Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I wish I did, but I don't.

Rating: T/M/M /R/NC-17 depending on the Scene.

Warning: this story will contain violence, mentions of rape and possible detailed rape. There will be some vulgarity and harsh language. If this is not your cup of tea, don't read it. I have the story marked up to NC-17 for a reason.

Summary: Harry has lost his godfather Sirius, and now is making his own way with the help of his friends. But an unexpected event changes Harry's life forever. Voldemort is active and his war machine is picking up steam. There are rumors of an alliance with another Dark Mage from China. Whispers that this war will escalate to heights exceeding the war with Grindelwald and the first war with Voldemort combine to cause panic. And the Order of the Phoenix has caught wind of an artifact that in the wrong hands would spell certain doom for the Ministry of Magic and its allies.

Harry Potter and the Heart's Blood

Chapter I

Correspondence

Harry stepped out of the car dimly aware of his relatives retreating without a word into the house at number four. Showing no emotion, Harry walked into the house carrying his trunk and his caged owl. Setting both down, Harry plopped onto the bed, only to bolt up and begin pacing a moment later.

It hurt to breathe, to think, to see, to sit. He couldn't stand being in his relations' house; it was sickening, overwhelming. The air was thick – unbreathable. Snatching up Hedwig's cage, Harry opened it and let her out, then left the room at a fast pace. Not saying a word to his relatives Harry walked out of number four, and continued on.

Down Privet Drive, through Magnolia Crescent, and after that Harry stopped paying attention to the roads. He passed the park, then circled about. Turning this way and that as he walked. Hour after hour, he marched on with no true heading. Dimly he was aware the sun had set and the moon was now high in the sky, but still he walked.

Occasionally a car's lights would illuminate him, but he didn't care or even notice. All the while, he was thinking about Sirius. Why did he have to fall? Why did he have to taunt Bellatrix? Why hadn't he just finished her? He could have if he had only taken her more seriously.

Over and over again, Harry went through the battle at the Ministry, trying to see a way he could have made things better, could have saved his friends the pain they had experienced, the wounds they had suffered.

But nothing came to him. He had done all he could with what he had known. He didn't want to believe that though. He wanted to cast blame. Wanted to hurt himself, to punish himself for not being stronger and faster.

His self-flagellation was interrupted as a pair of Police officers stopped him. Harry wasn't even aware of them until the female officer grabbed his arm. In his distraction, he nearly struck her.

"What are you doing out so late?" she asked, once she realized he wasn't actually going to try and fight her. Her male companion likewise lowered his nightstick.

Harry blinked for a moment and answered. "I was late at a friend's. My godfather died a few days ago, so I've been spending time there. Just going home now," Harry half-lied, his voice sounding broken and defeated.

Both officers looked sympathetic and asked if his home was much farther. Harry gave a noncommittal grunt and pointed vaguely up the street, hoping the annoying officers would leave him alone.

After a moment they did just that and Harry continued on his march. Though he was now rather more grumpy. What business was it of theirs what he was doing? Why was it anyone's business? They could all go to hell, he thought viciously.

All through the next day and night Harry walked, warding people off with a scowl fit to curdle fresh milk. It was a chore not to explode on the interfering busybodies.

On the third night, Harry had his worst run in of the lot. He was walking along a rundown street filled with empty storefronts and gaping dark windows, when a young man, probably not more than a year older than himself, stepped out and grabbed him, slamming him into a wall and pressed a knife to his throat, demanding his valuables.

A rage the like he had never felt on his own before ignited in Harry. Throwing his hand forward without thought, he blasted the young man with magic. By the time he landed, Harry was already on top of him.

Fire in his eyes, his words hissed out as if a demon were speaking. Harry wasn't even sure what he said, only that he was pouring all his anger and frustration and pain into the words.

Whatever he said, it terrified the man in front of him. He nodded in desperate agreement over and over again, before shaking his head frantically. Harry shoved him away, dimly aware of yelling something along the lines of: "Think about that, next time you think you have a problem!"

As the young man ran away, Harry continued on his road. He didn't hear the little whisper, or feel the soft rush of magic from the cloaked figure behind him.

Wave after wave rolled onto the sandy beach. Children laughed and splashed, shouting playfully at each other, while gulls circled overhead, filling the air with their shrill, hungry calls. The sun shone down warmly, but Harry was barely aware of any of it. He stood overlooking the beach, deep in thought as the wind danced through his hair.

It had taken him a while, but he had finally worked things out. He had thought about all of the deaths he had witnessed: Sirius, Cedric, and his parents. About all the injuries: Hermione, Ron, Luna, Ginny, Neville. He didn't know how long he had been walking and thinking things over, but somewhere along the line he finally realized that none of it was his fault. Voldemort had been torturing and killing since long before Harry was born. He wasn't responsible for any of Voldemort's actions and would not continue to blame himself for them.

Harry thought back to the photograph of the original Order of the Phoenix that Alastor Moody had once shown him. Many of them, as well as countless others, had died fighting against Voldemort, and none of that was his fault either. Voldemort was a psychotic, ruthless murderer, and Harry could no more control his actions than he could control the planets.

Harry remembered something Voldemort had told him at the end of his first year. He said: "There is no good and evil, there is only power...and those too weak to seek it." Later, Dumbledore had said that: "It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

Having had time to ponder those words, Harry found that they were both partially true. Choices do matter, but it was the point of view that determines right and wrong. Which was why there would always be fighting, always be war.

Harry believed that there was inherent nobility in fighting to protect the innocent, even if it meant that sometimes he was forced to kill. Some people would call him a murderer; others would simply say he was doing what was necessary. Still others would call him weak for defending the helpless, when he could have preyed upon them instead.

Sirius made his choice, and so had Harry. No sooner had he come to this realization than he felt a weight so immense, that he couldn't imagine how he had ever stood beneath it, lift from his shoulders. He felt lighter than he had in… forever.

In that moment, the prophecy no longer frightened him in the slightest. The air was sweet and refreshing in his lungs, the gentle breeze caressed his face, the sun kissed his skin, and Harry couldn't help but smile. He felt poetic, felt at peace, and wanted to enjoy every little moment he was gifted with, savoring each last bit.

