Harry Potter and the Eleventh Commandment

Chapter 5 – When Green met Black

August 4th, 2005 – Somewhere in London

It had been two days since Privet Drive had been attacked by the Dementors and the Death Eaters, and in the period of time that the two teens had been forced to wait, things had gone rather well between the two. At least, that's what Harry liked to think, and actually hoped would remain that way. True, the first few hours after their… recruiters had left had been rather tense and silent, even after Harry had sent a letter to Sirius with a shortened version of the night's events, (leaving out the Unspeakables' presence) but the next day Harry had been the one to break the ice between the two with the most practiced, simple and very effective art that the human race had developed since the beginning of its time:

Cooking.

At first, Daphne had acted like a true Slytherin, suspecting Harry and the possible reasons as to why he'd cooked breakfast for her or whether or not he'd poisoned the food or anything of the sort, but eventually the delicious smell alone had been enough to break her resolve and dig in. After that, conversation had been picked up, and Harry was very surprised to find that behind the cold exterior that Daphne Greengrass excluded during school, there was a young, passionate, vibrant young woman, whose wit and mischievousness were hidden behind a veil of biting sarcasm, bright smiles and a look in her eyes, a shining, a gleam that he couldn't help but find familiar somehow. The young Potter found himself liking Daphne, and not just because she was pretty, but rather because it was so easy to be her friend.

Or at least, that's how he felt.

Over the next few hours, he learned quite a lot about her. She was a Slytherin, but sometimes wished she was in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff because of how rough Slytherin House could be. She had a younger sister, Astoria, who looked exactly like her father but had none of his personality. She loved her mother very much, and like her, considered Potion-making and Ancient Runes the most interesting subjects, though Defense Against the Dark Arts came at a close second, mostly because the quality of the last two teachers they'd had in the subject had been more than excellent. She had a best friend in Slytherin, Tracey Davis, a half-blood whose parentage had been the cause of a lot of suffering at the hands of their House, and as such, had given Daphne a very firm opinion on bigots and bigotry. Daphne herself was a Pureblood, but one that didn't buy into the prejudice and hatred the Muggleborns suffered.

"Saying that Purebloods are better than Muggleborns just because of their blood is just idiotic," she had said. "I mean, take your friend, Hermione Granger, and compare her to me. I will be the first person to say that that girl is a lot smarter than I am, and a lot healthier. She doesn't have a disease that limits your life by half. And if the rumors about her breaking Malfoy's nose last year have any truth to them-"

"They do," Harry was glad to tell her.

"Ha! Oh yes, she's definitely someone to admire," she said. "I wouldn't mind being her friend at all. I only wish being in Slytherin didn't make it so hard to have friends outside of the House."

Harry frowned. "Perhaps that's exactly why you should," he countered. "I mean, if you make friends outside of Slytherin, friends who see you for who you truly are and that stick by your side no matter what, then wouldn't those friends be considered all the more precious?"

Daphne considered it. "Yeah, I can see that makes sense," she said, smiling at him. "I think you're right!"

Harry found that he liked that smile.

Learning about her Rabastan's Core had been interesting as well. Harry didn't know much about illnesses in the Wizarding World, other than the most infamous Dragon Pox and the fact that he needed to take shots every year for other diseases as well (they were provided by Madam Pomfrey). As such, learning about Daphne's particular disease was interesting, yet that enthusiasm was dampened when he learned of the curse it had on her life.

"It's why I was able to learn how to Apparate," she said. "Wizards and witches that haven't reached core maturity or close enough to that, can't muster the power or the delicate touch that Apparition requires."

"So you have a mature core," said Harry.

"Yes, though I still have the Trace on me," she said, looking at her wand with a wistful expression before sobering. "I still wish I didn't have Rabastan's Core. For one, the potions I take every few weeks so that my Core doesn't destabilize and kill me or the people around me are rather expensive. Secondly, even though I reached Core maturity when I was thirteen, I won't be able to enjoy that since the disease cuts my life down by half. I won't live as long as most wizards and witches."

Harry took in her expression, which was equal parts sad and uncaring. "And how does that make you feel?" he asked.

Daphne looked thoughtful. "I honestly don't know," she said. "There's a part of me that feels sad, because I don't like the idea of dying, not that anyone should. But I haven't really lived yet, now have I? How could I feel bad about dying if I haven't experienced enough in life to know what I'm missing out?" She shrugged, "I just hope that I have enough time to finish my Bucket List before I die."

Harry's eyebrows were raised. "A bucket list?"

"An idea of Tracey's," she said. "I've had some things I want to do before I… well, before I kick the bucket." She laughed. "Running away from home was one of them, even if I…"

Harry leaned forward. "Yes?" he pressed, oddly curious.

