Year 6-17: Loose Lips and Sunken Ships

Harry usually didn't pay attention to the Hogwarts rumor mill, but he kept his ears open throughout early May for any word about Luna Lovegood. He trusted Demelza to keep quiet about the prophecy, but Harry was 99% certain that Neville had witnessed it as well, and the boy had proven quite gossipy in the past, particularly where Harry was concerned. If he interpreted Luna's dire words to refer to Harry, surely he would run straight to his friends and warn them of the danger he posed as a potential 'betrayer'.

Confirming his suspicions was the fact that Neville seemed to be avoiding him at every turn. Running off after shared classes, disappearing down corridors before and after meals, and generally remaining out of sight in common areas. Harry hoped to speak with the boy privately about the matter, to reassure him that whatever he assumed was false, but he never had the chance. Neville was simply determined to hide from Harry for the rest of the school year.

Fortunately, the rest of the school was preoccupied with more important matters than death and betrayal – namely, young love. Everyone was buzzing over the newest "power couple" at Hogwarts: the unexpected pairing of Ron Weasley and Daphne Greengrass. Both were popular within their respective Houses, though for opposite reasons, and the initial reaction from all sides was surprise. The reserved, prim-and-proper Slytherin heiress and the boisterous, rough-and-tumble Hufflepuff jock? It defied all conventional logic.

"They look so happy together," Tracey Davis sighed happily, as the newly-minted couple emerged from behind a bookshelf, giggling and looking like they'd been doing anything but studying.

"Yeah, I suppose they do," Harry admitted as he watched them rush from the library together, flushed and laughing. Ron and Daphne had been inseparable since the Quidditch match, walking hand in hand through the halls, enjoying meals together, and being overly-affectionate with one another. Harry was thrilled for them both, but especially Daphne...she had been so miserable looking for the perfect match for so long, only to find it in the most unexpected of places. Clearly she had decided that she would rather be happy than marry into wealth.

One unfortunate side-effect of the pairing was that Tracey was left without her best friend to spend time with. She had elected to hang around Harry instead, which as of late meant sitting with him in the library for his daily study sessions. His N.E.W.T. exams were rapidly approaching, and he had to hunker down and work hours a day on school work to keep up. He generally enjoyed Tracey's company, but in truth, she was starting to grate on him a bit, clinging to him far more than she used to in Daphne's absence.

"I'm bored," Tracey yawned, stretching widely and draping her legs over Harry's lap. "Want to go for a walk around the lake? Millicent Bulstrode swears she found a cave hidden behind a waterfall on the opposite bank...I bet we could be as loud as we wanted there and no one would hear us."

"Not today," Harry muttered, still scribbling away at his Transfiguration essay, which was only the first of many assignments he had to complete. "Bit too busy for that."

Tracey scowled at him. "Got a date with someone else planned?" she demanded. "Demelza Robins, perhaps?"

Harry turned to look at her, quirking an eyebrow. "Come again?" he said.

"Plenty of people saw you and her run off after the Quidditch match," said Tracey. "Is that why you stood me up that night? Off snogging the cute Gryffindor instead?"

"Someone sounds jealous," Harry chuckled bemusedly.

This was obviously the wrong response – Tracey looked deeply hurt by his reaction. "I know we're not exclusive or anything," she said snippily. "But at least have the tact to let me down easy if you'd rather fool around with someone else."

"Tracey, I'm not 'fooling around' with anyone right now," said Harry. "Certainly not Demelza."

"Then what were you two doing that night?" Tracey demanded. "And don't give me any 'we're just friends' crap – I've never seen you two talk before."

Harry hesitated. He definitely did not want word of Luna's prophecy to breach containment. He could not even use Demelza's orientation to excuse himself – that was still a secret from much of the school, who assumed she and Luna were just friends, and he did not want to betray her confidence. Unfortunately, this meant that he could say nothing in his defense, and Tracey just shook her head in disgust.

"I thought you were a better person than this, Harry," she sighed, getting to her feet. "Guess I was wrong." And she swept from the library, leaving him alone at the table.

But Harry couldn't bring himself to feel bad about the interaction. It's not like we're boyfriend and girlfriend, he reasoned. That was supposed to prevent messy emotions from entering the equation. It's not my fault she caught feelings – I never led her on to believe otherwise. It felt a bit calloused, perhaps, but this was precisely the kind of thing he did not want right now: to manage the mercurial emotions of teenage girls.

Besides, it finally freed him up to pursue his personal studies again without having to explain his odd choice of library book check-outs. He still wanted to research Nurmengard as much as possible before his planned trip to the remote prison in a few short weeks. He did not want to be seen reading about the place in the public – not only would it raise eyebrows during exam season, it would paint a big, shining target on his back if he drew international attention again like in Egypt.

In addition to his study of Nurmengard, he was consuming any and all literature related to Portkeys, since he would need to make one to travel such a long distance in the first place. They were heavily regulated within Britain and illegal to create outside Ministry supervision, but he knew it was possible thanks to Borgin. He was finally beginning to understand the underlying magic involved – it was just a matter of putting his theories into practice without Splinching himself.

