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SIYE Time:7:42 on 29th March 2024
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Friends and More
By ZZ9PluralZAlpha

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Category: Post-OotP
Characters:All
Genres: Angst, Fluff, Drama, General
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: G
Reviews: 147
Summary: Harry's life is in turmoil since the death of his godfather, but realising he is in love doesn't make it any easier. This story tracks his sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts and all the problems he faces.
Hitcount: Story Total: 69616; Chapter Total: 4232







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Friends and More

Disclaimer: In a New Year it’s good to know that some things never change, like these horrible disclaimers. No, I don’t own anything and have never claimed to. The only vaguely original thing is the plot, and I don’t know about that, most of the time…

Chapter Eleven: Razor Ice

“Harry, we are going to have to do something about this.”

Harry looked up in vague surprise. He had been reading through his charms essay in his office, alone except for the roaring fire nearby, and had almost been falling asleep when the familiar voice startled him. Though he was always pleased to see Ginny, her words had confused him.

“Sorry… what?” he said, wondering if perhaps he was being more than usually obtuse. Ginny was standing in the doorway and leaning against the doorpost in what seemed to be the epitome of the casual pose. Her brown eyes were lit like searchlights and they were roving all over him with a shrewd, slightly calculating expression that made him feel quite nervous. Her ponytail was dangling down the side of her face, framing the pale skin with fire. Harry swallowed very gently, trying not to let how she looked just now affect his behaviour.

“Harry, student or not you are a teacher.” She put on a mock stern voice. “People expect certain things from teachers, and one is that they be dressed respectably, if not very smartly.”

He looked at her blankly. He was wearing more or less what he always wore under his robes: an old, baggy t-shirt and an old, baggy pair of jeans. Although sometimes, for variety’s sake, he would wear an old, baggy sweatshirt. He blinked at her.

“Sorry… am I missing something?”

Ginny chuckled, then came in and closed the door before sitting down nearby. Most people, in fact, asked Harry before doing something like this, even other teachers and quite close friends, but never Ginny. For some reason the entire room always felt more complete to him when she was there, and he thought that someone who was so much part of a place shouldn’t need to ask permission to enter it. He looked at her, now feeling slightly scared of the falsely innocent smile on her face, which contained a noticeable trace of malice.

“Harry, have you ever owned any new clothes? Not uniform, I mean normal clothes.”

Harry shrugged. “Nope. It’s all from Dudley. Well, except for jumpers from your Mum. And some socks from Dobby, but I try and avoid those.”

Ginny chuckled again. “Harry, just think about it. Here you are, probably the most well respected student in the school, Quidditch Captain, a national celebrity and now a student teacher… and you hang around in your brand new office looking like you just crawled out of bed and straight into your own curtains.”

Harry felt this slightly unfair. He spotted a possible flaw in her logic and pounced on it. “Professor Lupin never had very nice clothes, and everybody respected him.”

Ginny arched one eyebrow, a gesture so laced with scorn that Harry felt stupid just looking at it. “He had the slight excuse of not being allowed to earn any money, due to being a werewolf. You don’t get off so lightly. It’s a Hogsmeade trip on Saturday, right?”

Harry nodded, a feeling of terrible certainty falling on him.

“Well then, I’m going to take you clothes shopping.” Harry groaned, but very quietly. Ginny in this frame of mind was hard to cross and dangerous to contradict: he knew her well enough to know that no feeble remonstrations on his part were going to sway her determination. He looked out of the window and saw one avenue of hope, a light at the end of the tunnel.

“Okay… but only if the weather’s nice. If it’s bad I wasn’t going to go to Hogsmeade anyway.”

Ginny raised her eyebrow again, and Harry realised with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that said light was an oncoming express train… with red hair. “Quite frankly, Harry, You are going to get some decent clothes if I have to drag you through every snowdrift between here and Diagon Alley. Something which is sounding pretty tempting to me just now, come to think of it.”

~*~

March. It was already the middle of March, and the entire country was still frozen solid. Even the Ministry of Magic were worried now: there had been an article in the ‘Daily Prophet’ that had said that a number of Ministry employees, including Percy Weasley, had been assigned the special duty of finding the cause of the unnaturally long cold spell and removing it. Muggle Britain was at a standstill with nothing able to move, nothing being delivered to shops, and entire villages in remoter areas completely cut off, supplies running dangerously low. In fact, a few days before, there had been major excitement in the Castle when a helicopter had been sighted in the distance, carrying food to outlying settlements. Those brought up in the Wizarding world thought it fascinating, while Muggle-borns were amused by their classmates’ attitudes, but it did little to reduce the tension that had built up among the students.