"…even if I didn't want to leave my mother," she said, her expression betraying the sadness in her heart. She didn't say anymore, but tears began to gather in the corners of her eyes, so Harry reached over the kitchen table for her hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"It's okay," he said.

Daphne winced. "It's not," she said. "My mum… you know she's been missing since March, Harry. There are a lot of skeletons in my family's closet. I say that I didn't want to leave my mother because I always hoped that she would come back home. A naïve wish, but…"

Harry nodded emphatically. "It doesn't stop us from asking for something we may never have," he said, his mind far away on lonely days and nights, locked away in a spare room, asking the heavens for his parents to come and rescue him from the Dursleys.

Daphne looked at Harry, really looked at him, and nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Exactly."

Lunch came and went, and again Harry cooked. When it was time for dinner, he found to his surprise that his new companion was not a fan of such things. "There's a Russian saying," she said. "It goes, 'Breakfast with your family, lunch with your friends, and dinner with your enemies.'" She winked at him, "It's why I spend most of my dinners with Malfoy and his lot, even if I don't take a single bite. You'd be quite surprised at the things they say…"

And so the first day came and went. That night, when they went to bed they followed the same arrangement they'd agreed on the night before – she took his bed, he took the couch in the living room. She'd seen the Dursleys, and agreed with Harry's assessment of them. The only way she would touch, let alone sleep in any of their mattresses was if they were on fire.

Conversation flowed throughout the day, mostly because the two of them weren't the type of people to lay about and do nothing for hours on end. When Harry ventured outside to do some yard work – regardless of what his Aunt claimed, he'd been taking care of those plants for years, they were his flowers, dammit – Daphne followed him, kneeling next to him and helping him out.

Harry glanced at her in the middle of weeding the garden. "You're not one to stay still often," he noted.

Daphne blushed. "No," she agreed, "I'm not. It's been a… conflict of interest between me and my father more than once."

"I don't understand," said Harry.

Daphne looked at him. "Well," she said, "I'm sure you've noticed that during the school year, I don't normally act like this, rather, I'm more standoffish, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah," he said, "I've noticed. Why do you do that?" he asked.

"Well it's how I'm supposed to behave. At least, according to what my father says," clarified Daphne. "It's 'proper Pureblood behavior,' according to him. It's not really me. I mean, it helps when it comes to dealing with people like Malfoy, but really, that's all my father's teachings. 'We, the true wizards of Britain, must walk with pride, with our heads held high and our wands in our canes,'" Daphne said in a low voice, pretending to be her father. "'Let the commoners, the Half-Bloods and the mudbloods walk with their hunches, their wands in their hands.' Oh yes, he's a Blood supremacist," she added, noting the look on Harry's face. "He wasn't a Death Eater in the last war, but I'm sure that he would happily sign up if given the chance."

Harry honestly didn't know what to say to that, and told her so.

Daphne scoffed. "Oh, you don't have to," she said. "Trust me – anything that needs to be said has already been said, and anything that hasn't… well, it's just waiting for the right moment." She glanced at the weeds in her hands, which had been crushed without her noticing. She shook her head before relaxing her hands. "Sorry," she said.

"Don't be," answered Harry. They turned back to the garden, finishing up quickly and heading inside for a quick lunch.

The afternoon passed just as quickly as the rest of the day had, but when night fell, things changed. Harry and Daphne were in his room, talking about Ancient Runes, with Daphne explaining how the subject worked and what she'd learned so far – and as the conversation evolved Harry couldn't help but think he owed Hermione an apology for not listening to her, he should've taken Runes instead of Divination – when Harry distinctly heard a crash in the kitchen below.

"Did you-?"

"Yeah," said Harry, snatching his wand from the bedside table as voices sounded below. Burglars, he thought at first, or Death Eaters. A split second later it occurred to him that burglars would keep their voices down, and whoever was moving around in the kitchen was certainly not troubling to do so, while Death Eaters… well there were charms for preventing sound from being made.

"You think it's the Death Eaters?" asked Daphne, her voice worried.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head, "but whoever they are, I-"

Whatever he was going to say as the next moment, he jumped as the bedroom door swung open. Harry and Daphne stood motionless, staring through the open doorway at the dark upstairs landing, Harry straining his ears for further sounds, but none came. He hesitated for a moment, glancing at Daphne, then moved swiftly and silently out of his room to the head of the stairs.

His heart shot upwards into his throat. There were people standing in the shadowy hall below, silhouetted against the streetlight glowing through the glass door; eight or nine of them, all, as far as he could see, looking up at him.

"Lower your wand, boy, before you take someone's eye out," said a low, growling voice. "The same goes for the girl behind you."

Harry's heart was thumping uncontrollably. He knew that voice, but he did not lower his wand.

"Professor Moody?" he said uncertainly.

"I don't know so much about 'Professor'," growled the voice, "never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly."

