Grazhir :: Harry Potter :: One Winged Angel :: 34 :: It Begins

34 • It Begins

Harry figured himself for a wretched person were he to neglect having tea with Hagrid at least one more time before he left that year. After all, while Hagrid might believe Harry would turn up again for the next school year like a bad penny, he knew better, and wanted to make sure that the last real memory his gentle friend would have of him was pleasant.

Naturally he dragged Ron and Blaise along. Their exams were over, so Harry saw no reason to even pretend an interest in anything academic, though Hermione was apparently delighted that many of their professors were taking the time to advise them on what to expect for their last year. She, it seemed, was far too busy to accompany them, something that made Harry feel anger all over again at her behavior. She was being incredibly rude in his opinion, not making time for someone who had always been her friend.

There were definitely times when he sincerely wished they had not decided to become her friend. But he also knew had they not, so many bad things would have happened without the help she had freely given. Ginny would most certainly be dead, and her time turner had been exceptionally useful. He simply did not understand how a girl, seemingly so progressive and intelligent, could so quickly cast things aside and become narrow-minded and obtuse.

Hagrid was happy to see them; he always was. He provided tea in abundance, rock cakes none of them dared touch, and Fang was happy to supply a healthy amount of drool in his eagerness to be friendly. Harry reasoned it was safe enough to slip the huge dog rock cakes under the table. Certainly the copious amounts of saliva the dog managed would be a good start in breaking down the otherwise inedible food.

All in all, they had a lovely time, and Hagrid was as usual oblivious to their distaste for his culinary efforts. It was getting very close to dinner when they left and Harry was very hungry, though the amount of tea he had drunk made him feel as though he was sloshing inside. He happily attended dinner given that, glad that it was the leaving feast, and barely paid any attention to Dumbledore’s speech. As a result, he had no idea who actually won the house cup that year, and really didn’t care.

When he was finally able to retreat to the privacy of his own room he requested immediate transport to the library, then sent Dobby off to discretely fetch Ron and Snape. They had some final planning to do before he and Ron left on the train the next day.

“Dobby, thank you. If you want to stay, that’s fine. You will be involved in this, after all. If you’d rather go, I’ll just call you back when we need your help a little later on.”

Dobby made an odd movement with his head, something between a nod and a shake, then twisted an ear sideways. “Dobby will stay, master.”

“Please have a seat, then.” Harry turned slightly. “Ron, have you received word yet from the twins?”

“Yeah, and they’re fine with it. Mum and dad can’t object as I’ve been seventeen for months now. They won’t like it, though.”

Harry shrugged carelessly. “No offense, but I don’t particularly care how they feel. I know they want you safe, but under different circumstances that could easily translate to you being so in the dark that you’d be helpless. With you living with the twins, Dobby should be able to get word to you without much trouble. You may find yourself dragged back to the Burrow once I go missing, though.”

Ron gave a shrug of his own. “I can deal with that for a few weeks. So long as I get word right before this starts, and verification afterward, that’ll be fine.”

“Actually,” Harry said, tapping his chin with one finger, “it might not be so strange if Dobby were seen going to you after the fact. You are my Wheezy, after all.”

Ron started snickering as Dobby twisted an ear with one long-fingered hand. Harry looked to Tom to continue.

His bonded nodded and spoke. “Severus, we will need to run one final test of that charm we came up with, but not until after Harry and Ron have departed. I want to be absolutely certain nothing goes wrong.” Severus nodded so Tom said, “Harry, you will take care of Hermione on the train, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Ron, you will simply need to act puzzled when Harry feels the need to speak with her privately. You can use the excuse of being a prefect to go patrol the train, I suppose. Personally, I think you’ve been doing an excellent job of appearing to be clueless, so I have no doubt you will also manage this well, not to mention being sullen and uncommunicative, or even destructively angry as the occasion warrants.”

“Sure,” Ron said with a slight grin, “and thanks. I know this is critical.”

“If at all possible, it would be nice to arrange our deaths during an Order meeting. That way everyone can witness Severus’s reaction. Dobby, you are able to enter headquarters?”

“Yes, Master Tom. Dobby is master’s elf, so Dobby can enter his property regardless of the protections being placed by Dumbledore. Master’s will is not being denied.”