Still, the Hogsmeade visit was generating its usual happy anticipation. Saturday morning was bright and beautifully crisp, the sun blazing white on a white world from the clear blue sky. It was the sort of day that made you happy to be alive. Harry certainly felt happy to be alive. Despite the fact that he would be buying clothes, which his friends told him was the most excruciating torture ever devised, he would be out of school, on a beautiful day, with his beautiful best friend. They walked down to the village with Ron and Hermione, chatting in a friendly way about school, Quidditch, the DA, anything and everything, but Ron and Hermione turned up the small road that led to Madame Pudifoot’s establishment, blushes creeping over both their faces. Harry suppressed a shudder, and was amused to catch Ginny doing the same thing.

They themselves wandered down the high street, chatting amiably. Harry noted in passing that they kept a very natural pace together, neither having to adjust their stride to let stay with the other. They passed Honeyduke’s, Zonko’s and the Three Broomsticks, all of which Harry would quite have liked to stop at, but there was no deterring Ginny. She was headed straight for Gladrag’s Wizardwear.

The shop was one of the largest in the village, including several large storeys. It surprised Harry when Ginny led him past the robes and cloaks on the ground floor, the hats, belts, boots and other accessories on the first and up on to the third, which could have been straight from a Muggle department store, if it hadn’t been for the fact that everyone shopping there looked like they had dressed from the articles on the previous two floors. They walked unhurriedly together down the aisles, looking at everything and every so often stopping for a closer look. Despite himself, Harry realised that he was quite excited. His own, brand new clothes. Things he could even wear at Privet Drive and not get harangued for constantly.

Soon they had a pile of well-fitting, high quality t-shirts, several pairs of jeans and trousers, a dragon-leather jacket Ginny had teased him into getting and a new pair of trainers. Harry paid for the lot, shrunk them to go in his pocket and then left the shop with Ginny, almost eager to get back so he could wear some of his new things.

As they stepped outside both of them shivered, their breath rising in front of them in clouds. It was bizarre. The sun was higher and brighter, and yet the day was notably colder. In fact it was positively chilling, and most people were scurrying to a convenient shop with their cloaks wrapped around them. Harry stepped out and a chill breeze ripped through him. Something clutched at him, something was very, very wrong. He saw Ginny looking at him, a little puzzled, as he stood dead still in the middle of the street, unflinching before the gale, listening, reaching out as best he could….

There was a crunch.

Harry whirled around, his arm flung out in front of him and his fingers outstretched as if to throw something. A ball of red light shot from his hand and into the whiteness as he flung himself sideways. The crimson bolt light hit something that was very solid but which remained unseen. Harry picked himself up and placed himself behind a protruding porch for cover. Ginny was next to him in a heartbeat, clutching at the pendant around her neck.

“Three of them, Harry,” she reported crisply, no hesitation in her voice. “One on the ground, the other two taking cover on the other side of the road.”

Harry listened hard and heard the low whisper of a thick cloak brushing on stone. He bent his head slightly, so he was close to Ginny’s ear. “There’s another on the other side of the porch. You take that one; I’ll take the others. And I won’t ask how you know,” he added, feeling that maybe Ginny could do with being thrown off the scent a bit with the gifts. He passed his wand over himself and muttered “celeritus!” Then he moved as fast as he could, sending curse after curse into the blind corner where he knew his attackers must be. He felt something whiz over his shoulder from behind him, but trusted Ginny to take down the fourth attacker. Harry whirled into cover when he thought he must have got both of his marks: the lack of retaliation seemed to verify this, but he waited till he saw Ginny give an ‘all clear’ before making himself too much of a target: the black Hogwarts robes and cloaks were very visible against the snow.

He reached down where his assailants had fallen, thinking to drag them to a shop to restrain them, but his hand brushed something and he was immediately wracked with pain. His hand was suddenly bleeding from a myriad of tiny cuts, each one stinging with the vicious cold. He clutched it to him.

“Don’t touch them, Ginny: they’re… I dunno, trapped or something.” Ginny hurried over the road to him, similarly cautious about their none-too-subtle outfits. She looked at his hand and sucked in her breath through her teeth before taking out a clean handkerchief from her robes pocket and tying it round the bleeding appendage.

