Summary: There is a strange connection between Harry and Voldemort. In 'The Order of the Phoenix' Voldemort used the connection to 'possess' Harry. But now Harry learns how to turn the tables.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling.
Notes: This story starts at the end of 5th year.
Chapter 1:
Harry Potter was in the grip of a nightmare. He tossed and turned in his bed, muttering and whimpering. Finally he woke himself with his own anguished cry of "Sirius!" Thoroughly unsettled, he sat on the edge of his bed for a time, before calming down sufficiently to go down to the kitchen for a drink of water. He very much disliked having nightmares, but he absolutely hated that his cousin Dudley was almost certain to have heard.
At breakfast in the morning, though, when he might have expected some mockery, Dudley said nothing. Harry did notice his cousin eyeing him curiously a couple of times, but he quickly averted his eyes as Harry looked back. Since Harry had returned from school the previous day, Dudley had left him strictly alone, and his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were treating Harry with a politeness that he was quite unused to receiving from them. But Harry kept his thoughts to himself, and responded by returning an unwavering courtesy. Mad Eye Moody's little talk with his relatives had apparently worked, and Harry was relieved. He was unhappy enough without the additional strain of cruel treatment from his guardians.
The atmosphere was still cold, and Harry didn't stay long in the house, taking himself off to the park instead. He sat on the grass with his back against a tree, staring into the distance, feeling bleak. The guilt that had so painfully torn through him when he realised he had led his friends into danger, and Sirius to his death, had faded to a more mature regret. Professor Dumbledore had taken a large part of the blame upon himself, and Harry knew that he would not have been so duped if only he'd known a little more of what Dumbledore had known. But the fact remained, Voldemort had tricked him, and his godfather, Sirius Black, would probably still be alive if he, Harry, had not been tricked by Voldemort.
And yet he was beginning to feel a sneaking pride, as he thought about the fight they had fought in the Ministry of Magic. Neville, Ginny, Luna, Ron and Hermione, with himself, outnumbered by Death Eaters, had fought well. But even so, they had been on the point of defeat when members of the Order of Phoenix had turned up. That turned the tide, and now several Death Eaters were in Azkaban prison, and the wizarding world had finally opened its eyes to the return of Voldemort.
But that was in the past. It was the holidays now, and in the muggle word, Harry had no friends, and nothing particular to do. What he needed was activity and companionship, something to take his mind off his grief for Sirius. It had been so important to him when he found his godfather - someone who was there for him. But now Sirius was gone, and he'd had too little time to get to know him.
**x**
Early on Monday morning, a handsome owl flew in his bedroom window with an informative letter from Professor Dumbledore. Harry felt a considerable relief - last year he had become half crazy with frustration when he was kept in the dark about the steps that were being taken to prevent Voldemort returning to full power. The news was bad, but Harry thought that he almost preferred bad news to the absolute frustration of no news.
The Death Eaters, so recently captured, had already escaped from prison, and were again on the loose. Worse for Harry, Professor Dumbledore told him that it was too dangerous for Harry to go to the Weasleys this year - it would be unfair to risk making the Weasleys a target. Harry was a touch amused, wondering how much thought Dumbledore had put into this tactful way of wording the prohibition, but his furious resentment at Dumbledore had been shortlived, and he would have obeyed in any case. He knew within himself that Dumbledore cared for him, and would only do what was best, as best he knew. Dumbledore had made mistakes last year, and they had all suffered for it, but then, so had Harry made mistakes.
He'd made no complaint, and as Mrs. Weasley offered to pick up whatever he needed for school, he had no reason to leave the protection offered by his relatives' home. He didn't even have the excuse of needing a fitting for new robes. The school robes he'd worn last year were still perfectly usable for another year. He was beginning to notice that he was not only the smallest and shortest boy of his year, but that Dean and Ron, in particular, were shooting up, increasing their lead.
