Repent Sinners

"Good afternoon Mr. Black." The shopkeeper didn't even look up as Harry entered, "how are you today."

"Angry," Harry spoke through clenched teeth. "I have some things I want to talk to you about."

"Such as the fact that I'm the one who started you on your journey?" The shopkeeper nodded, "I'll lock up."

"Why?"

"Have you ever read the Iliad Mr. Black?" The shop keeper asked.

"Yes," Harry nodded. "And don't bother pretending that you don't know who I am."

"One must be careful of unwanted ears," the shop keeper said glancing around. "Do you perhaps remember Ca.s.sandra, the woman cursed to see the future but unable to effect it? What do you suppose would happen if she had children and her powers clung to the family line?"

"I have some ideas," Harry allowed. "But I think it would be best if you would explain things."

"We wondered the world for a time, and many of us went mad." The shop keep hissed, "do you know what it's like to be tormented by images and unable to change them. But we were talking about the family, one day one of them realised something . . . they realised that the power that would not allow them to save their empire would allow them an advantage in the business world."

"So we have a wand maker that always knows your name and can usually find something for you without too much trouble, a series of shop keepers that know more than they will admit and always have some sort of item that will turn out to be needed in the future?" Harry exhaled, "why me, was it because of the prophecy?"

"The prophecy is garbage," the shop keeper waved his hand in dismissal. "It's of the sort that's overly vague and only clear after the events have pa.s.ses. Every day hundreds like it are made and only a fraction of them prove accurate. Divination as taught by Hogwarts provides one with vague possibility's at it's best and complete and utter rubbish at it's worst."

"So then why are you helping me?"

"It may be rubbish but as they say, a room full of monkeys armed with typewriters will eventually produce the works of Shakespeare. Dumbledore's precious prophecy gives a few vague notions that are at best half right, you are a man that has a great chance of defeating the current Dark Lord. You are not the only one that can do so, something the wizarding world has yet to learn is that there is no destiny, we are not locked onto a path." The shop keeper took a breath, "we helped you because of the chance that you could defeat the Dark Lord and because we saw the possibility's of your vacation, we provided you with information and equipment and let you blunder into trouble."

"I see," Harry continued in a tone of defeat. "Perhaps you could tell me why I'm not as angry about all this as one might expect?"

"Why should you be angry?" The shopkeeper was puzzled, "most of us did everything we could to help you remain anonymous . . . I went so far as to give you a SEP field."

"That didn't work," Harry snorted. "Sure it kept people from recognising 'the great Harry Potter' but it didn't do a thing to make my life less exciting."

"May I see it," the shopkeeper examined the item for a few moments. "I find that it works better when you turn it on, at the moment you have it on the lowest setting. Next time read the instruction manual."

"You're telling me that I got into all that trouble because I didn't bother reading the instruction manual?" Harry's voice was too calm.

"Yes," the shopkeeper nodded. "It does go to explain how you could've gotten into all that trouble. I had an idea that it might happen, but for the life of me I couldn't figure out how."

"So you're saying that all my problems stemmed from the fact that I didn't read the instruction manual?" Harry asked in a whisper.

"Yes," the shopkeep replied gleefully. "Though how one person could get into so much trouble . . . maybe you angered a large group of people and they all cursed you as a child or something."

"Let's just put that aside," Harry's teeth were grinding together.

"If you wish," the shopkeeper agreed. "What else do you want to know?"

"How do I defeat Tom Riddle?" Harry asked calmly.

"You run him down in a car, you engage in a duel to the death, you blow him up with a gas line." The shop keeper replied sarcastically, "one would think that a man of your experience would have more ideas than a simple shopkeep."

"The last time he died, he was able to return." Harry restrained his temper, "how does one kill him for good?"

"Tom Riddle made a rather large mistake in his quest for immortality," the shop keeper began to chuckle under his breath. "He placed his chance to return into several small items, as is their nature, many of these items became lost and fell into the hands of my kinsmen. All you must do is kill the body and his snake, we shall do the rest."

"Why didn't you do this last time if it's so easy?" Harry asked calmly, "one would think that it would have been in your best interests to do this as soon as possible."

"Because some of these items were kept beyond even our reach," the shop keeper smiled. "That has been taken care of, as I said kill his body and we shall do the rest."

"If the prophecy is garbage." Harry took a breath, "then how come you can't just get Dumbledore to take care of things?"