Tom nodded in understanding. “Very well. Then I would appreciate you being there when the time comes, after you have warned Ron, to help coordinate, and to report back on what you hear after Severus is unconscious. If necessary, though I doubt it will be needful, to also spirit Severus away if danger befalls him.”

“Dobby will listen and protect. Professor Snape is being important, and Dobby will not fail you.”

Harry reached out impulsively and gave Dobby a hug. Dobby seemed overcome at the display and dropped his head, fat tears welling in his eyes, causing Harry to look away and purse his lips against the odd smile that threatened to erupt. He really was terribly fond of Dobby; the house-elf was so uncomplicated and open. A few moments later he cleared his throat and looked back at Tom, to be greeted with a knowing look.

“All right. Then let us go over the plan one last time.”

*

Later, alone, Harry began the enjoyable process of undressing his beloved. “I feel confident. Do you?” he asked as he slowly unbuttoned Tom’s shirt.

“I do. We’ve gone over every last detail we could think of, no matter how small. If something goes wrong it will not be for lack of planning or effort on our parts, and I hesitate to believe that fate would be so cruel to us at this late date. Not after everything else.”

Harry smiled softly and nodded, pushing the shirt back off Tom’s shoulders. “I want you to know how lucky I feel, how fortunate.” He glanced up briefly. “I will try never to take you for granted, Tom. And I hope that you would smack some sense into me if I did start to.”

Tom raised his hands and pulled Harry’s face close, subjecting him to a deep, lingering kiss. “I know, and yes, so long as you promise to do the same. Oh, don’t mistake me, Harry. There will be times, I’m sure, when we will argue, disagree. It’s only natural. We would not be human otherwise, and we can both be exceptionally stubborn people.”

“True.” Harry dropped his gaze, then looked back up through his lashes coyly. “You can be quite a brat at times.”

Tom gave him a look of mock outrage and slapped his ass. “Enough out of you. Finish your task so I can make you forget how to speak, never mind find a way to form such a thought with any coherency.” Then he paused, appearing to consider something. “Then again, it is intoxicating when you scream my name, so perhaps that part would be unwise of me.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Harry said dryly, then reached down to caress his bonded teasingly.

A hand took his wrist in an iron grip and raised it so that Tom could place a kiss on his fingers. “I’ll get you for that, you outrageous whelp.”

Harry tried very hard to look frightened, but feared his expression was more likely to betray his amusement. “Oh, please,” he said breathlessly. “Have mercy on me.”

“No such luck,” Tom said crisply, then brandished his wand and removed their clothing the easy way. “I will make you beg.”

Harry knew beyond question that if his bonded was feeling cruel he could and would prevent Harry’s orgasm for an exceptionally long time, and that only made it sweeter in the end. He trembled in anticipation and let himself be dragged toward the bed, already imagining in his mind what things Tom would do to him so very soon.

The next morning found him wrapped around Tom and aching pleasantly. Tom had, in fact, been feeling cruel, and things had been so intense the night before that he’d blacked out. Harry would need to repay his kindness as soon as he was able. With a very reluctant sigh he dropped a kiss on Tom’s lips and prepared to roll out of bed.

“Not just yet,” Tom murmured sleepily.

“I must. I have to be at breakfast, you know that.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Tom muttered petulantly.

Harry blinked in surprise and looked at his bonded closely. “You’re going to miss me,” he accused in a drawl.

Tom’s eyes flew open as a scowl etched his face. “Of course I am, you wretched imp! The day this is over and we can finally live together in peace shall not come too soon for me.”

Harry’s chest tightened and a fatuous smile spread across his face. “You say the nicest things to me. I love you, too.”

“Brat.”

“Whatever you say, my darling dark lord,” Harry replied lightly. “I shall strive to live up to your opinion of me. Would you like it if I began by tipping a bucket of ice water over your head to help you wake up?” he asked, rolling off the bed and gaining his feet and distance quickly.

Tom glared at him and sat up, running a hand roughly through his hair.

“There is time, you know, if you wanted to join me in the shower,” Harry said leadingly, stepping backward slowly. “I’m sure I could make you feel much, much better.”

*

Dobby had kindly packed his belongings—those few things he was taking with him, at least. Anything of any import was stashed in their bedroom in the Chamber complex. Harry did not see the point in hauling it around, and frankly, should anyone end up wondering what happened to the map, or his cloak, or anything else, he didn’t particularly care. Let it remain a mystery. They might assume in the end he had taken them with him when lured away from the Dursleys.