There was another thing bothering Harry. Objectively, it may have been less important than Voldemort's tendency to murder and torture, but Harry was fretting about his clothes. Dudley had grown to a size now that Harry was sure he himself would never reach, but he was still wearing Dudley's old clothes, and they looked increasingly ridiculous. He refused to ask his aunt and uncle for money, and was forbidden to go to Diagon Alley, where he could have exchanged some gold for muggle money. So when, on one of his aimless walks, he noticed a sign on the window of a nearby coffee shop, 'Temporary Help Wanted,' he hesitated only a moment before entering.
John and Ruth Evans were surprised to see Harry. They knew who he was - he was the 'incurable criminal' who lived with the Dursleys. So at first they avoided the subject of his reputation, but talked about the job - fulltime, working weekends, but with Monday and Tuesday off, cleaning, waiting on tables, washing dishes, and hoped that he would decide he didn't want to do it, without them actually having to say.
But when Harry continued keen, Mr. Evans finally stated that they couldn't risk giving a job to a known criminal - after all, he would be handling money.
Harry stood up, his face burning, but saying with some dignity, "I'm not a criminal," before starting to leave.
It was Mrs. Evans, suddenly sorry for the boy, who called him back. He turned and stood in the doorway, looking at her, his face betraying nothing.
"Please, come back," she said.
Harry's colour had died now, but he merely stood, "Why?"
She looked uncomfortable, and said, "Maybe we can talk a little more."
Harry turned back stiffly, waiting. Mrs. Evans was taking in the shabby, ill-fitting clothes that he was wearing. "Where do you go to school?" she asked.
Harry said uninformatively "Boarding school."
"St. Brutus's?" put in Mr. Evans, still worrying about the security of his shop.
But Harry said coolly, "As far as I know, there's no such school as St. Brutus's."
"All right, we'll give you a go." Mrs. Evans said suddenly. "Come here tomorrow, 10.00am, and we'll give you some instruction, and then you can start work Wednesday."
Harry was still standing, that same guarded expression on his face, but as the words penetrated, a smile flashed across his face, completely changing his looks, and making the Evans feel as if they might have done a very good thing.
The following day he presented himself for the promised instruction, and showed a keen animation as he was instructed in his duties. But when he was about to leave, Mr. Evans said, "And one more thing. You can't work here looking like that. You must be in neat and presentable clothes, with a proper collared shirt - not a torn T-shirt."
Harry froze as he stared away, reddening again, not knowing what to say. He desperately wanted this job, this sign of acceptance in the community in which he lived. But he had no better clothes than the ones he was wearing, which he kept clean, but could not make any more presentable.
The Evans looked at each other, and Mrs. Evans finally said, "How about we give you an advance on your wages, and you come with me right away, and I'll help you buy some suitable clothes."
His face was still guarded as he took in the offer. He knew that it was very generous but he hated asking for things. But it was his only choice, and, after all, a major reason for looking for a job was so that he could look respectable. So he said simply, with that same dignity, "Thank you."
In the department store, Mrs. Evans helped Harry select a couple of pairs of cheap jeans, and three collared shirts, that would be suitable for work. He was very grateful, but unknowingly, he had betrayed his complete lack of experience in shopping, and her heart went out to him. She looked down at his shabby runners, with the holes that were beginning, but thought she'd better leave that to Harry, as nearly all of his first week's wage had already been spent.
Harry was happy, though nervous as he dressed next morning and made himself some sandwiches in the kitchen. The Dursleys hadn't even asked where he had got his clothes, suspecting that it was something to do with that other world they preferred to ignore. He didn't tell them he had a job.
He looked perfectly respectable, except for his ancient runners, when he presented himself at the coffee shop for his first job. He showed himself to be quick and competent, very good at cleaning, (he'd had plenty of experience) and needing only some instruction in the handling of money - he had so seldom handled muggle money.
He took his sandwiches to the adjacent park for his short lunch break, and his suspicion that he still had his watchers was confirmed when a grey-haired lady approached him, and said, "Wotcher, Harry."
"Tonks?" said Harry. It never failed to surprise him that Tonks could change her appearance at will. Tonks couldn't stay with Harry for more than a minute, as Harry's watchers were instructed to be very discreet. Harry didn't know about the worried discussions he had caused, when first, he had taken on a job in a fairly public area, and then followed it by rashly going off in a car with an unknown woman. But Dumbledore had decreed that he was not to be interfered with, and Tonks had only been sent to warn him not to again leave the area - the protection afforded him by his relatives' home did not extend far.
