Unmapped Temperament

by ANOVA Normal

A new threat enters the game and Harry finds himself surrounded and chased by all sides. The Order is scattered and Harry is on the run. He must rally all his wits to survive. Without the support Harry once relied on, he must find in himself the temper to fight back, alone if need be. Attempting an international thriller. Slow start. Eventually Harry/Fleur

3. Reflection

Chapter 2: Reflection

Harry wanted nothing more but collapse into bed and collect his thoughts in the blissfulness of his dreamscape. He needed to escape this little pity-party, and quick. Sleep offered the quickest way out. It was dark in the guest room, and Harry didn't bother to turn it on. He was about to collapse on the bed into a desired sleep when a flash of pink hair in the moonlight alerted him to the Auror's presence. She was sitting on his bed, playing with her wand nervously.

I just want to sleep. I don't want another goddamn fight.

"Harry," sighed Tonks, running a hand through her hair. "We…we should talk about yesterday."

Harry tensed. He was sure this was a conversation he did not want to have.

"Listen," Tonks sighed again. "That whole deal with me transforming into Hermione – that was unworthy of me. I didn't-"

"Not now Tonks," Harry cut her off, already making for the door, ready to escape into the night again. "I don't want to hear about that."

Out of the corner of her eye, Tonks' hair turned a deadly orange hue.

"Are you fucking kidding me!" Tonks burst out furiously.

Harry paused at the door. His mind swirled briefly in confusion before he turned back to her in his own profound rage. Thank goodness the rooms were charmed silent from the outside.

"What the fuck is you problem with me?" Harry snapped. "Have I done something to offend you? Or are you just a bitch to everyone!"

"My problem?" Tonks let out an exasperated curse. "My problem is...

Tonks paced furious to and fro trying to work off steam. Her hair was alternating between snow white and jet black. Under her breath, Harry could hear her growling like an animal about to strike.

"You know…" started Tonks, eyes wild and untamable. "No…no you're right."

Harry was sure he hadn't heard her properly.

"You're right," she laughed harshly. "It's not your fault. It's Sirius' fault."

The room went cold. Harry could almost see his enraged breath exhaling in the air. Dementors had nothing on this. He found himself hating this Auror more and more.

"What did you say?" Harry whispered, his words laced with venom.

Tonks sighed exasperatedly. "Believe it or not, Harry, I knew Sirius better than you did. We were…well we were pretty close – he being my only magical family besides my parents."

"How is any of this Sirius' fault?" Harry demanded in a raised voice.

"Naturally he was quite fond of you," Tonks muttered as if she hadn't heard Harry. "You were the only thing he ever talked to me about last year. All this about being the spitting image of your father, how brave you were, your steel tenacity and how mature you were for a thirteen year old. And you know what?"

Tonks glared at Harry. "I actually believed him."

Harry shot the glare right back at the Auror. "If you want to say something, just say it Nymphadora."

Her eyebrow noticeably twitched upon the mentioning of her name. But she wouldn't let him set her off that easily. At her mother's order, she was laying it all out for this little brat, hoping she'd find who she was promised.

She exhaled deeply. "I tried to give you space. I know that when I went through something serious, all I wanted was for people to leave me alone so I could deal with it like I had dealt with everything else – on my own. And then…then I saw you self-destructing. My father came to me after the first night. He told me 'now listen hear my girl, you're one of a kind, you know. But not everyone is built like you – certainly not Harry. He can't deal with this stuff the same way you did.'"

Tonks did not let Harry avert her eyes. Her own bore the intensity of absolute openness. Harry could not doubt for a second that she was telling anything but the truth. "My father's a smart man. And he had a point. So I said to myself 'fine'. I then I tried setting you off – blowing the bomb early so it didn't do so at a later time. I tried to get you to confront this problem head on. Well, suffice to say, that blew up in my face I suppose, since you're still erupting even as we speak!"

Harry was frowning now, but his anger was tamed for the moment as he listed to the Auror.

"Then on my mother's begging, I tried to engage – tried to help," Tonks continued. "I warned you, the tombstones wouldn't help. I tried to help you along – tried to get you to think for yourself. And I guess that didn't work out either."

When the hell did Tonks ever try to help me?

"So here I am," Tonks, let her exasperated arms fall to her sides. "Trying to apologize for a callous mistake. And you want to run away? Like an angry brat? You…you're nothing like Sirius described! I was supposed to be protecting you! Not babysitting you!"

"Shut…up Tonks!" Harry finally exploded. "Just shut up!"

"Both Sirius, Remus and Dumbledore lauded your talents and your exceptional maturity so I've tried to treat you like an adult – really I've tried my hardest. but it's become painfully apparent to me, just within a few days, that you are still just a child!"

"I am not a child!" Harry fumed.

"You think you're entitled to classified Order information," Tonks yelled. "And you throw a small tantrum claiming you have the right to know everything. And when we finally do tell you what you want to hear, you throw a fit and storm out of the house. You rage and brood for days but you don't ever resolve anything. From the stories about you, I had high hopes. I expected to find a man. I found a boy instead."

"Fuck you," Harry lashed out. "You told me that my godfather and my friends just died! How was I supposed to react?"

"You were supposed to react like the man you are supposed to be!" cried Tonks. "Your friends died! But the world didn't bloody end! You've had your fair share of loss, I thought you would know how to deal with it!"

"I've got no one left!" Harry yelled. He almost felt like hitting her, though he knew even if he tried, he'd be on his back reeling from a spell. There was a creeping fear that he was losing this battle of words.

"Are you looking for my pity?"

"No but-"

"Do you think your rage will bring them back?"

"No but-"

"Would they be pleased to see what their noble sacrifice has bought?"

"NO BUT-"

"But nothing." Tonks backed away to the window and shook her head in frustration. "You're not ready, plain and simple."

"Ready?" started Harry heatedly. "What the hell does ready have to do with…I've done loads more than any of-"

"So what!" Tonks snapped sharply. Harry's ire was palpable. Would this woman not give him a moment of breath? "Basilisk slayer, Patronus aficionado, Triwizard champion and all that. So what? Surviving peril doesn't make you a man! All those sticky situations you got yourself into in school, they were forced on you. By designs other than your own, you found yourself in these events. But this isn't a classroom in Hogwarts! This is real life, Harry, devoid of all the normality and safety you once knew. Luck and sound protection has gotten you this far – no further."

"You're going to have to make choices now – to stay or to go, to kill or to spare. What happens if one day your rashness leads you to attempt some folly thing and others suffer because you didn't have the level-headedness to make the right decision? What happens when others die because you couldn't control yourself? This right here is the choice that must be made. You need to tell me now if you are ready. I know it must be a hard pill to swallow as a fifteen year old but by your own admission, you've never been just any fifteen year old, have you? Set aside the boy, set aside the whining and set aside the self-pity. Put plainly, Harry, you've got to grow up. You hear me? You've got to grow. The. Fuck. Up."