The research on enchanted objects also served as bonus study on another subject relevant to his journey: the Deathly Hallows. Harry read all about the creation of wands and invisibility cloaks, looking for any mention of the fabled objects, but saw none. Yes, there were talks of uncommonly potent wood and core combinations for wands, and selective breeding of thestral hair traits to improve cloak lifespans, but nothing on the level of the Elder Wand or the Potter cloak. The Resurrection Stone was even more of an outlier – the ability to revive the souls of the dead went far beyond any other death and soul magic Harry had read about.

Were these three objects truly crafted by Death? Harry had met the entity himself and knew that that part of the equation was no fairy tale. But had Death actually given these objects to the Peverells, or were they simply uncommonly gifted wizards who made uncommonly powerful magical artifacts? Harry doubted he would find any such answers in a Hogwarts textbook. Grindelwald was perhaps the best source of knowledge on the subject, given that he had co-opted the symbol of the Hallows for himself and may have in fact owned the Elder Wand at one point.

"What're you studying there?" a voice asked, interrupting his train of thought. Harry looked up; Hermione Granger had entered the library and approached his table. "It doesn't look like standard course material."

"Oh," said Harry, quickly closing his copy of Advanced Object Enchanting. "It's, er, supplementary reading for seventh-year Charms." It wasn't the truth, but it was plausible enough to potentially pass muster. Unfortunately, Hermione was too savvy to fall for it.

"It seems a little too advanced for that," she frowned, picking it up and flipping through the pages. "This looks more like specialty reading for niche disciplines, like curse-breaking and thaumaturgy."

"Yeah, well, it doesn't hurt to be prepared for any question they could throw at us, eh?" Harry grinned.

"I suppose not," Hermione shrugged. "Is it alright if I join you?"

"By all means," he said, gesturing to the seat beside his. Hermione was another unexpected outcast from the Ron/Daphne pairing, and Harry saw her in the library nearly as often as Tracey. Harry did wonder where the third member of the trio was, given that he still wanted to find the boy and talk to him sooner than later.

"I haven't seen you and Neville together much this term," Harry remarked. "What's the deal with that?"

"He's been...busy," Hermione said vaguely. "He and Dumbledore have been meeting up multiple times per week lately."

"Really?" said Harry, surprised. He assumed Dumbledore was too busy for anyone, given how often he'd canceled meetings with Harry in the past. Was he really just devoting more of his time to training Neville?

"I thought you were meeting with Dumbledore too?" Hermione frowned.

"Not anymore," Harry said bitterly. "The Headmaster and I haven't seen eye-to-eye on much lately...he thinks I'm some kind of budding dark wizard."

"Yes, Neville has said as much," Hermione muttered.

"Why, what has he told you?" asked Harry. He was certain that Neville had shared the details of the prophecy with Ron and Hermione, because that's what he would have done in his previous timeline. But to his surprise, Hermione seemed more troubled than he expected.

"He started acting really strange a few weeks ago," she admitted. "One day he was talking about how the Potters are getting unfair treatment from the Prophet, and the next he refused to ever talk about you, and changed the subject whenever you came up."

"Was that around the time of the Quidditch final?" asked Harry.

"Yeah...now that you mention it, it was," Hermione nodded. "Why, did something happen between you two after the match?"

"In a sense," Harry said cryptically. "But what do you think? Does he have good reason to distrust me?"

Hermione studied Harry's face for a moment. "I can't imagine you going dark," she sighed. "I just can't. With your parents being who you are, and all you've done over the past six years...it doesn't make any sense to me."

"Wish someone would tell them that," Harry said bitterly. "I don't understand why he and Dumbledore are so dead-set against me."

"Maybe Dumbledore just thinks you're being too reckless," Hermione said diplomatically. "Maybe he is only thinking about your safety?"

"He's being overly-cautious for no good reason," Harry said bitterly. "Dumbledore is a smart man, but he is blinded by his fear that I'll turn out like Grindelwald and Voldemort did. Those two were monsters even before they meddled in the Dark Arts."

"But...you're not meddling in the Dark Arts, are you?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Depends on your definition of 'Dark'," Harry chuckled. "Which, to Dumbledore, is anything he doesn't understand. The only thing I care about is getting my family through this war safely...any magic I use to accomplish that goal is only a means to an end."

"Good people have gone dark in pursuit of noble goals, though," Hermione pointed out. "Michael Corleone was only trying to protect his family at first too."

"Who?"

"Never mind, it's a Muggle reference," Hermione sighed. "Maybe...if you just shared more of what you knew with Dumbledore, he would trust you more?"

"I could say the same thing about him," Harry chuckled. "He doesn't tell me half of what's going on, and that's gotten me into plenty of trouble."

"But you have more knowledge of what's going to happen in the future, right?" asked Hermione, lowering her voice and leaning in close so they wouldn't be overheard. "Considering...your abilities?"

It took Harry a moment to realize what she was talking about. It had been over a year since he had claimed having Seer abilities, which was no longer useful as he had no further knowledge of what the timeline had in store for them. "Oh, that," he said, scratching his head. "Er...I haven't seen much lately. Nothing worth sharing, anyway."

"Interesting," said Hermione quietly. "From what I've heard, the Sight usually gets stronger as young witches and wizards age. How odd that it seems to be the opposite for you."