Harry lowered his wand slightly but did not relax his grip on it, nor did he move. He had very good reason to be suspicious. He had recently spent nine months in what he had thought was Mad-Eye Moody's company only to find out that it wasn't Moody at all, but an impostor; an impostor, moreover, who had tried to kill Harry before being unmasked. But before he could make a decision about what to do next, a second, slightly hoarse voice floated upstairs.

"It's all right, Harry. We've come to take you away."

Harry's heart leapt. He knew that voice, too, though he hadn't heard it for over a year.

"P-Professor Lupin?" asked Daphne behind him disbelievingly; apparently he wasn't the only one. "Is that you?"

"Why are we all standing in the dark?" said a third voice, this one completely unfamiliar, a woman's. "Lumos."

A wand-tip flared, illuminating the hall with magical light. Harry blinked. The people below were crowded around the foot of the stairs, gazing up at him intently, some craning their heads for a better look.

Remus Lupin stood nearest to him. Though still quite young, Lupin looked tired and rather ill; he had more grey hairs than when Harry had last said goodbye to him and his robes were more patched and shabbier than ever. Nevertheless, he was smiling broadly at Harry, who tried to smile back despite his state of shock.

"Oooh, he looks just like I thought he would," said the witch who was holding her lit wand aloft, "though I didn't expect the girl..." She looked the youngest there; she had a pale heart-shaped face, dark twinkling eyes, and short spiky hair that was a violent shade of violet. "Wotcher, Harry! Sorry to interrupt your hot night there!"

Harry couldn't help but blush. "Er, that's not-"

"I see what you mean, Remus," said a bald black wizard standing furthest back - he had a deep, slow voice and wore a single gold hoop in his ear - "he looks exactly like James."

"Except the eyes," said a wheezy-voiced, silver-haired wizard at the back. "Lily's eyes."

Mad-Eye Moody, who had long grizzled grey hair and a large chunk missing from his nose, was squinting suspiciously at Harry through his mismatched eyes. One eye was small, dark and beady, the other large, round and electric blue - the magical eye that could see through walls, doors and the back of Moody's own head.

"Are you quite sure it's him, Lupin?" he growled. "It'd be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater impersonating him. We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?"

"Harry, what form does your Patronus take?" Lupin asked.

"A stag," said Harry nervously.

"That's him, Mad-Eye," said Lupin.

"And the girl?" asked Moody.

"Daphne, what shape does a boggart take for you?" came the question, again from Lupin.

Harry took his eyes off of the group to look at Daphne. The girl was biting her lip nervously, twisting her want between her hands. She took a deep breath before looking straight at Lupin, her gaze like the Ice she was nicknamed after.

"Mephistopheles Greengrass," she said. "It takes the form of my father."

Harry heard Lupin sigh. "It's her," he told Moody. "I confess your presence here is a surprise, Miss Greengrass. We didn't expect Harry to have company…"

"It was an emergency," she said. "Someone very close to me suggested I… that I come here."

"And how did you know about this place?" asked Moody. "Potter's address isn't exactly well-known, now is it?"

"Er, no," she said. "It isn't. But my father has contacts in the Ministry… He has someone from the Improper Use of Magic on his payroll; its how I've been allowed to use magic over the summers." She placed her wand back into her pocket, "Forging his writing and his signature was easy; I've known Harry's address for a while now."

Moody growled. "Which means that the Death Eaters know as well," he said, before taking in the teens' expressions. "Your letter wasn't lying, was it boy?" he asked. "Death Eaters were here."

"What?" asked Lupin, his eyes wide as he looked at Moody. "What are you-?"

"Can't you feel the wards, Lupin?" came the retort.

"I-" Lupin trailed off. "No, I can't."

"Exactly. Dumbledore himself said that he set up the wards protecting this place," growled Moody. "Potter wasn't lying, this place has been compromised. Death Eaters could be watching us right now," he added, his blue eye whizzing around in all directions.

"They're gone, I reckon," said Harry, having suppressed the flash of irritation he'd felt when Moody said he'd been lying in his letter. "The wards – when they fell, they did something to them, I'm not sure what, but we've been left alone ever since."

Moody huffed. "It goes against everything I used to teach my Aurors," he said, "but we'll have to hope that that's everything that happened. In the meantime, we need to get you out of here."

"We'll have to take the girl with us too," said the violet-haired woman who'd spoken up earlier.

Moody growled in agreement. Very conscious of everybody still staring at him, Harry descended the stairs, stowing his wand in the back pocket of his jeans as he came, Daphne following him.

"Don't put your wand there, boy!" roared Moody. "What if it ignited? Better wizards than you have lost buttocks, you know!"

"Who d'you know who's lost a buttock?" the violet-haired woman asked Mad-Eye interestedly.

