Chapter Four

A Different Home

London…

The streets were filled with people, some walked in easy strides, some buried their heads in morning papers, some calmly sipped their coffee in street corner cafes, all of them oblivious to the dingy little door that separated two worlds, passing their morning leisurely, absorbed in their own business, too blind to see what she saw.

The little girl stared wide-eyed at the person standing before her. Sunlight cascaded down the lengths of his brilliant silver hair, bathing him in an ethereal glow. He wore a long cloak, and his face was hidden behind a black, featureless mask. He held a long stick in one hand, his eyes scanning the streets with barely hidden contempt. People walked past him, oblivious.

Suddenly the man's eyes turned to hers. He seemed to be surprised at being recognized. The maniacal light in eyes relented a little as they watched each other, and then the man raised his stick.

Dust swirled with the swooshing of cars, swirled again with a flashing green followed by a flashing red…

Then the world shattered into a million pieces before her eyes…

The next two weeks passed with a blur. Harry's training with Silvia changed from focusing his power to learning a kind of a slow dance. Shadow boxing, She called it. It was certainly slower than shadow in Harry's eyes, but the sluggish movements did have a calming effect, and afterwards, Harry was able to sustain the power ball for so long that Silvia actually got bored waiting. She also began teaching Harry some of the ancient spells, explaining to him that these spells can be done without a wand. Harry took them all up, like a sponge. He was so absorbed that he hadn't even realized his birthday had come and passed without any presents.

The books can't really be considered as interesting, but the subject did have a quaint charm that sustained Harry's curiosity. Unlike any other text books, they talked about history of Mind Magic, cultures inspired my Mind Magic and even the types of food that were apparently good for the mind. It seemed that ancient Chinese had some very intimate relationship with Mind Magic. Western magical folks back then were obsessive with staffs, which somehow was the cause of several failed invasion against Ancient China before they realized they were all similar magical people, and their real enemy were the muggles.

"It's for you to discover." Silvia smiled mysteriously when Harry tried to ask her why Mind Magic was more powerful than wands. "I've told you the other night. Anyhow I don't really understand it, so it's for you to discover. Who knows, maybe you'll end up uncovering its secrets."

So Harry spent the weeks monotonously, and when he was bored he would go into the closet to 'disarm' dummies without a wand. The first time he tried that, he managed to throw himself in the other direction, straight into the cushioned walls. After a week he got better at casting Disarming charms, at least he wouldn't disarm himself in the process.

On a morning of the third week of his training, Harry left the house for a morning run, which began since Silvia showed up. Silvia took over his life completely; she cooked his meals, bought him cloths, wrote him a workout schedule and even rigorously tried to make him talk about sex. According to her, if he filled out a bit, he could be a bigger Hogwarts sex symbol than Sirius was. Partly for that reason he stuck to her timetable ritualistically. But there was something different today. As he stepped out of the door, he felt something different.

Shadow boxing did have an effect on his senses. For an ordinary person, everything seemed normal. From the faint sunlight to the half-wilted lawn and the dusty pavement, nothing was out of the ordinary.

But still he can feel it. A presence, not a threatening one, but alert and tense. Harry closed his mind and focused, then, with the agility he built up as a seeker, he made grab to the left. His hand slammed painfully into something solid wrapped in a cool, sleek material and whatever it was collapsed onto the floor. A second later, Mad Eye Moody disentangled himself awkwardly from his Invisibility Cloak, swearing.

"Bloody hell Potter, how did you know?" He grabbed Harry's outstretched hand and stood up stiffly. "I've never even seen an Auror who can detect Invisibility cloaks. Without magical eyes that is. How the hell did you do that?"

With a faint chuckle, Harry said, "You were too tense. It shows in your magic field, that's why I could feel you."

Moody shook his head mumbling something indistinguishable and then recovered his usual composure.

"Whereare you going Potter?" He growled.

"Running." Harry shrugged. "Why are you here?"

"Circumstance changed Potter." Moody's magical eye swirled around in its socket. "From now on, you are not allowed to go out of the house alone. In fact, it would be better if you don't go anywhere at all."