Harry was left without words. He so dearly wished he had some witty comeback to shoot at Tonks and relieve himself of the embarrassingly inadequate feeling. He made fists in his pockets. She's wrong. She's just wrong. She doesn't know anything about me. He glared at her angrily, though he didn't know how to put his thoughts into words. She doesn't understand. How could she? She has a good job, nice family…what do I have? She doesn't have the right to talk to me about loss! His face was flushed with anger and it was taking every bit of his discipline to not lash out at the infuriating Auror.

"I intend to go after the Triads," Tonks said after a while. "And I still have to keep you safe. After what I've seen from you…I can't do both at the same time. I can't rely on you. I can't trust you not to do something stupid."

She walked out of the room, leaving Harry confused and angry. He always felt this way after talking to the Auror. How is she consistently able to make me feel like shit?

But he brooded deeply over her words, though his pride still refused to admit she was on to something. He tried to ignore the fact that she seemed to hit the nail on the head. His childhood days were nearing their end. Did he have it within him to take the next step? At fifteen years of age? Could he cast aside all his vices? Dumbledore? Indecisiveness? Hot-headedness? Was he prepared for any of this?

So he laid in bed and sleep refused to come to him. He had stared at the same spot in the ceiling for several hours and to no avail. He could recall the entire conversation word for word and repeated it in his mind over and over and over again. His anger towards the Auror was subsiding. She'd been trying to help him this whole time. And he had lashed out at every opportunity, unable – still unable – to reconcile his pain. His distaste of the Auror became the distaste of himself.

Enough of this.

Harry got up suddenly, aching to relieve his parched throat. In the last few days he had been doing so much yelling and screaming that he was amazed his throat had lasted this long. A cold glass of water would do wonders for his pained throat. He began to fumble around in the dark before he heard faint whisperings and voices. He rounded the corner down the stairwell and saw the kitchen illuminated in dim lights. One voice was deep and powerful while the other was young and edgy. Slowly but surely, Harry descended step by step, trying to get a glimpse of this late night meeting. He had entered the middle of the conversation.

"Thanks for the help, Kingsley," sighed a familiar feminine voice. " I thought I might get into some serious trouble for a moment."

"I did have to confund Gerald," spoke a tall dark-skinned man. "Guess you owe me one, Tonks. You're lucky you're so junior. You might not have been able to get away with this otherwise."

Tonks stuck out her tongue. "I guess so. So…Snape? Are you sure?"

Harry saw a tall dark-skinned man nod solemnly. "I wouldn't have guessed it either. I'm…I'm sorry about Moody. He was one tough son of a bitch and a hell of an Auror."

"Me too," Tonks replied fiercely. "When we find these bastards we're going to make them pay."

Kingsley gave her a very deep look as far as Harry could tell. There were distinct traces of panic and distress. "Tonks, now is not the time. You've got to get Harry out of the country. You must have read about the Auror orders. We're coming for Harry with a directive straight from the minister."

Tonks snorted. "Yeah, I read it. What the hell is Scrimgeour thinking putting Dark Wizard Hunters on a schoolboy! That is way overstepping his mandate."

"It's more complicated than that," hushed the other man. "Unspeakables were able to determine that the spell that killed Harry's cousin was likely Chinese. That's making Scrimgeour all the more determined to seize Harry before the Chinese cause a scene about stolen magic."

Tonks swore.

"Harry's got to leave Britain. I'll be here with the Order in two days. Dumbledore has given us a Portkey for you and Harry. We don't know where it goes, though McGonagall thinks the boy is being sent across the Atlantic. But if that doesn't work out, you've got to think about your own extraction. I'd make for the Pyrenees – fewer magical wards there. From there you can swing over to Seville and wait until you hear news from us."

"How on earth can we cross the channel?" Tonks replied exasperatedly. "Mom must know Harry is likely to try and flee the country."

"I still have friends at Quantus," murmured Shaklebolt. "They can get you on a 10 second Portkey, no documentation, no questions asked."

"So what? Harry and I are just going to enjoy the Spanish beaches for god knows how long waiting until mom comes to her senses?"

"Tonks, you don't understand, things are getting dangerous for Harry. Mom anticipates strong pressure from the ICW, no doubt goaded on by the Chinese. They want to know what Potter stole to invoke a Sino spell. Fudge is sending bloody Aurors after him! And these Triads you talk about, they're dangerous…dangerous enough to take out some of the best of us. And Voldemort is still out there, doing something. You have to leave the country. Spain is the closest country without an extradition agreement with us. And it's probably the only country you can reach in time before international authorities catch up to you."

"Damn it, Shaklebolt," whispered Tonks, "you saw what they did to Moody! To me! Dumbledore's going to need everyone he's got to deal with these Triads. I'm not going to just work on my tan in the meanwhile!"

"The boy is the priority, you know this Tonks," Shaklebolt chastised. "What are you suggesting? You want to leave the boy and go fight the good fight? You swore to protect him!"

Tonks fidgeted, eyes downcast. "I don't have to leave him anywhere."

Harry couldn't see, but he could almost sense Shaklebolt went from grim to ludicrous – much to Harry's chagrin.

"You think he's ready?" Kingsley asked. "For Merlin's sake, the boy is fifteen! He's spent his whole life in Muggle care or Dumbledore's."

"You know what he's done…"

Was Tonks actually defending him?

"Yes, he's done things," Kingsley admitted. "And yes he has done things that even the best of us might not be able to do. But he's still a child, Tonks. Being lucky, rebellious and ill-fated doesn't mean anything out here. Look me in the eye and tell me he's ready to kill. Tell me he's ready to have our backs without the constant watch of Dumbledore or Lily – bless her soul – to protect him."

There was a silence. "He's not ready," Harry heard Tonks admit, with a sigh.

"I know you'd rather avenge Moody," Shaklebolt spoke apologetically. "But right now we've got to do what Moody and Dumbledore would have wanted. Keep the boy safe."

Harry had retreated as soon as he heard the farewell platitudes. They were brief and grim and as the big Auror stepped out the door, Tonks closed the door, breathing deep, no doubt suppressing the frustration. She wanted to be in the fight. Harry wanted to be in the fight.

What is holding us back?

The following day, as the sun rose, Harry was aggressively shaken from slumber. Harry lifted his head from his pillow, to see Tonks straddling him in a more than compromising position.

"Ugh," he mumbled groggily as Tonks grin widened.

"Rise and shine," she spoke loudly, throwing off his blankets.

She did not act as if yesterday's fight had ever happened – or the many fights before that.

"I was using those, thanks," Harry grumbled. "What's put you in such a fine mood?"

"Your stay at Godric's Hollow is officially done," Tonks declared. "Come on, the Order is moving you in a few days. We've got to get you ready."

Harry groaned and fumbled for a spare shirt Ted had loaned him. "Because you've been doing loads to get me ready so far."

Tonks fell silent at this and Harry saw from the corner of his eye, her face fall slightly. He almost wanted to apologize. Almost. But she shook it off easily enough. Harry did feel as if he should be apologizing – it ate at him in terrible ways. Tonks seemed to have forgotten, or chose to forget, their argument of the previous night.

Maybe she's given up on me. Maybe I am nothing but a fifteen year old kid needing protection – playing at being a man.