The four of them shared a compartment on the train and Blaise had already made him promise to write over the summer. As it turned out, Blaise had been given Malfoy’s prefect position, Snape having told him before the term had let out. That would come in handy a bit later on. As it was, Hermione had given them all an exhausting replay of her exams and her thoughts on how well she had done when Harry decided it was time for a little talk.

It lacked about an hour to their arrival at Kings Cross, so Harry casually suggested that Ron and Blaise might do their final inspection of the train. That he could finally sense Tom’s presence in his mind was certainly a factor in that decision.

“Why not Hermione?” Ron asked belligerently.

“Don’t be silly, Ron. You make it sound like you’re not any good at it. Besides, I wanted to ask Hermione about something I read just recently, and I know that’ll bore you,” he replied reasonably.

Ron shot him a look of mingled suspicion and confusion. “You’re not already working up to next term, are you?” he whined.

Harry shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do over the summer.”

Ron scowled and stood, tugging on Blaise’s arm. “Fine. Let’s go,” he said, then stomped out, Blaise right behind him with an amused smile on his face. Harry faintly heard Ron saying, “Traitor,” before the door shut, and snickered before glancing at Hermione, then casting several privacy charms.

She gave him a cool look. “Ron may be thick, but I’m not. What’s going on, Harry? What could you possibly have to ask me about?”

Harry let out a huge sigh and slumped on the seat, allowing his face to betray a mass of uncertainty, confusion, and even a bit of fear.

“Harry?” Her voice was now more curious than hostile. “Harry, what’s wrong? I’m listening.”

He glanced up, inwardly smirking at the look on her face. “It’s just that I’m so confused, Hermione. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’ve tried so hard to keep this all inside. I didn’t want to burden anyone, and certainly not put them in danger. I just—I feel like I’m drowning.”

She leapt up from her seat and sat back down next to him. “I’m here, Harry.”

:She’s obviously learned something from her mistakes, Harry. She’s not being pushy for once.:

:Interesting, eh?: He sighed again and turned a soulful gaze on her. “Please don’t tell anyone. You can’t let anyone know, Hermione. It could mean your life. I can’t even believe I’m willing to put you in danger like this, but I feel like I might go crazy if I can’t talk about it. I can trust you, can’t I?”

She reached to take one of hands, patting it gently on the back with her other. “Yes, Harry.”

“Are you sure? I don’t think I could live with myself if anything happened to you,” he said, sounding ever so faintly hysterical. “I know we’ve haven’t exactly been close lately, but you’re so smart, and so level headed. I don’t know who else to turn to.”

“Oh, Harry,” she said softly. “You spend so much time trying to protect others. I swear to you I won’t say a word. Not even to Ron if you don’t want. Now let me help you. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Harry bit his lip to prevent an incredibly inappropriate grin from forming, and nodded slowly, reluctantly even. “Yeah, not Ron. He’s been so supportive this year, but he does tend to blurt things out.” Another sigh, and then, “Hermione, that night. . . .” He rubbed his forehead roughly with his free hand. “When . . . Sirius died.”

“I’m listening, Harry.”

“Oh, Merlin. It was so sudden, and then, I nearly died myself. I just had to be such an ass, not thinking, and ran off after Bellatrix. Voldemort came, but then Dumbledore helped me. You know all that. But. . . .”

She nodded and rubbed the back of his hand in what she thought was a soothing gesture. Harry felt a great deal like jerking free of her touch, but resisted.

“Hermione,” he whispered, causing her to lean in closely, “Dumbledore told me what the prophecy said that night.”

She was so surprised she didn’t even think to correct him.

“I think I’m going to die,” he whispered in seeming anguish.

“That can’t possibly be right, Harry. Why on earth do you think that?”

Harry cleared his throat and sat up straighter, as though trying to disguise his weakness. “It only makes sense. I’ll tell you what it said if you want. I know you can keep a secret. I’m just worried that someone will suspect and come after you.”

“Harry, I think I understand now why you’ve been acting so strangely this year. I know you feel you have to protect us all, but you need help too. You can’t do this alone. It’s just too much for one person to handle. Tell me, and let me help you. Maybe there’s a loophole or something I can spot.”

