Chapter One:The Potter Twins vs. The Dursleys

July 27, 1997, was a very stressful day.

As part of the Order of the Phoenix's plans to help Harry with his mission, the Dursleys had to go into hiding, just in case Voldemort and his ever-growing band of Death Eaters decided to take hostages. Needless to say, domineering Uncle Vernon hated being told what to do, but he was also too scared of being hexed so he did as he was told, sometimes. Every twenty-four hours or so, he would switch from planning on going to planting his feet and refusing to be moved. It would often take the combined efforts of Harry and me, and sometimes even the Order, to get Uncle Vernon to change his mind again, and even then he was rather begrudging and reluctant.

The Dursleys were scheduled to leave the night of July 27th, as soon as dinner was done. The house was completely emptied of personal items, the car was all packed with said items, and the Dursleys were sitting in the living room, dressed for travelling. Harry and I were sitting on the couch, having been called down from our respective bedrooms by Uncle Vernon to hear yet another change of mind.

"I've changed my mind," Uncle Vernon said.

"What a surprise," Harry said.

"Don't you take that tone –" Aunt Petunia began shrilly, but Uncle Vernon waved her down.

"It's all a lot of claptrap," he said, glaring at Harry. "I've decided I don't believe a word of it. We're staying put, we're not going anywhere."

Figuring I knew what was coming next, I quietly rolled my eyes in exasperation and settled into the couch as Uncle Vernon started pacing again.

"According to you two," he said, "we – Petunia, Dudley, and I – are in danger. From – from –"

"Some of 'my lot,' right," Harry said. I'd learned long ago to sit back and let Harry do the cheeky talk with Uncle Vernon when he was like this. Harry had the threat of his magic to protect him; I would've been smacked into next week if I'd spoken to him the way Harry was talking.

"Well, I don't believe it," Uncle Vernon said, stopping in front of Harry. "I was awake half the night thinking it all over, and I believe it's a plot to get the house."

Of all the things Uncle Vernon could have said, this was the absolute worst.

"House prices are skyrocketing around here!" he continued, ignoring our incredulously outraged expressions. "You want us out of the way and then you're going to do a bit of hocus-pocus and before we know it the deeds will be in your name and –"

"Are you out of your minds?" Harry hissed, on his feet before Uncle Vernon could blink. "A plot to get the house?! Are you actually as stupid as you look?"

"How dare you?!" Aunt Petunia shrieked, actually getting on her feet as well in her rage. She took a couple steps in Harry's direction, but to my surprise, Harry stood there and glared at her until she quickly stumbled back.

"Why would we want this house?" I sneered darkly in a fit of temper. "All the happy memories, hidden under the blood?" I had no idea what I'd actually said until Harry turned and looked down at me.

"Blood?" he asked, his brilliant green eyes innocently confused.

I stared up at him for the longest time, wondering if I had enough courage to confess. I glanced over at the Dursleys and jumped slightly, surprised by their appearance. Uncle Vernon was a mottled shade of gray, Aunt Petunia was almost as pink as her coat, and poor Dudley looked horribly confused. He kept staring between his parents and me, seeming to ask what was going on. He'd been at his fancy boarding school, Smeltings, while I was alone with his parents, so he'd never seen what had happened to me.

"Rissie?" Harry asked, his eyes full of the same concern I'd seen in Remus's eyes during Professor Dumbledore's funeral.

In the end, I couldn't bring myself to say it. I simply shook my head and gripped my hands in my lap to hide their shivers. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, but I couldn't make myself meet anyone's gaze. I felt such an overpowering shame that I could barely keep myself together. I could only imagine how mortified Mum and Dad must have been up in heaven, having such a cowardly Squib for a daughter. Almost without realizing it, my head bowed and my shoulders rounded as if I was expecting a blow, my eyes burning and itching all the while.

"What. Did. You. Do?!"

I jumped slightly and turned to see a truly furious Harry Potter glaring at the Dursleys. I'd never told anyone all of what the Dursleys had done to me during the school year, let alone my magical big brother who had a fierce, protective temper when it came to his only living sibling. Currently, he was standing between me and our "family", his eyes full of a brilliant emerald fire that promised pain to whoever was stupid enough to make him explode. The last place I saw a glare like that was in Professor Dumbledore's eyes after he Stunned the fake Moody two years ago; the memory of it was enough to send a shiver down my spine and make me hide a little behind Harry as he stared our aunt and uncle down.

Uncle Vernon rather stupidly tried to regain his bluster and began to pace again.

"N-Nothing. Now, you claim that this Lord Thing –"

"– Voldemort," Harry snarled impatiently, "and we've been through this a hundred times already. This isn't a claim, it's fact, Dumbledore told you last year, and Kingsley and Mr. Weasley explained it as well. Once Rissie and I are seventeen, the protective charm that keeps us safe –" he levelled Uncle Vernon with a very pointed glare, "– will break, and that exposes you as well as us. The Order is sure Voldemort will target you, whether to torture you to try and find out where I am, or because he thinks by holding you hostage I'd come and try to rescue you."

I couldn't help scoffing a little behind Harry, despite a slight squirm of guilt in my gut. Yes, the Dursleys were absolutely horrible to me and Harry, but did they really deserve dying at Voldemort's hand? I really hoped I would never have to find out.

"I thought there was a Ministry of Magic," Uncle Vernon said.

This time, I made no attempt to hide my derision – a quiet, bitter laugh burst from my throat, which sounded surprisingly like Sirius's bark-like guffaw.

"The Ministry's been infiltrated!" I snorted. "Mr. Weasley and Kingsley already told you!"