"Albus Dumbledore is a great man, but he has one major flaw."

"He loves to manipulate people as if they were chess pieces." Harry finished.

"No, he can't bring himself to kill anyone." The shop keeper shrugged, "though society doesn't consider that a flaw."

"But he defeated Grindelwald," Harry protested. "How could he do that if he couldn't kill anyone?"

"Albus killed one man and was so horrified by his actions that he has never been able to kill another," the shop keeper shook his head. "That's why he's so insistent on following the prophecy, why the Order is more of an investigative organization, and why he hasn't taken any of the opportunity's to kill Tom Riddle. He just can't bring himself to take another life."

"So he's raised me as his a.s.sa.s.sin?" Harry hissed.

"He's raised you to fulfill the prophecy, and he tries not to think about what that entails." The shopkeeper corrected, "there is a difference."

"So what now?" Harry looked lost, "now that I know . . . what do I do now?"

"That I can't say," the shopkeeper said gently.

"But you know the future, why can't you tell me?" Harry demanded.

"First of all, I don't know the future. I know a dozen or so possible futures, each of which may or may not happen . . . h.e.l.l, none of them might happen." The shopkeeper held up a finger, "what's next is up to you."

"Then what's a possible future," Harry pleaded. "Just give me a hint?"

"Severus Snape," the shopkeeper whispered. "Is in a seedy bar not far from here. He wishes to give Mr. Black an . . . interesting proposal."

"That's it?"

"That's all I have," the shopkeeper replied sadly. "In the best of times we don't get much, and in the worst . . . in the worst we get too much and our minds are overcome by images of a future that may never exist."

"Thank you," Harry said as he turned to leave.

"One thing before you go." The shopkeeper placed a small box on the table, "you might find this useful."

"Why?" Harry eyed the box suspiciously.

"Because within it is a small bracelet that will make you Harry Potter again," the shopkeeper said slowly. "You may not realise it but you've changed greatly while you were gone . . . your friends would have a hard time connecting their image of you with the image of what you've become."

"An illusion?"

"Much more powerful but along the same lines," the shopkeeper agreed.

"Thank you." Harry took the box, "how much?"

"On the house." The shopkeeper started giggling, "just be sure to read the manual."

"Thanks," Harry spoke through clenched teeth. "I will."

IIIIIIIIII

Severus was enjoying a moment to himself, school was going to start soon and he was having a drink at his bar of choice. He had gotten a message from one of his sources telling him to pick a private table and to wait. They told him that someone would be along shortly to help him solve a . . . problem.

"I'm told that you wish to speak with me?" Asked a voice from the shadows.

"I have a proposition for you," Snape didn't take his eyes off the shot of fire-whiskey nestled in his right hand, "I need a man to disappear and I can't do it myself."

"Why come to me?" The voice asked evenly, "why not have one of your friends in the order do it?"

"They don't have what it takes to look into a man's eyes and end his life with a smile," the Potions Master took a sip of his whiskey, "that's why I came to a man like you."

"I see," the world grew oddly silent as if waiting to hear the response. "Regardless of what you've heard, I am not a hired killer."

"I wouldn't presume to say that you were." Snape took another sip, "it was my guess that might be interested in this more for the level of difficulty, then for any pay off. And aside from that, I think that you'll agree that removing this man would be of benefit to society."

"Then state your piece Mr. Snape, and I shall give you my answer."

"One of my old colleagues, a man named Antonin Dolohov is staying in a small room above a shop in Knockturn alley," Snape took another sip, "and across the street is a team of Aurors watching his every move in hopes that he leads them to some of his friends."

"I fail to see why my services are needed, just talk to the Order and have the Aurors arrest him and be done with it."

"Were it only so simple," Snape let out a cold chuckle, "I have no doubt that Dolohov is well aware of every move his watchers make, and that if things are left the way they are then we'll soon be reading ambush and murder of several young Aurors."

"Why not deal with the situation yourself?"

"The surveillance team monitors every bit of active magic that goes on within fifty feet of that room," Snape refilled his gla.s.s, "and I have no doubts that they would pick up the mark on my arm."

"I thought that your little . . . tattoo was pa.s.sive magic?" The voice asked for more information.

"I have recently learned that it maintains it's ability to comunicate by sending a steady stream of magic to the other marks, so I can not do this myself."