Harry privately wondered if she was paying lip service to an idea in those statements. Granted, many people believed it was his responsibility to deal with Voldemort, but how many of them held that belief with any basis in truth? He was more inclined to believe she was one who did not, and was merely trying to get him to confide further in her, especially as she had already let slip that it irked her greatly that she had lost what measure of control she had previously held over him.

He fixed a frighteningly steady gaze on her and repeated the prophecy in a stiff voice, barely above a whisper, then averted his eyes and slumped again, like an enormous burden had just been lifted from his shoulders. In his peripheral vision he could see her renewed surprised, along with an intense concentration as her lips moved soundlessly through the words he had just spoken.

They sat there in a timeless moment, which suddenly shattered as her eyes regained their focus. “This is awful,” she said, then flushed a deep red. “I’m sorry, Harry, I don’t know what I’m saying. No, it’s bad enough you must confront him. You cannot die. It’s unthinkable.” She paused to nearly growl before saying, “You know how much I despise Divination. It’s such a wooly discipline. And it doesn’t even say what power!”

“Dumbledore says that power is love,” he offered softly.

“Professor Dumbledore,” she corrected absently. “Love, yes, perhaps. Maybe.” She frowned and bit her lip. “No, Harry, surely not. That foul beast has never lived, only survived. You have, though I admit it has not been the best of lives. You have us. Many people, in fact. Plenty of people care about you, and you them. You can do this, I’m sure of it.”

Tom chuckled in his mind. :She’s doing a lovely job of parroting the old man. So sayeth the ultimate authority, so mote it be.:

She gripped his hand fiercely. “Harry, don’t you worry about a thing. I will not let you down. I will figure this out.”

:I love how confident she is,: he thought dryly, though to her he displayed a look of faint hope. :Are you sure I’m not overplaying this?:

:Oh, Harry love, she’s so caught up right now over the fact that you chose her to confide in that she’s very likely oblivious to most else. She’s surely feeling very important at the moment.:

Then he sobered and gave her an intensely serious look. “If anyone can, it’s you. I’m so sorry I’ve dragged you into this so deeply. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. It would kill me if anything happened to you or Ron, and now I’ve told you, and. . . .”

She spent a good five minutes reassuring him, and he let her, allowing himself to be pushed back into the role of somewhat clueless and reluctant hero who didn’t have the sense he was born with. Well, other than that he had finally opened up to her, the only logical choice. And then he was saved, spotting Ron and Blaise, and shot her a meaningful look before un-casting the charms he had erected and asking her about a fairly obscure healing potion as they stepped through the door. Predictably, Ron rolled his eyes.

Still, he was feeling a slight twinge of guilt. Having outwardly reconciled with his former friend, he knew it was very likely she would be crushed with guilt when news of his death was brought to light. He watched with apathetic eyes as she produced a huge tome and began reading avidly.

:Which is better, Harry? Had you not done this, she would have felt herself correct in thinking of you as an immature idiot when that news came, even if she did grieve on some level. As it stands, she may indeed feel a lot worse, but she will also be happy that you came to her, and only her, looking for help. Her last memories of you will be good ones, and that is a gift, despite the difference of burden you’ve placed on her.:

:I know. I just. . . . Why couldn’t she have been reasonable from the start? I’m so disappointed in her! I still feel betrayed.:

Tom’s mental voice was gentle when he said, :I understand. I wish I could make you feel better, but only time and perspective will accomplish that. The most I can do is distract you for a time.:

Harry nearly smiled. :And I do so like how you distract me.:

:I still wonder if she will contact the old man. I wonder what his reaction would be.:

He shrugged mentally. :She may keep her promise, or may think the pest is an exception. I suppose if she does and he objects, I will get either a letter or a visit. For all we know he’s been waiting to see what I’ll do. He might think this is a good sign.:

:Love, love, love. Let us all don flowery, flowing robes all the colours of the rainbow and dance in perfect harmony upon the earth.:

Harry nearly lost it, having to duck his head abruptly and bite his lip hard against the desire to laugh loudly. :My dear dark lord, I will have to punish you for that. I can just see the pest prancing about in a woodland glade with wide-eyed deer and cuddly bunny rabbits. Disney, watch out!:

“Are you all right, mate?”