“What could do this to someone?”

“I have no idea, but there are probably more of them about. Do you recognise any of them?” She shook her head. “Look, we need to do a few things: keep everyone in the shops; they’ll be safer there. You mark out the bodies and make sure they won’t come round too soon, then we’ll fetch Ron and Hermione to help us, and get word to Hogwarts. I’ll tell the shops, I’ll be quicker.” With his increased speed he ran around the shops, giving a brief order to the people inside to stay where they were before getting back to Ginny, who had coloured the snow under the now magically bound bodies a dark red colour. Together they moved on through the village, warning everyone they saw and making their way steadily to Madame Pudifoot’s.

There were four black figures huddled round the entrance, seemingly firing shots from their wands at random, but Harry kept his eyes on the ground, listening for the all important crunch of a footstep in the snow from someone not being careful enough. He shot four stunners in quick succession, unable to use his wand because of the cuts, and each one met its invisible target. He and Ginny skidded to a halt next to Ron, Hermione, Luna and Blaise.

“Whatever you do, don’t touch the bodies,” Harry told them without preamble. “There’s something enchanting them, they cut you if you touch them.”

Harry saw Hermione go paler than the snow had made her already. “I’ve heard of that… Razor Ice! It explains everything!”

“Tell us later,” Harry said before his friend could start on a long explanation. “For now, is there anything we need to know other than that it makes them invisible and razor-sharp to touch?”

Hermione nodded once. “The spell is ultimately powered by a small crystal that looks like a shard of ice. Now that the attack has been made it must be somewhere nearby, and the spell can’t affect the person who’s carrying it. They’ll be visible, unless they’re wearing a cloak or something, and perfectly OK to touch.”

Harry smiled grimly. “Right, we’re splitting up. Hermione, you go with Ron and get back to the castle as soon as you can: alert the DA and warn Dumbledore. If you come across any more on the way, avoid them rather than fight: with any luck, we’ll be able to take them out. The rest of us are going to try to clear the rest of the village, and maybe we’ll find that crystal too. Ginny can somehow see them, so we’ll be OK to fight. Let’s go.” Ron and Hermione nodded and ran fast in the direction of Hogwarts, though not before Hermione had shot Harry a knowing look. He wasn’t fooling her: she knew exactly why Ginny could see the Death Eaters, as they now knew them to be since Ginny had recognised two of the ones they had found here as Mcnair and Mulciber, and she knew that Harry knew as well.

While he had been talking Ginny had been swiftly binding and marking the prone bodies of the Death Eaters and now they set off back to the high street before beginning a methodical and painstaking sweep of the village. They discovered several more Death Eaters along the way, and dispatched them all quickly and efficiently, although Luna did sustain a cut on her cheek that bled rather nastily. Soon they had taken down around twenty-five Death Eaters and cleared every street in the village. There was no sign, though, of the crystal bearer. Harry was getting tired, and it was clear that the others were as well. The afternoon was fading into exhaustion and whirling snow.

“Where next Harry?” Ginny asked while Blaise doctored Luna’s cheek. Harry was distracted for a moment by the touching, if inappropriate, sight of the two Eskimo-kissing before answering the question.

Harry thought hard. “We haven’t tried the most likely place yet. Hermione said it would have to be nearby, but I bet the range doesn’t have to be that close. Say, a house just outside the village?”

Ginny nodded. “Of course. The Shrieking Shack.”

Harry nodded, then considered for a moment. “Luna, Blaise, get to Hogwarts and tell whoever’s there that the village is clear. You might as well tell anyone in the shops on the way too. Ginny and I just need to check something: we’ll be back soon.”

The odd pair nodded and began jogging out of the village, the radishes Luna was wearing for earrings bouncing ludicrously. Harry and Ginny went the other way, towards the house that had been built solely for their friend, Remus Lupin.

They checked the perimeter first, but found no one. Then, under a silencing charm, they blasted down the back door. The house was just as dusty and neglected as Harry remembered… which was hardly surprising, since no one had ever lived there. Harry wondered vaguely why they had even bothered adding the now smashed furniture. He figured that it was so there was something to smash.

There was a clear trail of footprints in the dust on the floor, leading from the door they had just entered through and leading up the stairs. Whoever was here was either being very incautious or being clever enough to lead them into a trap. It was with that in mind that Harry whispered a few words to Ginny, who swallowed slightly but nodded, taking the lead, while Harry muttered a few incantations.

They heard voices as they approached.