And this was the painful realization, he was not a man, nor had he ever been. He was a little boy clinging to the idea that this war would be without sacrifice and without pain, or at the very least he would have a host of allies ready to absorb punishment on his behalf. It was the naïve notion that this was merely a bump in the road, something Harry looked at more gravely than any others, but still a mountain with a road down, not a cliff sheared above an ungodly height. This would be a war. It would be costly. And already before his fifteenth birthday Harry had received a taste of what was to come. But what more had he to lose?

There is always more to lose. He told himself.

She almost dragged him down the stairs. Coffee was already fragrant in the air and Ted and Andromeda were enjoying the morning. They looked so perfect – so content, a simple Muggle and a great beauty of a Pureblood. Humility and pride joined at the hip.

"Well we're off!" Tonks spoke cheerfully.

"Where to?" asked Andromeda sharply.

"The Order is coming to relieve you of Harry in a few days. We're just going to swing by Diagon Alley for a bit."

"Is that wise?" Andromeda whispered. "Harry is…well…you know…"

"A highly disturbed and dangerous criminal?" Harry offered but he bore a thin grin.

"Yes, that," Andromeda smiled.

"We'll be fine mum," Tonks rolled her eyes. "Back in time for supper."

Ted gave Harry a warm smile. Harry grinned back genuinely. For all the anguish that was going on outside, he could count on men like Ted to keep everything grounded – even with a simple reassuring smile. Tonks grabbed a few pieces of toast, shoving it into Harry's mouth and her own. Her mood would not be dampened, it seemed.

As he thought about it, Harry was also in a pleasant mood, though no less confused. They were both going to get out of Godric's Hollow for the first time in many days. Tonks approached the fireplace with Harry. Then she stopped and turned to him, eyeing him up and down.

"Hmm," Tonks murmured. "Lets see then. I think I'll go with the curvy brunette today."

Her form rose a few inches while her eyes turned a pale hazel and her bosom expanded. Other parts of her began to shift strangely until Harry was eyeing a very attractive brunette standing before him. Tonks stared at the mirror beside Harry, observing her own handiwork.

"Not bad," she commented. "Whaddaya think Harry? Shag worthy?"

"Is that what we're here for?"

"Oh cheer up, scar-face," Tonks replied. "Come here, it's your turn."

She waved her wand in deliberate motions. He felt his forehead tingle and then grow hot. He rubbed his forehead and found it smooth – no scar present. Tonks shoved a potion into his hand. It had an ill-favored look, and Harry had a feeling he knew what it was.

"It's not mum's finest batch, but it'll do I suppose," mused Tonks brightly. "Go on then. Bottoms up. Soon you'll be sporting a bit of a beer belly and a little scruff, I expect."

Harry grimaced and drank the Polyjuice potion obediently. He had to stop himself from gagging as the liquid hit his tongue. Immediately he felt the changes and his stomach lurched uncomfortably. Tonks tucked several more vials of Polyjuice into her bag snuggly. Tonks seemed rather excited to get under way. She grabbed a handful of Floo powder and carefully placed it in Harry's now larger open palm.

"But why are we going to Diagon Alley?" Harry insisted.

"To get you a wand of course!" Tonks replied hastily. "Don't say I don't do anything for you, Harry. Soon you'll be sipping an Agua de Seville on a nice warm beach – not like these ugly overcast ones we have here. Or maybe you'll be in America. I've never been myself – wonder how it's like across the pond? Anyhow, come on, now! Leaky Cauldron!" And she went up in flames.

Harry shook his head at the Auror's unbridled morning energy. However he couldn't deny the great excitement in him as well. He was finally getting out of Godric's Hollow. He hadn't a mind to come back any time soon once he was finally out for good.

"Maybe fetch me some magical history book while you're there!" called Ted. "I feel a bit lacking in inspiration at the moment. Oh – oh and Andy could use some Cauldron Cleaner. 'Honestly dear, all you need is some elbow grease!'"

Harry grinned. "I'll see what I can do! Leaky Cauldron!"

The world spun and was wreathed in green flames for a moment before Harry found himself face down on the floor of a familiar pub. Tonks giggled at the sight his crumpled form. Harry righted himself with some dignity. He remembered this place. There were good memories here – a good summer. In fact his best summer was spent here. Harry almost yelled to Tom behind the bar then reminded himself that he was not Harry Potter at the moment.

He followed Tonks down to the brick wall, past the eyes of some early rising beer enthusiasts. Wolf whistles followed Tonks as she went.

"Come over here, darling!" one said.

"Maybe later sweetheart," Tonks replied with more than enough sugar in her voice. She winked at him and proceeded onwards.

"Isn't it a bit early for flirting?" Harry sighed.

Tonks shot him a look of mock indignation. "It is never to early for that."

The pair came to the wall. A few taps of the wand, and they were in. The heart of magical Britain opened up before Harry and never had he seen a more welcomed sight. The early hour had given way to a thin crowd this morning. He had to remind himself again, that he wasn't actually here. If it had been Harry bloody Potter strolling through Diagon Alley, it would have been more than a little lively.

"So…Ollivander's?" Harry offered.

"No, no," Tonks laughed. "You get free room and board but the rest is on you. Being an Auror pays well enough, but wands are expensive you know? We'll stop by Gringotts first – unfortunately. Shame to see a good day have to start with the bloody goblins."

They strolled leisurely down the street. It pained Harry greatly to know he could never do this in his own appearance – not until all this mess was sorted out. He had to get his mind on something else.

"Not a fan of Goblins I take it?" he spoke lightly.

Tonks snorted. "Anybody with a any of gold doesn't like the goblins. Selfish little brutes, they are."

They passed Fortescue's on the left. Harry felt a strong pull for ice cream in this early hour. He doubted Tonks would refuse but he kept to her determined pace.

"I thought the goblins have the most secure vaults in the world," Harry continued. "And they supply financial services to all of the magical world."

Tonks gave him a sour look. "I like to think of it more like the Goblins have a bloody monopoly on the banking industry and enjoy the benefits they extort from us."

Harry didn't answer, distracted now by a trio of young witches, suspending a great deal of water in a perfect sphere, only to have the water manipulate and take intricate forms. They gave Harry a foul look as he passed by.

Tonks couldn't have picked a handsome person for my Polyjuice? He sighed.

Tonks seemed talkative enough to continue on the goblins. "You know why Gringotts is the sole bank for the magical world?"

"They're good at it?"

Tonks laughed. "Not quite. You see, we humans have tried to start up banks of our own at several periods in history. As soon as a wizard bank starts accumulating a large clientele or capital reserves, guess what? They are robbed. Goblins spout the superiority of Gringotts security, the wizarding bank's reputation fails and soon it goes bankrupt. Bob's your uncle, and now everything seems to work out fine for the goblins. Curious isn't it?"

"You think the goblins go to criminal lengths to avoid competition?" Harry asked skeptically.

But Tonks said no more. They had arrived at the white marbled pillars of the great Goblin bank, towering over all other buildings in a plain show of supremacy. It never seemed to lose its grandeur in Harry's eyes, no matter how many times he stared at it. Harry then hesitated at the doors. He grabbed Tonks' arm.