"Never you mind, you just keep your wand out of your back pocket!" growled Mad-Eye. "Elementary wand-safety, nobody bothers about it anymore." He stumped off towards the kitchen. "And I saw that," he added irritably, as the woman rolled her eyes towards the ceiling.

Lupin held out his hand and shook Harry's. "How are you?" he asked, looking closely at Harry.

"F-fine…"

Harry could hardly believe this was real. Four weeks with nothing, not the tiniest hint of a plan to remove him from Privet Drive, and suddenly a whole bunch of wizards was standing matter-of-factly in the house after having been visited two days prior by another group of wizards as though this was a long-standing arrangement. He glanced at the people surrounding Lupin; they were still gazing avidly at him. He felt very conscious of the fact that he had not combed his hair for two days.

He glanced at Daphne, who'd slipped into her mask of the Ice Queen – cold, expressionless, with eyes that looked down at you as if you weren't worthy of her attention. He'd seen the mask before, back at school, just as she'd mentioned to him earlier.

"We are leaving, aren't we?" he asked. "Soon?"

"Almost at once," said Lupin, "we're just waiting for the all-clear. Then again, if Moody is right then maybe we should just leave..."

"Where are we going? The Burrow?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Not The Burrow, no," said Lupin, motioning Harry towards the kitchen; the little knot of wizards followed, all still eyeing Harry curiously. "Too risky. We've set up Headquarters somewhere undetectable. It's taken a while…"

Mad-Eye Moody was now sitting at the kitchen table swigging from a hip flask, his magical eye spinning in all directions, taking in the Dursleys' many labor-saving appliances.

"This is Alastor Moody," Lupin continued, pointing towards Moody.

"Yeah, I know," said Harry uncomfortably. It felt odd to be introduced to somebody he'd thought he'd known for a year.

"He taught us for a whole year," said Daphne with a frown.

"Wasn't me," said Moody. "Someone else was impersonating me. Polyjuice'd under the radar for a whole year."

Daphne looked slightly pale at that. "Who?"

"No-one important, he's dead now," came the answer.

Lupin cleared his throat, catching the teens' attention. "And this is Nymphadora-"

"Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus," said the young witch with a shudder, "it's Tonks."

"Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only," finished Lupin.

"So would you if your fool of a mother had called you Nymphadora," muttered Tonks.

"And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt." He indicated the tall black wizard, who bowed. "Elphias Doge." The wheezy-voiced wizard nodded. "Daedalus Diggle -"

"We've met before," squeaked the excitable Diggle, dropping his violet-colored top hat.

"Emmeline Vance." A stately-looking witch in an emerald green shawl inclined her head. "Sturgis Podmore." A square-jawed wizard with thick straw-colored hair winked. "And Hestia Jones." A pink-cheeked, black-haired witch waved form next to the toaster.

Harry inclined his head awkwardly at each of them as they were introduced. He wished they would look at something other than him; it was as though he had suddenly been ushered onstage. He also wondered why so many of them were there.

"A surprising number of people volunteered to come and get you," said Lupin, as though he had read Harry's mind; the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

"Yeah, well, the more the better," said Moody darkly. "We're your guard, Potter."

"We're just waiting for the signal to tell us it's safe to set off," said Lupin, glancing out of the kitchen window. "We've got about fifteen minutes. In the meantime Moody and I'd like to talk to you," he said, pulling Harry away from the group. "Alone," he added when Daphne looked like she might follow.

"Moony-"

"Harry," Lupin cut him off. "What is going on with Greengrass? Why is she here?"

…ooOoo…

"And what makes you think that we can trust her!? You don't even know her!"

"I certainly know more about her than I do about you, Professor Crouch!"

Mad-Eye Moody grinned maliciously, "Oh, you do know how to use those Lion claws of yours… But that isn't enough, I'm afraid."

"Harry," Professor Lupin spoke gently, "The crux of the matter is that we can't risk any information being leaked out. I'm sure you trust Miss Greengrass to some degree, but we both know that you don't know her that well. We can't risk it!"

"I'm sorry Moony, but I made a promise. I plan to keep it. If she stays, I stay as well."

"And what makes you think that we won't knock the two of you out, drag you to Headquarters and leave her here?" asked Tonks.

"One, the fact that you just mentioned that, Miss Nymphadora. And two, unless you want to find out why Voldemort now fears two people in the world instead of one, you'll do as I ask."

Your move, professors.

Moody and Lupin shared a glance while Tonks seethed at the use of her name. Harry ignored for the time and focused on Lupin. "Moony, when have I ever been wrong? Tell me, just once, in the long run, when have I been wrong? You're right that I don't know her that well, but… it's just a gut feeling, you know?"

Lupin seemed torn for a few seconds before he asked, "Are you sure that she can be trusted?"

Harry glanced at the girl in question through the kitchen window, where Kingsley Shacklebolt and Hestia Jones were keeping an eye on her. As if sensing his gaze on her, she looked up, and Harry smiled at her, a smile she reciprocated.