“This is taking too long! They should be back by now, not one of them has reported back….” The voice was male and very, very nervous. Harry recognised it at once as the voice of Peter Pettigrew. His lip curled slightly, especially when he heard the voice that interrupted the snivelling little man.

“Silence, Wormtail, I’ve got to concentrate! This thing feels like someone’s hacking into my chest with an ice-pick.”

It was a voice Harry heard in his worst nightmares. Not the ones where he had lost and the world had been taken over, but the ones where all his hate and anger had overtaken him. That voice brought that on him because the last time he had heard it he had attempted an unforgivable curse on its owner. It was the harsh, rasping voice of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Harry nodded at Ginny, who looked pretty enraged herself. She nodded back and walked boldly into the room, wand held before her. Harry made sure his protections were in place, and then slipped into the shadows around the door.

“You know, I expect that’s quite like how Harry felt when you killed the last person he felt he could call family, you twisted bitch,” Ginny said, her voice steady and deceptively calm. Bellatrix was sitting on a bed, clutching something to her, a look of pain and intense focus on her handsome face. Her look changed to worry when she saw Ginny, and Harry’s heart leapt. Bellatrix wasn’t going to be able to fight, using the ice shard was taking too much out of her. Wormtail was there for her protection, and he was now advancing on Ginny, although he looked nervous. Ginny kept her wand pointed straight in Bellatrix’ face. Wormtail stretched out his hand, the powerful limb of silver light glinting malevolently in the poor illumination.

It exploded. There was a moment when Wormtail looked at his once more ruined arm with complete shock before he screamed with pain. Harry’s spell had been very effective.

“Run, you fool!” Bellatrix screeched. “Get back to the Dark…”

But she never finished the sentence, as she was blasted unconscious by Ginny’s stunner. Harry saw Pettigrew transform and sent spell after spell at him, but hit nothing but floorboards, which shattered and splintered, filling the room with choking clouds of sawdust.

When Harry looked again, there was no sign of the rat anywhere. Bellatrix was lying on the floor, out cold. On a chain round her neck was a clear, sharp crystal, like an icicle, or a dagger of glass. He pulled it from her and stuffed it in his pocket before tying her like the others and levitating her out of the room and then the house, Ginny by his side, covering him with her wand. Even as they walked back into the village, passing the now visible bodies of Death Eaters, they felt the day warm, and the first drops of snowmelt fall from the thawing branches above them.

~*~

The school had apparently been targeted as well as the village, and as Harry and Ginny approached they saw three Death Eaters running towards them, pursued by a number of students. They stunned them quickly and turned to meet the students, who were being led by Neville.

“Harry! Blaise said you were going to find the ringleader… it’s her isn’t it?” Neville’s face contorted with rage as he looked at the woman responsible for his parents’ insanity. Harry saw his fingers flex convulsively until Eleanor Darke put a small, comforting hand on Neville’s shoulder. Neville took a deep shuddering breath and turned back to Harry.

“We were attacked too, but it was only a small group, and they didn’t expect students to resist them. By the time the teachers arrived, we’d already got most of them, thanks to Ron and Hermione’s warning.”

“Anyone hurt?” Harry asked briefly.

“Surprisingly few, and none seriously. Especially since they turned visible not long ago. Dumbledore was worried about you two, though. He said to tell you to go and see him as soon as you got back.”

“Who organised the students?” Ginny enquired, looking from Neville to Eleanor and back again.

“Neville did,” Eleanor said, a clear note of pride in her voice that caused Neville to blush scarlet. Harry grinned at him. “Hermione and Ron had to find the teachers, so Neville took charge.”

“Good job, Neville. Eleanor, if you and the others can levitate these Death Eaters and the ones in the grounds into the entrance hall, I expect someone can tell you where to put them. Neville, you’re coming with us to Dumbledore. We need to get Ron, Hermione, Luna and Blaise too.” Harry didn’t see the strange grin on Ginny’s face as he led the way back to the castle, leaving the DA members to clear the field of battle.

~*~

“Would you care to make the explanation, Miss Granger?” Dumbledore’s voice was tired, but he seemed very proud of the seven students in front of him. They stood or sat in a rough semi-circle around the headmaster’s desk with Fawkes perched on Harry’s knee. Ginny was stroking the beautiful head with its golden plumage absently, and the bird blinked and made small, soothing noises every so often. The crystal lay on the desk, still glinting in a sinister way. Hermione nodded and cleared her throat.