After a few hours--or maybe it was just a few minutes--of simply enjoying life and the nice weather, he took in his surroundings, hoping for a clue as to where he was. He saw young children with their parents on the beach, and a few teens his own age flirting with each other as they frolicked in the surf. Life was all around him, and Harry felt his resolve harden further. Prophecy or no, he would fight this war. Not just because he wanted to, not for glory or power either, but because he knew it was the right thing to do.

He would fight because the Death Eaters had to be brought to justice, no matter the cost. It was his duty and his burden, but it was also his vengeance. He smiled down at the people on the beach. He had no illusions; it was going to be a rough few years, filled with pain, misery, loss, and heartache, but there was still good out there. There was still love and friendship, integrity, honor, and family, and he would see to it that those things carried on to the next generation. There were still things worth fighting for, and he wasn't the only one on his team. He had allies and friends.

Turning away from the panoramic view, Harry wondered how long he had been away from number four, and how he was going to get back. He also wondered with an uncomfortable twinge of conscience if the Order was out looking for him.

He didn't have to wait long for an answer. "So, Harry, finished soul-searching?" asked a kind voice that Harry knew very well, "It appears you have come to the correct conclusion, or at least one that agrees with you."

Harry turned to see Professor Dumbledore, and he couldn't help but smile. Dumbledore was dressed in the strangest clothing Harry had ever seen. Garish orange, blue, and red swim trunks under a vibrant multi-colored Hawaiian shirt adorned with stars and what looked suspiciously like dancing cats. Wide sunglasses and a rather floppy straw hat completed the look. It was so… ridiculous... so… Dumbledore. It looked absurd, and yet the old man pulled it off with his easy manner and grandfatherly smile. Harry had to fight with himself not to laugh as he answered his headmaster.

"Yes sir, I have," he replied confidently, his smile fading. "I'll still miss Sirius, and I am still angry with Bellatrix, Snape, Voldemort, and you. Not to mention the Ministry and the Death Eaters. I might even hate a few of them. But…"

"But you are no longer letting it control your life?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"Yes sir, exactly," Harry replied, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Professor, I'm sorry about your office..." he shrugged slightly, "well, sort of... I kinda meant it at the time." Harry trailed off his weak, almost apology, and Dumbledore laughed.

"Not to worry, Harry, not to worry. As I said at the time, I have far too many possessions cluttering my office and thoroughly distracting my visitors!"

Harry nodded as though he understood completely and then asked: "Sir? I was wondering, how did you get here, and do you know where here is?"

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore answered jovially, a smile on his face as he reached into his shirt pocket. "I have been following you since you left Privet Drive three days ago. You have taken quite a stroll, but luckily I do indeed know where we are."

Harry stared for a moment as his headmaster placed a lemon drop in his mouth. "You followed me for three days?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course. You needed time to think and find your own path, and have more than earned the right to do so. In fact there are many cultures that consider a walkabout a vital part of becoming a man. It's a quest to find oneself. Very useful, and several sayings have arisen after this practice. 'The Man in the Mirror' and 'The whispering of the wind.' There are many more I am sure," Dumbledore said.

"But now that that task has been accomplished, I take it you wish to return home?" Dumbledore asked, calm as you please. As though it were an everyday occurrence for the most powerful wizard in the world to follow a wandering student without food or sleep for three days.

Harry frowned, realizing he was rather hungry and more than a little thirsty. Mrs. Weasley was going to try stuffing him with fifth helpings when next she saw him. "Yes, sir. I would like to go home, but you won't let me, so the Dursleys will do."

Dumbledore looked intently at Harry, then nodded. "I truly have underestimated how much you and your… relations detest each other," Dumbledore sighed. "You need only spend two more days at their home, and then you may leave to a place of your choosing."

"My choosing?" Harry asked, staring at his headmaster, not sure he had heard correctly. "You mean wherever I want to go? I could go stay at Hogwarts, or Sirius', if I wanted?"

Dumbledore nodded his head in affirmation. "I will allow it if you so desire, Harry. I dare say that you are old enough to start making your own decisions about where you sleep. Also, Sirius' will-reading is to be held in two days time, on Saturday morning at ten o'clock," Dumbledore said in a quiet voice. "You are the main beneficiary, Harry. Do you wish to attend?"

Harry turned to look at him intently. His first impulse was to say no, but then he thought about the decision he had just come to and what the will was for. After a few moments thought, Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. Where is the reading?"

Dumbledore held out a black envelope covered in ornate gold script. "It is to be held at Derwent & Shimplties, in Manegore Valley." At Harry's confused look, Dumbledore smiled again. "No need to bother with directions. I will escort you to the premises."

Harry nodded his thanks, and Dumbledore offered his arm. "I believe it is time you became accustomed to another form of wizard travel Harry… Apparition! Hold on tight!"

Before Harry could question Dumbledore, they disappeared without a trace.

An hour later, an exhausted and slightly queasy Harry Potter was standing in front of a small, bustling restaurant on the east side of London. Dumbledore had Apparated him all over the country so that he could get used to the sensation. It was horrible at first, but after about the twentieth Apparition, by which time he had vomited twice, Harry had finally gotten the hang of it. Now it hardly fazed him at all. Somewhere along the line, probably while Harry had been worshiping the porcelain god, Dumbledore had traded in his beachwear for more normal attire. "I didn't think I would ever get used to that, Professor!" Harry said as they walked through the door.

Dumbledore's response was a quiet chuckle. "Indeed, it does take some getting used to, but it is a most convenient way to travel for those who master it." Dumbledore went quiet as a waitress approached them.

"Table for two?" the pretty brunette asked kindly.

"Yes, please," Dumbledore responded, following the waitress. Once they were seated and drinks had been ordered, the waitress left them with their menus.

For a few moments Harry scanned the menu though as hungry as he was he was hardly paying attention. Finally he couldn't take it anymore and asked, "Professor, what's—" Harry looked around, and leaned closer, whispering. "What's Voldemort been up to?"

Slowly Dumbledore set down his own menu, looking Harry carefully in the eye. He sighed, taking a drink of his wine, and then answered. "Not tonight, Harry. I will tell you, very soon, but not now. Let us instead enjoy our moment of peace and our soon-to-be dinner. We can discuss the war and more unpleasant topics later."

Harry opened his mouth to insist, thought better of it, and closed his mouth again.