"I see"

"So, will you take the job?" The Potions master asked mildly, "or must I find someone else?"

"I would be happy to a.s.sist you in resolving this matter," the voice agreed, "and now to the subject of payment."

"I can not pay you much," Snape admitted, "not on a teachers pay."

"You misunderstand Mr. Snape," the voice seemed amused, "money isn't something that I have ever been concerned with."

"What then?"

"Curiosity Mr. Snape," the voice paused. "I wish to know why you have chosen now of all times to pursue this matter?"

"He harmed one of my students," Snape answered quietly, "it doesn't matter if I do or don't I like them, I have an obligation to protect them."

"A commendable att.i.tude Mr. Snape." The voice commented from the shadows, "but not the entire truth."

"The truth," Snape's continued reluctantly. "Is that in addition to being my student . . . she has . . . a lot of potential, allowing her to die would be a crime to my art."

"You want a man dead because he harmed one of your students?" The voice sounded amused, "coincidently the only student that has a chance of equaling you in your chosen art?"

"Not the only one." Snape said quietly, "a few others have some potential among the usual dunder heads that I'm forced to teach. However it would still be a crime to allow any of them to expire before they had a chance to make their mark on the art of brewing potions."

"I see . . . you owe me a favor Mr. Snape." The voice finished in a whisper, "and as you have so far fulfilled your part of our bargain, it is time for me to fulfill mine. So I guess that this is goodbye Mr. Snape."

"I guess it is," Snape replied to an empty room, "goodbye Mr. Black."

As Harry walked out of the bar, he tried not to think about what he was about to do. A short buzz caused Harry to out his Zippo, "yes?"

"It is me my friend," the Professor's voice replied. "Are you busy?"

"I have something I have to do," Harry replied quietly. "But I have some time before I have to do that."

"Excellent," the Professor's replied enthusiastically. "Then I shall meet you in three seconds."

"Three seconds?" Harry looked behind him.

"Yes," the Professor closed his Zippo and put it in his pocket. "I noticed you walking down the street and decided to say h.e.l.lo . . . what is the task that you have to do?"

"I have to kill a man," Harry whispered.

"I trust that this man has done something that requires his death?" The Professor glanced at Harry's face.

"Yes"

"Then I shall help you." The Professor's voice dropped, "who do we have to kill?"

"A death eater named Antonin Dolohov . . . he hurt a friend of mine and a lot of other people."

"Then let us not tarry," the Professor said quickly. "The quicker that we start the quicker that this man is no longer a threat to other people."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Let's go."

Harry and the Professor made their way to the flop house that their target was staying in and paused to consider things.

"Do I have to take off my armor?" Harry glanced at his friend.

"No," the Professor replied after a moment of thought. "You shouldn't have to."

"How do you think I should do this?" Harry asked as he handed the Professor his magical items.

"I'm not sure," the Professor didn't look to happy about the way things were going. "I wouldn't use your wand. I did everything I could to make hard to detect but I wouldn't chance it."

"You're right," Harry nodded. "I'm sure they have all sorts of monitoring charms on that flat."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" The Professor had a concerned look on his face, "really sure?"

"I don't want to do this," Harry sighed. "But there isn't much choice, it has to be done."

"Then I suggest that you get in and out as fast as possible," the Professor shook his head. "I'll cause a distraction if I see anyone coming."

"Thanks," Harry shook his head in disgust. "Let me get this over with."

"Good luck," the Professor wished his friend as Harry ascended the narrow staircase.

Harry reached the top of the stairs and slowly made his way to the room that glowed the brightest under his mage sight reasoning that it was mostly likely his target's location.

Testing the door k.n.o.b, Harry's nervousness did not lessen when he found the door unlocked. Easing into the room, Harry took a slow look around at the run down furniture. Splas.h.i.+ng sounds drew Harry's attention to the bathroom and Harry made his way to the door and peaked through the crack.

Antonin Dolohov was in the tub and his eyes were closed. He didn't look like he had a care in the world, he looked relaxed . . . content.

Harry took a deep breath and eased open the door. Two quick stepps brought him to the tub and in a flash he grabbed the man's legs and pulled, forcing the death eater's face under the water.

Dolohov's scream was m.u.f.fled by the water and the death eater franticly clawed at the sides of the tub for purchase.