"Why?" Asked Harry, surprised. "No one stopped me going to the park two weeks ago."

Moody looked uncomfortable. He shifted his wooden leg, staring at Harry with his normal eye with a pitying expression.

"Sorry Potter. I don't want to keep information from you, but it's classified. All you need to know is that it's not longer safe for you to leave the house."

Harry was not pleased, and he felt the air around him flare up with anger. Using the techniques he learnt in Silvia's books, he managed to calm himself before exploding.

"Why?" He asked in a calm voice as he bent down to tighten his shoelaces. "You better explain. Or one way or another I will go out, and no one can stop me."

If Moody was surprised at the sudden outburst of power, he was even more surprised at the indifference that suddenly settled in Harry's voice. If the boy was controlling his anger by force, then he was doing an incredible job. Harry Potter had changed. He was not the impatient boy he picked up a year ago. This was a young man to watch for.

"Walls have ears Potter, so I will make it quick and brief. You've been refusing to get in touch with the wizarding world, so you don't know. There had been no Death Eater activity for a while, but we had sources to suggest that the Death Eaters are preparing for something big." Moody paused, as if hesitating, his magical eyes spinning so fast that it made Harry feel dizzy. "We were right. Yesterday, Diagon Ally was attacked. The muggle street outside was completely devastated and it wasn't much better inside."

"What?" Harry blurted out, his pulse rate stepping up instantly.

"That's not all. On the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron, a message was left for the world to see." Moody's voice lowered to a coarse whisper. "This is for you, Harry Potter."

It took him a minute for his brain to understand what Moody said.

Harry felt numb. Diagon Ally attacked because of him. People died because of him. He felt sick, he felt his eyes prickle, and he felt, once more, the unbearable weight of guilt.

"It's not your fault Potter." Whispered Moody, as if he could tell how Harry was thinking. "It's His fault. From now on, you have to be placed under 24-hour surveillance. We are planning to take you out of here tomorrow, until then you have to stay in the house, where the protection is strongest."

Harry nodded, not really taking anything in. This is for you, Harry Potter. He could see it in his mind's eye, bright green letters among the dusty debris. He could imagine the astonishment of all those survivors; he could feel the confusion of the nameless dead. He remembered the first time Hagrid brought him to Diagon Ally. The sun shone brightly, gleaming on dust free windows. People's voice over lapping – exited squeals, disgusted mummers, heated bargains…

But Diagon Ally was no more.

After a while, Moody broke the silence. "You know what this means boy, don't you?" He said grimly as he opened the door.

Harry nodded darkly.

The war has begun.

Harry brooded in his room for the rest of the day. The Dursleys left after Moody paid them some money, the house was kept empty just for him. The ex-Auror placed Alarm spells on the doors and windows before he left, telling him that the Order Members will be watching from hidden locations. Silvia came, but her face was masked by sadness, and her eyes slightly bloodshot.

"More than a hundred muggles and wizards died," she told him weakly, slumping into a chair. "They blasted the entire street to pieces. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, in the proximity survived. It was variation of a mining curse; I don't think an everyday Death Eater could have done this. It must have been some big man at the top."

Harry was silent. He hadn't said a word since Moody brought the news. This is for you, Harry Potter.

"The strange thing was, no killing curse had been used." Silvia rubbed her eyes. "We think it served as a warning, a declaration of war, to show us how vulnerable the wizarding world is."

She left a few minutes later, saying that she's on duty.

"Oh, and Harry, tomorrow morning we are leaving for Grimmauld's place," said Silvia as she closed the door.

Harry went up to his training closet. What he needed now was to let out some of the steam building up inside him. He knew the perfect spell, something he looked up in his Ancient Spells book.

"Conflo!" He shouted without even drawing out a wand.

A cluster of dummies exploded, showering the snow-white cushions with beautiful patterns of black soot. Harry stood by the door, panting. Crude images of burning bodies flashed in his mind.

It could have happened to someone I knew. He thought. How do I face my friends then?

