“But it’s Albus,” McGonagall said, almost pleading.
“I realise he may have made mistakes, but surely Harry cannot have lost that much—”
Shiva held up a hand.
“Min, he caught the old man in another half-truth—or outright lie—earlier today. He mentioned it to me to confirm, and I have to say it raises questions.” McGonagall flinched.
“What?”
“His scar.” When McGonagall only looked puzzled, Shiva sighed.
“It’s some variant of a defence or protection rune. I’ve never seen anything quite like it, but once Harry pointed it out I couldn’t un-see it. It appears to be linked to something larger, though I have no idea what. He said Dumbledore implied the scar was merely a leftover from the Killing Curse… Look, I’ll be the first to admit the man is an extraordinary wizard and stands on the right side of most things. But something about this entire Potter situation simply smells wrong.”
“I do not believe we have enough information to pass judgement yet,” McGonagall said, rubbing her temples.
“We shall have to wait and see where events lead.” “Agreed. But just so we’re clear—if battle lines are drawn at some point in the future, I will almost certainly stand with Harry. That boy is starting to feel like the precocious little brother I never had. I will not abandon him for some nebulous Greater Good or any other such nonsense.”
McGonagall raised her glass.
“I can drink to that, Shiva. I can drink to that.”
They clinked glasses and, by unspoken agreement, turned the conversation to less troubling subjects.
“Promise you’ll write, Harry?” Neville asked as Platform Nine and Three-Quarters came into view beyond the window.
“I promise, mate,” Harry answered with a small smile.
“You do the same.” Hermione was studying him closely, taking in the clothes that hung far too large on his frame.
“Harry… are you sure you’re going to be all right?”
“I’ll be fine.” An almost wicked grin flickered across his face.
“Just because I know I can’t use magic or activate runes at the Dursleys’ doesn’t mean they know that.”
Neville laughed.
spending too much twins.”
“You’ve time with been the
Hermione still looked unconvinced.
“Remember—my parents are Muggles. If you need us to come by for any reason, just send a letter or ring me.”
“I promise, Hermione.” Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
The train slowed to a halt and the whistle sounded.
Harry’s expression softened.
“I’m going to miss you both. It was… nice having people to hang about with.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Neville said quietly.
“But it’s only a few months until we’re all back. And I’ll ask Gran about you two coming over for a day or two sometime. The manor can feel rather empty.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Harry stood, clapped Neville on the shoulder, then turned and accepted Hermione’s fierce hug.
“Have a brilliant summer, Hermione.”
“You too—both of you.”
The three of them shared one last smile before stepping down onto the platform and walking away toward the ordinary lives that waited beyond Hogwarts.
This had almost certainly been the second-worst summer Harry could remember.
Before returning to the Dursleys he had believed he possessed friends in Hermione and Neville.
He had believed he possessed an ally in Shiva.
He had believed things would be different.
He had been a fool.
The moment he stepped through the front door of Number Four, Privet Drive, he was slammed against the wall hard enough that his arm nearly broke.
He had expected something of the sort and immediately produced his Slow Burn—a simple rune stone that did little more than maintain a low-level Lumos for an hour or so.
Essentially a fancy candle.
The Dursleys, however, did not know that.
He had activated it on the train in the hope of intimidating them into leaving him alone for most of the summer.
He had badly underestimated Aunt Petunia.
“Idiot boy. My sister went to that school as well. I know perfectly well you can’t do any of that freakishness here.”
Vernon’s smile split his face.
Dudley cackled behind him.
The beating that followed left Harry aching for nearly two weeks.
He was allowed out of his room only for the bathroom and two sparse meals a day.
Even that might have been endurable—if any of his so-called friends had written, telephoned, or visited.
None had.
Uncle Vernon had padlocked Hedwig’s cage, so Harry could not even send her to ask what he had done wrong.
The little food he received he was forced to share with his owl simply to keep her alive until term began.
Having tasted friendship only to have it stripped away again made the summer almost unbearable.
His sole refuge was conversation with Hedwig and the quiet work of designing new rune applications.
When boredom pressed too hard he turned to theoretical ward schemes.
He could not test any of them, yet several designs were complete and waiting only for etching.
The Ninja stone had taken considerable time, but it looked viable—though it did not seem to combine well with others, meaning his father’s Cloak would remain more useful until he solved the interference.
He had also devised a Proximity Ping that would alert him the moment anyone outside an original radius entered the area, and a Lockpick stone that incorporated a Suppression rune and might even defeat wards specifically designed to block Alohomora.
The improved barrier he had first imagined while speaking with Shiva was progressing, but still far too complex to attempt.
He had considered more aggressive designs after facing Voldemort, then decided such work was better left until next year.
A simple Blaster, Concussor and Disintegrator would suffice for now.
Explosive stones carried too much risk without proper oversight—at least at first.
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