"If we'd even seen CVs ..." Uncle Vernon said, seeming to realize he was grasping at straws.

"These accidents aren't accidents!" Harry bellowed, finally at the end of his fuse. "The crashes and explosions and derailments and whatever else has happened since we last watched the news. People are disappearing and dying and he's behind it – Voldemort! I've told you this over and over again, he kills Muggles for fun! Even the fogs – they're caused by dementors, and if you can't remember what they are, ASK YOUR SON!"

Dudley looked like Harry had just walloped him with a frying pan.

"There are ... more of them?" he asked in horror.

"More?" Harry laughed. "More than the two that attacked us, you mean? Of course there are, there are hundreds, maybe thousands by this time, seeing as they feed off fear and despair –"

"All right, all right," Uncle Vernon blustered. "You've made your point –"

"I sure hope so," Harry sneered, "because once we're seventeen, all of them – Death Eaters, dementors, maybe even Inferi – zombies to you Muggles – will be able to find you and will certainly attack you. And if you remember the last time you tried to outrun wizards, I think you'll agree you need help."

Uncle Vernon glared at Harry for a moment before opening his mouth to say something, but surprisingly Dudley spoke up – and rather loudly, too.

"Dad," he said, "I'm going with these Order people."

We all stared at him for a moment before Harry spoke up and said, "Dudley, for the first time in your life, you're talking sense!"

I took a deep breath in relief, knowing the battle was won. If Dudley was frightened enough to accept the Order's help, his parents would be right there beside him – there was no way they would be separated from their Diddykins.

"They'll be here in five minutes," Harry said, grabbing my hand and all but dragging me upstairs to our bedroom. I knew what was coming and didn't like it one bit, but there wasn't really anything I could do to change Harry's mind once he got it set on something.

Once we were alone, I sat down on the windowsill and stared out at the sidewalk below, hoping the Order would be there quickly. While the Dursleys were going off to Merlin-knows-where with Dedalus Diggle and Hestia Jones, I would be taking part in what I called Operation: Multiple Man when the rest of the crew showed up. Hermione had told me about it yesterday in a letter written in an Ancient Runes code we developed last summer, which allowed her to share sensitive information with me without fear of detection.

I sighed when I heard Harry sit down on the bed, knowing he was staring at me, waiting for me to talk. After waiting for a long while, even through Dedalus and Hestia picking the Dursleys up, I finally grew too uncomfortable with his staring.

"I'm not saying anything, Harry," I said firmly, keeping my gaze on the sidewalk outside.

"Rissie, listen –"

"No, you listen!" I said, turning to glare at Harry. "I've lived in this nightmare almost every day for the past sixteen years, and after today, it'll be nothing but the past. There's where it will stay – in the past – and there's nothing you can do about it! I'm sorry if that isn't to your liking, but that's reality."

Feeling my cheeks burn at my attitude and knowing that Uncle Vernon would never let me speak like this to him, I turned back to the window and tried to keep myself under control. Speaking to anyone with this kind of cheek was sometimes enough to trigger minor panic attacks, especially if it was a man I was talking to. According to my experience, the only man who didn't get violently angry when I was defiant was Remus. Everyone else had gotten angry enough to scream and either hit or throw something at me – even Sirius, who hadn't liked it when I'd gotten snippy with him about how he treated Kreacher. With Harry, it came and went, depending on what mood he was in.

"Rissie, look at me," Harry said quietly. "Please."

Knowing full-well that I couldn't say no to my twin when he talked like that, I turned to look back at him. The look in his eyes almost cut me in two; there was confusion, pain, guilt, and an overpowering love in them that would've brought tears to my eyes if I hadn't conditioned myself to not cry in front of Harry.

"What?" I asked, getting uncomfortable with Harry staring morosely at me.

I don't know what I was expecting him to say, but it definitely wasn't –

"I'm sorry."

"What?" I asked again, staring right back at Harry with shock written all over my freckled face.

Harry got up off the bed and came over to me. His brilliant eyes full of tears, he reached out and took my hand. I tensed slightly, instinctively nervous about being touched at all due to all the harsh treatment I've gotten over the years.

"They want me to be a hero, y'know," Harry said, looking down at the hand he was gently holding in his. "All of them ... the Ministry ... the Order ... Ron ... Hermione ... even Dumbledore! But I ... I don't know how to be. I can't even protect the one person I care about most!"

His grip tightened a little as his shoulders shook with suppressed sobs.

"Harry, you don't have to –"

"Yes, I do!" he cried, looking up at me again as the tears finally came out. "You're my sister! I'm supposed to protect you, not leave you alone with people like them!"

"You had no choice, Harry!" I said derisively, taking my hand back and looking out the window again. "I mean, you had to go to Hogwarts, and it's not like they'd take a Squib like me –"

"You're not a Squib!" Harry said, still firmly in denial as he was when he first heard about Squibs. "I remember you using magic!"

"No, you don't!" I cried. "What you remember is me standing next to you when you used magic! I've never used even the slightest bit of magic, unless you need magic to ride a broom. I know you don't like the idea of me being a Squib, but it's something you'll just have to accept. I have."

Harry gnashed his teeth slightly as he tried to think of a comeback for what I'd said, but that's when we heard it.

It was a noise we'd first heard in our dreams as we flew from the ruins of our first home to Privet Drive.

It was a giant motorcycle, which was carrying a man that was easily two times as tall and three times as wide as the average man. His name was Rubeus Hagrid, and he was part of the Order.

Operation: Multiple Man was a go!