"Wait!" he spoke in an alarmed voice. "If I have to make a withdrawal, the goblins will know I'm here! Right in the middle of Diagon Alley!"

"It can't be helped," Tonks reasoned. "If the goblins are good at one thing in their banking practice, it's discretion – complete discretion for their clients. Besides, no way the goblins would ever let mom within its walls. The goblins might think that even alerting mom at all would draw unneeded attention to it."

"Mom?" Harry blurted out. The question had been burning in his mind for several days as Tonks seemed to refer to the matriarchic character quite often.

"Oh, it's the Ministry of Magic. Government's always been a rather maternal character don't you think?"

"And what if the goblins figure I'm important enough to break protocol and alert mom?" Harry asked nervously.

"Then it's a good thing you've got an Invisibility cloak and a hot Metamorphmagus to back you up," winked Tonks.

Without further delay, Tonks strolled into the bank with her head held high. Harry tried to remove the anxiety in him and followed his guardian. She had not been kidding when she mentioned the beer-belly of the poor fellow Harry was now impersonating. He rubbed the long beard uncomfortably.

A little scruff? I'm wearing Dumbledore's beard for Merlin sake.

He shuffled next to Tonks nervously as they made their way across the scarcely populated marbled floors of the Gringotts lobby. The Goblin security staff was manned by short-statured and gauntly armed goblins. Ron might have been one to laugh, but Harry had eyes for nothing but their sharpened axes, forged with white steel. His nerves spiked drastically. Suddenly his excitement vanished, and he found himself wondering why he had been so eager beforehand without considering the dangers.

"Tonks…" he whispered. "Tonks! I…I'm not so sure about this."

"Relax," she whispered back. "Complete discretion remember?"

Harry took a deep breath and the pair of them strolled up to the nearest teller. The teller made a point to ignore them for some moments. Tonks would have none of it.

"We'd like to make a withdrawal, if you're quite done examining your fingernails," Tonks called in a saccharine voice.

Both Harry and the teller look taken aback. The latter then flushed with indignation but held his professionalism intact.

"Key," the replied gruffly.

Tonks handed it to him dutifully as Harry held his breath. The teller looked at it for a moment and then frowned as he stared back at Harry, now in the appearance of a fat bearded man. He then eyed Tonks curiously.

"Mam, are you sure that-"

"It is the right key," Tonks said immediately.

The goblin's face broke out into a worrying glance. His eyes were moving about apprehensively. "Well…you understand that…given your…precaution we will require a blood sample as well for verification."

He pushed a small white blade towards Harry. Harry glanced at Tonks who nodded, albeit reluctantly. He gave himself a small prick on the finger and watched as the red globule of blood was suspended in mid air while the white blade vibrated before coming to rest. Harry couldn't tell if the teller was satisfied or mortified.

"How much do you expect to be withdrawing today?" asked the goblin tentatively.

"That is not the concern of the bank," Tonks replied for him automatically. "Now if you please – we are pressed for time."

"Very…um, very well. If you'll follow me, Mr…uh…sir."

Harry watched Tonks whose brow was furled in thought. From what he could gather, this was not a typical interaction. He left this train of thought to Tonks. He let the wind blow through his hair as the three of them descended into the deep tunnels where laid the Potter vault. Deep into stony passages, the tram screamed by. Tonks held her head low and gripped the sides tightly, much to Harry's amusement. He looked to the accompanying goblin.

"So where are we exactly? Deep underground?" Harry yelled over the wind.

The goblin looked back at him. "Your vault is authorized for immediate non-credit international withdrawals from all Gringotts banks in western Europe. We're somewhere off the coast of Normandy right now."

"Normandy? We're in France?"

"The trams travel many times faster than they appear," explained the goblin. "Our branch is that of Western Europe, you know. We have to position the international vaults somewhere where our clients from England, France, Germany and the Benelux clients could be able to reach their vaults readily."

Harry looked bewildered around, he saw rock not water. "You're telling me Gringotts has an underground network that connects all these countries?"

The goblin sneered. "Why of course! Our international vaults are centralized in a single location! It would be much too cumbersome to provide a system of vaults for all of our individual banks."

Certain possibilities swirled around in Harry's mind but he dared not voice them next to a Gringotts employee. Nor did he ask why it seemed he was in a mountain rather than below at sea. Perhaps the goblin liked the rock. Tonks shivered behind him.

Soon enough they had arrived at the vault and Harry had gone through the security measures and looked upon his vault a bit mournfully. Tonks approached from behind, looking around bewildered. The so-called spires of gold were woefully short. And the mountain of galleons were reduced to small mounds.

"What?" Tonks asked, alarmed. "Are we in the right vault? Where are those endless piles of Potter gold?"

"Sorry to disappointment you," Harry scratched the back of his head. "I'm not a millionaire like the rumors suggest. And Hogwarts tuition is expensive, you know. I might have enough to independently live well enough for a couple more years but I've got to find a job, same as you."

"I have a job," Tonks reminded him. "One that I enjoyed quite a bit. And I've had to take a few more vacation days than I'm comfortable with."

"I'll comp you," Harry said distractedly. "Come on, let's get this over with."

The collection of a modest amount of gold and the return journey went by quicker than expected. Harry had wanted to question the goblin more on the international vault network but his caution overwhelmed him and he fell silent for most of the ride.

When they returned to the lobby, they found the same teller watching them very closely. Harry halted suddenly, a very surly looking goblin in their path. He gave them a cruel smile.

"Good morning, sir, madam," he spoke courteously. "I am Ragnok, divisional manager for the Western Europe branch of Gringotts. Your teller informed me of the unusual situation we've found ourselves in. Rest assured, your confidentiality is guaranteed."

Harry breathed easy while Tonks still bore a hard face. Ragnok eyed Harry's bag of gold.

"I trust our services were adequate?" he asked lightly, though never tearing his eyes away.

"Very," Harry replied curtly. "Now if you don't mind-"

"May I ask if you should be returning later today?" Ragnok asked suddenly. Harry's suspicions rose. "If you were…to say require more withdrawals…we…we could expedite the process for you."

"I believe this is all we will require today," Tonks replied, almost shoving Ragnok out of the way as they passed him.

Harry could feel goblin eyes staring at him. Luckily his disguise was still intact and the goblins did not seem eager to give him away. When he exited the doors of the bank, Harry felt a deep sense of relaxation wash over him. He dabbed away at his sweating face.

"That was weird, wasn't it?" he asked Tonks.

Tonks did not reply, but looked to be deep in thought and suspicion. "Lets…lets get over to Ollivander's, Harry."

As they began to walk, Harry felt himself becoming paranoid about hidden eyes. "Maybe," he said slowly. "Maybe it would have been better for me not to come."

"You sound like Dumbledore," Tonks scorned. "And it can't be helped. The wand chooses the wizard, remember? I can't go and pick a wand for you."

The streets were filling up as the morning waned. Tonks looked back at the daunting Gringotts building suspiciously and urged Harry to walk in front of her. Clearly her mistrust of the goblins was deep rooted.