"You are maturing, Harry," Dumbledore said in an approving voice. "Learning to pick and choose your battles."

"I wasn't trying—" Harry started to say, but Dumbledore gently interrupted.

"Only a figure of speech, Harry. You have not offended me in any way. Are you looking forward to you OWL results?" Dumbledore inquired politely, now scanning his menu again.

Harry picked up his own menu, before answering. "Not really, Sir, haven't been thinking about OWLs too much. They just don't seem as important as they used to—not that I was ever too fussed with them. Though I suppose I should be, if I want to be an Auror, I doubt I will have the grades, two of my exams were interrupted though I was almost finished in both, and Potions…"

Dumbledore simply chuckled. "I have no doubt you have done well and achieved the needed results to continue in your venture as an Auror. You are your parents' son, and what's more, Potions is not a requirement for an Auror—though it is strongly recommended."

Harry was about to ask what his parents had to do with his OWL results, but their waitress arrived, "Ready to order, gentlemen?"

"Yes, I think so. Unless… are you ready to order, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, turning to him.

Harry felt awkward suddenly, "Um, well, Sir, what do you recommend?" He asked nervously.

"Your father and Sirius usually ordered the prime rib, but your mother preferred the vegetarian platter."

"My parents used to eat here? My mum was a vegetarian?!" Harry asked in astonishment, eager to learn more.

"Oh yes, it was they who first brought me here. No, your mother was not a vegetarian, but you don't need to be in order to enjoy fruits and vegetables. I try to return at least a few times a year to reminisce on happier times, and of course to sample the rack of lamb."

Turning to the waitress whom Harry realized was waiting a little impatiently Harry placed his order. "I'd like the vegetarian platter and the prime rib please." The waitress gave him a funny look for ordering two meals for himself, then glanced at him again and decided that he probably needed all the food he could get. She turned to Dumbledore, who didn't seem surprised in the slightest that Harry had ordered two meals. In fact, he was smiling as though he expected it, and Harry thought he probably had.

When Dumbledore had finished ordering his rack of lamb with some wonky sauce that Harry couldn't pronounce the name of, he turned back to Harry. "Now, as I was saying. You are a greater wizard than I think you give yourself credit for, as are most of my students... save the witches." He frowned curiously. "I suppose that they are better witches than they give themselves credit for… then again they may be more wizards than witches, which could explain..." At this, Dumbledore broke into a fit of half-giggles, half-chuckles that was just plain weird. Harry stared at him uncomfortably.

"Er... right, Professor," Harry said. "But the fact is I'm terrible at Divination, I fell asleep in History, and my Astronomy test was interrupted. I was almost finished with them both, but still. And if I pass Potions, it'll be a miracle."

Dumbledore was shaking his head. "Your mother and father once had all the same concerns that you do now and they scored fantastically. As the saying goes, I doubt the apple has fallen very far from the tree."

"Sir?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"Well Harry," Dumbledore said, leaning back in his chair. "Your mother was rather spectacular in both Potions and Charms. Your father had an amazing gift when it came to Transfiguration, and if memory serves, he also scored highest in Ancient Runes."

"But sir, that was them, not me," Harry said, feeling a little bewildered. What did his parent's scores have to do with him at all?

"Indeed Harry, but witches and wizards do tend to pass their abilities along to their children. I think you would find that if you put a little more effort into your studies you would improve a great deal."

"But I do study!" Harry protested, and then backed down from Dumbledore's arched eyebrow.

"Harry, you hardly study at all." Dumbledore said kindly. "Completely understandable, as your learning technique is by doing and experience and gut feelings. But research will not kill you. You simply need to make it fun or interesting. Think of what use you could put the information to."

Harry looked at his headmaster, with a look that said quite plainly he didn't want to argue with him, but thought he was off his rocker at making study fun. "Sir, how do you make history fun? What use is there in it?"

"How did you learn of the Chamber of Secrets? Knowledge is power, Harry, and eventually like all men, good or evil, you will desire a level of power. Either to enslave or to protect."

Dumbledore then leaned back in his seat, giving Harry a moment to run his thoughts around his head a bit. And Harry took the opportunity to do so. The more he thought the more he realized it was true how would he fight in a war if he didn't know how. His lack of knowledge had nearly killed him at the Ministry. Nearly killed his friends. Don't think that!

Which reminded him. "Sir, how is everyone? The Weasleys, Remus, Hermione, Tonks…?"

Dumbledore again focused his full attention on Harry and smiled. "They are doing very well. Nymphadora is a little miffed with herself, as she feels that she let her aunt get away and didn't fight to the best of her abilities. She is on light duty and by the looks of things will be one of the Aurors on guard duty at Hogwarts. You will be able to speak with her if you spend time outside at your aunt's tomorrow, and I will tell you the rest later." Dumbledore looked to the table and sighed as though trying to forget something.

"As to everyone else, they are doing quite well. Remus is coping … well that is not for me to tell you, I think. Hmm... no, not my place. And from what I can gather your friends are physically in good health. You did train them remarkably well!"

Harry frowned. A bit of inner turmoil had risen in response to Dumbledore's words. What was wrong with Remus? Was he drinking himself into a stupor because of Sirius? Because of me? he thought. And what did it mean that his friends were physically well? Did it mean that they were angry with him? He didn't know. And why had Dumbledore mentioned so few from the Order? He desperately wanted to ask about the war again, but he had agreed not to.

Sighing, Harry listened to the faint music being played through the speakers of the restaurant. He was just about to break the now comfortable silence, when their waitress arrived.

"Here you are, sirs." The large platter of food looked and smelled delicious. Laying it on the table, she wished them an enjoyable meal and left to tend to her other patrons.

"Well, Harry, let us sink our teeth into this excellent meal!" Dumbledore said with childlike enthusiasm.

Several hours later, Harry and Dumbledore arrived back in the front lawn of number four Privet Drive. It was late, and the house was dark. It had been a very interesting evening. Dumbledore was an unusual dinning companion. The conversation with him had been stimulating, confusing, enjoyable, and downright weird. The food was excellent. They had spoken of many things: magic, school, his parents, as well as Sirius. Dumbledore had regaled Harry with many tales of the young prankster. Harry had laughed so hard at some of the things Dumbledore told him that he could hardly believe it, and at other moments he almost thought he would break down and cry. Mostly, it left him feeling nostalgic, and on a few occasions could imagine himself right there alongside his father and his best friends.