Harry pressed his foot into the struggling man's face, forcing his face under the water for the last time.

Antonin's struggles began weaker and weaker by the second as his oxygen supply depleted and after one last frantic attempt to get a breath of life giving oxygen, he died . . . he would not be missed.

Harry looked down at his handwork and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Taking one last look around, Harry carefully locked the door and left the apartment.

Harry made his way out of the building and back to the Professor.

"Are you alright?" The Professor asked as his friend exited the building.

"I don't know," Harry frowned. "I'm not sure I like what I've been forced to become."

"Harry," the Professor ignored his friend's look of shock. "War does strange things to people, war brings out both the worst and best in people, I . . . I can't tell you if what you are doing is right or wrong, all I can say is that . . . is that you are my friend, and I have never known of a time where you crossed the line. If it helps, tell yourself that you've sacrificed your innocence to protect others from having to do the same thing."

"Thank you," Harry sighed. "How did you find out?"

"You talked a little too much after you got drunk in Germany," the Professor managed a weak smile. "Henchgirl knows, but none of the others have a clue. To them, you are and will always be the mysterious Mr. Black."

"Thank you," Harry clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Let's go."

"Have I told you about our latest invention?" The Professor asked, changing the subject. "It is a badge that has many strange and unusual powers."

"Like what?" Harry cast a quick drying charm on his leg.

"Well," the Professor began. "It has many of the powers of the magical items that you carry but in a more compact form. It can obscure the face, block most forms of mental manipulation . . . the usual stuff."

"Could you send a pair of them to the twins?" Harry frowned. "That's odd."

"Yes I can?" The Professor replied quickly, "what is it my friend?"

"I know those girls," Harry said. "And I think I might know one or two of the death eaters that are following them."

"Are we going to do something about this situation?" The Professor asked quickly.

"Yes"

"Then this might be a good time to hear about our next latest invention." The Professor eyed the group of death eaters nervously, "it's an automatic room cleaning device."

"And that will help me how?" Harry whispered back.

"Well," the Professor pulled out a metallic sphere. "It is a powerful explosive device."

"What," Harry's eyes widened in shock. "How is that supposed to clean a room?"

"If a room no longer exists, one couldn't say it was dirty now could they?" The Professor spoke looking entirely too smug.

"I think I can use this," Harry ignored his friend's strange thought patterns. "I think that it and a few dozen spells will put them in the right frame of mind to duel me."

"What frame of mind is that?" The Professor wondered aloud.

"I find that things go much more smoothly when their minds are splattered on the wall," Harry shrugged. "Makes things easier that way. You take care of the girls, I'll take care of the death w.a.n.kers."

IIIIIIIIII

Hermione was sitting in her room and attempting to study when her friend's owl started acting strange.

"Hoot," Hedwig began twitching. "Hoot hoot," she hopped off her perch and flew out the open window.

"Hedwig," Hermione screamed chasing after the crazed owl. "Wait for me."

Hermione flew down the stairs and out the front door, desperately trying to keep the owl in sight.

"What are you doing Hermione?" Tonks ditched her invisibility cloak and began running along side. "Why did you leave your house in such a hurry."

"There's only one reason that Hedwig would act like that," Hermione spoke between wheezes. "She knows where Harry is."

"Then why don't we try something more efficient?" Tonks stopped pulled a bottle containing an odd looking silvery substance out of her pocket and summoned her invisibility cloak. "This another one of the toys that Black people put on the market."

"What is it?" Hermione stared at the strange container.

"I just call it neat silvery flying stuff," Tonks opened the bottle and dumped it on the ground. "Hop on."

Hermione hesitated for a second before stepping onto the puddle of what looked like mercury, "what now?"

"Now we put on my cloak so we don't get noticed and follow that bird," Tonks spoke as she donned the cloak. "And away we go."

"The cloak isn't covering the bottom," Hermione whispered as clutched the older girl. "Won't someone see that?"

"Black's people took care of that too," Tonks whispered back. "Don't worry, we'll find Harry, and when we do . . ."

"He's in so much trouble for making us worry like this," Hermione finished.

"Look." Tonk's voice lightened, "she's going into Diagon alley."

"Don't let her get away, " Hermione commanded.

The two girls landed and began to follow the crazed bird on foot through a series of twists and turns.

"We're close." Hermione scowled, "I can feel it."