When they arrived in front of Ollivander's shop, he was already entertaining one client within. With a brush of her wand, she conjured a sign with red letters, which hung in front of the shop door.

CLOSED FOR THE DAY

They waited patiently until Ollivander's business had departed before they entered themselves. Harry looked about him. The shop was always something of an oddity, the wood polished but covered in dust. Behind the counter were rows upon rows of wands, carefully mended and made no doubt by Ollivander's own loving hands. The wandmaker looked at them with friendly eyes.

"Ah!" he exclaimed. "Hello there! I don't think we've met before. Come for a wand dearie?"

Tonks pushed Harry forward and in a move that stunned Harry, she spoke honestly. "Ollivander, this is Harry Potter. His wand was broken and he needs a new one, either made from scratch or from your reserves. We need it before the end of the day. Can you do that?"

It took a moment for the words to register with the wandmaker. He stuttered in surprise, glancing at Harry. Harry looked angrily at Tonks, who shrugged her shoulders.

"Mr. Potter?" he asked tentatively.

Harry nodded his head. "My wand was eleven inches of holly with a phoenix feather at its core."

The wandmaker's eyes lit in recognition. "Mr. Potter…you are…you are a wanted man. What in heavens are you…"

"Ollivander," Tonks spoke again. But the man was beside himself in indignation.

"I am a reputable business man!" exclaimed Ollivander in indignation. "I will not go around consorting with criminals! Leave at once!"

"He needs a wand, Ollivander. And he's offering a sizeable payment for it. No one needs to know about this besides us three."

"I cannot be bought off!" the wandmaker exclaimed, ripe with pride. "My establishment is one of repute!"

Tonks sighed. "Then I suppose I'll let slip to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of your backroom deals with those customers who are willing to pay. Selling spare wands is illegal, don't you know Garrick?"

The wandmaker looked aghast. "Who…who are you miss?"

"Someone who's willing to pay a great deal of money for your services, and someone who can cause you a great deal of trouble if you refuse."

"Then…" Ollivander brushed through his hair, clearly in thought. When it came to him, he spun towards the pair nervously. "If I do this, my reputation and my business may very well go up in flames. I need…I need collateral in case that happens."

"I…I don't have that much gold," Harry warned. "But you're welcome to what's left of-"

"Not gold," interrupted Ollivander. "I…" he looked sheepish and slightly ashamed. "I want the Mirror."

"The mirror?" Harry repeated dumbly as Tonks took a sharp intake of breath. "I…I'm sorry Mr. Ollivander, I don't follow."

A very subtle slyness crept into the wandmaker's face, with only Tonks being able to catch it.

"It's the crowning achievement of Lily Potter in her career in Experimental Charms," he explained to Harry rapidly. "Simply put, she managed to recreate the Mirror of Erised – an ancient artifact that has stood companion with the world since time immemorial. And she had the skills and wit beyond all others to recreate this sacred item. For your new wand, I require the Mirror."

"The Mirror is priceless!" Tonks retorted harshly on Harry's behalf. "This is extortion Ollivander and you know it! It's worth more than all the gold in my and Harry's vaults combined!"

Ollivander bristled. "This is my price! My reasons are highly private and personal but I can assure you I will treat it with delicacy and respect. Think of this as a loan, Mr. Potter. I will not require the Mirror forever…merely until I have what I seek. I shall return it to you upon such a time, rest assured. You can keep your gold, I do not need that dirty money."

Harry was still lost as Tonks led him into a corner of the shop while Ollivander's eyes glistened over with the prospect of the Mirror. She spoke to Harry in hushed tones.

"Why the hell did you tell him who I was?" Harry demanded angrily. "He could have just believed I was a new customer and given me a bloody wand!"

"If Ollivander believed you were some one else, he'd supply you with a wand according to who he believes you are. The wand would never have worked well for you if he didn't know who he was supplying the wand to."

"Fine," Harry resigned bitterly. "He's not the only wandmaker in Britain. Surely there must be others."

Tonks sighed. "I don't have any dirt on the other wandmakers Harry. It's Ollivander's or bust. He's an extorting bastard but he's the best wandmaker in Britain and he's our only option."

"The Mirror," Harry murmured. "My mother's greatest achievement? Her life's work? To be sold in a backroom deal like it's a trinket?"

Tonks touched his elbow gently. "It was not your mother's greatest achievement. It may be her life's work, but it's her son's life in exchange. I think she'd probably have made the deal."

Harry found himself thinking back to the cemetery and the tombstones he had knelt at. Tombstones of plain rock that had not brought back or stirred memories of comfort. He pondered on the mirror in similar fashion. It was his mother's dream – a legacy of sorts. He wondered if he was so ready to give it away. But found he didn't need to think hard.

He looked at Tonks and nodded his head. "Okay," he whispered." Lets make the deal."

He couldn't quite describe it, but there was a twinkle in Tonks eye that looked dangerously similar to respect.

They approached Ollivander again. "You've got a deal, Ollivander," sighed Tonks. "We'll retrieve the Mirror for you. Have you got a wand ready for Harry?"

Ollivander at least had the decency to temper his excitement. "Ah, well no. Harry…I don't think I have quite the wand to suit you. I'll likely make it myself. Today you said? Well, I suppose it can be done. Well Mr. Potter, would you like flexibility? Power? Speed? What would you like your wand to be?"

Harry spoke without thinking. "Adamant. I want my wand to be…adamant."

Tonks looked at Harry curiously while the wandmaker broke into smile. "I believe I have just the thing. He glanced back at his stores. "You know, I've made quite a few wands in my day, but I've only had the good fortune to make two of phoenix feathers – they being so rare. It just so happens that yesterday on my doorstep, I found a third phoenix feather, just laying there in front of me."

"Curious," Harry spoke slowly.

"Indeed," mused the wandmaker. "Well Mr. Potter, it seems you have the favor of a phoenix out there. Adamant you say? I think I can do that. Lets see here…eleven inches again, I think…core of a phoenix feather…and oak. Will that do?"

Harry could not hide his excitement this time. He nodded earnestly. The wandmaker clapped his hands together excitedly. The danger of servicing a criminal was wiped clean from in favor of his entrepreneurial spirit.

"Splendid! I will get started at once, and you will of course bring me the Mirror."

Ollivander hurried away, leaving Tonks and Harry to their thoughts. Harry took another gulp from one of the vials of Polyjuice potion and felt the effects reinforced. They stood silently for a moment.

"So!" Tonks said suddenly. "We've got time to kill. I'm craving for something from Fortescues. Ollivander will take all day, and I'd rather not hold on to something as valuable as the Mirror for any longer than I need to. Come on, your treat."

---

In the summer days of Hogwarts, there was little activity in the castle. The weeks flew by and the castle breathed in delight of the summer air. The lawns were magically subdued to a pleasant level while flowers all around blossomed free of students. The castle was asleep and tranquil, not waking for even the summer storms.

In its lush green fields was an abundance of silence – a magical tranquility where the great castle could recover from the excitement of the school year. The great entrance gates to the castle stood open during this summer period.