"Yes, I suppose so," said Harry awkwardly. He pretended to busy himself with his Ancient Runes homework so the conversation would end there. Hermione still looked pensive, but she took the hint and dug into her own bag to begin her own studying. Harry assumed that would be the end of it, but a few minutes later, she abruptly closed her book and turned back to him.

"What do you know about the Gaunt family?" Hermione suddenly blurted out.

Harry's eyebrows rose. "The Gaunts?" he repeated. "You mean Voldemort's mother's family?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "I researched the name after the incident in the graveyard two years ago. You know, for academic purposes."

"Right," Harry said slowly. He doubted very much that it was strictly academic, or that she had learned the name from the graveyard ritual. Merope's tombstone was unmarked, so she could have only learned the connection from the Headmaster himself. He realized this had to be connected to what Dumbledore and Neville were up to.

"I just wondered what you've heard about the family," Hermione said nonchalantly. "Or any...visions you might have had about them?"

"Well," said Harry, "they were Parselmouths, for one thing. Merope had an older brother who died in Azkaban without having children. It was believed the line died out, but Voldemort is the last remaining heir."

"Right, yes, I pieced that together from the school compendium," said Hermione breathlessly. "But you don't know anything else about them? Symbols, or maybe objects associated with them?"

Harry realized what Hermione was doing now...she was fishing for information about the Gaunt ring. He had suspected Dumbledore was hunting horcruxes before, but now he had near-definitive proof. What should he share with Hermione, and by proxy, the Headmaster? How much could he divulge about the horcruxes without pointing to the fact that Neville himself had inadvertently become one?

"Listen, Hermione," he said gravely. "There's nothing for you down this road. The Gaunts are a dead-end, do you get it? A red herring. Anything you might be after probably isn't worth the time and effort to go looking for it. Do you catch my drift?"

Hermione looked perplexed by his answer. "How do you know that?" she asked.

"Call it a vision, or an intuition if you must," said Harry. "There's nothing but danger down that road."

"But what if it's really important to the war?" she asked in an undertone. "What if the Gaunts hold the key to defeating Voldemort?"

"They don't," Harry said flatly. "Look elsewhere for whatever you're looking for. Assume that the trail went cold long ago, and there's nothing more to be found."

Hermione studied Harry's expression for a long moment, looking troubled. Eventually, she began to rapidly pack up her things.

"I've just remembered I have, erm, a meeting with Professor Vector," she said breathlessly as she stumbled to her feet. "About...an essay assignment. Catch you later, Harry." And she hurried from the library, earning a reproach from Madam Pince urging her to slow her pace as she passed by her desk.

Harry hoped that his vague response would point the trio (and Dumbledore) in a more productive direction. If Dumbledore suspected the ring was a horcrux, Harry did not want him to fall into the traps they'd left intact at the Gaunt shack. There was a risk that one of them would fall prey to the Rotting Curse, or else discover that a fake had been left in its place, raising further questions. With luck, they would move on to a different target, like the Cup, the Sword or the snake, saving Harry time in the future.

He was not yet ready to reveal everything he knew about the horcruxes to Dumbledore. He wanted to speak to Grindelwald first before making any concrete decisions about pairing up with the man. After all, Grindelwald was the last person who tried to team up with Dumbledore, and that had gone disastrously wrong. According to Dumbledore, that was because Grindelwald went dark, but Harry was quickly learning that the man's definition of 'dark' may be flawed. He wanted the other side of the story before placing his trust in the Headmaster.

So Harry spent the rest of the month keeping his head down and his nose clean. He studied, he went to class, he did his prefect duties. He even attended a Dueling Club meeting, which Neville had taken over leadership for, though that was mostly to try and get the boy alone; unfortunately, he slipped away before Harry could get to him once again. Harry knew his time at Hogwarts was coming to an end soon, and wanted to make the most of his remaining weeks before it was finally time to move on.

Unfortunately, his final month at Hogwarts would not be as peaceful and care-free as he'd hoped. During the first week of June, he entered the Great Hall to once again find the room abuzz with whispers and muted gossip. And as he felt the eyes of the entire room fall upon him on his way to the Ravenclaw Table, he knew that his family must once again be the subject of discussion. Which is why he was unsurprised to find the morning's headline in the Prophet, but no less angry:

MORE MINISTER WOES: UNFAITHFUL WIFE, PROBLEM CHILD?

By Regina Hornsby, The Daily Prophet

"The ongoing Potter saga continues to poke holes in the sterling reputation of the most powerful family in Britain. Longtime readers will know that Lily Evans-Potter, wife of Minister James Potter, was recently exposed for her excessive drinking habit, pointing to endemic problems within the household. Now, sources close to the Potter family indicate that the relationship may be even more strained than previously thought...in fact, the missus may be seeing other people behind her husband's back.

Recent reports indicate that Mrs. Evans-Potter has developed a close bond with a fellow professor at Hogwarts, Severus Snape. Multiple sources tell us that the two have often been seen together during off-hours at the castle, and may in fact be romantically involved. Lily recently credited Severus for his mentorship during her rise to Potion Mastery two years ago, and the Prophet can now also report that the two were close friends as children growing up.

