldron” and saw no one.  A sickle was spinning on the floor, apparently left behind by her mysterious visitor.

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles to the south, Harry Potter was spat out of the fireplace of The Leaky Cauldron, landing unceremoniously on his bum.  He grabbed his belongings and ran out the entrance to muggle London, sparing not a glance for whoever might be in the bar.  Once outside, he turned right sharply and sprinted fifty meters to the edge of a dark alley, where he skidded and then ducked into the darkness.

“Dinesh?” he panted hesitantly, desperately hoping that he had not been stood up.

In the darkness he felt a hand grip his arm, but saw nothing.

“Hold on, Harry Potter,” a slightly accented voice spoke, and with a soft pop the alley was empty.

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Somewhere outside Birmingham

Harry Potter and Dinesh Patil reappeared in a field hundreds of miles from London.  Harry stumbled for a moment, but quickly righted himself and looked around.  He was in a huge open space, slightly elevated, and he could see for hundreds of meters in every direction.  To his right he could see the bright outlines of a major city, its lights casting an eerie glow on the scene.

“Thank you,” Harry said in a breathless voice to his still-invisible rescuer.  

“I was worried that—,” he started, but was cut off.

“Quiet, now,” the accented voice spoke out of the darkness.  “You’re not safe yet.”

Harry couldn’t see it, but Dinesh Patil was waving his wand over Harry in complex patterns, trying to discern whether he had tracking charms on any of his clothes or belongings.  So far he hadn’t found any, but he couldn’t be sure about the broom or the invisibility cloak.

“We’re staying right here for the next half hour,” continued the voice.  “If someone shows up, you drop the cloak and the broom and I’ll apparate us away again.  We’ll have to do this until no one follows.”

“B-but,” Harry stammered, “I can’t just leave my cloak.  It was my father’s…it…and my broom…I won’t be able to get away if something happens.”

“Not my problem, lad,” the voice responded.  “Maybe you’ll get them back later, or…Merlin, just call that bloody elf and have him hide them.”

“Right,” Harry responded, relieved and a little embarrassed that he had missed something so obvious.  “But shouldn’t we wait until we know for certain that someone’s coming?”

“Alright…” the voice responded after a pause.  “But when I tell you to drop those damn things, you do it or I’ll leave you behind.”

Harry nodded and called for Dobby.  He popped in front of them and hugged Harry’s legs excitedly.

“Oh, Harry Potter Sir has done it!  Harry Potter is free!”

“Shh, Dobby, this isn’t over yet.  If someone tracks me, I’ll have to drop my cloak and my broom.  I need you to grab them and put them with the other things you’re hiding, okay?”

“Dobby will do it,” the elf nodded happily.

“But be careful, Dobby,” Harry warned, “there may be spells flying and you’ll have to hurry.”

“Dobby will be careful, Harry Potter Sir,” he said, and popped out to watch from a distance.

An uncomfortable silence settled on the scene.

“How long will it take for them to come?”  Harry asked his invisible companion.

“Don’t know,” came the gruff reply.  “Probably any time now, if they’re coming at all.”

The pair waited for another two minutes in nervous anticipation, when two soft pops from their left signaled the arrival of their pursuers.

“Drop ‘em,” Dinesh hissed, as Albus Dumbledore and Alastor Moody appeared thirty meters to their left and immediately fired off a pair of wide-area stunners.  Both Harry and Dinesh dove to the ground, barely escaping the sweep of the powerful spells.  The miss gave Harry enough time to whip off his cloak and toss his broom to the side.  A split second later he was grabbed roughly and felt the nauseating sense of apparition again.

The moment that Harry and Dinesh disappeared, Dobby popped into the field and scooped up Harry’s broom and cloak.  He was gone before Dumbledore or Moody could think to fire a spell at him.

“Bloody hell,” swore Moody.  “He’s got help.  I couldn’t tell who it was; he was disillusioned.”

Dumbledore nodded in frustration and wished that Fawkes were here.  He had begun his locator spell again the moment Harry had vanished.

“How is this possible?” he muttered under his breath, alarmed at the spell’s results.  “Alastor, try to locate him.  Hurry.”

Moody made similar movements of his wand for a few seconds and then shook his head.

“Nothing.  He’s gone, Albus.  The stuff I charmed is somewhere in Hogwarts, looks like.  That elf probably hid them in some little nook you’ll never find.”

Blast and damnation, Dumbledore swore mentally.   How had the boy gotten rid of all his trackers?  Practically everything he owned was trackable.  Was he not wearing his glasses?  Dumbledore resolved to review this memory in his pensieve and look closely at Harry’s appearance when he threw off his cloak.

“We shall have to find him, Alastor,” Dumbledore said grimly, his magic flaring in response to his anger.  “Assemble everyone and put them in teams.  We need to have eyes in Diagon Alley, especially on Gringotts.  Have Bill Weasley ready to break down wards.  We need to be ready to move the moment the boy uses his wand.  It’s the only way to track him now.”