Three days later, Mrs. Evans noticed that Harry was still bringing his own sandwiches, although he was making sandwiches for customers all day. She was discussing him with her husband that evening. "He's a good worker, quick, and polite to customers. And he's still bringing his own sandwiches! He won't even help himself to a couple of slices of bread, and some filling! You know, love, I think we've found ourselves a real treasure!"
The next day, they told him he was to make his sandwiches from the supplies at hand, as part of his wages, and from then on, it was usually only one of the Evans who attended the shop, not both. It had taken this long to overcome their reservations about hiring this solitary boy, with the bad reputation.
They spoke about his reputation, too. Why was he supposed to be an 'incurable criminal?' They never embarrassed Harry by asking him. Mr. Evans thought that he may have done something years ago, but was bent on making up for it now. Ruth Evans doubted even that. She never had liked Petunia and Vernon Dursley, and started to think that Harry had been cruelly and unjustly treated, maybe for most of his life. Ruth Evans was a shrewd lady.
Many of the shop's customers were from the immediate area, and they sometimes embarrassed Harry by staring in surprise as they took in his changed appearance. But Harry was accustomed to stares, and ignored them.
Naturally, it was not long before the Dursleys knew where he went every day. They didn't congratulate him on getting a job, but instead discussed between themselves whether they should start charging him board. Luckily for Harry, they thought about his friends in that other world, and decided not to even raise the topic.
He soon felt himself at home in the shop with the Evans, competently performing his not very complicated jobs, and making friends with the Evans boys, Aaron and Mark, who often dropped in for a snack. By the time his sixteenth birthday came, his feet were clad in a new pair of runners, and he had a light, cheap jacket, which was a relief. He had told Mrs. Evans one morning as they met on the doorstep of the shop that he didn't feel the cold, but Mrs. Evans, a mother of boys, had seen the goosebumps on his arms.
On his days off, he would wander the area, rather aimlessly, and occasionally visit a neighbour, Mrs. Figg, who was always flatteringly pleased to see him. It was only the previous year that Harry had discovered that Mrs. Figg was of his world, although not having the magical talent herself - a Squib. But she had rushed to his help when Harry was attacked by Dementors, and now he knew that Mrs. Figg was not nearly as batty as she appeared, and even her cats rather nicer than he had thought when he'd had to stay with her as a child.
Harry was mostly busy and reasonably contented during the days, but at night, sometimes, memories came back to haunt him, and he moaned and fidgeted in his sleep. He tried to avoid thinking of that violently painful moment when Voldemort had possessed him. But it was strange - that moment seemed to have made a difference to him. All last year, he had been troubled by pains in his scar, headaches, and those horrible times, usually at night, when he saw the world through Voldemort's eyes. Now he felt almost as if he'd been immunised against Voldemort. It was a relief, at first, but after a time, curiosity returned, and one day, he quite deliberately tried to think about what Voldemort was doing.
To his surprise, he still did have a sense of his presence, and if he concentrated, he could even have a vague idea of what he was thinking and what he was feeling. He sincerely hoped that Voldemort could not feel Harry in that fashion. He had enormous respect for Voldemort's magical powers, and was apt to think that if he, Harry, could do something, then Voldemort would certainly be able to do it much better.
OWL results arrived one morning, early in the holidays. To his relief, he had obtained the marks and subjects he needed to continue working toward his ambition to be an auror, although, not unexpectedly, he had failed History of Magic. Surprisingly, he had passed Divination. He had never shown any hint of talent at this subject, so maybe the examiners were happy with a basic familiarity of the methods used. Presumably, actual predictions were hard to test. After all, how many times had Professor Trelawney told him he was about to suffer a gruesome death? And there'd been another, too. He was going to be Minister for Magic and have twelve children! Harry was not sure which of Trelawney's predicted fates he preferred!