Harry tried to bring up Voldemort again, but Dumbledore said they would discuss it later, and that now was the time to enjoy their meal and each other's company. After remembering his decision on the beach, Harry had agreed.

"There you are, Harry. Home safe and sound," Dumbledore said, releasing his arm.

"Yes, sir. Thank you." Harry hesitated, wanting to ask about something, which had been bothering him a little. "Sir, why did it take so much time for me to get the feel for Apparition?"

Dumbledore looked down at Harry and smiled. "Most forms of magical transportation take a little getting used to. Didn't you have trouble with the Floo the first time?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. It's still a bit tricky."

"Then you haven't practiced enough," Dumbledore said sagely. "Or are afraid of it."

Harry frowned in disbelief and Dumbledore replied as if knowing his thoughts. "Oh yes, Harry, anxiety of a magical form of travel can make the trip much worse. You see, you begin to dread it, and then you don't focus on what you're doing. You instead focus on what you dislike about the travel. Your friend Hermione is a perfect example of this. She is terrified of flying on a broom, despite the fact she knows that others do it all the time. It is not that she has a fear of heights; we know this because she has often traveled on Muggle aircraft without any problems. Yet she still fears flying on a broom or magical creature."

Harry stared at Dumbledore in shock. The more he thought about what he had said, the more sense it made. In fact, he remembered thinking something very similar during his very first flying lesson.

"In fact, Harry," Dumbledore said, "the same affect can also take place with students and particular branches of magic. The student dislikes the teacher, and that dislike is transferred to the subject. For example, your own difficulties with Potions and Occlumency."

"You're really on me about my studies, aren't you, sir?" Harry said.

"Indeed, Harry. I believe you need to be prepared for whatever comes in this war. Especially if you are to accompany me on a few small quests I have in mind." Dumbledore then rummaged through his robes and removed a very old, brown-leather tome, holding it out to Harry. "This is for your Occlumency lessons. It is one of the greatest books for information on the mind arts, and covers such topics as Meditation, Centering, Occlumency, Hypnotism, Telepathy, Legilimency, and Glamoury."

Harry stared at the book with great interest before speaking, "Sir, I don't have…"

"No, Harry," Dumbledore interrupted. "I will be teaching you. I think we must finally face the fact that you and Professor Snape are simply not capable of working together peacefully. Read over the parts on Meditation and Occlumency, and then practice clearing your mind each night before bed. I will speak with you again after Sirius's will reading."

"Yes, sir. What mission—"

"After the will reading," Dumbledore interrupted.

"Yes, sir," Harry sighed. "Er... Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"What is Glamoury?"

"It's how I make myself invisible," Dumbledore said as he faded from view with a smile. "Of course, that's only one of its uses." Harry stared for a few moments at the empty spot where Dumbledore had been, then looked at the book he held with an excitement he hadn't felt since his first year. Harry tore through the Dursleys' house silently as possible, going up to his room to read.

The next day Harry slept late, most likely due to the fact that he had been up for three days straight, then continued to read well into the early hours of the morning. He had read the first chapters about Meditation and Occlumency and was able to quiet his mind before falling to sleep. Of course, that probably had little to do with his skill, as he had been very tired.

He also learned that quieting the mind was not the only defenses an Occlumens was capable of. There were several, some harder to achieve than others. Individuals would have the best result with a technique that suited them best. Whether it be clearing their mind and creating a "shield" of blank space to completely hide their thoughts. Or to clutter their mind with so much emotion that an attacker simply could not enter due to the "violence" of the target's mind, or several other techniques.

After waking up and moving downstairs, Harry had been treated to his aunt shrieking at him about respect and courtesy. Then after a very light lunch/breakfast he was told to weed the garden.

Harry considered refusing, but figured he had nothing else to do, given that he had no homework and wasn't even sure which classes he would be taking now that he was done with O.W.L.s. Besides, he might talk with one of the Order. He made sure to let his aunt know that he was only doing her silly chores because he didn't have anything else to do, and that he could always write to his friends if she wanted to make an issue of it.

Leaving his aunt with a fearful look on her face, Harry doffed his shirt on the way outside and set about getting his hands dirty in the garden. The sun was blazing and it was incredibly hot outside. Several of the neighbors shot him ugly looks. Harry just ignored him. A few of the girls had flirted with him, though Harry doubted they were serious.

As he worked, Harry wondered what Voldemort was up to, and who, if anyone, was guarding him now. It couldn't be Mundungus Fletcher or he would be able smell the whiskey and tobacco stench that followed the man everywhere.

He should probably begin taking the Daily Prophet again. It didn't really matter, but it would be nice to know what was going on. Also he needed to read his friends' letters. He had gotten at least one from most of them, and Hermione and Ron had written twice.

Now that he thought about it, Harry was a little surprised at his lack of enthusiasm for his friend's letters. Of course, he had been distracted with that the book Dumbledore had given him and was rather tired, so that soothed his conscience somewhat. Harry wiped his brow and turned his full attention back to the garden. The sun was blazing on his back and he wondered if he might not be burning.

After another ten minutes of pruning and weeding, Harry stood up and stretched, then heard a small rustle to his left. Kneeling back down, hand on his wand, Harry whispered, "Who's there?"

There was a gentle self-deprecating snort, and then Nymphadora Tonks lifted the hood of her invisibility cloak. "It's just me," she whispered, quickly changing her hair color to prove her words. "You can take your hand off your wand. …it's the wrong one anyway."

Though she was again covered by the cloak, Harry could hear amusement in Tonks' voice at her innuendo. Harry tried to make a smart comment, but couldn't finish. "Yeah, I guess it was," he smiled.

Tonks sniggered a bit. "How are you holding up, Harry? I heard you went on quite the walkabout. Ended up somewhere along the sea."

Harry snorted and dropped his pruning shears. "Yeah. Needed to clear my head. I'm sorry about Sirius, and that you got hurt trying to rescue us," he said sincerely.

"Hey," Tonks whispered kindly, "no problem. I forgave you before it even happened, and I'm sorry too. I should have fought better. If I had taken my aunt out, then Sirius wouldn't have fallen, but I let my fear and nervousness affect me. I'm the one who should apologize." Tonks sighed. "Sirius shouldn't have let his guard down, either."