It was at the entrance gates where the Deputy Headmistriss met with the guests assembled before her – nearly four dozen Dark Wizard hunters, armed, dangerous and with purpose in their eyes. Before all of them stood Kingsley Shaklebolt.

"Madam McGonagall," Kingsley spoke in his deep baritone voice. "I have a warrant to search the Hogwarts grounds for one Harry James Potter, signed by the Minister, the Head Auror and the Chief Warlock of Wizengamot."

The Transfiguration Professor looked ripe with a cold fury. "Does it take fifty professional Aurors to wrongfully hunt down a fifteen year old boy?"

"Minerva," warned Kingsley, shooting her a knowing look. "The warrant is binding and the School Governors have already approved."

"Then be my guest," McGonagall beckoned with sarcasm dripping from her voice. "I'm afraid you will not find Harry Potter here."

"Where is Dumbledore?" spoke up one Auror brashly.

McGonnagal bristled. "The Headmaster is abroad."

"Where? We have much to ask him."

"Albus Dumbledore is former Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock and recipient of the Order of Merlin First Class!" McGonagall fumed, her voice rising. "He sees people at his own leisure and on his own time! I see your detentions with me on respect seemed to have gone unheeded, Mr. Dawlish. Unless you have a warrant for the arrest of Albus Dumbledore as well, then I'm afraid you will have to make an appointment."

To her horror, Kingsley produced a second document for her examination.

"Well actually, Professor McGonagall," started Dawlish smugly. "We have just such a warrant. Signed this morning by all necessary parties."

"On what grounds?" demanded a panicked professor.

"He has been embezzling funds from the Hogwarts Reserves," Kingsley spoke softly. "And routing the funds to a private account in Brussels amongst other illegally seized goods."

There was a quiet moment where Minerva McGonagall struggled to contain an outrageous laugh. Dumbledore embezzling? However her laughter died on her lips when she saw Kingsley Shaklebolt, dead serious and frightened. The professor frowned deeply, struggling now for words.

"Preposterous! I am deputy headmistress and I am in charge of the finances of this school! If there had been any redirecting of funds, I would be the first to know!"

"Gringotts has the financial transaction paperwork to back up our claim, both on your end and his. Minerva, you must step aside," ordered Kingsley.

The two of them shared a horrifying look, conveying that their fears had now multiplied. The enemy was more cunning than they had imagined. In Kingsley's eyes, the professor saw him begging for her to step aside and not cause incident. The old Transfiguration professor was muttering angrily as she moved to one of the parapets.

"This will be Fudge's final blunder," she warned them harshly. "Insulting a man so ever his greater."

Kingsley looked sympathetic. His face hardened as he turned back to his men. "Spread out! Search the castle! Find Potter! And if Dumbledore is here, take him!"

---

Tonks took another long bite of her icecream, making a point to draw much attention from the men around her. The same men eyed Harry with some jealousy and disbelief that of all people, this fat churlish man was sharing a meal with an attractive young lady.

"Would you stop doing that?" Harry grimaced. "You're going to make all the women in this parlor want to strangle you."

"Mmm," Tonks said dreamily. "Kinky."

Harry shut up at once, turning back to his ice cream, blushing. "Ugh, you're insufferable."

They spoke lightly, almost as friends. But there was this unspoken tension that still hung across their conversations. Their last row had been the worst, and Harry was painfully realizing Tonks had been actually trying to help – in a messed up way. If he was going to keep his sanity, he'd have to reconcile Tonks' inopportune jokes and how she viewed him. However it still tore him up inside.

I am not a child, no matter what she says. I just…sometimes acted a bit…childish…

"What's the book for?" he asked her. Under her arm, she carried a bag sporting a book titled 'The Arcane Empire of the Polynesia', Cauldron Cleaner and several other bright potions amongst other things.

"My dad," Tonks yawned. "He's a best selling fiction author you know? Heheh, sometimes he strays a bit too close to our reality and gets a warning from the Muggle Liaison Office."

Harry frowned. "Who are the Polynesians?"

Tonks looked at him exasperatedly. "Do they still history at Hogwarts?"

"It's all bloody Goblin wars!" retorted Harry defensively. "Is there something I should know?"

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Well at risk of sounding like an encyclopedia, here it goes. There are four distinct types of magic in the world – each vastly different than the other." She raised four fingers. "Greek, Egyptian, Polynesian and Chinese. All of the West uses Greek-style magic and so…it's the most common in the world. Egyptian magic is really sinister. Sometimes a prodigious charmer can appropriate Egyptian magic into Western curses. Hell, the Cruciatus curse reportedly has its origin in some Egyptian enchantment. The Polynesians…well their magical society died out along time ago. There magic is more…naturalistic some would say. I dunno too much about it. And then…"

"The Chinese," Harry finished.

Tonks swallowed another mouthful of ice cream. "Completely secretive. We don't know anything about their magic, how it works and where it comes from. They protected the secret of their magic for nigh millennia. Hell, in ancient times the Polynesians waged a bloody war to find out Chinese secrets. Blame the Chinese for why the Polynesians are gone. Their secrecy is the source of a great many conspiracy theories. Everybody, especially governments wants a piece of the Chinese pie."

"Even Britain?"

"Especially Britain. It took us forever to persuade the Chinese to send over an Ambassador. Granted, it's not much but its progress. Ambassador Chang…an uptight fellow. I saw him once while I was running security at a ministry charity event."

"So there's no information on what sort of spells they might be using," Harry concluded softly. "Great."

He hesitated before speaking again. "Do you…do you think those Triads are working for Voldemort? Like freelance killers or something?"

A dark look passed over the Auror's face. "I sure hope not. You-know-who with arcane Chinese magic? That's not a combination I even want to entertain. Seems unlikely though. From what I know about the Triads – and that's not a lot mind you – they're pretty prideful. Kingsley's a leading authority on them so you'd be better asking him, but apparently they feel they are above the rest of the world, even above You-know-who. Yet there is one thing that unifies all four types of magic – one universal spell that operates the exact same way in all these different magics."

Harry knew it immediately. "The Killing Curse."

He was almost about to ask her the question. He bit his tongue before it came out. No doubt it would cause another row between them and that was the last thing he wanted – especially now when his day had yet to be spoiled. But then Gringotts caught his eye again, looming above, a grey storm above hills of grass. He ate the rest of his ice cream quickly, hoping he had the tenacity to look at his mother's greatest work and knowingly give it away.

Tonks had followed his gaze to Gringotts. Her look turned solemn as the pair of them shared a look. Her eyes held some pity in them. Not since their last row had Tonks looked at him like she usually did, inquisitively searching for something – searching for something Harry now knew to be that which Sirius had proclaimed him. She was searching not for the boy-who-lived, but a man, a man who could defeat a Dark Lord.

"Well, time to face the devil," sighed Tonks. "Back to the goblins. Be careful Harry. They were acting very strange this morning. And why someone as important as the divisional manager came to talk to you, I have no idea. But it likely isn't good."

"You don't think…"

"Well we're still here, which means they haven't alerted mom yet. But the goblin's are devils. They may surprise us yet."