His suspicion that the examiners didn't expect much was confirmed when he had a letter from Ron. He had passed Divination as well, and had good passes in every other subject. Hermione, of course, had done brilliantly. Hermione didn't do Divination.
The Hogwarts letter arrived, and as instructed, he forwarded the list of required supplies to Mrs. Weasley. Two days later, an unfamiliar post owl arrived with a letter from Ginny. She had been appointed a prefect, and the new owl was her reward from the delighted Mrs. Weasley. Harry congratulated Ginny with perfect sincerity, having long since forgotten his chagrin when Ron had been made a prefect instead of himself.
With his new wages making him feel rich, he supplied himself with some new glasses. The ones he had worn for years were tight, and it didn't look like his aunt and uncle had the slightest intention of spending any money on him ever again. He had just enough muggle money left as the new school year approached to buy himself a watch, and felt himself to be rich in possessions.
With the holidays ending, he had to tell the Evans the date on which he was leaving. It was the first time he had any reason to regret leaving the muggle life to return to Hogwarts. The trust that had been placed in him by the Evans, and the acceptance that he felt from them, were very important to him. In the magical world, he might have been respected, but when he lived in Privet Drive, that world was far away, and it was as if he became an outcast again.
Mrs. Evans felt a growing affection for Harry, which she didn't conceal. She had seen his usual efficient friendliness as he served the customers, but she had also seen the icy mask descend when some boys of his own age had started making jokes about criminals waiting in shops. Piers and Gordon had first looked uncomfortable, then backed off and left, all without a word from Harry.
Harry's experiences had left their mark. He was older than his years, and could sometimes wear a sad expression that hurt Mrs. Evans. Harry felt her affection, and while the motherless boy didn't exactly melt, he appreciated it. So he left, promising to return next year if he was wanted, and the Evans had to look for someone to take his place.
He had to ask his uncle to take him to the railway station this year, as no other arrangements had been made. As always, he hated asking, but Uncle Vernon agreed without any problems, and delivered him to the station a lot more efficiently than the Weasleys usually managed to do. He had plenty of time to find the barrier that led to the station, and to leave behind the muggle world.
As always, he thrilled to the sight of the brilliantly coloured train as it sat quietly puffing away to itself. The magical platform was full of colour and light, witches and wizards. This was where he had first been taken away from his bleak life with the Dursleys at the age of eleven, and this train had waited for him every year since.
He was regarding the train with that feeling of pleasure and excitement, when there was a squeal of "There's Harry," and Ron, Ginny and Hermione joined him, and Neville and Dean a few minutes later. There was laughter and gossip. His friends had all had very different holidays to himself, and even in the first five minutes of meeting, there was talk of time at the beach, parties, and Quidditch matches. The wizarding world was a close knit one, and because there was only one major wizarding school in the whole of Britain, most wizards and witches knew each other, many of them being inter-related.
Hermione was muggle-born, of course, but she had enjoyed a trip to the Scottish highlands, and was raving about the scenery, and she'd met up with others of their friends when they visited Diagon Alley for school supplies.
When they boarded the train, Ron, Hermione, and now Ginny had to leave him to go to the Prefects' carriage, but Harry was philosophical about that, and stayed with Neville and Dean, and were shortly after joined by Seamus, the other Gryffindor boy of his year.
He was aggrieved to see that the other boys seemed to have grown even further over the holidays - even Seamus, who, like himself, was of Celtic stock, had shot up, and looked like being tall. Being small had some advantages. He would be able to play Quidditch again this year now that the lifelong ban imposed by Dolores Umbridge had been dropped, and it was an advantage for a Seeker to be small, light and speedy. But Harry was just sixteen, and human, after all, and he looked at his tall friends, and wanted to be tall too.
The train journey went quickly. It was so good being with his friends again, although he rather automatically started handing out refreshments after the trolley came around, and then cleaned up after them all afterward. But magic was allowed now the holidays were over, and the rubbish was swiftly vanished.
The commotion and confusion when the train journey finished was familiar and heart warming, and this year, the thestrals that pulled the carriages to the school seemed friendly and no longer threatening. A thestral can only be seen by one who had seen death, and Harry had again seen death.