'Lily Evans and Severus Snape were inseparable when they started at Hogwarts,' writes in Connor MacDougal, a former classmate of the pair from Ravenclaw. 'They came from the same home town and seemed quite chummy. In fact, Evans and James Potter did not get along well at all – it surprised all of us when she agreed to date him seventh year. I suspected he slipped her a love potion myself...maybe it's just now wearing off!'

'I wouldn't put it past Potter to have tricked or bewitched the poor girl to marry him,' laments Lord Corban Yaxley. 'He was quite the troublemaker in school, pulling cruel pranks on students he did not like. Perhaps he was simply jealous of Severus' potions prowess and decided to steal his girl away from him – not exactly the foundation of a healthy marriage if you ask me.'

Potter's perceived shortcomings as a husband seem to also extend to his failures as a father. The Minister's eldest son, Harry Potter, has a similar troubled history at Hogwarts. He was disqualified from the Triwizard Tournament two years ago, which he was accused of illegally entering underage, and was expelled from the school a year later for assaulting a fellow student. He was reinstated by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore this past year, but sources indicate he may be regretting that decision now.

'Potter and Dumbledore don't seem to like each other very much,' says classmate Ernie Macmillan. 'Rumor has it the Headmaster offered him private lessons as a favor to the Minister, but canceled them as punishment for shirking his duties as a prefect. Why he was given prefect status in the first place after what he did last year is beyond me...smells like corruption.'

'He disappears on weekends a lot,' says fellow Ravenclaw and dorm mate Terry Boot. 'Apparently he is allowed to come and go from the castle as he pleases. Rumor has it he has been dabbling in the Dark Arts in his free time, which may be why Dumbledore doesn't like him anymore.'

Little is known about the Minister's youngest child, Dahlia Potter. However, records indicate that the girl may be accident-prone, being admitted to St. Mungo's three separate times in the past few years with her records redacted. Were these domestic incidents that the Minister sought to cover up? Are both of the Potter women victims at the mercy of an abusive husband and father? The Prophet sincerely hopes not."

Harry's hands trembled with rage as he set down his copy of the paper. He could feel the nervous eyes of many students upon him from all directions, gauging his reaction. He struggled to keep his composure, not wanting to cause a scene in the middle of the Great Hall. But he did turn to his left, where Terry Boot sat four seats away, avoiding his gaze.

"Talking to reporters about me, are you, Boot?" he demanded.

"Leave him be, Potter," said Anthony Goldstein firmly, seated between the two.

"What? Can't Terry talk for himself?" Harry taunted, craning his neck to try and meet the boy's eyeline. "You scared of me or something?"

In fact, Terry did look scared of Harry at that moment. Many nearby students did, both within Ravenclaw and at the surrounding tables, watching him nervously. Silverware was rattling menacingly on the table as Harry's passive magic swirled in an angry maelstrom around him – he was on the verge of losing his temper, and everyone around him feared what he might do next.

Harry grabbed his things and left the Great Hall in a huff. He didn't care so much that he was being slandered in the Prophet – he was used to that by now after two timelines' worth of abuse from the publication. It was the jabs at the rest of his family that irked him. Why was the paper attacking the Potters all of a sudden? Was James' popularity as Minister waning? Did they sense blood in the water, jumping on his increasing unpopularity as the war dragged on with no resolution?

Harry knew he needed to check in with his mother first and foremost. This was the kind of incident that could lead her to relapse, and he wanted to avoid that outcome at all costs. He checked the Marauder's Map, surprised to see that she was in Snape's office adjacent to the Defense classroom, and made his way there.

He could hear hushed voices coming from within the office as he approached. He knocked on the door, and the voices stopped at once. Snape cracked opened the door, frowning when he saw Harry standing there.

"Now is not a good time," he told Harry. "Your mother desires privacy at this time."

"Move aside," Harry snapped; Snape slid ten feet backwards as his passive magic lashed out to grant him entry. Harry pushed open the door, seeing Lily seated anxiously at the desk, holding a teacup with shaking hands.

"I'm fine, dear," she said in an unconvincing tone. "I don't want to discuss it right now."

"Well, I do," said Harry. "Our entire family's under attack here. Who the hell is spreading these rumors? Who are these 'sources' feeding malicious lies to reporters?"

"Your father has many political enemies," Snape said diplomatically. "Any number of them could have spoken to the Prophet—"

"Yeah, and you're mates with half of them, aren't you?" Harry spat.

"Watch your tongue, boy—" Snape snarled, but Lily spoke up to silence them both.

"Stop fighting, you two!" she sighed. "Severus, you know Harry has a right to be upset about this. And Harry, do not lash out at him – he's been nothing but supportive throughout all of this."

Harry and Snape glared at one another for a moment longer. Harry was no fan of the man, but he had been there for Lily throughout past episodes and clearly wished her no harm, so he begrudgingly backed down.

"I still want to know who talked," he grumbled. "Bad-mouthing you, me, Dad, and even Dahlia? It's beyond the pale."

"Someone is trying to soil the Potter reputation," said Snape. "Not just your father, but yourself as well. Can you think why that might be?"

"No," said Harry flatly. "I've been slandered plenty by the Prophet over the years. I suppose I'm an easy target for them, because of why my dad is."