“I read about Razor Ice some time ago. It’s a very strong and very complex spell, created a long time ago for use in warfare. It basically enchants as many people as you want with invisibility and the cutting skin we saw. It takes months to prepare for, though. The crystal, the Shard of Glacius, is a very rare magical artefact, and it’s used to drain the heat out of an area. It’s been used since late autumn to keep the entire country cold and snow-bound: that’s just how powerful it is.” She paused as one or two people gasped at the immensity of the spell.

“Then, once the desired date is reached, the magic in the crystal is used to make any number of people into these ‘ice warriors’. It only requires one person, not too far away, to control the Shard and not be affected by it themselves, in this case, Mrs. Lestrange here.”

The Death Eater was suspended, unconscious, in mid air by a window. Neville still had his fists clenched, although otherwise he seemed perfectly calm.

“Quite right, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore congratulated, “and now that the Shard has been liberated the whole country will thaw, and thaw very quickly. The Ministry will work overtime to prevent flooding, I imagine. However, now we must collect the Death Eaters from Hogsmeade and transport all the prisoners to the Ministry. How many escaped?”

It was Ginny who answered, since she was the only one who could know for certain. “Just one.”

“Pettigrew,” Harry almost spat. “He transformed when we attacked him and Bellatrix. I couldn’t catch him.”

Dumbledore sighed. “A pity, but all things considered you have all done magnificently well, and over forty Death Eaters will soon be under lock and key at the new prison the Ministry has set up, which will be considerably more secure than Azkaban at the moment.”

Harry frowned. “Speaking of which, I’m a little surprised that Tom didn’t send the dementors to help today. Any particular reason?”

Hermione shrugged. “They can’t be affected by the Razor Ice spell, so they would have been visible.” Harry nodded, accepting the reasoning.

“I think I need to talk to the DA, let them know what’s going on, tell them just how well they’ve done. Anyone else who helped, as well. Was there anything else you wanted to say, Professor?”

Dumbledore shook his head, a beatific smile on his face. “Only to congratulate you again. A remarkable victory has been won today. You should all be very proud.”

~*~

Several hours later Harry was dozing quietly in his office, dressed in some of his new clothes and curled up on the sofa. He was woken by someone sitting pretty much on his feet. He opened his eyes and saw Ginny smiling down at him and he smiled back before seeing that they weren’t alone: Ron and Hermione were seated in armchairs near by, smiling quietly. Harry sat up.

“What’s this? Want a sweetie from the nice teacher?” Ron laughed softly. Harry continued. “Seriously, though, what’s this about?”

“Well,” Hermione began, “we thought we should come and congratulate you personally. After all, this was the first real test of the DA, and they passed with flying colours.”

Harry waved the hidden compliment aside. “I wasn’t even there. Neville’s the one who got everyone ready, it was you two who got to them in time, and anyway it’s them who did the most work and made the most difference.”

Ron took up the conversation. “That’s true, but they couldn’t have done anywhere near that well without your training. And the fact they managed it without their leader is actually more to your credit than anything else: it’s good that they can act without you.”

Harry shook his head. “Alright, I’m too tired to argue, so congratulations accepted. Anything else?”

Ginny grinned. “Not really. We’ll let you get back to your beauty sleep.” The three of them rose and went to leave. Ginny was the last out, and in the doorway she turned back briefly.

“The clothes look good, Harry. Oh, you’ve put that little pin I gave you on there. Do you wear it all the time?” She didn’t wait for an answer but left, closing the door behind her. Harry felt mystified: what had all that been about? He fingered the sword pin on his t-shirt, though. He did wear it all the time. It was so thoughtful, and it reminded him of a lot he needed to remember. It reminded him of why he was fighting, and of when he had first loved Ginny, even if he hadn’t realised it for so long. Mostly, though, it reminded him of the trust that Ginny and other people had in him, and made him determined to be worthy of it.

Slowly his fingers stopped moving, a thought that had been flittering around the outside edges of his mind coming into sharper focus: something appropriate to cast them on? What could be more appropriate?

He grinned, unpinned the brooch and levelled his wand at it, preparing once again to feel like someone had taken a vacuum cleaner to his internal organs, before calling to mind the words of the spells Moody had told him about.

