Chapter Thirty-Six

A Strange Exchange

"Gin? Sweetie, wake up," pleaded a desperate voice close by her ear. Her heart swelled with love and she forced words to her lips, though even just trying to open her eyes proved to be too much effort.

"Harry?" she murmured hopefully, wanting to reach out to him, to pull him tight to her, but not even managing to force her eyes open.

"I thought you said she was over him?" snapped the voice. Not Harry, then. She had to get up and find him, he needed her… But she couldn't manage to even open her eyes just now…

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Charlie Weasley glared at his brothers, waiting for an answer. Finally, Bill cleared his throat.

"She looked me right in the eye and said she was," Bill said, wondering why he hadn't caught the lie, not knowing what a practiced deceiver his baby sister had become.

"She told you then that she loved Harry," Hermione reminded Bill, "She said that she loves him like she loves all of her family."

"Ginny's upset," Ron said in defense of his sister. "She's mad at Harry and scared that he's dead. She probably didn't even realise was she was saying."

"Was what she said wrong?" asked Remus sharply, intruding on the family fight for the first time.

"No," Ron admitted reluctantly.

"Everything she said was true?" asked Mrs Weasley dangerously, looking at her youngest son in such a way that he became extremely nervous for no reason he could articulate. "Every word of it?"

"Yes," Ron said slowly, trying desperately to figure out what had upset his mother so badly, "I think so."

"Even the part about Ron and Hermione's baby?" screeched Mrs Weasley in a voice that made the twins flinch automatically.

Ron swallowed and squared his jaw. "Mum, everyone, we've something to tell you," he began, standing behind Hermione's seated form and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Hermione is pregnant. We plan to marry in June, but we haven't picked an exact date yet because we were supposed to be going with Harry around then."

Silence followed the announcement on all sides, until Ginny moaned lightly from the floor.

"We need to get her to Madame Pomfrey," Mrs Weasley said quietly. Charlie scooped his only sister into his arms and followed his mother out of the room. Bill walked out next, trailing Fleur and barely glancing back at his little brother and the girl who would soon be his sister-in-law. Fred offered a wink and George squeezed Ron's shoulder before they too left. A moment later, Ron and Hermione went after the others out of concern for Ginny.

McGonagall, Remus, Tonks, and Kingsley were the only ones that remained at the long conference table. Five minutes later, Tonks spoke up tentatively.

"Do we send everyone home?" she asked.

"No," McGonagall replied, "We'd be endangering them and not helping Harry out any either."

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At that moment, far, far away, Harry was both regretting his decision to come alone and very grateful for it. His carefully laid plan was unravelling, and he had no hope of back up. But still, at least Ginny and the others were safe for the time being…

What Harry really regretted, had been regretting all day, was the fact that he hadn't told Ginny his plans the moment he conceived of them. Right then, a letter seemed so inadequate. How was Ginny truly supposed to know that he really loved her and had only left her behind because he felt that he had to, if he wasn't there to make her see it? Then again, perhaps if he died, she was better off being angry with him. Maybe if he had been angry with his own parents, then he wouldn't have missed them as much. Maybe if his relatives had treated him better, he wouldn't have longed so much for his mum and dad…

What really got to Harry was that today, for the first time, he had seen another way. He had seen how his life might have been, had his aunt and mother had the chance to get over their issues before Lily's death. Harry was fairly certain that his aunt had seen that other possibility the day he left and again, earlier, in the kitchen. Harry hadn't come here expecting to do more than hide his aunt and uncle and try to take down Voldemort. That was what he had been focused on entirely.

He had stepped outside the school wards, and concentrated as hard as he could on his trick of moving from place to place instantly. He had been nervous, afraid that it wouldn't work. He and Hermione had deduced that it was a sort of rudimentary form of Apparition that was fuelled by a fierce desire to get away. It wasn't ideal for daily, but as Ginny put it, it could be 'convenient' in a pinch. Never before had Harry tried to do it purposefully, with a clear destination in mind, but he hadn't wanted to Apparate, because that could be tracked. Harry figured that that wouldn't be a problem because his way didn't seem to follow any of the normal rules. He had been able to move around Hogwarts despite its wards.