"That's not the only reason," said Snape. "It's because of what you represent. You're seen as the future of this country. The star product of the system Dumbledore and your father have built. If you fail, it means the system has failed, and a great many people would love to see you crack under the pressure."

"I didn't ask to be made a symbol of any system," Harry huffed irritably.

"Too bad," Snape scoffed. "We rarely get a choice in our lot in life. Yours is better than most, so I would quit complaining."

"You're right," said Harry, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I should just let my family name be dragged through the mud without fighting back. I should let everyone walk all over me so I don't 'crack under the pressure'. Some things are worth taking a stand over, even if it's hard...not that you've ever taken the hard road in life, have you, Severus?"

"You haven't the slightest idea how difficult my life has been—" Snape growled, taking a menacing step towards Harry.

"Enough!" Lily said sharply. "Harry, leave us. You are not helping matters. Go check on your sister and write to your father. I won't have you moping and starting fights over this."

"I'm not moping—" Harry groaned, but Lily's sharp glare cut him off. He rolled his eyes and departed the office, headed for the Hospital Wing. But Snape stopped him before he got too far.

"One last thing, Potter," said Snape, following him down the corridor. "I hope you have not forgotten what I told you earlier in the year."

"That I'll never achieve anything in life with the amount of effort I'm showing?" Harry asked. "Oh, sorry, that must have been last year, or the year before."

Snape sneered, but did not rise to the bait. "I keep a close eye on my House members at all times," he said. "And I notice when things are not as they seem. When a student of mine skips class in the afternoon because they aren't feeling well, I notice. When they exhibit signs of short-term memory modification, I notice."

Harry said nothing as Snape surveyed him for a reaction. When he got none, he continued.

"You have been told repeatedly to stay away from your Slytherin classmates," said Snape. "Clearly you care little for authority, but your actions nonetheless have consequences. There are eyes all over this castle, and your every move is being reported to an authority you can't ignore. So I will warn you for the final time: You. Are. Being. Watched."

What was that supposed to mean? Harry wondered. Was Snape saying that he should avoid his Slytherin classmates because Voldemort is watching from afar? What did Harry care about that? His loyalty to his family was obvious, and questioning his classmates about their involvement in his mother and sister's accidents was far from damning information. If anything, it would send a stronger message that the Potters were not to be trifled with.

"You care about your students, eh?" said Harry. "Then how about keeping a closer eye on the Boy-Who-Lived? Sneaking around and spying on students from other Houses? Bet that can't be a good look for him, either."

"Your petty squabbles with Longbottom are your own to handle," said Snape. "But meddling in your enemies' affairs is a dangerous proposition for you right now. You might feel emboldened now, but the balance of power can shift in an instant, and you do not want to make yourself a target." And Snape swept back into his office, closing the door shut behind him.

"Don't make myself a target?" Harry chuckled to himself as he stalked away. "Yeah, because I've never been a target before. My family being attacked all year...slandered in the Prophet...no, things are going just peachy for me right now." He couldn't believe the gall Snape had to tell him what to do when his motives were clearly compromised. He was playing both sides, ensuring he could survive if the tides of the war changed while staying in Lily's good graces. Harry didn't have that luxury.

He reached the Hospital Wing, where he found Dahlia cleaning the room with her wand, dust swirling through the air and into a bin in the corner. "Don't want to talk about it," she said without looking at him as he entered.

"We have to talk about it," Harry sighed, sitting atop an empty bed. "Someone's taking shots at us from within the castle. Someone we know."

"Probably Malfoy's dickhead friends," Dahlia shrugged. "What does it matter?"

"D'you reckon it could have been Neville?" Harry asked.

Dahlia turned to give him an exasperated look. "Why are you two always on each other's cases?" she groaned. "You're supposed to be on the same side."

"Why, has Neville said anything about me?" Harry demanded hotly.

"Dunno – I haven't seen him much recently," Dahlia shrugged. "He's busy with Dumbledore a lot, and I have O.W.L.'s to study for, so we haven't spent much time together."

"So you haven't heard him say one word about me?" Harry pressed. "Or Luna, or anyone else—"

"No, I haven't!" Dahlia snapped. "And if you stopped to think for one second, you'd realize he would never say a bad word against me or our parents, no matter what he thinks of you!"

Harry considered this. She had a point: Neville may be wary of Harry, but he cared deeply for Dahlia and respected James and Lily. He would have nothing to gain by running to the paper and slandering them.

"Someone is saying disgusting things about us," Harry huffed. "They made it sound like Dad beats you, or that you're 'accident-prone' or something—"

"Everyone I care about knows that's rubbish," said Dahlia. "So what should I care what random people have to say or think? If I have one more person come up to me and say they 'have my back' today, I'm going to scream."

"That's good, I guess," Harry sighed. It seemed Dahlia would not suffer any bullying over this incident, at least. But could the same be said about Harry himself? The words the Prophet had said played more heavily into preexisting rumors about him, dabbling in Dark magic and quarreling with Dumbledore. That was a reputation Harry didn't want, any more than he wanted to be the school's poster boy.

"Look, we're at war here," said Dahlia, beckoning him off the bed as she cleaned the sheets he'd sat upon. "If it's between this and getting cursed or poisoned, I'll take this every time. We can't let the Daily Prophet tear us apart...why give them exactly what they want?"