~*~

Harry was a bit late down to breakfast the following day, but since it was Sunday it didn’t really matter. He had arranged to visit Hagrid with Ron and Hermione, since they hadn’t seen him outside Care of Magical Creatures for ages. He saw them sitting with Ginny at one end of the Gryffindor table, heads held close together, discussing something. Harry felt that paranoia was one of many his faults and these days he tried to ignore it, but at that moment he was certain that something they were talking about included him. He sat down next to them. There was an open copy of the ‘Daily Prophet’ spread out between them. A picture of Hogwarts and Bellatrix Lestrange dominated the page.

“What’s going on?”

Hermione smirked. “Rita Skeeter’s been busy. She wrote an article on the attack. Want to hear it?”

Harry shrugged, pouring milk onto his cornflakes and picking up his spoon. Hermione cleared her throat and began to speak.

“‘You-Know-Who’s plan foiled!

‘Students show us how it’s done!

‘There was an attack of unprecedented strength yesterday made on the village of Hogsmeade and the nearby Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, writes Rita Skeeter, special correspondent. A group of Death Eaters numbering more than forty stormed both the village and the school, apparently with the intention of kidnapping Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

‘However, the attack was unsuccessful. The Death Eaters were under the dark and powerful Razor Ice spell, which has not been used since the crusades eight hundred years ago, and fell upon villager and student alike invisible and enchanted so that to touch them would cut a person’s skin very seriously. The lifting of the Razor Ice spell has also led to the end of the nation-wide cold spell that has plunged the country into chaos: the spell is of such power that it drains heat from a large area before its effects even begin.

‘The Death Eaters were halted by none other than Harry Potter and the in-school club he runs, the Defence Association, or DA (affectionately known as Dumbledore’s Army). Harry, who is now officially an assistant Professor at Hogwarts, teaches his fellow students the duelling skills he has learnt and developed from his many encounters with He Who Must Not Be Named and other dark wizards. Despite their assailants being invisible, Harry and three friends apprehended twenty-six Death Eaters in Hogsmeade, where they were spending a day shopping, before also capturing the ringleader and performer of the Razor Ice spell, Bellatrix Lestrange, who was imprisoned in Azkaban for the vicious torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom sixteen years ago, along with her husband Rodolphus, her brother in law Rabastan, and the now deceased Bartemius Crouch junior, who spent a year impersonating the ex-Auror Alastor ‘Mad-eye’ Moody when he was teacher of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, two years ago.

‘By a quirk of fate it was the Longbottoms’ only son, Neville, a classmate and close friend of Harry’s, who organised the DA while their Captain was absent. Mr. Longbottom made no comment when asked how he had managed, but his girlfriend, Miss Eleanor Darke, said, “Neville was the one who was there when the message came through that there was an attack. It could have been anyone, but Neville did really well, just like the whole DA. Harry was very proud of all of us.”

‘It seems clear that, far from being a disturbed or dangerous attention seeker, Mr. Potter is making every effort to combat You-Know-Who while still at school, and his own and his friends’ achievements yesterday are a shining example to all of us in this dark hour.’”

Hermione stopped reading and the three of them sat, smirking at Harry, who felt utterly shell-shocked and whose eyes were darting around the great hall, settling briefly on a number of people who were stealing looks at him while the colour spread over his cheeks. He looked at Neville, who had overheard the article being read and was looking nervous, but Harry managed to give an encouraging grin and Neville smiled, relief evident on his face. Harry turned back to his three best friends.

“Well,” he finally said, “she knows she has to stay on our good side.”

“Did you notice anything about that article that was, well, different from all the others she’s written about you, mate?” Ron asked, still smirking. Harry shrugged looking puzzled.

“This time,” Ginny said, her voice low but excited, “every single word was true. She made you sound exactly as you are, and it sounds bloody good. And now the whole world knows it.” Harry sat back, thinking while his friends talked in whispers. Yes, the whole world knew. And that included Voldemort.




(AN: Thanks to my brand, sparkling new betas, Lourdes and Serpentspawn. And yes, they really do sparkle.
One thing that was brought to my attention: Eskimo kissing. It’s just rubbing noses, people. I thought it was a common expression. Maybe I was wrong.
Sorry for the long wait, but chapter twelve is now more than halfway complete. Inevitably, the communication between writers and betas means that development is going to be slower, but we hope that it will also be of higher quality for our troubles.
I hope this little bout of action keeps you satisfied for a while: I’m not quite sure when another one with so much drama will be…
Also, forgive me if I halt this for a while: I’m part way through a one-shot songfic at the moment as well, and I might just want to complete it sometime soon. —Tom)
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