When Harry suddenly and soundlessly appeared in the kitchen at number 4, Privet Drive, he had breathed a sigh of relief, which was what caused his aunt to spin around from her sink of dishes and gasp in shock. Harry felt the momentary desire to just leave again as he glanced around the same painfully white kitchen that he had cooked meals in for eleven years of his life. But then he looked at his aunt. For once, her nose was wrinkled in distaste as she faced him. Perhaps that was just due to shock, but it was still enough to keep Harry there.

Thoughts of his mother also kept him from just writing the Dursleys off. Lily had to have loved Petunia at some point, so Harry knew that she would not want him to leave her sister defenceless before the man that had murdered Lily herself. So Harry sighed again, and then spoke up.

"Hello, Aunt Petunia," he said quietly, meeting her eyes steadily.

"How- what are you doing here?" Harry's heart began to thump strangely as he realised that her voice held no more disdain or disgust then her face did. She was looking a little startled, and a lot confused, but not the least bit upset to suddenly find her nephew in her kitchen.

"I've come to warn you," Harry began a bit uncertain of what to expect from his aunt at this point, "And to offer to protect you, if you'll let me."

"Is this about him?" Petunia asked, fear in her words, "Voldemort?"

"Yes," Harry said, inwardly marvelling at the continued lack of malice he was receiving from his aunt, "He's been targeting muggles in the last few days, trying to find my- well, you."

"What do I do?" Petunia asked, colour draining from her face.

"Call Uncle Vernon home from work," Harry ordered softly, "I'll send you to stay at my godfather's house. You can wait things out there."

Petunia had already turned to go before the words really registered. When she realised the implications of Harry's orders, she turned back to her nephew.

"You're not coming with us?" she asked. This time there was absolutely no mistaking the lack of disgust in her tone. His Aunt hadn't wrinkled up her nose at the sight of him, or screamed, and now she was talking to nicely, taking his orders and asking him if he would be accompanying them. She even sounded like she actually wished that he were, like she cared the least little bit.

"No," Harry replied, "It's time I ended this."

Petunia actually winced. "I don't suppose I have much right to point out that you'll have a tough time on your own?"

"I don't suppose that you have that right," Harry replied, "But believe me, I know. He's murdered my parents, and a lot of other great men and women. He won't be beaten easily."

"I don't know if you this," Petunia began slowly, "But you have your mother's eyes." She looked firmly at the floor, as though she expected Harry to shout at her for saying that.

"I hear that all the time from the people who knew her," Harry commented. He had in fact, heard it so many times that he was quite weary of it, but somehow, it was different to hear it from his aunt. It made him feel even more connected to his mother.

Harry's quiet response seemed to have given Petunia a bit of confidence. "That's the reason I agreed to let you stay," Petunia admitted. "By the time she was twelve, my sister and I were not at all close, but with your eyes, you reminded me of Lily when she was younger, when she was the big sister I adored. Before everything went wrong.'

'Vernon wanted to send you away, but I couldn't do it when I looked at your eyes."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He just watched as his aunt turned and left. He heard her speaking quietly into the phone in the living room, presumably calling her husband home from work, like Harry had suggested. Then she walked up the stairs, and the sound of a door creaking open filled the silent house.

A half hour later, Harry was sitting at the kitchen table, carefully going over his plans in his mind when Petunia returned. She now had three suitcases with her that she set down just inside the doorway before going to hover barely inside the kitchen. But this wasn't the judgemental hovering that Harry was used to, but more a sign of just how unsure of herself and her welcome she was at that moment.

"You and I have something in common," Harry said suddenly, still looking straight ahead of him instead of at the bony women. No reply came, but that was better by far in Harry's book than the vehement denial that he had half been expecting. "It was my mother that saved us both."

"Lily didn't save me," Petunia said, not dismissingly exactly, but sort of wistfully, and a bit questioningly.

"I suppose I should say she made it possible for you to save yourself," Harry conceded, "I probably wouldn't have come back to protect you without her rings."

Silence followed, stretching until Harry turned to look at his aunt. She had the strangest look on her face…

"What is it?" he asked tensely, wondering where this strange day was next headed.

"I'm trying to deny to myself that the nicest thing I've ever done for my only nephew was to give him something that wasn't mine to give or keep," Petunia said quietly, "And I can't think of one thing."

