Harry sat quite still on one of the warmest July thirtieths that he could remember. He dolefully looked at the cake Aunt Petunia had baked. She was fussing over it, perfecting each scrawly letter. Of course, this cake was not for Harry's birthday, which would come the following day. The lettering on the cake spelled simply, "So long!" Harry thought this was a rather rude way of kicking him out.
The Dursleys had all been excited for this past week. They'd been cheerful, and even subtly kind to Harry. They'd also counted down the days until they were able to throw Harry out of their home.
He hadn't minded this new passive aggressive attitude they took to Harry, for he was just as thrilled as they were. In fact, the Dursleys had no idea that eleven-thirty that very evening, their sitting room would host at least a dozen witches and wizards. A good number from the Order of the Phoenix were to come to bring Harry back to the Burrow. An attack from Voldemort and his followers was almost imminent, and there had been rumor of a terrible beast that he now had under his power. Nobody had told Harry what this new weapon was, but they felt it dangerous enough to send twelve members of the Order.
Being that Harry had packed several hours earlier, he spent most of his time sitting in front of the television, watching the news. It repeatedly showed the Muggle Prime Minister looking nervously around as he tried to avoid a series of newsreporters and camera flashes. The correspondant was in the middle of a story, "…No reports of where this new information has come from, but the Prime Minister is urging everyone to leave their homes alone. An escaped murderer, far more dangerous than the previously escaped Sirius Black, is on the loose. There is no news on the appearance or even the sex of this monster, but we have been informed that upon seeing the murderer, you will know straight away who you are dealing with."
The other correspondant laughed heartily. "The Prime Minister certainly has made it seem as though we're dealing with a monster from under the bed."
Harry tuned the rest of the report out. They had no idea how right they were about it being some sort of a monster. The announcement of this on the Muggle news made Harry worry even more. This thing was truly a force to be reckoned with, if Scrimgeour decided that the Muggles needed to be warned.
Harry's mind remained befuddled as to what sort of creature that Voldemort was using, so, in a feeble attempt to allieviate his troubled head, he traipsed up the stairs to go repack several more times. At ten-thirty that night, after the Dursleys had gone to bed, Harry snuck downstairs and layed down on the couch. He had no reason to be downstairs, but he was far too anxious to stay cooped up in his bedroom. Despite his anxiety, Harry slipped into a doze, his mind taunted with dreams of twenty-foot tall Blast-Ended Skrewts, Chimaeras, and the Nundu, a giant leopard who has been known to destroy whole villages. Any of these terrible beasts could be what Voldemort had been hiding, and they haunted his subconscious.
"Wake up, birthday boy!" came a loud voice. Harry nearly jumped when he found his godfather's face merely inches from his. "Finally seventeen, Harry!" he said, sitting his godson up. "Now all we have to do is get you out of here alive…"
Harry blinked several times and adjusted his glasses. Surveying the sitting room, he saw twelve cloaked figures. Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye, Arthur, Bill, and Charlie Weasley, Hagrid, Snape, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Dedalus Diggle all stood in the now-cramped sitting room.
Harry stretched and stood, looking at the assembled. "What's this beast that I've been hearing about?" he asked, glancing at the clock which read exactly eleven-thirty.
"Sure, Harry, don't ask us if we'd like any tea or anything. You're a terrible host," Tonks said, winking at him. She strode into the kitchen and began filling the kettle with hot water.
"Oh, sure, help yourself," Harry managed groggily. "Now, what's Voldemort got?" he pressed on.
Lupin sank into Uncle Vernon's favorite chair with a wince, and supplied, "A demon."
"A what?" Harry was familiar with what a demon was in the Muggle world, but had never before heard of their existance in the Magical world.
Bill answered this time. "Harry, a demon is born only from evil things. It is, basically, an evil supernatural being that can do anything from—"
"Alluring men while they sleep. That would be the succubus," added Tonks with a smile.
"They can inhabit one's body and control their actions. Something like the Imperius Curse," said Kingsley gravely.
"They vary in any shape, amount of intelligence, and their powers. But they all have something in common, Harry. They are creatures born of evil and are sources of ruin, which explains why Voldemort was able to create one," finished Lupin.
Harry considered his trunk full of belongings. "How are we getting to the Burrow?" he asked inquisitively.