Harry suddenly realized Tonks was hugging him and gently rubbing his shoulders from behind. A mental image flashed into his head and he blushed. But he also must have stiffened because Tonks laughed again and whispered, "I can't imagine what your thinking!" Then she gave his bum a pat.

Harry didn't know what to do or say, so continued to weed the garden while feeling a little out of his league. He was certain Tonks was only teasing him. "You know, a thank you would have been in order," Tonks said mischievously, causing Harry to blush harder than he had been. "You're cute when you blush, Harry... well, even more cute than usual."

"Stop teasing me, Tonks!" Harry begged, "It's embarrassing and I know you aren't serious."

Tonks laughed. "Sorry, didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, but I meant what I said. You are cute. If you were a bit older…" Tonks trailed off. Harry forgot to weed the garden as a mental image of a naked Tonks riding him filled his mind, her large breasts bouncing as she moaned out his name…

Harry shifted uncomfortably, and Tonks laughed. "Now who's teasing whom? You should go inside and take care of that. My shift's almost over. I'll talk to you at Sirius's will-reading."

Harry looked at where he suspected Tonks was. "Yeah, alright. Later, Tonks."

"You can call me Nymphadora."

"I thought you hated your first name."

"I don't. I only hate the trouble it gave me, and still sometimes does give me as a female Auror. I love my name. It's rather fitting considering how much of a tease I am, and you're one of my friends, so… you can use my first name if you want."

"Er, yeah. See you… Nymphadora."

"You wish you did." There was a small pop, followed by a much closer one, and Harry knew that his guard had changed. Tonks …Nymphadora had gotten the last word.

Sighing, Harry realized he had been working for several more hours than he intended to. Picking up the tools, he returned them to their proper place.

The thought of going back to his stifling room wasn't very appealing at all, but he did want to write his friends and take out that subscription to the Prophet. He wondered if Voldemort had attacked anyone yet. Part of him hoped he had, if only to get it all out in the open; the other half prayed he had not. After all, the dying would begin soon enough–no need to rush.

With a bit of frustration Harry realized he had a perfect source of information on Order business and hadn't even tried to tap it. Well not in the way, he should have anyway. He had been too busy being hormonal.

Taking off his shoes, Harry stepped inside the house and headed towards the kitchen for some water. It was just to damn hot for anything else. Aunt Petunia scowled at him the whole time, but Harry ignored her.

"I'll be in my room, writing my friends," he said casually, trying not to smile at the reaction he was likely to get. He wasn't disappointed.

"Y-your friends, Harry? You're not ang– you know that you didn't have to weed the garden, right? And if you really need to take a walk around town to clear your mind... well, that's fine, isn't it?" She gulped nervously, and then continued in what she must have felt was a comforting, hopeful voice. "We're having dinner at six. I've a roast in the oven... you like that, don't you?"

Harry found it difficult not to laugh and ruin the moment. She must have thought he was Dudley, trying to bribe him with food. Well, if she wanted to cook for him, he'd gladly accept it, mainly because his stomach was pressing up against his backbone. And maybe, just maybe, she was worried enough to keep Uncle Vernon on a tight leash for at least one night.

Petunia with Vernon on a leash – Now there was a disturbing mental image.

"I haven't had a chance to write them in a few days," Harry said, ignoring Aunt Petunia's question. Let her sweat it out for once. "You know, just checking up. Seeing how their summers are going. See you at dinner!" With that, Harry headed to his room with a smile on his face.

Flopping down on his lumpy bed, Harry reached over to his desk and picked up the pile of letters. Ron's lay on top.

Hey mate,

I know it's only the first and not much has really happened, but I wanted to write and see how you are... you know? Mum's pleased we're home, of course, even if she has been a little jumpy. Won't let us out of the house! The only interesting thing here is that we're supposed to be having new wards put up soon! Mum really wishes you were here, and so do I. Don't let the muggles get you down! I'm sure you'll be out of there soon.

Ron

Harry smiled at Ron's letter. It was a good thing he hadn't read it when it first arrived, back when he had been feeling so emotional. He likely would have mistaken kindness and concern for pity and manipulation, or even looked at the short note as an insult to him and Sirius.

Luna's was next in the stack – it was a rather thick envelope, written in multicolored ink. Curious, Harry shook open the envelope. Out fell a jar filled with what looked like glittering fumes, along with a letter and an orange rubber ball.

Wrinkling his brow as he looked at the jar of glittering… whatever, Harry set it down and turned to the letter.

Dear Harry,

I was out in the back garden today and I found a nest of Scriptilumps! They're ever so helpful to those in mourning, and I know you've been taking the loss of your godfather rather badly, so I caught them in a jar for you and sent them along with your letter. When you open the jar, just breathe in deeply. You'll feel much better, I promise.

I also wanted to thank you for your kindness at the end of term. No one has ever offered to help me find my things before. Thank you!

Do you think that you will have a good summer? I certainly plan to. I really think that my father and I might be able to catch a Slibbering Hatcherrack! They're quite rare, and their blood is ever so useful for brewing potions. Not that I would ever hurt one like that, but just think if we could find a male and female and breed them!

Luna

P.S. the ball is for stress. Just throw it against the walls and such.

Harry was laughing so hard when he finished Luna's letter, he couldn't help it. The girl was just so... out there. Her letter was no different, ending just as abruptly as it started.

Not that he didn't appreciate Luna's gift, but he did wonder if he should chance breathing in the fumes from the jar. It was a nice gesture on her part, but he had already made his peace with Sirius's passing and the stuff sounded just a bit wonky to him.

Putting the shimmering… Scriptilumps off until later, Harry took the next letter, which happened to be Neville's.

Hey Harry,

I know I just saw you, but I just got home and Gran was so proud of me! She was actually crying! She told me how good I did, and how I had upheld the family honor by taking on those Death Eaters. She's planning to buy me a new wand, and said not to worry about Dad's since it met a noble ending in combat. Can you believe it, Harry, my family are so proud of me! It's all thanks to you and the D.A.

You should hear Gran going on about you! "Harry Potter! That boy has more backbone than the entire ministry put together! A Gryffindor through and through! The Potters and Longbottoms have long been allies, so you stick with him, Neville! Make your parents real proud, you will!"