"Well, I'm fairly certain you kept Uncle Vernon from killing me in my sleep or something," Harry said with a small half smile, "That's a nice thing, in my books."

Petunia dropped her gaze. "I should have done more," she muttered, "Lily would have done more for my son."

Harry said nothing. He suspected that Petunia hadn't really thought of him as Lily's son for much of his childhood, or at least, not the son of the sister that she had loved, but rather the 'freak' that she had hated. Harry supposed that that was where the real trouble had always been. He was that freak's son. He was weird and different. He didn't fit in with the perfect life that Petunia Dursley wanted so desperately. But now, for the first time, Harry wondered why normalcy was so important to his aunt. What had made her turn away from her 'abnormal' sister? Suddenly, Harry had to know. Maybe he was just trying to find a way to explain his horrid childhood, but he had to know what had made things the way they had been for his whole life.

"Why," Harry began slowly "Did you hate my mother so much?"

Petunia flinched. "I didn't hate her. At least, not always, and not for very long…"

"What pulled you two apart then?" Harry prompted, giddy with relief that Petunia was actually answering his questions for once in his life.

"We lived out in the country when we were little. We had no close neighbours, no friends our age, so we were everything to each other…" Petunia began sadly, jerkily. Harry didn't interrupt, but he wasn't really certain where she was going with this. "Even at school, we always played together, though there were other friends too, I suppose. Then, when Lily turned eleven, and everything changed. She got her letter, and went away to school. All that year we missed each other, and wrote letters and planned for the next year, when I would get my letter and we would go to Hogwarts together, and everything would go back to the way it was supposed to be. But that didn't happen, because I never got a letter."

Harry wondered it he should tell her not to go on. Petunia looked very shaken, like every word was killing her a bit more, and there were tears in her eyes. But his need to know was so strong that he knew he would let her talk until she stopped.

"After that, neither of us knew what to say to the other. I spent a good three months crying that year…" Petunia trailed off, wrapping her arms about herself for the cold comfort of it. Harry stood and pushed out the chair across from his, gesturing for his aunt to sit and fetching her a box of tissues from the counter. She smiled weakly and him as he sat down again.

"After a while, I got tired of crying. I decided that I didn't need to be a witch, and then that I didn't want to be a freak like Lily. I convinced myself that I was better off. I spent the rest of my life trying to be entirely normal. I've been depressingly good at it," she finished, wiping away her tears. "I was determined to never again be involved with any thing the least bit odd or magical, ever again, and unfortunately, that 's how I always saw you." She smiled waveringly at her nephew.

Harry nodded curtly at his aunt. He didn't exactly forgive her for all the unpleasantness of his early life, but he felt more able to move on from it then he had ever had before. So his childhood had been less than ideal, that only meant that there was a lot of room for things to get better.

Suddenly there was a crash from the hallway, and a roar of "Petunia!". The mood in the kitchen shattered even before the 'master' of the house had been home a full minute. Petunia reflexively jumped to her feet and rushed to greet her husband. Harry stood, going to watch the pair from the kitchen doorway.

"What's the bloody emergency?" snarled the familiar voice.

"Well, Harry came to warn us that we're in danger," began Petunia worriedly, "And he's offered to hide us."

"What do we that boy for?" growled Vernon Dursley, "We can escape his lot without his help!"

"Sure," Harry began sarcastically, without thinking, "Just like you managed to escape from the letters I was being sent before I started school." Harry nearly sneered at his uncle. Vernon stiffly turned to glare at his wife's nephew.

"You can just get out of my house!" he pronounced, turning a strange, red-purple colour the instant he spotted Harry.

"Not that I really want to be here," Harry began through gritted teeth, "But I rather object to having my relatives cursed into a million pieces by an evil maniac."

Vernon swelled with rage, but before he could even begin to yell, something surprising happened. Petunia spoke up.

"You're being a short sighted fool!" she snapped at her husband, "We don't know what we're up against, but Harry does! He's even offered to help us; though we certainly don't deserve it after the way we treated him! Now, I'm going to do exactly what my nephew asks of me, and hope that he doesn't get hurt just to save our necks. Are you coming with me or not?"