“Aye,” Moody agreed, and apparated away to contact other Order members.

Left alone on this desolate field, Dumbledore stared up at the hazy sky and wondered aloud.  “What have you done, Harry?”

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Somewhere outside Dover

Harry Potter, now fully visible without his cloak, found himself standing in another isolated, grassy area.  He could smell salt in the air, and assumed he must be near the coast.  Dinesh’s hand had not let go of his arm, and Harry could tell that his wand was out and ready to fire a spell.  He could hear heavy breathing beside him, and detected a faint smell of cigarettes.

That had been a close call, and now Harry felt incredibly vulnerable out here in the open.

“Stay quiet,” Dinesh whispered.  “We may have to move again in a hurry.  They know you’ve got help now.  If they can still track you, they may wait a few minutes and try to set up some wards on this place without us knowing about it.”

“Can they do that?”  Harry asked, alarmed.

“Not easily,” came the curt reply.  “Whatever you do, don’t draw your bloody wand unless they show up.  It never leaves your holster, got it?”

“Got it,” Harry nodded.  He wasn’t about to screw this up by absentmindedly casting a ‘lumos.’

The duo waited in tense silence for the next half hour, jumping at every small noise or movement in the night.  Finally they concluded that no one had been able to follow them.  After all, Harry’s wand was now the only thing in his possession that actually belonged to him.

Harry could sense Dinesh relax slightly next to him.  “Alright, Harry Potter, it looks like you’re going to make it.  I’m going to take us somewhere safe, and then we’re going to talk.  If you use that bloody wand, though, I’m going to snap it and kick you out in the street, got it?”

“Understood,” Harry said, “and thank you.”

There was no reply, but Harry felt himself compressed into a small tube again.  This time he came to his senses in a small, sparsely-decorated room.

Merlin, he sighed.  I did it.  I got away.

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Hogwarts, Gryffindor Girls’ Dorms

While Harry was breathing a sigh of relief at his escape, Parvati Patil was staring at the lace above her four poster bed in apprehension.  Hermione was not in her bed, but that didn’t necessarily mean that Harry’s plan to trap them in the Come-and-Go Room had worked.  Her shift of prefect patrol didn’t end until 2AM, and it was still a few minutes until the hour.

By now Harry should have escaped the castle and met up with Dinesh in muggle London.  Had he made it?  Parvati wondered.  Or were Harry and her uncle sitting in a cell somewhere, watched over by Dumbledore?  She hadn’t heard any alarms or noticed any unusual activity, but then again she hadn’t expected to.

Now that she was alone in her bed, her attempt to help Harry Potter seemed a lot more dangerous and foolhardy than it had a few hours ago.  It had felt a little like an exciting game when they were planning, but she hadn’t given much thought to what would happen to her and Padma if Harry were caught.  She had been offended by Harry’s initial rejection of her help, but now she wondered if he had been right.  Had she just put her entire family in mortal danger?

Belatedly, she realized just how precarious her position was, and was starting to lose her nerve.  Would someone come to her room in an hour, wand drawn and ready to take her prisoner?  Would she wake in confusion, obliviated of her recent memories?  Would she have a fatal ‘accident’ in tomorrow’s potions class?

The possibilities were endless, and they depended on just how ruthless the Headmaster and his allies were willing to be.  Parvati, like almost everyone in the wizarding world, had an instinctive reverence for Albus Dumbledore, but her eyes had been opened in the past few days.  If he was capable of plotting to have Harry Potter killed, he was capable of anything.  She knew this before she agreed to help Harry, but the full truth of it was only now hitting home.

Parvati shivered and hugged her pillow more tightly.

She really, really hated being a part of this, but felt she couldn’t just leave Harry to his fate.  Like most girls at Hogwarts, she had been in awe of Harry’s celebrity at first, and harbored a small crush for The-Boy-Who-Lived for her first four years.  That crush did not survive the disastrous Yule Ball, as she had discovered the significant gap between her image of The-Boy-Who-Lived and the real Harry Potter.

When Harry apologized at the beginning of term, she had been pleasantly surprised.  His personality seemed so contradictory; he was painfully shy, yet uncompromisingly fierce or standoffish at other times.  Not knowing anything about how Harry had grown up, Parvati didn’t understand this strange behavior.

Now she had been drawn unwillingly into the chaos of Harry Potter’s life.  She had no desire to get involved in magical fighting, whatever the cause; her aspirations were decidedly domestic.  And yet here she was, waiting for the hammer to fall.

Merlin, what have I gotten myself into?  she wondered.

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A/N: Et voila.  Harry’s Hogwarts days are no more.  But soon he’ll have most of wizarding Britain looking for him, and a true civil war is just around the corner.  The conflict will get much bigger than just Harry v. Dumbledore.  The action will be picking way up, but the story will remain character-driven.  

For those who are curious about this story’s eventual length, I’m estimating 30 chapters and about 180k words.  I have everything plotted out, and so far things are going exactly to plan.  Thanks for reading!