Honestly, Harry, I wish you could've seen! Maybe I'll see you over the holidays?

Thanks for everything!

Neville

Harry smiled a slightly bitter smile while reading Neville's letter. He was pleased that Neville was receiving the recognition he deserved, and was quite proud of him, but he really thought his grandmother shouldn't go so hard on him.

Deciding to take the letter as it was intended, Harry set it alongside the others and opened Hermione's first missive.

Dear Harry,

How are you? Oh, that was a stupid question! You just lost Sirius and you're with those horrible muggles! I'm sorry, I don't mean to upset you, but you should really try talking about it... Sirius falling, I mean. I know you don't want to hear that, but it's the truth, Harry. It's important, because you shouldn't blame yourself for what happened. None of this is your fault, and Sirius wouldn't want you to keep thinking that it was.

I told my mother and father all about what happened. They were so scared that they talked about not letting me to come back to Hogwarts! You can guess what I thought of that! It took some time, but I managed to convince them that it was best I return to school in September. They've been watching the news for information about missing people ever since. Isn't this awful, Harry? I never imagined living through a war, much less fighting in one!

I don't suppose anyone grows up really expecting to see a war. But I once read a saying: "Freedom isn't free. It has to be bought and paid for with blood." That scares me so much! What if we lose our friends? I can't bear the thought! That's one of the reasons I am writing to you, Harry. Please don't shut your friends out! Our friends... all of them... are more important now than ever! We need each other, Harry! Please write back to me. I'm going to write Ron just as soon as I finish this letter.

I love you, Harry. I want you to know that. You're my best friend. I know I never told you this, but you were my very first real friend. And don't be embarrassed, but ever since you and Ron saved me, you've also been my hero. I can't describe what it felt like when the two of you brought me into your world. It was the best moment of my life, Harry, and it's one of the memories I use to make my Patronus.

Please write back soon,

Love Always, Hermione

Harry had to blink rapidly to keep himself from tearing up. He could feel Hermione's concern and love in this letter almost as if she had magically imbued the paper with her feelings. Knowing Hermione, she may have, if it were possible. "Hermione, you're the best friend a wizard could have!" Harry whispered.

Again he was grateful that he hadn't read the letters until after he had sorted his feelings out. He probably would have snapped at her, and she didn't deserve that. Hermione was often abrasive, but her heart was in the right place, even if she didn't have the first clue about house-elves!

Harry smiled at the thought. He wondered if she would ever be able to wrap her mind around the fact that house-elves needed enslavement to a certain extent. That their magic was derived from being bound to a wizard or magical building. Still, that didn't mean they shouldn't have rights. No creature deserved to be beaten and abused.

Except for maybe one particular Kreacher.

Shaking off those thoughts, Harry picked up Ron's second letter. He wanted to put off opening Hermione's next letter until he had calmed down some, he didn't need to become an emotional wreck again, he had just gotten himself under control after all.

Hey Mate,

You'll never guess what's been happening! Bill's getting married to Fleur Delacour! Can you believe that? Mum's not too pleased. Neither is Ginny now that I think about it. Keeps calling her Phlegm instead of Fleur! Bill and Fleur are very excited though. They won't stop talking about the wedding. (Fleur's staying here at the Burrow.) She says that you're invited to the wedding and she can't wait to see you again.

She also says that her little sister Gabrielle is very excited to see you again. I think you might have found another little fangirl, mate! Just kidding! Then again, I think she really does like you.

Has Hermione written you as well? She wrote me all emotional girl stuff. Couldn't make sense of half of it. Yeah, You-Know-Who is back and all, but really! That doesn't make me want to get chummy with the Slytherins. I can't believe her parents wanted to stop her from going back to school! I bet Hermione went nutters.

Speaking of that, have you read the Prophet lately? It's got mum in a tizzy. There was a mass Muggle killing yesterday; the Death Eaters blew up a bridge. A witch from the Order bought it as well, poor woman. Mum was crying her eyes out; she knew her. So did you. Emmeline Vance, she was one of your guards last summer.

Mum and Dad won't say much, but Bill told me it was horrible. Dad might have a new position in the Ministry, but it all depends. See, and you'll like this, Fudge is facing a vote of no confidence. The Prophet is screaming for his removal. Bet that makes you happy! Dad says that if Fudge is sacked it'll either be Madam Bones or some Auror top notch, Rufus Scrimgeour.

Ginny says she doesn't care so long as it's not Umbridge, but Dad thinks Bones would be better. It would be kinda weird going to school with the Minister of Magic's niece, wouldn't it?

Oh, mate! I can't believe I almost didn't tell you! The Cannons won their game against Pride of Portree! 350 to 180, and the Prides are no pushover either! I think this is the year the Cannons come back! My brothers and Ginny keep saying that I'm full of it, and I can't wait to rub it in their faces. Well, not Charlie, he's a Cannons fan like us, he just doesn't let on much.

We need to get tickets to a Cannons match! They're going to take the League this year, I just know it! Three new chasers! They bought Melinda McKnight from the Ballycastle Bats; she was a reserve on Ireland's Cup team, and you'll never guess who else... Angelina and Alicia! I never knew they backed the Cannons! But I'll tell you what, they both look good in orange! Fred and George think so to, but they still keep calling them traitors. They're all about the Wasps, just like Ginny. Yuck!

Oliver's going to be sweating bubotuber pus this year! He just got on as a starter for Puddlemere, and now he's going to have to face two of his own chasers!

I know the girls got on as starters because they're good, but it doesn't hurt that no one with real talent has wanted to join the team in a while…

Anyway, there's also a new seeker: Daniel Sparsen. He's nineteen and he was home schooled by his mother, but he's fantastic; just as good a flyer as you are! I'm telling you, mate, the Cannons have it in the bag this year! They even changed their motto back to: 'We shall conquer'.

Some rich Russian warlock bought the team. That's how they were able to afford four new players. He says he wants to bring it back to its former glory. It's perfect!

Wow, this is a really long letter! I might have even more soon as it seems like so much is happening lately.

Ron

Harry was slightly shocked. This was a huge letter coming from Ron. And Bill was getting married! That was… well, that was just great! Good for him! And Fleur! The Death Eater attack… that made his blood boil. He also couldn't help but wonder who'd done the deed. It couldn't have been Voldemort, or he would have felt his scar ache. Or maybe it had been the Dark Lord and he had been too preoccupied to notice?