Harry took several more gulps of the Polyjuice, his reserves now running a bit low. His face turned sour and Tonks laughed heartily, offering her icecream to him. He took it gratefully, trying to shake off the awful taste of the potion.

Soon, they found themselves once again at the doors of Gringotts. This time when they entered, the floor was busy with customers and their gold. But despite the crowd, Harry could already sense that all the tellers were looking at him apprehensively. Tonks held a firm grip on Harry's shoulder as they approached a new teller.

It did not help their nerves that once again, the divisional manager had come to speak with them and that he himself would be accompanying the pair back to their vaults. More inquiring questions were tossed his way while Tonks vied to deflect them. For the second time that day, the doors to Vault 687 swung wide open. Ragnok reluctantly remained outside to assure their privacy.

"Accio, Mirror!" cried Tonks with a wave of the wand.

It emerged buried beneath gold, putting all galleons to shame. It was white, whiter than the walls of Gringotts, whiter than the snows atop the mountains, glowing like a star itself. It floated to them in a dazzling grace and settled in the Auror's hand. Harry looked at it and felt his heart rise. His mother had slaved over this thing, this tiny thing, something that had earned her great respect in the wizarding world. Tonks offered it to him but Harry recoiled immediately. He was wary – wary of how he might react. Tonks merely shrugged and then she was captured by her reflection in the mirror.

Harry observed her closely. Her face was indescribable and Harry felt as though he was violating her privacy as he watched her stare into her deepest desires. She found Harry's gaze and her demeanor changed immediately. She grinned, knowingly.

"Quite…stimulating," she purred. "Would you like me to describe it to you?"

Harry turned away and observed what remained of his gold. The Dursleys had been sucking him dry. At least that was over. His gold was at last his gold. Tonks again tried to hand him the mirror. He shuddered and backed away again.

"Stop it, Tonks," he warned her. "I'm not in the mood."

"Aren't you in the least bit curious?" she asked him.

Not curious. Terrified.

"I looked on the real Mirror of Erised in my first year," Harry said quickly. "Once was enough."

"But this is one of only two artifacts that can do this!" protested Tonks. "People kill for the chance to stare into the Mirror of Erised."

Harry momentarily lost control. He found himself clutching both of Tonks' wrists, his face very close to her own. "Don't you get it Tonks?" he whispered. "I don't want to look into it!"

There were faces he still could not bear to see. He knew there would be many more faces than when he last looked when he was eleven. He remembered Dumbledore's warning about the Mirror of Erised. Harry knew that he was at risk of falling prey to its curse. He wasn't sure if looking would comfort him, or utterly destroy him. Harry wasn't sure if he could survive seeing Sirius again or Ron or Hermione or any of them.

Tonks dropped the subject to Harry's everlasting gratitude. He covered the mirror in a white cloth and they exited the vault promptly. Ragnok immediately eyed the mysterious veiled object in Harry's hand but said nothing. The journey from the bank back to Ollivander's was a blur to Harry. His sole focus was on the precious thing in his hand now – her legacy. He was about to sell Lily Potter's life's work. All in order to help him flee the country as a murderer.

If mum could see me now.

The mirror felt light, its face about the height and width of a man's head, with a gleaming white finish. Crystals of adamant adorned the rim encasing the few words that were engraved on the frame.

nwad eht daert ohw esoht rof thgil a

ksud eht esoohc ohw esoht rof esruc a

Harry wondered what Tonks had seen before she covered it up in another jest. It felt to Harry as if the mirror was burning away at his hand. He wanted to hold it no longer than necessary. He dropped it into Tonks' bag, determined not to look. When they had returned to Ollivander's he was nowhere to be seen though his voice echoed to the front of the store.

"We're closed for the day!" he barked.

"We have your payment, Ollivander," called Harry. Lets just get this over with.

Ollivander came running out of the back with a speed not natural to his age. His eyes were gleaming with desire. "Y-you're wand is just settling back there. It should be ready in moments. A fine creation, perhaps my finest, if I do say so myself."

"You say that after every wand you make," Tonks rolled her eyes.

Ollivander reached for Tonks bag, but she stopped him. He reluctantly withdrew his outstretched arm, looking to be a disgruntled child.

"Not just yet, Ollivander," spoke the Auror. "There are some things I need to ask you before you wet yourself from the Mirror."

The wandmaker scoffed but said nothing. Tonks smirked and reached into her bag, retrieving the foreign wand Harry had taken from the fallen Triad. She laid it on the table in front of the British master of wandlore. He eyed it uncertainly and lifted it up to the light, noticing the small inscription at the base.

"Balance?" he murmured to himself.

"What can you tell me about this wand?" she asked.

Garrick Ollivander looked to be in a dream. His eyes were wide in an academic fervor of this new foreign thing. He weighed it in his hand, gazing over every detail and finally flicking it forcefully. From the tip came a flame wrapped in water. All three of them watched in wonder as the flame refused to die and eventually burned away its water shell before vanishing entirely without even smoke or ash.

"Curious," Ollivander whispered. "Where did you get this?"

"Not important," Tonks replied.

"It's a wand!" Ollivander spoke as if it was the greatest discovery in history.

Tonks waited a moment, but Ollivander was too caught up in his trance. "And?"

"It is unlike any wand I've ever seen," he murmured. "So hard…so…virile…"

"Not a wand of…nature…" he continued to mumble. "No…no there is something internal about it."

"It's the wand of a Chinese wizard," said Tonks. "We need to know as much as we can about it."

Ollivander's face spread with delight. "I'm afraid any Greco-diagnostic spells are unlikely to be successful. If I could take a look at its core…"

"Do it," she stated flatly.

The wandmaker went pale. "Only a suggestion mam! No, we can't destroy this wand! I've never seen anything remotely like it! The wonders I could yet discover in wandlore…"

"This isn't an academic exercise Garrick," Tonks chastised. "Open it up."

Grumbling all the way, the wandmaker delicately cut through the wood of the wand. It split up the middle, and fell aside. He levitated the core of the wand up to eye level. He yelped in alarm.

"By Merlin!" he exclaimed. "Hair? Hair? As a core? No, no, no…much too unstable! But…but the wood…it's of inner workings…yes, yes…But how? Not drawing on forces I think…but on the core? The core itself?"

Tonks had heard enough of his inane mutterings. "Well Ollivander?"

He gazed up at her excited beyond measure. "The wand has human hair at its core! Can you believe it? Human hair! Undoubtedly, it must be the hair of the wand's master!"

"Is that important?"

"Important?" exclaimed Ollivander. "It changes everything! This wand does not channel energy through the core. It channels energy from the core!"

"Ollivander," Tonks sighed impatiently. "How about for a laywoman?"

He looked at her with academic scorn. "Suffice to say, as most magic goes, we draw on forces outside us and channel it through the core of our wands to cast spells. So long as gravity, tension, friction and all forces exist, you can cast spells forever but it is limited by the same limits of the forces you call upon! But this wand here is…internal. Its power comes from its core and therefore the strength and origin of spells comes from the caster."