Harry shook his head in amazement. Dahlia was right, as usual – he just couldn't believe she had the tolerance to put up with this abuse. She possessed a patience he simply did not, the ability to turn the other cheek when disrespected or demeaned. Perhaps it was because she had grown up with an air-tight support system, had been raised by loving parents and been Sorted into a House that would defend her to the hilt. Harry did not have that same luxury – he subconsciously felt that he had to fight to earn the respect of others.

"Mum doing alright?" asked Dahlia.

"Think so," Harry shrugged. "Snape's with her."

"Hmm," Dahlia hummed, looking thoughtful. "He's been rather helpful this year."

"What d'you reckon is his angle?" asked Harry. "I bet he's privately thrilled that people think he and Mum are running around…"

"You and Dad are so biased against him," Dahlia snorted. "Professor Snape is an odd fellow, but he's on our side. He's loyal, and he's not so bad as everyone thinks."

"Loyal to who?" Harry scoffed. "To the Order? To our family? Or just to Mum? Sometimes I wonder if he thinks it'd be better if we all were out of the way and he could have Mum to himself."

"Shows how much you know," said Dahlia. "You know he visited me at St. Mungo's after my accident? He brought me make-up material and asked me how I was feeling. Mum and Dad weren't even around – he just wanted to check that I was okay."

Harry indeed hadn't known that. His knee-jerk reaction was to dismiss it, to suggest that he only did so to curry favor with Lily. But the man had proven far more complex than Harry assumed in his first lifetime, and clearly there were yet more hidden depths to the man that he didn't understand.

"Well, in any case," Harry sighed, "I'm just doing the same here. You can be nonchalant about this all you want, but I don't take kindly to my sister being bad-mouthed in the headlines."

"They're obviously looking for a reaction from you and Dad," said Dahlia. "So don't fall into their trap. If you want to help me, just keep out of it. Please."

Harry sighed in frustration. Once again he knew she was right...it just wasn't in his nature to take these things lying down. "Fine," he muttered. "I'm going to write to Dad. Anything you want me to tell him?"

"Tell him the same thing I told you," said Dahlia. "And that we all love him. I think he needs to hear that right now."

"Alright," Harry nodded. "And if you see Neville, tell him I need to talk to him. It's important that we clear the air about some things." He said the last bit loud enough to carry across the ward, in case the boy was lurking nearby underneath the Invisibility Cloak. And he left the room, headed for the Owlery to write to James.

The good news was that Harry didn't hear much chatter about the article in the coming days. He was certain it was being discussed in private circles, but at least the other students had the tact not to bring it up openly around him. And that was also the bad news...Harry felt the mood shift around him in the wake of the scathing hit piece. Ravenclaw was not as tight-knit as Gryffindor was, and Harry felt the silent judgment from his peers, the suspicion that the allegations about him were in fact correct. It was not the first time rumors of a 'Dark Lord Potter' had graced the halls, but it had never been canonized in print like this before, lending more credibility to the claim than usual.

James wrote back to Harry a few days later, but it didn't offer the comfort Harry had hoped. 'Keep your head down and don't pay attention to it,' his father wrote. 'Watch after your mother and sister. And what's this about you leaving school on the weekends? We need to have a talk about that this summer.' Of course that would be James' takeaway from the article...never mind the mistreatment he was getting from his peers! Just suck it up and bear it all, Harry! It only exacerbated his simmering frustration.

Just a few more weeks until it's over, Harry told himself. Less than a month, and you'll never have to bear it again. Hogwarts had its charm to be certain, but being surrounded by literal children 24/7 was starting to drive him mad. He yearned to be out in the adult world, free of the petty behaviors and judgments of juveniles with stunted emotional intelligence. He had no reason to come back for his seventh year and knew his days at the castle were rapidly coming to an end.

Besides, his impending N.E.W.T. exams dominated much of his free time. At least the negative attention from the Prophet article meant that his peers left him alone, giving him room to study in peace. Even Tracey was avoiding him – whether she was still angry about their last argument, or bought into the recent rumors, he didn't really care. That fling had run its course anyway.

Hermione was also avoiding him since their last talk about the Gaunt family. She and Neville could often be seen together, whispering in hushed, urgent tones. Harry wondered if his message had gotten through, if they would abandon the search for the ring which had been destroyed a year prior. He wondered if Dumbledore suspected Harry to be involved in the horcrux hunt by now – but if he did, he had yet to approach him about it, so Harry saw no reason to give the man the same courtesy.

Finally, exam week arrived. Harry filed into the Great Hall on Monday morning for his Transfiguration N.E.W.T., the lone sixth-year amidst a sea of stressed-out seventh years. Harry was one of the few calm and collected faces there – not only did he feel confident about his chances, he only had three N.E.W.T.'s to worry about, while most of the others were taking half a dozen or more.

The written final was complex and draining, as he'd expected, but Harry got through most of it with little trouble. His memory and concentration had vastly improved since the last blood ritual, so he was able to describe nearly every law and principle verbatim. The practical exam in the afternoon was where he truly shined, as he completed every transfiguration his proctor asked of him within fifteen minutes with zero mistakes. Harry knew he'd walked away with at least an E in the subject, and more likely an O.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was an even simpler task that Wednesday. Both the written and practical exams were a breeze, as Harry knew he could have earned an Outstanding grade two years prior if he wanted to. His instructor for the practical exam was astonished when he gave Harry a list of five complex spells to demonstrate, which Harry did back-to-back non-verbally in seconds, whereas most of his peers needed several minutes to remember the correct incantations.