Tonks glanced over her shoulder and frowned, "d.a.m.n."

"Don't look behind us," Tonks whispered. "We're being followed by at least two known death eaters and they have several friends."

"What do we do?" Hermione asked nervously, fingering her wand.

"We're going to duck down this alley and hope we can loose them on the other side," Tonks replied firmly. "All else fails, it will make it easer for me to hold them off while you escape in the invisibility cloak."

"I'm not going to leave you Tonks," Hermione replied firmly. "I don't abandon my friends."

"I'm a professional Auror," Tonks hissed. "And you will do what I say, I'm not about to let my charge get killed because she refused to follow my instructions."

"Tonks I . . ."

"You are going to escape and get help while I hold them off," Tonks interrupted glancing over her shoulder. "It may not be the most glamorous action but it is the one that will keep you alive."

"I was going to say that it looks like this alley is has a dead end," Hermione gave a weak smile. "Do you have anymore silvery flying stuff?"

"I only had the one bottle on me," Tonks frowned.

"You can still escape, and I'll hide under the invisibility cloak until they go away." Hermione offered, "I think that it's the best chance we have."

"I'm not leaving you Hermione," Tonks turned to face the mouth of the alley. "Get under the cloak and . . ."

"h.e.l.lo," a small man interrupted. "Are you in some sort of trouble?"

"We have several death eaters about to follow us into this alley," Tonks replied. "So I guess the answer would be yes."

"Oh my," the small man nodded. "Then we had better escape."

"And how are we supposed to do that?" Tonks fought to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "In case you haven't noticed, we are trapped here."

"No we're not," the small man disagreed. "We'll just leave the same way I came in."

"How did you come in," Tonks refused to keep her eyes off the mouth of the alley.

"I used my portable hole," the small man boasted proudly. "Mr. Black asked me to check on you and this seemed like the easiest and fastest way to do it."

"Mr. Black," Tonk's eyebrows shot up. "Why did he want you to check on us?"

"Can we talk about all this after we leave the alley?" Hermione asked nervously, "I don't think we have much time."

"Ok." The small man agreed, pulling out what looked like a large black silk handkerchief, "all we have to do is stick this on the wall and go through it." The small man finished, then walked through the alley wall's new hole.

"Come on Hermione," Tonks motioned for her charge to go through the hole. "Let's get out of here."

The two girls rushed through the hole to find themselves back on the main street.

"Why did you choose to come here?" Hermione questioned the small man.

"Well, if you'll look around the corner you'll see the alley you were trapped in." The small man replied, taking his hole off the wall. "And I wanted to watch the ma.s.sacre."

"What ma.s.sacre?" Tonks asked suspiciously.

"Look around the corner." The small man giggled, taking a peak. "They're just going into the alley right now."

"I see it," Tonks nodded. "Now what?"

"You see that man in the dark hat that's following them?" The small man giggled again.

"Yeah why?" Tonks squinted to get a better look.

Before the small man had a chance to answer, the man in the dark hat threw a small spherical object into the alley.

"What was that?" Tonks asked in confusion.

"Well," BOOM "that's one of my latest inventions, an automatic room cleaner." The small man replied with pride.

"Room cleaner?" Hermione asked nervously.

"Yes," the small man nodded, "if the room doesn't exist then one could not say that it's not clean."

"Now what's he doing?" Tonks watched as the man in the dark hat stuck his arm in the alley, causing several odd flashes of light.

"Russian battle magic," the small man replied. "He says that it puts them in the proper state of mind before the duel."

"Proper state of mind?" Hermione repeated dumbly.

"Hmmm, oh splattered on the wall," the small man replied absently. "And now looks like it's all done but the clean up, have a good day."

"Wait," Tonks grabbed the small man by the arm. "Who are you, and who was that guy in the alley?"

"They call me," the small man paused to increase the drama. "The Professor and the other guy was Mr. Black, you might have heard of him."

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, no wonder the fight was over so fast. Wait," Tonks suddenly remembered the reason that she had come into town, "you haven't seen a white owl have you? Or a small boy with messy black hair and green eyes?"

"No I'm afraid that I haven't," the Professor shook his head. "But if you like, I'd be happy to ask Mr. Black if he's noticed anything."

"Please do," Hermione requested. "From what I've read, if anyone can help us find Harry it's Mr. Black."