"What does this mean, practically speaking?"

"Well…depending on the strength of the caster…the wand is capable of just about anything imaginable! Imagine a wand beyond the forces of nature! Limited only by your own strength! But alas, the strength of a man is not infinite like the force of nature…I imagine the more spells cast…the weaker the caster must be…"

"So someone with this wand could cast the most powerful stunner in the world," concluded Harry, "but would soon exhausting himself."

Until now the breadth of knowledge commanded by wandlore had never impressed Harry. As he examined his own knowledge, he realized he had no idea why a wand worked or where magic came from. This Garrick Ollivander had much wisdom locked away in his old eyes and wispy hair. Tonks was pacing about, trying to register the information and Ollivander, no longer able to play around with the split wand, looked to Harry expectantly.

"Mr. Potter…the Mirror if you please?"

"Right."

Harry plucked the mirror from the Auror's bag. It felt amazingly light and warm in his palm. Harry ignored Ollivander's greedy look while the Mirror held his gaze in an ambient trance. He ignored how Tonks seemed to be nervously holding her breath as she watched him. In fact, he ignored the split wand beside him or the newly made wand waiting for him.

Strangely enough the events of the cemetery had exhausted him of the wave of raw emotions. Harry was calm and pensive. Slowly he raised the Mirror towards Ollivander. He felt it leave his hands as Ollivander tenderly held it. The wandmaker was about to turn away.

This is my last chance. Am I strong enough to look?

"Wait," he breathed, barely above a whisper.

Ollivander looked at him sadly. "Mr. Potter...I'm sorry but…my pay…"

Harry could barely hear himself talk – it was so quiet. "Just…just give me a moment."

Harry swallowed hard as he took the Mirror from Ollivander. Tonks still hadn't breathed. Harry raised a trembling hand and gripped the veil. He tried to grip it as hard as he could but he could already feel his conviction waning. Then he felt a warm sensation on the back of his hand. Tonks placed a gentle hand on Harry's. She looked at him, with eyes of sheer confidence.

"You can do this," she whispered.

He nodded, and dropped the veil to the floor. Harry closed his eyes, summoning all courage to him and looked into the Mirror.

There he saw them. His hair was still unruly and bore the lightning scar. His dad and his mum stood behind him. But behind them were many more figures. Hermione. Sirius. Ginny. Fred. George. Mr. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley. Cedric. Tonks hadn't let go of Harry's hand and Harry could not describe how thankful he was for it. His hand was still trembling in her grip. But he wouldn't look away. He couldn't even blink. His eyes went from face to face, once living and happy, now no more than ash. His breath was shaky and his resolve unstable. But he endured. Around him there was silence and nothing more.

"I'm sorry you're all gone," Harry whispered. "And I miss you all every day. I've tried to get past the pain. I've done stupid things to try and make the pain go away. But I've realized…the pain will never go away. It'll stay with me forever. So I have to take it – and I'll bear it." He paused and sniffed. "I'll always miss you. And for you – I'll shoulder it. And I'll rise above it. So…just…"

His voice broke and he squeezed Tonks hand, whose company had never seemed more welcoming or needed.

"Keep me a warm seat at the Burrow," Harry whispered. "I'll be along soon."

And the reflection shifted. The figures blurred and faded into something else – something Harry could not yet see but was taking shape before his very eyes. He smiled to himself and gave a small laugh. He finally looked away and covered the Mirror before he could witness the new reflection. He felt changed…inexplicably and indisputably changed. His mother's mirror agreed. His mind was light and it opened to clear skies, at last breathing in acumen that he had long abandoned.

Harry blinked away the tears and handed the Mirror back to Ollivander who exchanged it with Harry's new wand. "Treat it well Mr. Ollivander. I won't need it again."

"My dear boy…I promise."

Harry managed a small smile and turned to leave. In front of the door, Tonks was now standing, hands on her hips and a sad smile of her own. They shared a long stare. Tonks nodded to him.

"They'd be proud," she said softly. "I'm proud."

Harry gave a shrug and exited the door. Tonks hooked her arm around his. At that moment, Harry realized Tonks would never give him that inquisitive look ever again.

"You give me hope, Harry Potter. I'll make a man out of you yet."

The late afternoon breeze ran through Diagon Alley and Harry breathed it in, feeling it was the first real breath he had taken all summer long. It was done. All that was left ahead were the Triads. And the Aurors. And Voldemort. It seemed a dismal thought – but it gave him more strength than one could imagine. He was staring ahead now. She exited the shop and saw Harry standing in the middle of the street, his eyes up to heaven and a calm peaceful aura about him.

All of their deaths had nearly killed him.

Nearly, he thought. Nearly.

"Not quite though," he whispered.

And he lifted his head to the sky, defiance roaring in him in white flames of righteous intent.

"You hear me Voldemort? Triads? I'm not dead yet!"

The few heads left in Diagon Alley were staring at him, aghast. Harry didn't seem to mind at all. He was beyond their disdain. He was beyond his own disdain. He had risen and the last flames of his Burning Day were gone.

"You saw something else, didn't you?" Tonks said, walking next to him. "Your reflection changed."

"Maybe," shrugged Harry. "But I didn't look. You know I realized something back there. I don't think my mother made the Mirror to give people the chance to look. I think she made it to give people the chance not to look."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning…you're not your reflection. Your reflection is you. And you can change it whenever you want – through sheer force of will."

Tonks smiled at him and for the first time in a very long time, he was genuinely smiling back at her – without any reservations or grievances.

"Maybe you're ready after all," she smirked. "Alright, Mr. Second-rate-philosopher. Lets go home."

Then they laughed – the curvy brunette and the bearded fat man. They laughed as if all the mirth of the world was theirs. One moment in time – a flame of happiness that burned the world alight and cut a path through the forests of hurts. They laughed and soared above like great phoenixes, burning gold, and waxing white clouds.

Tonks still had a grin when she straightened out her arm for a Side-Apparation. Harry grabbed hold of her. There was a bang, and Tonks toppled back, as Harry had to catch her from stumbling. She was frowning deeply.

"Sorry, just a hitch. Come on, let's do it again."

Her brow creased in concentration. And then…another bang. This time Tonks had to grab a nearby railing to hold herself upright. Her breathing quickened and her face paled. Nearby, one lady looked at Tonks smugly before vanishing with a crack. Slowly but surely, Tonks was transforming back to the pink-haired Auror Harry was familiar with. However the look of sheer terror was not what Harry was accustomed to. She looked at him dangerously.

"I can't apparate back home," she said slowly, as if ingesting the words herself. "Which means someone put up an anti-apparation ward there."

"Who would do that…" Harry trailed off, and then he began to share the Auror's fear.

"Draw your wand Harry. We might be heading into a fight."

---

Author's Note: Nearly there. This short slow Act 1 is almost done. Harry is almost where I need him to be. One more chapter until Act 2 and I promise fireworks. I changed the history for the Mirror of Erised – I think it's by far the most interesting item in the HP universe. Hope you stick with me. Feel free to review and criticize – be as nasty or nice as you think I deserve. Enjoy.