Harry ended his week with Charms on Thursday. Flitwick had long been his favorite professor for his animated lectures on deep charm theory, and Harry hoped he did the man justice with his similarly enthusiastic answers on the written final. He certainly delighted his proctor that afternoon for the practical, as he went above and beyond in demonstrating his mastery of advanced charm work, such as animating every chair at the Head Table to perform a line dance at the same time.

"Very well done, Mr. Potter!" smiled Professor Tofty, clapping excitedly as Harry returned the chairs to their rightful spots. "That will be all, unless...rumor has it you can cast a rather spectacular Patronus Charm. For a bonus point…?"

Harry grinned, drawing his wand again to humor the man. He imagined his usual happy memory: his family, sitting around the dinner table, laughing and enjoying one another's company. The life he'd always wanted. The future he'd always fight for.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw him: Dumbledore, standing in the doorway, watching him from afar. Suddenly the peaceful scene in Harry's mind was replaced with more jarring images: his father, bleeding out from a vicious snake attack. His sister, pale as a sheet from a cursed necklace. His mother, writhing and spasming from a poisoned drink. All under the supposed watchful eye of Albus Dumbledore. Harry's emotions of peace and happiness were supplanted by those of resentment and anger.

"Expecto patronum!"

The thestral Patronus sprang from his wand, unfurling its wings and soaring over the heads of all in the Great Hall. But it was not the same thestral Harry had summoned many times before. This one more resembled the raven Rakhaman had summoned beneath the Great Pyramid: smoky and gray, with malicious red eyes and an intimidating aura. The entire room went silent, flinching in discomfort as the thestral nipped at their heads, radiating raw, malevolent magic.

Harry canceled the spell at once; the Patronus dissolved into putrid smoke, and he could feel all eyes in the Hall upon him. "Erm...sorry about that," he apologized.

"Q-quite all right, Mr. Potter," said Mr. Tofty. "Off you go now."

Harry left the station, noting that the man's pleasant demeanor had evaporated in an instant. In fact, the entire room looked on-edge, regarding Harry with looks of concern and even fear. He hurried from the Hall, passing Dumbledore on his way; they briefly made eye contact, and Harry saw the look of sadness and disappointment on the Headmaster's face as he left the Hall.

It's your own damn fault, Harry thought bitterly as he returned to his dorm. If you didn't constantly push me away and endanger my family, I wouldn't be this frustrated with you.

Still, he knew he needed to calm down, and decided to take the rest of the evening off. His exams were finally done, save for a Herbology final the following Monday that ought to be a walk in the park (literally). He could finally take a break from studying and get some much-needed rest.

But he could not remain idle for long. He still planned to make his journey to Nurmengard by the end of the month, in order to keep his promise to Bill and Fleur. They needed to make progress on the horcruxes, but first, Harry wanted answers about the Deathly Hallows, if there were any to be found. For that, he needed to talk to Grindelwald. And for that, he needed to break into the prison. And for that, he had to find a way to get there.

Harry finally felt that he'd learned enough about Portkey magic to attempt to create one himself. He planned to perform his first test that weekend, at Raven House, to make sure nothing went terribly wrong. He had enlisted Fleur's help to do so, in case he accidentally Splinched himself – Dahlia was preoccupied with her O.W.L.'s and didn't need to know the finer details of what he had planned. If the tests went well, he would make the journey the following week, shortly before the school year came to a close.

He entered his dorm, noting the awkward silence that fell amongst his dorm mates as he did so. That was commonplace in recent weeks – ever since Terry had spoken about Harry to the Prophet, things had been tense between the two. That was fine by Harry – a little fear from his peers meant that they would keep off his back for the rest of the year. And considering he had no plans of returning for year seven, and thus never seeing these boys again, he felt no need to clear the air.

Harry allowed himself the luxury of sleeping in the following morning, awaking sharp and refreshed for the first time in over a month. He was in a remarkably good mood as he got dressed and gathered his things for his first outing from the castle since the Egypt mishap. He exited Ravenclaw Tower and found a quiet spot to make his escape. "Dobby!" he called out.

A small pop heralded the diminutive elf. "Does Mister Harry Potter need assistance?" Dobby asked.

"Take me to Raven House," said Harry, holding out his hand expectantly.

Dobby wrung his hands together, looking uncomfortable. "Dobby is unable to," he said nervously.

"Er...why?" asked Harry, confused. "Has your magic within the castle changed?"

"No sir," Dobby muttered. "What Dobby means to say is, he is not allowed. The Headmaster has forbidden it."

"What d'you mean, 'forbidden it'?" Harry demanded. "Why?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore has instructed the house-elves not to transport Harry Potter in and out of the castle any longer," said Dobby. "He says...you do not have permission, Harry Potter sir."