"As in Harry Potter?" The Professor's gaze narrowed and the girl's identical looks of shock gave the answer. "I see, then I suppose that I might be able to help you after all."

"How?" Hermione demanded, looming over the smaller man.

"Do you perhaps have access to one of these?" The Professor asked, pulling out a small zippo lighter.

"Yes I do," Hermione nodded. "Why."

"Keep it close tonight," the Professor smiled. "And I shall see what I can do."

IIIIIIIIII

"Hedwig?" Harry said incredulously, the white owl glared down from above the puddle of death eaters.

"Hoot?" The owl tilted her head.

"It's me girl," Harry a.s.sured the owl. "I just don't look like I'm supposed to . . . do you want to come with me?"

"Hoot," the owl agreed.

Harry held out his arm to give the owl a place to land. "Henchgirl, I've got an owl with me . . . two to port up."

IIIIIIIIII

"Harry," the Professor called out. "I need to talk with you about something."

"What can I do for you?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I promised a young lady that you would floo her later tonight," the Professor replied nervously.

"Which one?" Harry pulled his Zippo out.

"The younger one," the Professor exhaled in relief. "Thank you."

"No thank you," Harry said quickly."This is something I should have done a long time ago."

"Well . . . I'll just give you some privacy."

"Thanks"

Harry went back to his room and carefully closed the door, Hermione . . . are you there?"

"I'm here Harry," Hermione replied quickly. "How are you doing? Are you ok? Have you been studying? Are you eating enough?"

"Yes," Harry waited until his friend had to take a breath. "To all your questions."

"Why did you leave?" Hermione demanded.

"Why do you think?" Harry snorted.

"At least you were safe," Hermione growled. "Do you know how worried we've been? It couldn't have been that bad . . . could it?"

"Sorry about that," Harry spoke slowly. "I just thought I deserved to live a little . . . I didn't think I had much time left and I wanted to enjoy it."

"Oh . . . and now?"

"Now I'm feeling much better," Harry laughed. "I've had the best summer of my life."

"Why didn't you write?" Hermione demanded. "Or call?"

"Couple reasons," Harry explained. "I didn't want to get picked up by the Order . . . and . . . well I'm not proud of this but I was still a bit angry about the way I got isolated last summer."

"Oh . . . are you coming back to school?" Hermione's hands shook as she waited to hear the answer.

"I'm planning to come back tomorrow." Harry promised. "There's just something I'd like to do first."

"What?" Hermione's voice was filled with suspicion. "You're not going to miss the train are you?"

"No I'm not going to miss the train," Harry replied quickly. "I promise that I will be on the Hogwarts express . . . did you know that you are an internationally known cautionary tale about the dangers of time travel?"

"What?" Hermione squawked.

"I was talking to someone and they told me a story about how irresponsible Hogwarts is because they allowed a student to have a dangerous time travel artifact." Harry was endlessly amused by this conversation, "and to make things worse . . . they did it so that she could take extra cla.s.ses."

"Where'd you hear that?" Hermione demanded, "who said that?"

"Don't worry about it," Harry whispered into his Zippo. "How is everyone?"

"They're doing good," Hermione said. "Luna especially, did you know that some of those crazy creatures that she's always talking about are real?"

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Hermione nodded, "and the Quibbler's gotten almost respectable with all the stories about Mr. Black that they've been printing."

"Mr. Black?" Harry still couldn't believe it.

"Yeah," Hermione replied with enthusiasm. "He's some sort of super Auror that's been traveling around the world killing death eaters . . . do you think he'll take care of Voldemort for us?"

"I don't know Hermione," Harry answered honestly. "What about Ron and the others?"

"They're all fine," Hermione whispered. "You really should call him, Ms. Weasley's been worried sick about you."

"I'll call them later tonight if it's not too late," Harry promised.

"Professor Dumbledore ordered the Order to give you some more s.p.a.ce, he told them that it was his fault that you ran off and that if they found you then they were supposed to respect your wishes and leave you alone if you wanted."

"Oh . . . I guess I cut everyone off for no reason." Harry's voice choked up, "sorry about that."

"That's ok Harry," Hermione could save her scolding until she met him face to face. "Did you have a chance to do much studying?"

"Some," Harry smirked at the irony. "I'm gonna have a lot to teach the DA this year."

"What kind of stuff?" Hermione asked.