The line about Hermione was typical Ron, but the last bit had caught him by surprise. The Cannons were making a comeback in the League with two of his former teammates! That was just unreal. They had only been gone from Hogwarts a day or two and they were already playing as starters! They must have made contact with a scout before the end of school.

Shaking his head in bemusement, Harry picked up Ginny's letter.

Dear Harry,

I know we haven't always been close, mostly because of my crush on you (it's so embarrassing to admit that, by the way), but I want to let you know how much I would like for us to be better friends. Sure, we've played Quidditch at the Burrow, and you're always polite to me when we run into each other at school, but I would really like to get to know you the way Ron and Hermione know you.

I promise I won't go all stupid fangirl on you. I've learned to control my blushing much better, although you wouldn't be able to tell at the moment. Anyway, I know you must be feeling horrible about what happened to Sirius. I know I am. I liked him a lot and I can't stop thinking about how unfair it was to lose him like that. I just wanted to let you know that if you need to talk, or even just rant a little, that I'm here for you and I promise to keep anything you tell me just between us.

Ginny

Harry set Ginny's letter down. He was touched by what she wrote. It was honest and straightforward. She wasn't pushing, she had simply made a request and offered to help him in return. He couldn't help but smile. He really did have friends and allies. It was one thing to say it, but it was something else entirely to see it.

Turning to his last letter, Hermione's second, he broke open the seal and began reading.

Dear Harry,

I know it's only been two days since my last letter, but I just had to write you again. So much seems to be happening all at once. Did you know Ron's brother Bill is getting married to Fleur? Ginny's not too pleased about it, but Ron doesn't seem to care either way.

I think Ron is being thick again. He didn't take my letter about friendship seriously at all. Then again, you haven't even replied! You're not ignoring me, are you, Harry? Please don't!

Ron was also banging on about the Chudley Cannons. Honestly! I mean, I like Quidditch well enough, and I'm very happy for Angelina and Alicia, but there are more important things going on than worrying about who's going to win the League this year! Of course, knowing you, you might think differently. "Smile" I hope that made you smile, Harry. You're a fan of the Cannons aren't you? I always hear you agree with Ron when he asks, or are you just humoring him? Do you even have a favorite Quidditch team – other than Gryffindor?

Can you believe the Brockdale Bridge was attacked? Nineteen dead and another twenty-three wounded. The Prime Minister is getting a lot of heat over it. I think it's horrible that the Ministry of Magic didn't do a better job explaining why it collapsed. It's not the Prime Minister's fault the Death Eaters destroyed it, but he's catching the blame because they can't explain why it fell into the river.

I heard Emmeline Vance was killed. The Daily Prophet and the Muggle news both say it was quite horrible. My parents are so nervous knowing that muggles and muggleborns are major targets in the war. I keep telling them not to worry, that we do have an Order guard, and that I know how to look after myself, thanks to you, but I don't think it helps much.

Do you think the Ministry will authorize the Aurors to use the Unforgivables? I mean, Minister Fudge is likely to be sacked, and Ron said that it was down to Madam Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour. Personally, I agree with Mr. Weasley that Madam Bones is a much better choice. Scrimgeour would try hard to keep things from getting out of hand, but would also likely take a more propagandist approach to things. From what I've read, Madam Bones is a little more straightforward.

We're not going on vacation this year. At least, not a large one like we usually do. Everything seems so uncertain. Especially O.W.L. results. "smile" I know, I know... 'Hermione, you study too much!' I can't help it. It's part of who I am, and you know you love me for it... don't you? "Looking very cute"

Seriously, I am a little nervous about our results. You must be at least a little nervous as well, right? You must be. After all, if you want to become an Auror you'll need really good grades.

What would you do if you were an Auror and you had to use an Unforgivable? Could you use the Cruciatus Curse on someone to get information? Could you cast the Avada Kedavra on a Death Eater? I keep wondering if I could, if I had to. I've been wondering about the dark arts really. I know I shouldn't but…

I know McGonagall was helping you with your Transfiguration, so you should be fine there. I don't know why I didn't ask for personal tutoring! I should have. I bet I failed! Oh, Magic!

Harry, what am I going to do? Transfiguration is so important! I'll nev

Sorry about that, Harry. My mum made me step away from the letter until I calmed down. I was getting a little, um, distressed. Mum says I will have done fine on the test, and not to worry so much.

I can almost hear you laughing. Ron too, the great prat. "smile" Do you think he'll be an uncle in a year or so? I know there's nothing wrong with Bill being married to Fleur, it's just that I bet I know what he's thinking! "giggle"

And yes, I am flirting a little bit. "blush" With everything that's going on I'm starting to realize just how precious life is and how many opportunities could be lost if we don't at least try to act on them. I know it sounds a bit morbid, but we really don't know if we'll live to see tomorrow.

Harry, please write back to me. And remember what I said in my first letter: Now is when we need our friends the most.

Don't forget to write Dumbledore if your scar hurts or if you have any visions. With any luck you'll be able to leave your relatives soon and we can see each other again. Until then, please stay safe.

Love, Hermione

Harry felt speechless. Hermione had said some deep stuff before, but some of the things she had asked, especially about being an Auror... normally she would have asked that kind of question in person. It must really be bothering her. Could he use Avada Kedavra to kill a Death Eater? Probably. Could he torture information from someone with the Cruciatus Curse? The thought of Bellatrix taunting him in the ministry filled his mind and he wasn't quite so sure.

Could he ever want to hurt someone so much that he began to enjoy inflicting pain? He didn't think so, but who knew? Thinking about the Ministry was depressing, so Harry shifted back to the other part of the letter.

What was with Hermione wondering about the Dark Arts? Not that her wanting to know anything was new but the Dark Arts? Then again, he had wondered about them from time to time.

Was she serious about this flirting business? He had never really thought about Hermione like that before. Still, she was very attractive. What did flirting mean anyway? Was she trying to see if they could be more than friends? Did he even want to be more than friends? What would Ron say? Would he be jealous like at the Yule Ball, or did he even like Hermione that way? Did it matter?