"He did, did he?" Harry scoffed. Of course Dumbledore would pull some stunt like this, no longer trusting Harry on his weekend excursions. He had no doubt that Neville had run off and told the Headmaster what he overheard, which not only placed Luna in a precarious position as an outed Seer, but cast even more suspicion on Harry, whom Dumbledore and Neville both already believed to be on the path to darkness.

Harry marched down the corridor, fury pumping through his veins. The disrespect he was being shown was getting too much to bear...Dumbledore had never once believed Harry to be an important piece of the puzzle, a vital asset in the war efforts. All he had ever done was shove Harry to the side, giving him the bare minimum tools to survive then leaving his family to fend for themselves. His patience with the Headmaster's games had officially come to an end.

He burst into the Great Hall, where breakfast was still in session. Students chattered happily with one another, free from their exams and discussing their summer plans, but they hushed when they saw a furious Harry striding down the center of the room towards the High Table. He marched up to Dumbledore's seat and stood in front of him, glaring daggers at the old man.

"You've revoked my weekend privileges?" he demanded.

"I have," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Why?"

"You have demonstrated that you are not to be trusted with such privileges any longer," said Dumbledore. "You are to remain here with your classmates until the end of term."

"You think you can keep me here against my will?" Harry chortled. "You think I'm going to listen to you?"

"You are underage, and therefore under my supervision while attending this school," said Dumbledore. "I have given you far more leeway than you are due. The days of you operating outside the rules that your classmates are subject to are over."

"Don't give me that," Harry spat. "You're punishing me for what Neville told you. Reading too much into prophecies like usual. You think I've gone rogue, have you? You think I'm going dark?"

"Lower your voice, Potter," Professor McGonagall said sharply. Students all around the Hall had quieted to overhear the argument, murmuring nervously at Harry's angry disposition. But Harry didn't care.

"My decision is final, Harry," Dumbledore sighed. "Please return to your seat."

Harry glared at the man for several seconds; the Headmaster merely stared right back, unmoving. Harry huffed and turned on his heel to march back down the aisle. But he did not return to his seat. He marched directly to the Slytherin table, where Neville sat beside Mark Davis, watching Harry worriedly.

"My cloak, Neville," Harry demanded, holding out an expectant hand.

"W-what?" Neville stammered.

"You heard me," Harry said. "Give. Me. My. Cloak."

"I…" said Neville, glancing nervously up at Dumbledore. "I can't."

"It doesn't belong to you," Harry spat. "It's my heirloom, my birthright. And I want it back. Now."

Neville gaped at Harry for a long moment. Then, to Harry's amazement, a look of stubborn resolve passed over Neville's expression, and he met Harry with a stone-cold look of defiance.

"No," said Neville.

"I wasn't asking," said Harry.

"I can't let you have it," said Neville. "Dumbledore said to keep it on me at all times."

"Good," said Harry. "That means it's here with you. Now, hand it over. I'll give you five seconds."

Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it at Neville, causing the surrounding students to gasp and duck out of the way. Neville blinked nervously, but still did not move, crossing his arms.

"What are you going to do, Harry?" he demanded quietly. "Betray me?"

"Three seconds," Harry snarled. "Two. One…"

There was a bang, and a Shield Charm erupted between Harry and the Slytherins, staggering him backwards. Dumbledore had risen to his feet, wand drawn and pointed at him.

"Harry," said Dumbledore firmly. "Leave this Hall at once. This is your final warning."

Harry strongly considered fighting back. He had nearly beaten the Headmaster in their last duel, and now righteous anger coursed through him, which he would love to channel into action. Want to steal from me and cast suspicion on my character? Harry thought. Let's see if you like the consequences, old man...you've messed with me for the final time.

But he cast one final look around the Great Hall, noting the terror in the expressions of many around him. His mother looked on the verge of tears at the Head Table, while many students looked just as aghast, some of the younger ones hiding under the tables, as though fearing he might point his wand at them next. His stomach fell: this was not what he wanted. His anger had gotten the best of him, and it was making things worse by the second.

Harry stowed his wand away and turned to exit the Great Hall. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he heard the room behind him erupt with gossip at his expense. But he didn't care. He strode directly to the great oak doors leading out to the grounds and pushed them open.

Only, the doors did not budge. Harry pushed harder; still they would not open, would not let him leave. Think you can keep me here as a prisoner, Dumbledore? Harry thought angrily, drawing his wand once more. Think again.

He swiped his wand furiously, and there was a deafening bang as the doors were blasted open, exploding outwards onto the grounds. Harry stomped down the dirt path to the school boundary, too angry to consider that this might very well be the last time he ever set foot on Hogwarts grounds again. Six years of memories – eleven, really, if you count his last timeline – were all about to evaporate, the war looming large on the horizon.

Harry reached the iron-wrought gate marking the ward boundary. It was clamped shut, blocking his path. "Open!" he shouted. The gate swung open, either recognizing his command as a student or his latent magic lashing out at the enchantments upon it. Harry strode through the gate and, with one final remorseful look back at the castle, he turned on the spot and Apparated far away.

A/N: I will be out of town this coming weekend for my sister's wedding, so the next update might be a few days to a week late. But we are rapidly approaching the end of Year Six, and once we return, it will be non-stop excitement to the end! I have a few surprises in store that are sure to stir up some...interesting reactions, to say the least!