"Depends on the level," Harry yawned. "I'm planning to have two levels, one for anyone that can pa.s.s the test and the other for the Ministry crew."

"What kind of test?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"I don't think you'll like it," Harry dodged the question. "But I think it's necessary."

"Ok . . . did you have fun?"

"Lots," Harry sighed. "I feel like I lived a whole different life over the summer."

"That's good, did you buy your books?"

"No," Harry closed his eyes. "I forgot all about that."

"I got them for you," Hermione grinned. "I knew you'd forget."

"Thanks, I'll pay you back later." Harry replied gratefully, "I'm gonna talk to Ron now . . . unless you have something else you'd like to talk about."

"Promise you'll come back?"

"I promise"

"Then I'll see you soon, bye Harry."

"Goodbye Hermione," Harry closed his Zippo and then reopened it. "Ron? Ron, you there mate?"

"I'm here." Ron's voice sounded sleepy, "who's this?"

"It's Harry . . . how ya been?"

"Harry?" Ron was shocked awake. "I'm good how are you mate?"

"Never been better," Harry said quietly. "How're the Cannons doing?"

"They've been better," Ron replied quickly. "They're just having a bad season."

"Don't give up hope," Harry laughed. "Season's not over yet . . . and they always have next year."

"Yeah, I guess."

"They're just waiting till you join the team." Harry said with a grin, "can't have a winning season without their star player."

"Both of them mate." Ron replied, "they'll need a new seeker too. One they got now is a b.l.o.o.d.y idiot."

"How's your summer been?"

"Good, yours?"

"Good"

"I . . . mum's telling me to get off the floo, later mate."

"See you on the Hogwarts express."

Ron closed his Zippo and went to join his family, "What do you need mum?"

"It's time for dinner," Molly said firmly. "And we aren't going to delay it so you can talk to your girlfriend."

"Wasn't talking to my girlfriend." Ron spooned a large helping of food onto his plate, "was talking with Harry."

"What?" Molly dropped her fork, "did you say Harry?"

"Yeah mum," Ron nodded. "He told me to say hi."

"How is he?"

"He said he's doing good." Ron took another bite and took the opportunity to spoon some more food onto his plate.

"Is he eating enough? Is he warm? Is he healthy?" Molly demanded, "tell me the important stuff."

"Don't know about that mum." Ron shrugged. "We mostly just talked about the cannons."

AN: This isn't the last chapter, there are still a few more before this ends. Not many, but a few. Snape's reason for acting can be either or both of these two things One, he has a bit of honor. Two, he is selfish. He does not want anyone that could add more to his chosen art to die. I've written it so that it's a bit of both but you can look at this however you like.

Omake: The afterlife."That's my boy," James shouted. "Harry pranked the world . . . I'm so proud of him."

"But since he's my G.o.dson," Sirius boasted. "He got it from me."

"No me," James shouted back.

"Me"

"Me"

"Me"

"Me"

"Me"

"Me"

"Me"

"What are you two doing?" Lily entered the conversation.

"Arguing about who's responsible for the fact that Harry pranked the world." Sirius replied nervously.

"You idiots," Lily added her own volume. "It's obvious who he gets it from, how could you argue about something so stupid."

"We're sorry," James and Sirius drooped.

"He got it from me," Lily finished smugly. "You two might have been responsible for a few of the minor details, but on the whole he gets it from me."

"WHAT?"

An addition to one of the OMAKEs in that last chapter by ranmaogami

Poor Agent 86 comes stumbling into the American Auror Agency "Give me a firewhiskey, NOW!" as he slumped into a seat in front of the Chief's desk.

"What happened?", replied one of the trainees as she brought a bottle of the flaming beverage.

"Exactly my question number 86, it had better be good." Groused our less than pleased Chief. who was trying to locate Mr Black to get him the h.e.l.l out of the country.

"You know that SNAFU slash FUBAR that Endsville is where those two muggles trapped the Grim Reaper?" 86 managed to get out around chugging the whole bottle of fire whiskey.

"Yes, that effing nightmare and a half, what about it?" sighed the Chief

"Mr Black is Grim's Boss! Hic thud amazing that one can go from stone sober to p.i.s.sed drunk in a few moments.

"... Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck" the Chief reached down into her desk, pulled out her own very old bottle of fire whiskey, and promptly joined number 86 dead drunk to the world.