"Brooms," Mad-Eye gruffly supplied. "We're sure to be attacked the second that clock strikes midnight, so when you're put in position, you must remember to stay in that position. Should any of us fall, we do not, under any circumstances, go back. Our main goal is to get Potter to the Weasleys' without getting him attacked by any succubus… Would be one hell of a way to go, though, eh, Potter?" he said, chuckling.
Harry's cheeks reddened at the prospect of discussing this subject with Mad-Eye Moody. Still, most of the others chuckled along with him.
Bill and Charlie snuck quietly upstairs to get Harry's trunk, and within the next twenty minutes, Harry was standing outside, surrounded by the Order members, about to mount his Firebolt. His trunk had been magically bound to Hagrid's larger-than-average broomstick. He seemed rather apprehensive about riding a broom.
"Is everyone in position?" called Mad-Eye from the front. "Good! Now, you all should know how to get back if we should get separated. Potter, just stick close to one of us, and you'll be fine. And remember the check points if you need to touch down! Stay in the clouds as much as possible!"
"Eleven fifty-nine!" Charlie yelled from directly behind Harry.
"Mount your brooms, everyone!" directed Moody, and everyone listened. "Wands out!"
Harry had forgotten this, and scrambled in his back pocket for his wand. He held it loosely in his right hand, smiling at his old friend.
"Three, two"—
"Kick off!"
As soon as the group kicked off the ground, spells were sent at them. Harry vaguely heard Mad-Eye yell to follow, and he did. They kept formation as they rocketed upward. Harry nearly yelped as he saw a group of masked Death Eaters behind them, shooting hexes and curses. Harry looked over his shoulder, pointed his wand at a particularly big Death Eater, and muttered, "Stupify!" The man slumped forward on his broom and began to fall. Three others dropped to assist him.
Then, Tonks screamed, and Harry's head whipped back around so fast that he heard his neck crick. Tonks, who was to the right of him, was fumbling for her wand, and Harry saw why. A beautiful, but ghostly young woman with long, ebony hair, was leaping toward Tonks. This girl rode no broom, and looked to be in some sort of a trance.
Since Tonks could not seem to get a proper hold on her wand, Harry pointed his at the girl just as she latched onto Tonks's broom. He yelled the only spell he could think of, "Sectumsempra!"
The ghostly girl screamed in agony as a huge gash in her robes became evident, and she released Tonks's broom. She began to drop down again to the ground.
"POTTER!" thundered Snape, who was directly to his left. "You STUPID child!" he hissed.
"What?!" Harry roared back. "She was going to kill Tonks!"
"I think we've found out who's the demon," Lupin yelled, pointing behind them. The beautiful woman had fallen behind, but was catching up somehow. One leap from the ground sprung her up and forward thirty feet. She ran at incredibly speeds, and as they climbed their height, the girl merely leapt from roof to roof, or to tree. Even while her chest became soaked with blood, and her Death Eater comrades fell behind, she ran on, until all thirteen of the group were throwing jinxes at her. She fell back after each blow, but soon resumed her chase, though she seemed completely emotionless.
"Oh, to hell with this!" roared Mad-Eye. He pointed his wand at the girl, and yelled, "Sectumsempra! Sectumsempra! SECTUMSEMPRA!" The young woman shrieked as she was hit by all three curses, and she dropped to the ground.
"For God's sake, Mad-Eye!" screamed Snape, who continued to look back for any sign of the girl. "Dumbledore said we weren't to harm her! You're disobeying direct order!"
"That's what he told you, Snivellus, not us! And anyway, what does it matter? She's taken care of, at least for a while!"
Harry had never seen such an expression of anger and worry on Snape's face. "SHUT UP, BLACK, or I swear, I'll"—
But he was interrupted by a soft, far away wail of, "Uncle!"
That seemed to make up Snape's mind. "Stop being thick, Mad-Eye! I'm going back!" he yelled, before turning his broom and racing in the opposite direction.
"SNAPE, Dumbledore will hear of this!" barked Mad-Eye. "Tonks, take that idiot's spot! Kingsley, move back one!"
As Tonks transitioned from one side to the other, Harry noticed that her right side was spattered with the girl's blood.
"Keep up, keep up!" urged Mad-Eye as they ascended into a cloud, which thoroughly drenched them all with freezing condensation.
"Why is Snape so worried if it's just a demon?" Harry asked Kingsley while he shivered and his teeth chattered.