Harry turned back to Lupin, "I trust her as much as I would trust Ron or Hermione."

Remus sighed resignedly before smiling at him, "Alright, fine! You win. Go get your trunk and broom, will you?"

"I'll come and help you," said Tonks brightly. She followed Harry back into the house and up the stairs, looking around with much curiosity and interest.

"Funny place," she said, "It's a bit too clean, d' you know what I mean? Bit unnatural. My Dad's muggleborn, and he's a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just as it does with wizards? Oh, this is much better," she added, as they entered Harry's room and he turned on the light.

While he had cleaned and packed his trunk earlier in the day, his room was certainly much messier than the rest of his house. You could only do so much when you're stuck in a room for months on end and with nothing to do. Still, Hedwig's cage needed cleaning and was starting to stink. His trunk was already packed, and his Firebolt was where he had left it on his bed.

"Scourgify!" said Tonks, idly pointing her wand at Hedwig's cage. A few feathers and droppings vanished, and the cage didn't seem to stink as much anymore.

Harry started packing the last minute essentials into his trunk. Tonks paused at Harry's open wardrobe to look critically at her reflection in the mirror on the inside of the door.

"You know, I don't think violet's really my color," she said pensively, tugging at a lock of spiky hair. "D' you think it makes me look a bit peaky?"

"Yes, it does," said Tonks decisively. She screwed up her eyes in a strained expression as though she was struggling to remember something. A second later, her hair had turned bubblegum pink.

"How did you do that?" asked Harry, his trunk forgotten on the floor as he stood.

"I'm a Metamorphmagus," she said, looking back at her reflection and turning her head so that she could look at her hair from all directions. "I can change my appearance at will. I was born one. I got top marks in Concealment and Disguise in Auror training without any study at all, it was great."

"You're an Auror?" said Harry, impressed. Being a Dark-wizard-catcher was the only career he'd ever considered after Hogwarts. Though after meeting his uncle, he wasn't so sure…

"Yeah," said Tonks, looking proud, "Though I only qualified a year ago. Nearly failed on Stealth and Tracking; I'm dead clumsy, did you hear me break that plate in the kitchen when we came in?"

"Can you learn how to be a Metamorphmagus?"

Tonks chuckled, "Bet you wouldn't mind hiding that scar every now and then, eh?" Her eyes found the lightning-shaped on Harry's forehead.

"No, I wouldn't mind," Harry mumbled as he looked away. He did not like people looking at his scar.

"Well, you'll have to learn the hard way, I'm afraid," said Tonks, "Metamorphmagi are really rare, and they're born, not made. Most wizards need to use a wand, or potions to change their appearance. But we've got to get going, we're supposed to be- packing…" she trailed off, looking around and noting the closed trunk and clean room. "Sorry."

Harry chuckled, "Don't be."

"Well, in that case got everything? Cauldron? Broom? Wow – A Firebolt!" Her eyes widened as they fell on the broomstick in Harry's hand. "I'm still riding a Comet Two-Sixty," she said enviously, "Ah well… Wand still in your jeans? Both buttocks still on? Ok, let's go. Locomotor Trunk."

Harry's trunk rose a few inches in the air. Holding her wand like a conductor's baton, she guided the trunk across the room and out the door ahead of them, Hedwig's cage in her left hand. Harry followed her down the stairs carrying his broomstick.

Once in the kitchen, they found the rest of the Guard plus Daphne waiting for them. Lupin was having a conversation with Daphne while Moody watched them with unblinking eyes. Even his blue eye, which could see through walls, floors, the ceiling, and the back of his own head, was trained on her. Kingsley was examining the microwave with interest, and Hestia Jones was laughing at a potato peeler she had come across while rummaging in the drawers.

"Finally!" barked Mad-eye, "Took you long enough. What in the name of Morgana were you doing up there?"

Tonks glanced at Harry with a wink, "I was having my way with young Mister Potter, and let me tell you, he's quite well equipped."

Harry flushed with embarrassment while the rest chuckled at Moody's ire. "Mad-Eye's just mad because his eye is stuck again," said Lupin.

"And it's been like that ever since that scum used it," growled the ancient Auror. "Give us a glass of water, Harry, will you?"

Harry did so, and as soon as he gave it to Moody, he said, "Cheers." With a squelching sound similar to a plunger being pulled from a sink, Moody had popped out his eye and dumped it into the water.

"You know that's disgusting, right Mad-eye?" said Tonks conversationally. Judging from her expression, Daphne was of a similar opinion.

"I want three hundred and sixty degree visibility on the return journey," he said as he prodded the eye up and down; the magical eyeball whizzed around and stared at each of them in turn.

"How're we getting – wherever we're going?" Harry asked.