Harry didn't know, but he found the idea of being Hermione's boyfriend a little appealing. Of course, Harry found a few girls appealing girls in general were appealing. Hadn't he been fantasizing about Nymphadora, not half an hour ago?

The whole breakdown over homework seemed perfectly normal for Hermione, and he had no problem whatsoever picturing Mrs. Granger prying her distraught daughter away from the letter to get her calmed down.

Figuring he had a bit of writing to do, especially since he needed to assure Hermione that he wasn't ignoring her, Harry got out his quill, ink, and parchment and started his letters. Maybe he could find out what she meant by "flirting a little bit."

Three hours latter, Harry finished his carefully worded letters. He hadn't wanted to tell them anything unintentionally. He also wrote one to The Daily Prophet, taking out a subscription.

Standing up with his letters, Harry walked over to Hedwig's cage. "Hey, girl," Harry said, stroking Hedwig's feathers. She gave a hoot of acknowledgment. "Feel up to a few deliveries?"

Another hoot was his answer, and Harry quickly tied his letters to Hedwig's leg. "Take these to Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna. Then go to the Daily Prophet office in Diagon Ally." She hooted again and nibbled his finger affectionately, then took off out the open bedroom window. Harry watched her soar out of view and flopped down onto his bed.

Glancing at Luna's gifts, Harry picked up the ball and the jar of Scriptilumps. Deciding to give them a try, he opened the jar and inhaled deeply. It was a very pungent smell, sweet and spicy at the same time. Suddenly, everything began to go fuzzy.

The room began to spin and he felt a trickle of fear run through him. What if a Death Eater had written him a fake letter and sent him poison? He felt every muscle in his body begin to relax and the walls started changing colors before his eyes. Harry turned his head left and right, trying to make sense of things.

He held out the hand with the rubber ball in it and was surprised to see it transform into a Golden Snidget and fly away from him into the far wall. He was trying to figure out where it had gone when it zoomed back towards him and he caught it.

Harry smiled. He rather liked this.

Several hours later, Harry regained enough of his senses to realize the Scriptilumps were hallucinogenic. Stepping into the bathroom, he washed his face with cool water and stared at his own reflection. Slowly over the next hour his mind recovered enough for him to join the Dursleys for dinner, even though being around his relations was enough to make him want to take another whiff of Luna's present. Although he did have fun watching Aunt Petunia stop Uncle Vernon from shouting at him and baiting the fat man after each time it happened.

After dinner, Harry sat up at his desk, reading the book Dumbledore had given him. It wasn't long though before he fell asleep with his face buried in its pages.

He was soaring through the starlit sky on his Firebolt, looking for the faint glimmer of the golden snitch. It had been ever so elusive this game, and he had been forced to leave the Quidditch pitch far behind looking for it.

Harry couldn't understand how it had been able to leave the pitch. There were charms that were supposed to prevent that from happening. Even more curious was how he knew the snitch had left the pitch.

Just then, Harry's idle musings ended as he caught a faint glimmer of gold just over a farmhouse. He raced towards it, feeling the rush of wind past his ears. The snitch saw him coming and darted away rapidly. Harry chased after it, weaving back and forth, as it evaded him, blocking everything else from his mind in a single-minded determination to catch it. Suddenly, it did a complete turnabout and Harry twisted wildly to follow, only to come face to face with a brick wall.

He threw up his hands up to shield his face and waited for the impact. …Nothing happened. Slowly, Harry opened his eyes and saw a building ablaze with red fire. He could hear screams and pleas for mercy, counterpointed by harsh, mocking laughter.

Looking to the left, he felt his lips twist into an amused smile. Several of his Death Eaters had a pretty brunette muggle hovering between them, stripped naked. They were taking turns raping her as she screamed, struggling in vain to free herself.

An explosion, and more screams. To his right, one of his female Death Eaters was methodically stripping the flesh from a young boy, no older than thirteen, while his mother watched in horror, unable to move or try to save him due to the magic that held her in place. She was sobbing and begging, offering her body and anything else she could think of to the Death Eaters in desperate hopes that they might spare her son, or at least stop hurting him. Her husband lay dead at her feet already, his skull exposed, the stark white bone streaked with darker blood gleaming in the firelight, his eyes gouged out the empty sockets staring blankly into the night sky.

Suddenly the body of the raped brunette sailed across his view and impaled itself upon a fence post. The sobbing woman writhed in agony, tears in her eyes and blood oozing from her wounds, mouth, and other orifices. She howled in pain, calling for her dead husband, her brother, her mother. It was all incredibly amusing to him.

He walked towards her slowly and she reached out a trembling hand to him, hoping that he would take pity on her. He let himself smile and saw that hope increase as he raised his wand. There was a flash of yellow light and a fountain of warm, sticky blood sprayed across the grass as the woman's head fell to the ground.

Just then, there were several pops of apparition and Aurors appeared all around him. He laughed, raising his wand, and before the Auror in front of him could react, he spoke an incantation. "Avada Kedavra!" The Auror spun around, looking at him with panic written all over his face. He felt a thrill in his black heart. The jet of green light struck the terrified Auror before he could even finish his spin.

Looking around, he could see the Aurors outnumbered his death eaters three to one. With his help they could still win, but why risk losing forces unnecessarily? With two more flicks of his wand, he sent another killing curse at an Auror's back, and then flicked his wand at the sky. "MORSEMORDERE!" he bellowed. His killing curse struck the Auror he had aimed at just as the Dark Mark exploded into the sky.

He heard several cracks of apparition, and then saw the Aurors converging on him with fear and foolish bravery in their eyes. He raised his wand and made a lightning quick motion that sent a purple beam towards a nearby house. It exploded, flaming shrapnel showering the Aurors as they dived for cover. Several muggles fled the remains of the house, attempting to put out the flames consuming them. Laughing manically, he finally Disapparated.

Harry woke with a start. He fell out of his chair and was sick all over the floor. He couldn't tell which way was up or down, couldn't remember where he was or how he got there. He could only feel the intense pain in his forehead, and the absolutely sick feeling of helplessness.

He kept seeing the murders of those innocent muggles over and over again. The poor girls that were mercilessly beaten and raped, the screams of mother as she was forced to watch her children tortured and killed. Harry tried to stand up to get to the bathroom, but staggered sideways. He felt overwhelmed. He didn't know what to do.

End Chapter I