He was having a wonderful time at the start of year feast, enjoying the laughter and the camaraderie. It was a relief seeing Albus Dumbledore back at the helm. Last year had been difficult, to say the least. The new students were Sorted into the houses, and they all watched the ceremony with interest, as they were allotted to their respective houses. It occurred to Harry for the first time that Gryffindors, chosen for their courage, always seemed to look the smallest and most frightened when they first arrived at Hogwarts.
The sixth year students were pleased with their timetables. They had fewer subjects this year, and they had some periods free for private study, which, they thought, sounded like an excellent thing. Maybe their weekends and evenings would not be so taken up with work if they were able to complete some of it during class time.
Harry smiled at Ginny, as she rose from the table with an air of assured responsibility, and with the other fifth year prefect, gathered the first years around her, and led them off to Gryffindor common room. Harry had always been fond of his best friend's sister.
It didn't take long for the sixth year students to find that, in spite of a few free periods in the week, their workload was as great as ever. Their theory work became ever more complex, and demanded a lot of study, and a lot of concentration. The practical work, on the other hand, seemed to be getting easier, perhaps along with their growing maturity.
There was a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Dalton, an aged wizard who had been an auror. Although not in the class of Professors Moody and Lupin, he was infinitely better than some of the other Defence teachers their class had endured in previous years. He was very experienced, although Harry suspected, without any real grounds, that he might not have the magical talent that one would have expected in an auror. Maybe it was something to do with the way that Professor Dalton treated him.
It was their first Defence class, and they waited in their seats. Professor Dalton finally arrived and ran through the roll, in order, he said, to familiarise himself with their names. Not only Harry Potter, but his friends, too, had won some notoriety. For a man no longer young, Jeremy Dalton was rather obvious in his interest when various names were mentioned. Neville Longbottom was taken aback, but undoubtedly pleased, when the Professor said that his parents had been great fighters too, Ron was thrilled with the interest shown in him, Hermione was unmoved, but Harry had to work to hide his considerable annoyance. He was very tired of being famous, and wished that all he had to worry about was schoolwork.
Another difference this year was an increased security. The number of security guards seemed to have tripled, and it was rumoured that Dumbledore had placed extra spells over the grounds of Hogwarts to prevent people flying in. Secondary entrances to Hogwarts had been sealed shut, and all visitors, even very important Ministry officials, had to enter by the main gate, where they would be met and provided with an escort.
Quidditch tryouts were held early in the year, and three new players were added to the line-up, as some older players had left, and some were dropped. Harry was Seeker, and was overjoyed to be able to play his favourite game again. Ginny was now a Chaser. Ron was firmly established as the Keeper now, but was totally thrilled when he was elected as Captain.
Ron took his captainship very seriously, and Gryffindor were out practising several times a week. Harry never had any practice over the holidays, but he was a natural flier. Harry, though, wanted to be a superb flier, and he practised some acrobatics that were definitely not likely to be needed when they played their school matches. He adored going as fast as possible, and, with his Firebolt, that was very fast indeed. He played in the trees sometimes, dodging in and out of the tree trunks and ducking under branches, all at top speed.
He no longer felt aggrieved or jealous when Ron took first place. Last year, he had had to fight with himself not to begrudge Ron his appointment as a prefect. This year, he was simply pleased for Ron when he was made Captain of the Quidditch team. He had his own responsibilities, and sometimes shrank from his destiny according to prophecy - that he was either to be killed by Voldemort, or to kill him.
His particular friends, Ron and Hermione, noticed a definite difference in Harry these days. He was no longer apt to lose his temper, even when Draco Malfoy provided him with considerable provocation. He was more cautious, too, submitting without a murmur to Dumbledore's order that he was not to leave the grounds. He always seemed to be alert, and Hermione noticed that he kept his wand close by, even when they were only studying in the common room or library.
Mostly, the difference was in his demeanour. He had become more serious, and had developed the ability to freeze off questions about his experiences with Voldemort, without actually being rude. All the people who had fought the Death Eaters were frequently asked for the story, and most of them thoroughly enjoyed telling and re-telling that story, particularly Ron.
***chapter end***