"Brooms," said Lupin, "Only way. Even though Miss Greengrass can do it, you're too young to Apparate, they'll be watching the Floo Network and it more than our life's worth to set up an unauthorized Portkey. You and Daphne will have to share, though."

"Remus says you're a good flyer," said Moody.

"He's excellent," Daphne spoke up. "What?" she asked when everyone turned to look at her, "Just because I'm in Slytherin doesn't mean I can't recognize talent! I saw him fly against that Horntail last year after all."

"Shouldn't you be supporting Malfoy?" asked Harry with amusement. Daphne scoffed in response.

"The day I support that ferret is the day I take the Dark Mark willingly. Bloody ponce thinks he owns the world."

Moody broke the silence. "Come here, you two," he said gruffly, beckoning Harry and Daphne towards him with his wand, "I need to Disillusion you."

"You need to what?" asked Daphne nervously.

"Disillusionment Charm," said Moody, raising his wand, "Lupin says you've got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won't stay on while we're flying; this'll hide you better. Here you go."

Moody rapped him hard on the top of his head, and Harry felt a curious sensation there, like Moody had just smashed an egg there; cold trickles seemed to be running down his body from the point the wand had struck.

"Nice one, Mad-eye," said Tonks, staring at Harry's midriff.

Harry looked down at his body, or rather, what used to be his body. It wasn't invisibility by a long shot, rather, it had simply taken the exact color and texture of the kitchen unit behind him. He seemed to become a human chameleon.

"Now your turn," said Mad-eye as he struck Daphne this time. The charm looked like paint coming down from her head and over her body. Daphne looked down at her hands and body, before grinning.

"Wicked," she said, making Harry laugh.

"Come on," said Mad-eye, unlocking the back door with his wand. "Let's get out of here."

…ooOoo…

Sharing a broom with another person wasn't a bad thing, Harry decided. Perhaps it was a tad uncomfortable, but as long as he kept the broom steady neither he nor Daphne would have any risk of falling off the broom. Yet, he couldn't help but think of the difference if he had been using one of the school brooms instead.

Not that I'll ever use one again… I might not even see the castle this year.

"Watch it!" Daphne warned him. Due to his distraction, the Firebolt had wobbled under the both of them. While Harry was in the normal seating position, Daphne was sitting sideways, Harry's arms secured around her waist so that he could steer.

"Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to happen!"

"Oh yes, just as you'll be sorry when you accidentally drop me, I'm sure!"

"Oy! Be quiet back there!" yelled Mad-Eye, "We don't want to attract any unnecessary attention!"

"UNNECESSARY ATTENTION!? WE'RE TWO THOUSAND FEET IN THE AIR AND FREEZING OUR ARSES OFF, WHAT DEATH EATER IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD FOLLOW US UP HERE!?"

Harry snickered at Tonks' yelling, but was grateful for it nonetheless. His hands were growing numb on the Firebolt's handle, and while he and Daphne were sharing body heat in a way, he was starting to shiver.

"Time to start the descent!" came Lupin's voice, "Follow Tonks, Harry!"

"Hold on," he cautioned Daphne as he followed Tonks in a dive. They were heading towards the biggest collection of lights he had ever seen, a huge, sprawling crisscrossing mass, glittering in lines and grids, interspersed with patches of deepest black. Lower and lower they flew, until Harry could distinguish individual headlights and streetlights, chimneys and television aerials. He wanted to reach the ground very much, though he suspected that someone would have to unfreeze him from his broom.

"Welcome to London," said Daphne as she gazed around. "It's beautiful at night," she added, "'Wish I could take a picture."

"Here we go!" called Tonks, and a second later she had landed. Harry landed right behind her on a patch of unkempt grass in the middle of a small square, and after letting Daphne dismount first, he dismounted as well. Shivering, he looked around.

The grimy fronts of the surrounding houses were not welcoming; some of them had broken windows, glimmering dully in the light from the streetlamps, paint was peeling from many of the doors and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of front steps.

"Where are we?" asked Harry as Daphne rubbed her arms, but Lupin said quietly, "In a minute."

Moody was rummaging in his Cloak, his gnarled hands clumsy with cold. "Got it," he muttered, raising what looked like a silver cigarette lighter into the air and clinking it, and the nearest streetlight went out with a pop. He clicked the unlighter again, and another lamp went out. After several more clicks, every lamp in the square was extinguished and the only remaining light came from the curtained windows, and the sickle moon overhead.

"Borrowed it from Dumbledore," growled Moody, pocketing the Put-Outer, "That'll take care of any Muggles looking out the window, see? Now come on, quick."

He took Daphne by the arm and led her from the patch of grass, across the road and on to the pavement. Harry and Lupin followed, carrying Harry's trunk between them, Tonks, Kingsley, Emmeline and Hestia flanking them with their wands out.