Kingsley seemeed almost undaunted by the sudden cold. "I couldn't tell you, Harry. But Snape is a spy, so he might know more about that demon that we do. That's just my take on it," he answered, gripping his broom a little tighter.
Besides Mad-Eye's barking every now and then, the group flew in silence. Harry's hands were so cold that every gust of air that hit them stung, and he silently cursed himself for not wearing riding gloves, as all of the others had.
They flew for hours, and Harry could barely keep himself on his broom. His whole body ached from maintaining his grip on his broom, and once, he began dozing off. Harry was woken by Sirius's yell to realize that he was falling. He took a sharp inhale of air, but before he could even scream, Remus's hand latched onto Harry's robes.
Remus released his other hand from his broom, and his left hand joined his right in an attempt to keep Harry from plummeting to the ground. Remus gritted his teeth, a pained expression on his face.
Sirius sped over to assist his best friend. With only a bit of a struggle, Harry was back on his broom, and although he was shaky, he was all right. Remus was untucking his shirt and pulling it up, swearing under his breath.
"What's happened, Remus?" Kingsley asked. The whole procession had stopped and fallen from their ranks to survey the injured werewolf.
"God, Remus, I'm sorry," Harry said hurriedly as he saw the gash down his former professor's side. Sirius was practically on top of his best friend to see the damage.
"Not your fault, Harry. This –ah! Don't touch it, Sirius!—happened during my last transformation. It just reopened is all," Remus replied, grimacing.
"It's bleeding pretty badly," Sirius said, glancing up at Remus.
"It's fine," he persisted. Remus took off his robe and tied it tightly around his middle. "There, are you satisfied, you cry baby?" he said to Sirius.
"I didn't like the looks of that, Remus. That wound seems serious," Tonks added.
Remus shook it off. "I'll heal it when we get back. Now come on before we all fall asleep," he said, casting a smile in Harry's direction.
At long last, as the sky began to lighten, the group of thirteen landed at the Weasley home. Harry was exhausted and freezing, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a warm bed.
As Sirius knocked on the Weasley's back door, Mrs. Weasley's voice came from within. "Which was first?"
"William Arthur Weasley, born November twenty-ninth," Sirius answered, almost in a recitation.
The door swung open to reveal a beaming Molly Weasley. "Good question, don't you think, Harry? What with my litter running around," she said brightly. She must have noticed their weary expressions, and hurriedly ushered them all in.
As they crowded inside the kitchen, Remus began to pull up his shirt again. "Molly, I'm afraid we had a bit of an accident," he said casually.
Molly saw the wound and gasped. She hurried over to examine Remus's side. "Oh, God, you weren't hit by anything, were you? Come, Remus, sit, and take off your shirt," she said, pushing him backwards into a chair.
The former professor's face turned scarlet before he mumbled, "No, Molly, there's no need. You can just magic it up, can't you?"
"Come, dear, there's no reason to be bashful. You're hurt, and badly," she said, tugging the shirt of the unwilling werewolf. His torso exhibited several old scars and fading scratches, evident marks of his condition.
Mrs. Weasley looked startled for an instant, then pointed her wand at Remus's newest addition of injuries, and said, "Vigoratus vulnia." The wound completely healed itself, without even a scratch. Remus thanked her and hurriedly slipped his shirt back on.
Mrs. Weasley, in turning about, gasped again. "Tonks, what on earth happened to you?" she questioned.
"Oh, nothing, Molly," she said simply. "This isn't mine," she added, indicating the splattered brown stains on her robe.
"Who's is it?" she demanded, spinning around and surveying the group.
"Just a filthy demon's, is all," answered Moody. "Molly, would it be too much to ask you for a good swallow of something strong?"
"Of course, of course. Harry, you'll be staying in Ron's room. And there are extra beds in the other boys' rooms. You all must be exhausted. Tonks, dear, there's an extra bed in Ginny's room. Harry will show you to it," Mrs. Weasley said distractedly.
Several mumbles of thanks responded as a groggy mass began traipsing upstairs, and as Hagrid Flooed back to Hogwarts.
Remus followed Sirius up the winding staircase of the Weasley home. He and his friend took Charlie's old room, where two twin beds had been placed. Remus didn't even take off his shoes before crawling, delighted, into one of the beds. Sirius followed suit, and mumbled, already half-asleep, "No funny business, Moony."