It was then he made a decision: some people are meant to be alone. He would have to leave his friends, alienate himself from the others – Ron, Hermione, and those with him in the Department of Mysteries, Neville, Luna and Ginny. If he could give Voldemort the impression the he doesn't have any friends, they would probably be safe. He wasn't sure it'd be enough though. No one was safe in a war.

It wasn't a painful decision. In his heart he knew how much he loved his friends. But so far he had found loneliness comforting and safe. He just needed to keep that feeling until he dies.

"Until HE dies." Harry corrected himself. "Until I kill that fucking bastard Voldemort."

Next morning, he found another Advance Guard waiting for him in the kitchen.

Lupin was there. He looked more tired and pale than ever. His eyes were sunken, and most of his hair had become gray. Remus grieves the loss of Sirius more than he did, Harry realized. He had lost a godfather he barely knew, but Lupin lost his only remaining best friend.

"Hi Harry." Remus surprised him by giving him a crushing hug. "We are here to take you home. How are you?"

Harry's throat felt tight. What would Grimmauld place feel like without Sirius?

"I'm fine." Harry managed, and then smiled at the skeptical expression that crept onto his old professor's face. "I'm fine, really. I know I've been saying that for a whole summer, but I'm really fine now. Shall we just go?"

Remus nodded to a tall, dark man next to him, who had all these time been tense and alert. Kingsley Shacklebolt took out a vial from his pocket and poured out some sticky black liquid into five glasses on the kitchen table.

"Polyjuice potion?" Harry asked with raised eyebrows.

"How do you - ? Oh never mind." Lupin frowned, while Kingsley looked amused. "Then you should know that we need your hair."

He cut off wisps of Harry's shoulder length hair and put them into the cups. The potion bubbled and turned to a blood red color.

"Interesting, Harry." Kingsley studied the potion carefully. "Interesting indeed. That would be one each for Remus, Alaster, Silvia, Hestia, and me. Five Harry Potters. That should confuse them. All right, let's go. The others are waiting outside. Trunk?"

Harry waved his hand randomly, and his trunk drifted into his room like a pet dog. Silvia, who chose to enter at his particular moment, smiled at this while Remus and Kingsley looked surprised. Taking out his wand, Remus levitated the glasses and directed them outside. Soon, six Harry Potters were standing outside on the lawn.

"Ok Potter, if one of us dies…" That's Moody.

"No body's going to die Alaster," said a voice, deeper and more mature than the usual Harry. Probably Kingsley.

"Ok, everybody mount your brooms. They are charmed with invisibility spells so no one can see us. But just in case, we will shift positions so no one can see any pattern. There won't be any reserve, so if we are attacked, Harry, just do whatever you can to get out of the fight. Let's go."

Six Harry Potters soared into the sky, and the real Harry's eyes watered in the wind.

"Just keep going straight. We need to get you there as fast as we can." One of the Harry Potters following him shouted.

They passed streets after streets unseen, cars sized like matchbox crawled below them. Harry suddenly wondered where the Dursleys are. How would they feel about being kicked out of their own home? One Harry Potter swooped next to him, now he found himself edging to the left of the formation, and then another Harry Potter was on his right.

"Time to start the descent," came his own voice with a Silvia-like little laugh. "Follow Harry, Harry."

They went into a dive, lower and lower until they were once more on solid ground. Harry looked around, the garden was the same as he remembered, but the windows were no longer dusty and the door had been repainted.

"Ok boy, let's get in," the Harry next to him said.

Six Harry Potters walked up the worn stone steps, five of them nervously glancing around, wands out. The Harry ahead tapped the door once with his wand, and the door opened after a series of metallic clicks. Six squeezed through the door under the cover of the night.

The place had lost its dusty smell and derelict feeling. One of the Harrys walked down the hall while another surveyed around with interest.

"Oh Harry, it SO good to see you. You're looking good. I really must thank Silvia for that. Where are the rest?" Harry heard Mrs. Weasley's subdued voice. The whispers grew nearer, and then stopped.

For a moment there was a stunned silence as Mrs Weasley stared at Six Harry Potters before her, then she screamed.