"Here," Moody muttered, thrusting a piece of parchment towards Harry's Disillusioned hand and holding his lit wand close to it. "Both of you read quickly and memorize."

Harry and Daphne glanced at each other before looking down at the piece of paper. The narrow handwriting was vaguely familiar to Harry as he read:

The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.

"Get inside quick," Remus whispered to Harry and Daphne, "but don't go too far inside and don't touch anything."

The two teens shared a wary glance before obeying the werewolf's order. They stepped over the recently-revealed threshold into almost absolute darkness. Harry could smell damp, dust and a sweetish, rotting smell, which gave him the feeling of being inside a derelict building. Behind them, the others filtered in, making the entry hall feel crowded after a few moments. A few moments later, the scarred ex-auror known as Alastor Moody had shut the front door, and the darkness had become complete.

"Here -"

Moody rapped Harry hard over the head with his wand; Harry felt as though something hot was spreading down his back, and he knew that the Disillusionment charm must have been lifted. A softly uttered "ouch" told him that Daphne had just been submitted to the treatment as well.

Moody spoke up once more, "Now stay still, everyone, while I give us-"

He was interrupted by the sound of a door opening and a loud, "Harry!"

There was a soft hissing noise and old-fashioned gas lamps sputtered into life all along the walls, casting a flickering insubstantial light over the peeling wallpaper and threadbare carpet of a long, gloomy hallway, where a cobwebby chandelier glimmered overhead and age-blackened portraits hung crooked on the walls. Harry heard something scuttling behind the baseboard. Both the chandelier and the candelabra on a nearby table were shaped like serpents. Up on the second level up the stairs, Harry could see a pair of curtains fluttering in a non-existent wind.

"What a dump…" Daphne muttered behind him. He would've probably agreed, but he was too busy beaming.

At the end of the hall a man with long black hair came charging out of a door, pocketing the wand he had (presumably) used to light the lamps. His grey eyes were filled with a mix of worry and relief, but even so, he was wearing a proud smile.

"Sirius!" Harry strode forward and met his godfather in a hug in the middle of the hall. When they separated, Sirius held Harry at arm's length by both shoulders.

"By Merlin, Harry, you've given me so many gray hairs tonight that James would be proud, if he wasn't so worried. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Sirius. I have experience with Dementors."

Sirius grimaced, "Unfortunately. Were you able to get an idea of how many there were?"

"Too many to count."

"And the Death Eaters?"

"Not sure, but Malfoy and Wormtail were there, along with at least another eight Death Eaters."

Sirius shook his head, "I don't care what Dumbledore says, you are not going back to that house ever again. I told Dumbledore to take your letter seriously, but he seemed to think you were exaggerating… Either way, that place has been compromised." Sirius cast a look behind him, before frowning. He stepped forward, pushing Harry to the side as he approached Daphne. Blue eyes met grey fearlessly, and after a moment, Sirius's expression shifted through a varying degree of emotions – surprise, pain, and most surprisingly, loss.

Daphne's eyes narrowed. "You're Sirius Black," she said.

"I-" Sirius swallowed once. "I am. And you're Abi's daughter."

Daphne leaned back a little, "Abi?"

"Abigail," Sirius clarified. "Abigail Greengrass."

Finally, Daphne was sharing the confusion that the rest of their audience was feeling. "How do you know my mother?" she asked.

Sirius chuckled, though the sound was hollow filled with unspoken pain. "She was the only Slytherin I ever liked. Abi and I dated for a few years… and then I was sent to Azkaban." Sirius shook his head. "They were the best years of my life."

Next to Harry, Moony shifted. Harry noted the bewildered expression on the man's face as he glanced between his longtime friend and the girl he'd just met; apparently he didn't know what was going on either.

"Well, this nice and all," came Tonks' voice as she started to push people out of the way, "but I'm starving, and Molly's probably cooking already- oof!"

CRASH.

"Tonks!" cried Sirius in exasperation, turning to look behind him.

"I'm sorry!" wailed Tonks, who was lying flat on the floor. "It's that stupid umbrella stand, that's the second time I've tripped over -"

But the rest of her words were drowned by a horrible, ear-splitting, blood-curdling screech. The moth-eaten velvet curtains Harry had noticed earlier had flown apart, but there was no door behind them. For a split second, Harry thought he was looking through a window, a window behind which an old woman in a black cap was screaming and screaming as though she were being tortured – then he realized it was simply a life-size portrait, but the most realistic, and the most unpleasant, he had ever seen in his life.

The old woman was drooling, her eyes were rolling, the yellowing skin of her face stretched taut as she screamed; and all along the hall behind them, the other portraits awoke and began to yell, too, so that Harry actually screwed up his eyes at the noise and clapped his hands over his ears.

Lupin and Sirius darted forward and up the landing and tried to tug the curtains shut over the old woman, but they would not close and she screeched louder than ever, brandishing clawed hands as though trying to tear at their faces.