Vernon never got the chance to decide because Harry just grabbed their suitcases and an arm each belonging to his aunt and uncle and transported them all to Grimmauld Place, all before his uncle could do more than stand staring gob smacked at his wife. When they arrived, Petunia looked around wildly, taking in the slightly dusty, old-fashioned basement kitchen.

"Feel free to take one of the bedrooms on the first floor. If anyone turns up and gives you a hard time, tell them that Prongs' son brought you and that you're to be treated well," Harry told his aunt, ignoring his uncle, who had barely managed to stagger to a chair and sit down heavily. He didn't speak, only sat looking dazed and winded.

Petunia nodded, then began to speak waveringly, "Thank you, Harry." He only smiled tightly in response. "I- I know you've done more than we deserve already, but I was wondering, if you would…"

"Yes?" prompted Harry warily when his aunt trailed off.

"Would you mind checking on Dudley?" asked Petunia hesitantly.

"Alright," Harry said, knowing how horrible it was to just sit and worry about someone you loved.

"He's away at school," Petunia said in obvious relief.

"Right," said Harry, "Do you want him brought here?"

"No, no," Petunia said, "I doubt he'll want to leave. He's got a wrestling match coming up. Could you just check on him?"

"I'll do that," Harry said, disappearing upstairs in hopes of catching a moment's peace in which to take in the events of the last hour or so. He really didn't know what to think about his relatives any more. Well, except for Uncle Vernon. The man was his usual, bullying, unpleasant self. The dependability of that horribleness was nearly comforting.

But that was hardly the point right at that moment, because he had to get on with his plan to lure Voldemort to Privet Drive. There was much to be done, so Harry left the Sirius' s house and went back to the kitchen of Privet Drive.

He had carefully thought out the next phase of his plan already, but Harry was sure to slowly go over it once again, just to make sure that he wasn't going to mess anything up. His plans were delicate, but they should work. Harry frowned, hoping that nothing would go wrong… after all, Harry had learned how to force a specific idea into Voldemort's mind mostly just to avoid having it done to him again. There was no guarantee that he and Hermione had even properly worked out to do it. Ginny had seemed certain that they had it wrong, but there hadn't been any way to test the results safely.

Harry sighed and cleared his mind. He focused hard on the imaginary scene that he had constructed in his mind, and then focused on pushing it into his enemy's consciousness.

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Thousands of miles away, a very irate dark lord was glaring at a map of England's muggle towns. There were simply to many to keep smashing on the way he was, hoping to hit Potter's family. There was no reason that they should be magically hidden from him no, but that's what made finding them difficult. They weren't hidden by magic, so they couldn't be traced by it. Voldemort had no real way of distinguishing the Dursley's from any of the pathetic muggle neighbours other than Wormtail's vague recollections from the one time he had seen Petunia Dursley as a human and the few times he'd briefly glimpsed them as a rat on platform nine and three quarters.

Then, quite suddenly, Voldemort was seeing something that wasn't quite there, like a hazy vision imposed over the map. He shut his eyes and the picture became clearer.

The boy was rushing into a spotless muggle kitchen. He ran to a woman at the sink, and grabbed her arm.

"Aunt Petunia," he cried out, "Voldemort's going after muggles and I'm afraid he'll find Number four Privet Drive next! You've got to get Uncle Vernon and get out of here!"

"We can't leave our home!" she wailed in tears, "Besides, aren't there wards to protect us here?"

"There are," the boy said, looking less panicked, "I suppose that if I stay as well, you might be safe. But you had better call Uncle Vernon home. He'll be safer here with us."

The vision ended as abruptly as it began when the boy got his mind in calmer order. Lord Voldemort chuckled coldly. The boy was making this almost easy. He could obliterate the foolish child and most of his family all at the same time.

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Two hours later, Harry looked around the kitchen in hopes of finding something light to eat. He knew that he had done all he could for now, and that he needed to keep his attention off the coming confrontation if he planned on being sane when it began. It was hard, this waiting. Never before had he had much warning before he was pulled into a difficult situation, and he didn't know quite what to do with this advanced warning that he hadn't already done.