Harry glanced up to see a look of concern on Ron’s face. “I’m fine. Just not looking forward to being back with them.”

Blaise looked almost openly curious (he was a Slytherin), but had the good manners not to query him on it. Instead he started a discussion about the incoming students next year, wondering if they too would avail themselves of tutoring, which made Hermione glance up long enough to give them both a look before resuming her reading.

A short time later the train pulled into the station. Harry stoically gathered up his trunk, yanking it down from the overhead rack, and followed his friends out. They were greeted by an enthusiastic Molly Weasley, who bestowed a hug on everyone but Blaise, and then captured Ginny when she wandered over. “All right, children. Let’s move along. Harry, we’ll wait until we’re sure your family arrives.”

Harry nodded and turned to Blaise, shaking his hand and promising again to write over the summer. He pulled Hermione off to the side and gave her a hug, whispering in her ear, “Please promise, should anything happen to me, not to tell Ron you knew. And make sure he eats. If he ever loses his appetite, I just know the world will end.”

She pulled back slightly and nodded.

“Nothing in letters. It’s too dangerous. Tell me whatever you can when we come back, okay?”

“Of course, Harry,” she whispered, then pulled away and said normally, “Study hard, Harry, but try to enjoy your summer.”

Blaise had left by then so they all trooped out through the barrier. Harry spotted his uncle almost immediately; the man looked almost bored, but that could only be attributed to Tom’s control. He gave Ginny and Mrs Weasley a hug, slapped Ron on the back, then dragged his trunk off as though heading to his doom.

The ride back was deathly silent.

Harry arrived in his room with a quiet sigh. Same old depressing surroundings, same old broken and rejected things. He had nothing this time to store under the floorboard. Hedwig would arrive later, having preferred to fly back rather than sit in her confining cage and be jostled so much during the trip. After opening the window Harry flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling.

“Just a few weeks.”

:Yes.:

:I’ve been wondering. How will the pest react to the realization that I managed to get to Gringotts sometime after I became legal? If I’m not mistaken, as my supposed guardian, what money I have would go to him.:

:Very simple, Harry, and I’m surprised you’ve not asked before this now I think about it. You’ve been in the Department of Mysteries. Who is to say you didn’t walk away with a souvenir?:

:Eh?:

:I have every intention of letting a time turner roll under your bed before we leave.:

:I thought we destroyed those.:

:Maybe you did. But can you be sure? Some of them could have been crushed to powder, throwing off the count. Another might have accidentally fallen into a pocket. Since I expect you to be an obliging fellow and take the occasional walk about town, they will surely be tailing you, which means you could have slipped out with the help of a time turner and snuck off to Gringotts shortly before your untimely demise.:

Harry grinned and nodded. :All right. And I suppose in my unseemly haste to pack and get the hell out of here, I didn’t notice it went missing.:

:Precisely. Now, I think we may as well have a portkey for each week you’re there. If Dobby agrees he can keep watch on your bedroom while you’re with me. If someone from the Order attempts to approach you he can fetch you immediately.:

:I don’t think he’d mind, though it would be really boring for him. By the way, have you taken care of asking Crest to move?:

:Yes, I have. She is already installed in the Chamber complex and seems quite happy, not to mention grateful that I did not bar her continued interest in Dobby. I have no doubt at some point we will be knee high in tiny little house-elves.:

:So long as I don’t have to change any nappies,: Harry quipped.

*

He soon had a routine set up. He took a long, ambling walk each Tuesday and Friday, and was also seen out on other days working in the garden, front or back. Harry even did the weekly shopping. He never showed his face, though, from Friday evening until Sunday morning. He knew beyond question he was being followed whenever he left the house. The rituals made sure he did, despite the fact that someone had finally had the sense to not only pull Dung off rotation, but also ensure that operatives were properly silent.

Having already established the distance Dobby could jump someone, Tom was ensconced in a fairly pricey hotel room well within range, so it was no trouble at all for Harry to spend those missing hours with his bonded in opulent comfort. Tom even began teaching him how to make use of a computer, not to mention introduce him to the wonders of the myriad films that could be watched on television.

For once of a summer, Harry’s life could actually be called normal. Mostly. Presumably most people did not have guardians who either ignored them completely or abused them willfully. But that was neither here nor there, and Harry was so very close to being able to leave forever. His birthday was soon, very soon.