"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers-"

Tonks apologized over and over again, dragging the huge, heavy troll's leg back off the floor; Lupin abandoned the attempt to close the curtains and hurried up and down the hall, stunning all the other portraits with his wand while the rest of the Order members in the hallway helped him. Harry for his part went over to the curtain that Lupin had abandoned, pulling at it with Sirius. He was slightly surprised when Daphne helped as well.

The woman's eyes were on Sirius. "Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!" she howled.

"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!" he roared in response, tugging harder at the curtain.

"Charming woman!" yelled Daphne over the din as she tried to help, bringing the portrait's attention to her.

And the portrait went silent.

In the sheer surprise of the moment, Sirius lost his grip on the curtains and lost his balance, falling into Harry and taking him to the floor, Daphne jumping away with a yelp. This, however, only put her more in front of the portrait, whose eyes were nailed on Daphne.

"You," said the old woman, "Who are you? How do you carry my blood?"

From his position on the dirty floor, Harry could see Daphne blanch, probably at the thought of being related to the woman in the portrait. "Your blood?" she asked. "What are you talking about?"

"She's just rambling!" said Sirius, having already picked himself up and grabbing the portrait's curtain again, only for it to slap his hands away. "Ouch!"

"Silence, mongrel!" snapped the old woman. "Now stand next to his child!"

Sirius paled. "Wait, this isn't-"

"Sirius, what's going on?" asked Lupin, coming up the stairs. "Harry, what's happened?"

"I have no idea," said Harry, casting his bewildered gaze between Sirius, Daphne and the portrait. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny appear at the top of the stairs on the second floor.

"Child," the portrait addressed Daphne, "Tell me, what is your name?"

Daphne swallowed nervously. "Daphne Greengrass," she said. "You're Walburga Black, wife of Lord Orion Black."

"Indeed," came the answer. "Greengrass… yes, half your bloodline is as you say, but you are a Black. The magics of this house answer to you. You are the heiress of the Black Family. I can feel it."

Daphne shook her head. "That's impossible!" she said. "My father is Mephistopheles Greengrass, and there have been no relations between my family and the Blacks-!"

"Okay!" said Sirius, attempting to steer Daphne away while simultaneously pointing his wand at the portrait, "This has been all fun and dandy, now let's just-"

"Be quiet, Sirius!" snapped the portrait of Walburga, making the man jump.

"Y-you called me-" Sirius looked at the portrait in shock, "You haven't called me that since you-!"

"Since I banished you from this house, yes," said Walburga. "But that was because you were a shame on this house, a blight on this family's honor-!"

Sirius wasn't impressed. "Nice of you to remind me," he said.

"-but it seems you have at least provided a suitable heir to this family," said Walburga, her gaze on Daphne.

The girl paled in response, shaking her head. "No," she said, backing away, "Y-you're wrong-!"

"I'm afraid not, child," Walburga spoke over her, and ugly eyebrow raised at the girl's reaction. "You are a Black, and the man who deserves the rightful title of your father is standing right next to you!"

The silence was so thick you could hear a pin drop. Daphne's mouth opened, no sound coming out before she looked at Sirius. As if synchronized, the rest of their audience did the same, only to receive another shock.

Sirius Black, escapee of Azkaban, the Marauder known as Padfoot, he who always found a way to bring laughter to the darkest of times, was crying. Silently, tears ran down his cheeks as he met the gaze of a teenage girl who searched for answers.

And there it was, Harry noted. He could see it – they had the same chin and cheekbones, the same shape in their eyes though the colors were different, Daphne's blue and Sirius' grey. Harry was then reminded of the look of mischievousness that he'd found familiar in Daphne's eyes – it was the same look that he'd seen in Sirius' eyes whenever the man was about to make a joke.

"Is it true?" asked Daphne. The Ice Queen had no presence here, and every emotion Daphne was feeling was broadcasted on her face. "Are- are you…?"

Sirius bowed his head, taking a deep breath before looking into Daphne's eyes. "Your name," he said, "or rather, the name your mother and I would have given you had she not been married, is Daphne Andromeda Black. You were born on Valentine's day, Nineteen-Ninety." He smiled at her, a smile filled with pain and an emotion Harry could not discern. "And you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in my entire life."

Daphne stepped back, recoiling as if she'd been slapped. She was breathing heavily, looking as if she was trying to say something but didn't have the air to do so. Sirius took a step forwards but Daphne put her hand up.

"I- I find this quite hard to believe," she said. She was blinking rapidly, swaying a little as well as she added, "I think I'm going to… to…"

Whatever she was going to say was lost as Daphne fainted, slumping to the ground bonelessly.

…ooOoo…

So, my old readers already knew this plot point. New readers, well, surprise!

Sorry for not updating, I blame life and a lack of muse.