Harry found himself longing for Ginny. He missed her, but he was also afraid that she'd never want to see him again after what he had done. He still believed that he was only doing what was necessary, but he worried over the repercussions. But, then again, the repercussions of not acting would have been worse.

His thoughts wandered to the week that Ginny had spent here with him nearly a year ago. They had such fun, even though they had spent most of the time just talking in his bedroom, and later, most of their time in his bedroom not talking. Harry could scarcely believe that this was possibly where the final battle he would ever face Voldemort in would take place. Privet Drive had always seemed like such a ruthlessly non-magical place, it seemed impossible that such an important event to the wizarding community could take place in this environment.

He had faced many hardships here, being locked in his cupboard, tortured by Dudley and his gang, and bullied by Uncle Vernon, but he also had a few happy memories to combat that with. He had, after all, just had his first real conversation with Aunt Petunia here only hours before.

Harry made him self a sandwich and then settled on the hallway steps, still thinking of what had taken place between himself and his aunt. He had the feeling that nothing had really changed, and yet, that everything had. He began to wonder what would happen if he were to survive this, in terms of his relatives. Perhaps he could sometimes visit Aunt Petunia, when Uncle Vernon wasn't around. Maybe she would even like to meet Ginny…

But that was begging a lot of questions. Like, would Ginny forgive him? Had his aunt really changed? And could he really let go of everything his aunt hadn't done for him as a child?

Harry spent most of the rest of that long afternoon thinking on those steps. He made himself a few more sandwiches around three, and they were gone soon after. By four o'clock, Harry was all but napping as he waited for something to happen.

In the last hours, he had begun to think that perhaps Voldemort hadn't believed the vision Harry had shown him. But, at precisely ten o'clock, Harry felt something trip the silent alarm that he had set up in the street. He quickly covered himself in the invisibility cloak and hurried to the window, stealthily peeking outside. The Death Eaters were spread in a circle around the house, with Voldemort facing the front pathway.

For two hours, little happened. Harry's enemy was obviously laying his plans, carefully contemplating his next move. Finally, near midnight, Voldemort sent one lone follower up the path towards the house. Nagini also slithered towards number four, which was more than Harry had hoped for, but she stopped just short of actually coming inside. Harry slid back from the door, knowing that the cloak would keep him hidden from the Death Eater so long he kept from tripping over anything or making too much noise.

The Death Eater glanced around the house, and then slipped off the mask, which was impairing his vision quite a bit. Harry's blood boiled as he saw the hooked nose of his former potions professor. He couldn't believe that Snape dared to enter his house after killing Dumbledore!

"Take off that Cloak, boy, and tell me what you're planning," Snape hissed, "The Dark Lord won't remain patiently outside forever and unless I'm wrong, you're entirely without allies here."

"What if I said you were wrong?" Harry asked, using a spell that Ron had found in a book about entertainers to throw his voice so it sounded like it came from the living room.

"I wouldn't believe you'd risk their lives," Snape said, "You Gryffindors are all foolish like that."

That was enough for Harry. He shot a stunner at Snape that the man just barely blocked.

"Now you've done it!" hissed the greasy haired man, "You've brought him down on us, you foolish boy!"

Before Harry could reply, the front door flew off its hinges and Lord Voldemort appeared, Nagini at his feet.

"You've used up your last chance, Severus!" Voldemort declared coolly, bringing up his wand to aim at Snape.

Snape's wand came up fast, probably fast enough to save himself from any other curse, but he didn't even try to block this one. Instead, with one slick severing curse, he split the snake in two.

Harry's heart jumped the last Horcrux was gone. He brought up his wand before Voldemort had even the chance to take a breath after killing Snape and aimed it at where another foe would have a heart. Harry tried to force the words for the spell out of his lips, but he couldn't. Somehow, Harry couldn't shake the thought that if he said those two words and killed another living being, he would become no better than the man who had murdered his parents.

It was then that Harry knew that no matter what Voldemort did, he would never be able to kill him with that curse, and that was the horrible, unforeseen flaw in his plan.

A/N: Hey everyone, I'd just like to say sorry for the long delays in both replying to reviews and updating. I can't promise that it won't happen agian, but I can try to make sure it doesn't! Thanks for the patients, and everyone's reveiws will be replied to, I promise!

QK