In fact, he was waiting patiently on the night of the thirtieth when a thought occurred to him. :Tom?:

:Yes, Harry.:

:This may sound silly, but is there such a thing as a . . . magical maturation?:

He felt a slight measure of surprise flow across their link. :What, you mean like on a specific date you suddenly gain more power or abilities?:

:Yes. Like how puberty floods you with hormones and causes all sorts of changes.:

:No, not really, Harry. We simply mature until we stop, magically speaking. For some it takes longer, I admit, but it’s not like some mystical experience wherein you wake up one morning practically a new person. At some point you will reach the peak of your power, a ceiling on how much you can work with. Once you hit a certain age that will begin to decline, but so does the human body, so that should hardly be a surprise.:

:Hm. All right. That’s fine, since it means I won’t be experiencing anything odd, or feeling any pain. There always seems to be pain involved in the fairy tales I overhear. I suspect there are too many closet romantics out there hoping for a miracle. And of course, the more pain, the better the results.:

Tom chuckled in his head. :Quite so. As they say, beauty is pain, so why not that?:

Harry glanced at the clock, then the window. :You know, I think I want this moment now almost as badly as I would have before. It still represents freedom, but not quite for the same reason. I’m glad you’re here with me, even if only in my head.:

:If you’d had the decency to have your birthday fall on the right day, Harry, we could have celebrated it in a spectacular fashion.:

Harry chortled and shook his head. :Right. Like we won’t anyway. And speaking of which, exactly when is Haze’s birthday, hm?:

:That’s a surprise,: Tom sent primly.

:Wicked, evil man.:

:That I am, Harry. And you admire me for it! Don’t try to lie, now, I know you do.:

Harry snorted and refused to respond. A second later he spotted owls winging toward the window and sat up, ready to unload whatever they had brought him. Hedwig arrived first and claimed his lap, then Pig, and several other owls he did not recognize. An intense gaze showed nothing to be wary of, so Harry unloaded each of them and tossed them treats, leaving his own for last so he could lavish her with affection before she flew over to her cage. The others were allowed to have a few sips of water from her supply before flying off into the night.

He settled back and began to explore his birthday offerings. Neville sent a short note along with a rather interesting little book that discussed how Herbology could be used in conjunction with Defense to great effect. Luna’s book was pure fancy, on mythical creatures she surely believed were real. A closer look revealed that her father had most likely published it. Blaise also sent a book on Defense, though this one focused on the theory behind the Dark Arts.

Ginny sent something far more down-to-earth: a simple but stylish black leather belt. Her note threatened to pound some fashion sense into his head if he didn’t shape up now he was an adult. Ron sent along the usual round of sweets (and a few things from the shop), and that was bundled with mince pies and other foods from his mum. Hermione’s gift made him snort; a NEWT revision guide was just what he needed. Still, he appreciated the thought to some degree.

Hagrid’s contribution was rock cakes, which made Harry groan. He would have to quietly dispose of them again. The gift from Remus nearly brought tears to his eyes. While it was true that Hagrid had once solicited photographs from many people who had known his parents, Remus had gone above and beyond the call. The album Harry flipped through was filled with so many pages of his mother and father, and even Sirius and Remus himself, and not one of them contained Peter.

What really shocked Harry was that Snape had also sent a gift. When freed from its covering of simple brown paper it was revealed to be his personal copy of the text used as a student for advanced Potions, complete with handwritten notes on nearly every page. Even looking at only a few of them made Harry realize that he was seeing the mind of a genius at work, and it would make Potions so much easier to comprehend.

:I think you’ve really gotten under Severus’s skin, Harry. That’s an exceptional gift coming from him.:

:I know we may never be completely comfortable with each other, but this really is amazing. I’m not sure how I’ll thank him.:

:Just keep it simple, Harry. He would probably sneer on reflex if you were effusive. Either way, I think this is a peace offering of sorts, or at least a way of saying he accepts you for who you are.:

:Well, he was very amused by those pranks. Though, I think a thank you note will have to be delivered via Dobby. Safer that way.:

:I agree. And now, you should probably get some sleep. We’ve only a week left.:

Harry nodded and got up to put everything away, then turned off lamp and slipped into bed. :I’ll write the notes in the morning.: