Hey all, welcome to the next chapter!

First of all, I'm sorry for the delay. Long story short, I had the next few chapters written out but the more that I looked at them, the more I was dissatisfied with my pacing so I threw it all out and started from scratch. Since I've lost that buffer, I won't be comfortable having concrete release dates in the future, but I will still be doing my best to release one chapter a week. That being said, I think this works better for my motivation in the long run because I'm a stubborn fuck that doesn't like to keep to a schedule, even one that I imposed on myself. Maybe that's why school was so hard for me :P

Anyway, enjoy the next chapter, nothing seems to consequential at first glance, but it does a lot to set up the next arc.

Chapter 5: Black Inheritance

To those that knew the Malfoy family, the study in their ancestral home would have been a puzzle in itself. The Malfoys had always presented themselves as cold, aloof, arrogant to a fault. A proud family, steeped in traditional ideologies and dedicated to the image of collected power, had little room for the unnecessary virtues of approachability, just as an ice sculpture would melt and wither away in the warmth of a cozy homestead.

Thus, if one were to be invited into the innermost private chambers of the Malfoy estate, they would undoubtedly be surprised by its normalcy. A warm fire flickered beneath an elegant yet tasteful hearth, casting shadows behind the family photos that sat haphazardly on Lucius Malfoy's wooden desk. Hogwarts trophies and family mementos- Draco's first broom, Narcissa's wedding gown, even a preserved rose from the early days of the couples' courtship, all found a home in this sanctuary.

"Crucio!"

Once again, the hallowed room erupted in soul-wrenching screams as the family's patriarch writhed on the floor in obvious agony. Blonde hair in disarray, face and body bruised and bloodied, Lucius Malfoy had certainly seen better days. It didn't help that this was the second such occasion in as many weeks that the prideful wizard had found himself helpless at the foot of his master, and his wounds from the last session had not fully mended.

The spell ended and Lucius heaved in a breath. Even the fresh air was its own form of torture as it scraped against his raw vocal cords.

The Dark Lord loomed over him, scarlet eyes ablaze with mirth, "I'm beginning to believe that you in fact relish in disappointing me, Lucius. Did you truly miss my attention over the years to such a degree?"

With limbs that felt like molten lead, Lucius raised himself to a kneeling position with supreme effort. His voice, normally silky smooth and confident, shook with fear and humiliation. "N-no my Lord. I-I apologize for f-failing-"

"Crucio!"

The proud Malfoy was again acquainted with the taste of his own mahogany floor, his screams dying in his worn throat, suffocating on his own pain. Another eternity passed until once again, the curse was lifted. This time, Lucius had not the strength to rise and could merely tremble on the ground.

Voldemort, his menacing form a stark contrast to the homely firelight in which he bathed, stalked towards the prostrated wizard with his usual obscene grace. Sinking to his follower's level, he grasped Lucius's face with lithe, bony fingers, pulled upwards and rose, lifting the man into the air with a single hand, leaving the blonde wizard's feet dangling in the air.

"I tire of your useless platitudes, Lucius. You have cost me much, and all you offer in compensation are empty words and unearned gold. And now your inaction has lost us the influence of the Ancient House of Black." With every word his grip grew tighter, and the light in Lucius's eyes faded as he struggled to breathe.

Just as the blonde wizard began to lose consciousness, Voldemort released his hold and Lucius fell like a marionette with severed strings, crumpling to the ground with a soundless gasp.

Voldemort regarded the trembling man as if the wizard were less than vermin. "What is to stop me from removing this stain before me? Why should I give you another chance when you have failed me so completely?" Scarlet eyes narrowed as Lucius failed to rise or answer, his voice dropping to a dangerous timbre. "Or perhaps you would prefer that I ask your son to rectify your sins?"

The mention of his heir at last brought life into Lucius's limbs, and he spoke through his ruined throat in a voice that not even he could recognize, "M-my Lord, p-please have m-mercy. D-draco cannot be of use t-to you. H-he is f-foolish and weak."

"As are you, Lucius. Yet you have lingered in my presence to this day, despite your ineptitude. Is it not time for the next generation to learn what it truly means to serve our noble cause?"

Lucius clenched his pale hands into impotent fists, urging his broken body and mind into a semblance of his usual wit and grace. "M-my lord. Draco has lost his claim on the Black line. H-he is limited by his own mediocre p-potential, and a-as long as I am alive, the Malfoys will serve you to the best of our ability. He is not necessary. Please. Allow me to fulfill my duty to you."

Lord Voldemort allowed silence to reign after his follower's final plea, knowing that taciturn suspense would be more compelling than any words that would indicate the blonde wizard's fate. The only sounds remaining were the rattling gasps of Lucius's strangled breaths, and the pleasant crackles of a family's fireplace.

XXX

The sun had long since disappeared over the horizon, and a weary Harry climbed the short set of stairs leading to Grimmauld Place's front porch. He finally allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief; his back, stiff from wearing the persona of nobility, slumped gently back into its natural position as he opened the door.

The house was quieter than he had expected, the entry hall empty except for the frozen form of Walburga Black's portrait, motionless since Harry's outburst. Her silence had garnered much approval from Sirius and the others, who were now spared of the woman's abrasive shrieking, but Harry could still occasionally feel the unnerving, furious eyes of Kreacher the house elf upon him.

Harry shirked off his outer robes, leaving Regulus's formalwear hanging from the coat hanger, peeled off his dragonhide oxfords, and untucked his shirt from his trousers. His transformation back into a somewhat normal-looking teen complete, he made his way into the kitchen, intent on getting a quiet bite to eat before heading to the library to do some studying away from prying eyes. He needed to have a plan for the rest of his summer, that much was evident, but how could he get any work done without raising the suspicions of his two closest friends?

Telling them about the soul inside me is out of the question. Without that caveat, I have no reason why I should be studying so much. I don't plan on getting caught in the library, but if I am, what do I say? Ron may buy it if I tell them I'm doing schoolwork, but Hermione is too perceptive. Should I ask Sirius to give me some of the books I need? No, because he'll have questions too and I reckon he hates his family's dark magic more than any of us. What to do, what to do?

His musings were derailed however, by the sight that greeted him on the other side of the door, as well as the accompanying chorus of voices.

"Harry!"

"Hurrah!"

"The triumphant hero returns!"

"Wotcher, Harry!"

The kitchen was filled to the brim with his favorite people; Sirius, Hermione, the Weasleys, Tonks, even Lupin were there with wide smiles and welcoming arms. This, however, was all he could process before a certain pair of red-headed twin demons waved their wands with matching mischievous grins, and the room was filled with explosions.

Glittering golds and reds flared into existence, popping and smoking like the thunder of a gatling gun, sending many scurrying and shielding themselves. Moody, hunched in the corner, pounded his staff on the ground barking out anti-combat spells at the top of his gruff voice, yet none of his efforts had any effect on the explosions. However, their collected fear subsided as the assembled witches and wizards soon realized what they were dealing with- fireworks.

The demons' mother was not impressed, "FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"

Her question was answered as the fireworks paused, swelled, and exploded into a single crude, celebratory message.

'HARRY FUDGED ON FUDGE!"

As the room's occupants shifted from panicked surprise to stunned disbelief, it was Molly Weasley herself that broke the silence. It started with an unexpected, unwilling snort of amusement, but as soon as the dam was broken, the Weasley matron erupted into peals of laughter. She was soon joined by everyone else in the room, and the party was well and truly kicked off.

The twins took an exuberant bow as Harry joined the fray, and he was welcomed into the fold with gusto; Lupin hugged him in greeting and Arthur, who had likely been the messenger of good fortune, clapped him on the back. After hugging his godson, Sirius threw his arms around Fred and George's shoulders and exclaimed with a grin, "You rascals have done the old guard proud. Been putting my old notes to good use then?"

The twins beamed at the praise from one of their idols, "That's right!"

"We modified the old fireworks spell that you used to prank the Slytherins Quidditch Team in '75-"

"By tweaking the arrays in the causation stage of the Arithmantic framework-"

"Which allowed us to create whatever shapes and colors we wanted!"

"Words are easy, but what we're working on now will blow the socks off!"

Lupin, unable to resist a topic that involved both pranking and the intricacies of spell design, jumped in, "So how were you boys able to maintain the explosions over the duration without jeopardizing the-"

Harry's attention was pulled away from the prankster quartet by another thump on his shoulder. Tonks stood before him, two butterbeers in her hands, her pink hair swept to the side and her eyes flickering between colors in an imitation Twins' fireworks display. Once she had Harry's attention, she unceremoniously shoved one of the bottles into Harry's hands and clanked the two together.

"Cheers, Harry! Thought I would be the one to get the guest of honor his first drink of the evening!"

Harry took a drink and relished in its warmth, "Thanks, Tonks." He gestured to the redheaded twins and the elder Marauders, "Do you understand a lick of what they're talking about?"

Tonks shook her head gleefully, "Not a wink. I've always been a witch of action; I know enough Arithmancy to not get myself blown up getting across ward lines."

To Harry's surprise, Molly was watching her mischievous twins with an unexpected look of pride. He turned back to Tonks who had followed his gaze, "I wouldn't think that Mrs. Weasley would approve."

Tonks nodded, "She didn't at first. But when she saw how they were actually working hard at their craft and exploring subjects beyond NEWT level, I think she had a change of heart." A gleam of remembrance shone in her eye and she giggled, "Then again, you should have seen her after they were caught in the nude at one of our meetings. I reckon they were lucky to escape alive."

"I heard about that, and that you were the one to find them out. They should make you head of security. Top notch instincts there, Tonks, really impressive."

Tonks blushed at the mention of her own clumsiness, "Shut up, Potter. You try being a metamorphmagus and see how long you can stay on your feet." As if on cue, her feet got tangled together, she stumbled, and the bottle she held was flung into the air.

Acting on instinct, Harry steadied the pink-haired witch by the arm, snatched the bottle in a fluid motion and handed it back to her with a knowing grin.

Leaning on Harry for support, Tonks accepted the butterbeer grudgingly, "Not a word. That only happened because I wanted to kick you just now. If anything, you should be thanking me for my restraint."

Harry laughed, "We're even then." It was good to see Tonks again, and this party was touching, but he couldn't help feeling like he was missing out on precious time he could be spending on researching whatever the Dark Lord had done to him. Especially because in the grand scheme of this war, that was just a small step he needed to take to even the playing field.

His attention was drawn by the heavy thumps of Mad-Eye's staff and suddenly he was struck with inspiration. "Hey Tonks, how much free time do you usually have?"

"Err, maybe a couple days a week; a lot more now that I don't have to conduct surveillance on a certain someone on my days off." She wagged her eyebrows, "Why, want to spend a little more time with little old me? I warn you, Potter, I've got expensive tastes."

Harry tried to roll his eyes, but the tinge of pink on his cheeks may have ruined the image he was going for. "Emphasis on old, there, Tonks. More to the point, you're an auror, right?"

"Mentioning my age and asking about my stressful job; you really are pants at the whole 'talking to witches' thing, aren't you?"

"Come off it, Tonks, I just wanted to see if you could show me a thing or two." Tonks's expression brightened as she readied to pounce on the opening, but Harry stopped her with a raised hand and tired voice, "Don't. Just don't. Let me try again, could you train me to be a better fighter? Show me how the professionals do it?"

Tonks softened and her hair faded to a more natural dark brunette. "Harry, I'm not sure if I can do that." She glanced around at the rest of the partygoers and dropped her voice, "I don't think the Order would be too jazzed if they knew I was helping a teenager prepare for war."

Harry clenched his fists, ready to retort, but stopped himself from snapping at her. It's not her fault, and besides, I need to convince her. He took a breath and looked into her purple eyes, trying his best to convey a sense of despondence.

"I understand. It's just… That's what we're doing. We're preparing for war, and I know I'm just not ready to face him, Tonks. He always seems to find me, no matter what anyone does to protect me. I need to get better."

Her eyes widened nearly imperceptibly and searched his, her hair flickering. It was how her mouth opened and closed, trying to find words, that told Harry he had a chance, so he went for the kill.

"Sirius told me he would help me prepare; don't you think he would be on board? And, you know, you haven't let me down yet. I… just thought you could help."

After a moment's contemplation, her hair shifted back to its usual pink, and purple eyes found their resolve.

Got her. Harry ignored the twinge in his gut that was becoming all too familiar.

"Alright, Harry. We'll give it a shot, but only if Sirius knows. He's been fighting for you to be included in Order meetings, I think this could be a happy compromise." She brought the butterbeer to her lips and finished the bottle in a single gulp.

Harry smiled; this could be one of the missing pieces to the puzzle. Getting the Dark Lord's parasite out of his head was just half the battle, he would still have to actually fight eventually. As an added bonus, he could tell Ron and Hermione that any studying he was doing was for Tonks's lessons, and they would feel like Harry trusted them with a secret and distract them from his true hidden motives. Again, he ignored the churning in his gut at the thought of the necessary manipulations.

Rousing him from his thoughts, Tonks put the empty bottle down, a hint of the classic Black insanity in her eyes and smile, "Don't think this will all be fun and games, Potter. I was taught by Moody himself, and I'll be taking a note out of his book of madness."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Tonks. Besides, I faced the Dark Lord a month ago, Mad Eye doesn't scare me, and neither do you."

Tonks grin only widened, "I'll remember you said that. I'll talk to Sirius later tonight and make sure everything is on the up and up and we'll go from there."

"Thanks Tonks. I owe you one."

"You're damn right you do. God knows why I'm sticking my neck out for you." Her attention was drawn to something behind his shoulder and she lowered her voice. "Wotcher, Harry. Enjoy your party, it was nice to see you again, even with you involving me in such a scandal."

"It's a natural talent I have, just ask Hermione."

Tonks winked at him, "I think I'll let you do all the talking this time." She raised her voice once more, popping the natural bubble they had formed while the party had raged around them.

Harry turned around to follow her gaze, and indeed, his two best friends were approaching; Ron had his usual excited grin plastered on his face, while Hermione looked between Harry and Tonks as if trying to solve a riddle.

Tonks made a show of shaking her empty bottle as she made to leave, "Wotcher, Hermione, Ron. Perfect timing, I need another drink. Watch over Wonderboy over here for me won't you?"

Harry waved goodbye to the pink-haired witch and braced himself for the line of questioning that he knew was imminent.

Indeed, Hermione did not disappoint, "Harry! You won! Were you able to employ the case precedents that we were researching? You didn't have to invoke Ius Sanguinis Pura did you? And what were you and Tonks talking about, it looked serious, is everything okay?"

"Blimey, remember to breathe, Mione." Ron bumped his brunette's friend's shoulder before addressing Harry, "Good on you mate, knew that they couldn't bring you down on those bogus charges."

"Yeah, because you knew all about the research we were doing for my defense." Despite the admonishment, Harry's tone was anything but serious as he ribbed his friend, all the while, the beginnings of a plan was forming in his head.

Ron blushed, "Hey, if you ever get in trouble with the International Quidditch Association you know where to find me. Otherwise, I'll leave the bookworm stuff to you and Mione."

The witch in question was bouncing impatiently, "Harry! Details! Please!"

Harry smiled and began regaling the two of his quite literal day in court, and soon he had the attention of the entire party. As his friends gasped and exclaimed at all the appropriate junctures, a sense of dread that originated from that pit in his stomach threatened to overwhelm him. How could he possibly be planning on lying to all these people?

His answer lay in the cold, scarlet eyes that flashed in his mind's eye, in the chilling laugh that sent shivers down his spine every time he thought of it. Such evil required a touch of darkness to fight it, and Harry seemed to be the only one willing to get his hands dirty.

XXX

Three Weeks Later

Harry sat hunched over the ancient desk in the Black Library, his head was rushing with possibilities. The previous few weeks had flown by in a flash; while his days were spent helping the others on Mrs. Weasley's bitter battle against the decrepit house, his nights were spent here, poring over texts that had most likely not been touched in decades.

His foot tapped constantly as if to keep pace with the rhythm of his racing thoughts and if anyone else in the house could see him- eyes undercut by dark, heavy bags, hair more disheveled than usual, and the ghostly paleness of his skin- they would undoubtedly be concerned. He had not been sleeping again, and though he had been able to hide his growing exhaustion so far with simple refreshing charms and glamors, he was starting to grow paranoid that his friends would start picking up on the signs.

Despite his growing concerns, he could not bring himself to tear himself away from the library. He spent hours and hours reading and searching until the first signs of light would peek into the windows, telling him it was time to drag himself back to his room.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was beginning to see exactly what Voldemort meant when he said there would be no chance of removing the Dark Lord's soul. Even in the Black Library, home to perhaps the highest concentration of questionable texts on dark magic in Britain, mind magic was scarcely represented, soul magic even less so. Those that did mention those obscure branches mostly dealt with legilimency and occlumency, or the arts of attacking and defending the mind, and though he had immediately seen the importance of his mind's defense, there was nothing that mentioned expelling a soul of all things.

However, in his search for one treasure, his journey had taken him on other interesting paths; esoteric magic that he had never heard of, the primordial powers of the elements, the source of the Earth's magic itself, all laid bare in antiquated yet comprehensible language. Once he began walking down these paths to enlightenment, he had been gripped with a fervor that would not be denied. True, he had not found anything that would help with his Dark Lord situation, but the spells that he was coming across, the knowledge that was hidden in these tomes, filled him with an unquenchable thirst for more ; this must be how Hermione felt whenever she was researching, well, anything.

The thought of his brown-haired friend gave him pause. She had not taken the news that Tonks would be training him very well, especially since it would be kept hidden from most of the Order. Thankfully, her faith in Dumbledore had been shaken so she was probably not going to be spilling his secrets anytime soon, but she still had an innate trust in authority that was difficult to overrule. Still, she had grown somewhat more distant than usual, but that suited Harry's needs just fine, his friend would just distract him from what needed to be done.

Sirius, on the other hand, was surprisingly ecstatic at the implementation of Harry's plan and had insisted on joining in on the training sessions with Tonks as well. He had even begun referring to the training as 'Black Family's Special Bonding Fun Time.' Harry grimaced- he had never had much opportunity for family bonding, and now that he had, he thought it was a wonder that any family ever stayed together.

Of course, most families probably didn't spend their family barbecues and game nights beating each other to a pulp, but that was beside the point. And he was firmly on the receiving end of the beat down as the two drilled him on the basic stances and tested his reaction times, each mistake punished by a stinging charm and a bark of disapproval. The fact that they had not allowed him to fire back only added to his frustration.

Harry sighed. Light was beginning to stream into the library, a tiny sliver of pale sunlight striking the desk joined the warm glow from Harry's own wand. Harry stretched his weary limbs and groaned as a ripple of cracks and pops traveled down his neck and back. After he had replaced all of the books he had been reading, he covered himself in his invisibility cloak and made his way out of the library.

He made it to his room without incident, not noticing the round, malevolent green orbs that followed his every move as he silently stalked through the hallways. Tomorrow, or today rather, was another training day, and he just hoped that he would get enough sleep to restore his reflexes and avoid another round of bruises.

XXX

"One!"

Wand out, feet shoulder width, square, parallel with his assailant, presenting the narrowest target for them to attack.

"Two!"

Evasive maneuver, tuck and roll, land in a crouch, wand out ready to defend.

"One!"

Back to the basic position. A stinging hex splattering against the ground right where his foot had been told him that he needed to be faster.

"Three!"

Defensive retreat. Keep a narrow target, back out, look for cover, wait for backup.

The stinging hexes were coming from two directions now, and Harry gritted his teeth as he was peppered by a few. Evasion and retreat were all well and good, but he had a wand, damn it! He should know how to use it!

Still, he restrained his twitching fingers and made his way to the upturned desk that served as his cover, doing his best to dance his way out of the streaking spells as he moved. He had gotten a lot better; during their first session he had been hit by scores of hexes every time he tried to retreat, now they were lucky if they got him more than half a dozen times. That didn't mean that the endless bee stings weren't getting on his absolute last nerve, but progress was progress.

He dove behind the cover as soon as he was close enough and held. Usually at this point of the training they would stop firing and call him front and center to begin again, but this time the spells kept coming.

He heard Tonks's voice over the din, "Come on Potter, we've got you pinned down and your cover won't last, what do you do? You have permission to use your wand!"

Harry's eyes narrowed. This wasn't something they had trained him for. The desk was trembling under the brunt of the spellfire, and as weak as they were, the sheer amount of stinging hexes bombarding his cover shook the earth.

Sirius's voice now called out, "You're running out of time Harry!"

Scarlet eyes. A laugh that pierced the night like icicles. He couldn't help but choke down a gasp, he had been here before. A tiny part of him wanted nothing more than to freeze and curl into a ball, but a much larger part of his psyche refused to be beaten the same way. Eyes wide, acting on sheer instinct, Harry jumped back, wand flaring as he did.

"Bombarda!"

The desk blasted apart and sprayed in different directions, kicking up a cloud of dust and grime, and Harry was thrown back before landing in a crouch and jumping to his feet. Taking a glance behind him to get his bearings, and to make sure he had not snuck behind him again, he took off, staying moving as he fired spell after spell into the cloud of debris.

That had been his mistake last time, he had been hampered by his leg and had to stay in one place, now that he was in motion there was no way the Dark Lord- wait, he was fighting Sirius and Tonks, not Voldemort.

Streaks of red light flashed inches behind him and he cursed before dropping to the ground. It took just a moment to realize his mistake- he was making too much noise. It did no good to obscure his adversary's vision if he was charging across the creaky wood like a raging hippogriff.

Struck by inspiration, he cast a silencing spell on his feet and sprang back upon them. He hardly had time to congratulate himself when a wave of green magic rushed towards him through the dust and his eyes flashed in memory of a different shade of green, but he shook himself free of his fear.

From the angle of the approaching attack, he realized he only had one shot to repel it. He steeled himself to use a spell combination that he had only read about before, hoping that it would work and turn the tide of the battle.

"Sorbere!"

He couldn't help but watch in fascination as the green wave was sucked into a coiled orb at the tip of his wand, growing in size as the attack was absorbed. Unfortunately for Harry, the glowing ball seemed to reach a critical mass within seconds, and he only had time to force his eyes closed before it exploded, throwing him back with the force of a cherry bomb. His head cracked against the back of the wall and the world went dark.

When he woke up, a shock of bright pink hair was the first thing that he noticed.

"Tonks. We have got to stop meeting like this."

There was no trace of a smile on the auror's face, "Funny, you've got a smart mouth for someone who just did something so stupid."

Harry rubbed the bump on his head as he raised himself to a sitting position, "I think I did pretty well for myself, considering-"

"Considering what? Nearly blowing yourself up? Do you even understand what you just tried to do?"

"Err, I was going to use McHale's absorption charm and convert the energy to either a kinetic blast as originally intended or use Parish's implementation of a enhanced guardian shield depending on-"

Sirius, standing a few feet to the side of the pair, cut Harry off next, "And you thought using Mastery level charms techniques on a whim was a good idea, why? Have you even tried to use the spell in practice before?"

"No, but practice makes perfect, right?"

Sirius groaned, "Yes. Emphasis on practice, Pup." He approached his godson and offered the boy a hand up, which Harry accepted gratefully. "Look. I know that you want to get better-"

"Sirius, I need to get better."

Tonks gave him a hard look, "So you keep telling us. Riddle me this, Harry. If you blow yourself up in the basement of an old mansion in downtown London, how exactly does that help you protect your friends?" Her usual teasing demeanor was a distant memory, here was the professional law-enforcement official that had risen through the auror ranks so quickly.

Harry shrunk under her criticism, "I thought I could handle it, I've gone over those spells dozens of times, I know the mechanics backwards and forwards."

Tonks's look softened as she placed a hand on his shoulder, "Harry. I know you're working hard and studying your arse off, and you're doing a great job. But reading a bunch of shite in a book does not make you a battlemage in a few short weeks. It takes determination, practice, and real-world application to reach a base level of competency in this stuff."

Sirius nodded in agreement, "You're fifteen, Harry. A teenager with the luck of a four-leaf clover tied around a rabbit's foot, but an untrained student at the end of the day. Do you know what would have happened if you had been the slightest bit sloppier with your absorption charm?"

Tonks answered the question before Harry had the chance to respond, "Molly's next project would have involved cleaning the bits left of you off of the walls. We don't use that combination in the force for a reason, lots of them actually; it's unnecessarily flashy, it's unstable as all hell, and there are a dozen better ways to shield or counter-attack, it's bloody stupid and I've spent too much time worrying about your scrawny arse to-"

Sirius interrupted softly, "I think he gets the point, Nymphadora dearest." It was a testament to Tonks's frustration that she didn't even rise to the bait of the use of her first name, she merely clenched her mouth shut and fixed Harry with a glare. Sirius addressed Harry with a small smile, "It boils down to this. We care about you Pup, and we're putting a little bit on the line by helping you, so don't be stupid. Alright?"

Harry swallowed; even as Sirius had been talking, all that he could focus on was Tonks' glare and the nearly imperceptible quiver of her lips. He addressed her as he spoke, "I'm sorry, you're right. Sometimes it seems like magic is just a set of rules, and I just have to check all the little boxes to use it the right way. I should know better by now."

Tonks didn't look any less angry, but she nodded. "You really should. You wanker."

After a bit of an awkward silence, Sirius cleared his throat loudly, "Well then. I know that this whole situation was a bit of a surprise, but we wanted to see how you'd react under pressure. First of all, how do you think you did?"

"Well, err, I thought I was doing pretty well. I made a mistake by giving away my position after I went on the offensive-"

Tonks cut him off again, "You made a mistake before that, Harry. Think, what did you do that put you at a disadvantage?"

Harry went over the events in his head. He was pinned under cover that was falling apart, he turned it into a position of strength with an attack, while at the same time he obscured their vision… Oh.

"The dust didn't just hide me; it hid you too. And since there were two of you and just one of me-"

Sirius finished his thought, "Just from a statistical standpoint we still had an advantage, given that we defended your initial attack. And believe it or not, most people in your situation would have done the same thing, so any seasoned vet would have expected your move."

Tonks put her hand back on Harry's shoulder, her previous anger seemingly abating, at least somewhat, "It was a decent play, and Sirius missed a key point. Most people actually would have stayed under cover and collapsed underneath it; you at least had the bollocks to do something. Your fighting instincts are there, we just need to teach them the right way to do things."

Harry smiled at her appreciatively, "That makes sense. So how should I better utilize my bollocks then?"

Sirius snorted while Tonks tightened the fingers on Harry's shoulder, "Thin ice, Potter. Thin ice. I'll show you something real quick like."

With a wave of her wand, a desk identical to the one Harry had been using as cover appeared, pristine and sturdy. Tonks waved Harry and Sirius away, "You two go stand over there and attack my position."

The two did as they were told, Harry still somewhat dizzy from his brief stint of unconsciousness, and soon Tonks was under a barrage of stinging hexes. The situation looked a lot less dangerous from this perspective; for a moment when he had been the one under attack, he could have sworn it was the Dark Lord himself bombarding him again, just like in the graveyard. Harry shook his head, clearing the troubles from his mind and focused on the task at hand.

Suddenly, the desk grew in size, and instead of being rattled by stinging hexes, the red flashes of light began to rebound back at Harry and Sirius, who were now put on the defensive as they shielded themselves from their own spells.

After the last hex had fizzled out, Tonks' amused voice rang out from behind her cover, "See that, Harry? An engorging spell and a mirror charm, both easy to cast, effective, and they give me the time to either press my advantage or wait for backup."

Sirius caught Harry's attention, "If you were quick about it, you could banish the desk back towards your attackers once you caught them off guard. Risky, yes, but that's how we got Vermilious Crabbe back in '79. Poor bugger got squashed by an enlarged biscuit tin like, well, like a bug."

"How about transfiguration? Couldn't I turn it into a troll or something and animate it to attack while I stay safe behind it?"

"If you get to that level, go for it, Pup. That being said, it takes a special witch or wizard to pull something like that off quickly in the heat of the moment. A second of focus on the wrong thing could be the end for you, and there are not many who can do that kind of work as quickly as Albus or even Minerva."

Tonks emerged from behind the desk, and with a final wave of her wand, the object in question vanished. "Tactics, Harry. This is what this is all about. It does you no good to have knowledge of those all-powerful spells if you can't use them the right way. And face it, you're going to be facing enemies with decades more experience than you. You have to be smart, you have to be efficient if you want to survive. If you can do that, then you can start building off of your foundation and adding your own flair."

Harry nodded, his head whirling with the implications, but he knew that Tonks was right. Voldemort had said it himself- the man had been learning, honing his skills, and pushing the boundaries of magic for half a century. There was no way that he could match that with a summer of studying.

Sirius must have noticed the dejected look on Harry's face because he threw an arm around his godson. "Perk up, Pup. There's one thing that I've learned from the last war, and that is that unexpected shite happens all the time. If you have the training to not get yourself blown up by doing something stupid on the battlefield, you have a good shot of making it."

"I don't want to just survive, Sirius." Harry wondered if he should continue, but he had the feeling that it needed to be said. "I want to win. I want to show Voldemort that I won't just cower in fear, I want them to taste their own medicine. I want them to be afraid, and I want to be the one that makes them pay."

Sirius sucked in a breath and gave him a look of disapproval, but Tonks strangely had a blazing look in her eyes that matched Harry's inner fury and she nodded her head almost as if it were a subconscious urge. However, she schooled her expression when she caught Harry's glance and pointedly avoided eye contact.

Interesting.

Sirius hadn't noticed his younger cousin's reaction to Harry's words and attempted to admonish his godson. "Harry, that way of thinking got me locked in Azkaban for over a decade, and Dumbledore has always preached that we cannot fight hatred with more hatred. I didn't like it when I was your age either, but he's right."

The mention of the headmaster's name still sent icy tingles down his spine, but Harry had learned to avoid letting his reactions show, at least in front of Sirius. He merely nodded, in response and gave a soft apology, but his thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

Why had Tonks looked so angry at that moment? Was it because I said something reckless, or does she feel the same as I do? If that's the case, there's bound to be others in the Order who are frustrated by how we're approaching this war, right?

Unfortunately, he was not to receive any confirmation one way or the other, and Tonks remained somewhat subdued as the three resumed their training. He settled back into the rhythm of changing stances and Sirius's calls were the only spoken words for the rest of the afternoon,

"One!"

"Two!"

"One!"

XXX

"And Weasley drives the quaffle through the French defenses, he's been on a hot streak today, this whole season really- oh and he narrowly avoided the keeper's last ditch effort to protect the hoops, it's just Weasley and the goal now, he fires away and-"

The hastily crumpled together "quaffle" made from Daily Prophets dated from the early eighties sailed lazily through the air before dropping well short of the rubbish bin that served as Ron's target.

"Missed again. I think Weasley should find a new position to play, doesn't seem to be cutting it as chaser if you ask me."

Ron had frozen in place, his head hung down in dejection before Harry's comments roused him to defend himself. "Shut up mate, we can't all be blessed with the seeking reflexes of the gods. Besides, I am a much better keeper, I'm telling you I'm a lock to replace Wood."

"With your gangly limbs it's no surprise, but can you balance that inflated ego of yours on a broom?"

"Bite me, Harry."

They had been battling against the seemingly endless supply of trash, broken furniture, and magical creature infestations for nearly a month, and the monotony had driven the teenagers to the limits of their collective patience.

As much as he loved his redheaded friend, if Harry had to sit through another one of Ron's quidditch commentaries he was going to blow the house to bits; Hermione had already abandoned the two after Ron had reenacted the Chudley Canon's 1986 qualifying round match with excruciating detail. Harry loved quidditch simply because he loved to fly, but he had no patience for the tedious recounting of every play and every minute statistic.

Without warning, his arm moved before he could process what was happening and he snatched an empty jewelry box out of the air before it struck him in the head. Realizing what had happened, he sent Ron a withering glare.

The redhead did not look embarrassed in the slightest, "Damn it all, I thought I got you that time. You're like one of those robits that Dad keeps talking about with the way you react, unnatural it is."

Harry sighed, "Robots. They're pronounced robots." How the hell Hermione survived with just Ron for the first month of summer he would never know.

"Whatever, I'm just glad that we have the best reebot seeking for Gryffindor!" Ron took a deep breath before shouting at the top of his lungs, "WEEEEEEEE-"

"Oh god Ron, please, not again-"

"-are Gryffindor! And Gryffindor are we! We will fight forever more, till land crumbles to the sea! We will-"

"I'm leaving Ron!"

"-dash the wicked Slytherins! We will crush the Raven-"

Ron's fight song was mercifully cut short as Harry slammed the door behind him, and the black-haired wizard breathed a sigh of relief as the assault on his ears was alleviated. Ron was not a good singer.

Harry found himself wandering the halls of the ancient house with only a vague purpose in mind. Unfortunately, if Mrs. Weasley caught him without a cleaning task he would be assigned to the third-floor bathroom, a punishment that should have been outlawed by the Geneva Convention. He and Ron had skipped the floor altogether and had started on the fourth and uppermost level of the house that day.

Thus, Harry had a few rooms to choose from to tackle next. The first door that he opened revealed a horrid stench that put the infamous bathroom to shame and he beat a hasty retreat while trying not to lose the contents of his stomach. Sputtering and gagging, he opened the next door that he came across and was greeted by a quite different sensation.

He slowly entered the small spare room and glanced around. It was filled to the brim with silver artifacts coated in layers of grime, beautiful clothes ruined by dust and moths, and faded photographs whose magic had long since worn away. The other rooms they had cleaned had been mostly devoid of anything of real value, but here were trophies belonging to family members that had been dead for centuries, rings and broaches that had lost their glimmer; it seemed as if somebody had been keeping a hoard of treasures in this vacant corner of the manor away from prying eyes.

"What in Merlin's- "

As interesting as all these sights were, there was a tingling, familiar dread that had sunk into Harry's gut. He felt something, and it was with a morbid fascination that he began digging through the piles of old jewelry and personal belongings, driven by a subconscious urge, and guided by the faraway call of an old friend. However, he knew deep down that what he sought was anything but friendly, even if it felt like a long-lost part of himself was buried in the rubble.

His hand brushed against something and he recoiled as if shocked by an electric current. He knew that feeling. Harry took a deep breath and reached back down into the pile; now that he was expecting the intimate malevolence that radiated from the object, he had no problem grasping it tight, and a hidden part of him sang out in wicked delight.

When he withdrew his hand, he held a tightly wound, gleaming golden chain that was attached to a heavy locket. It was a gaudy thing, yet obviously well made, but what drew his attention were the inlaid emerald stones that formed a glittering snake in the unmistakable shape of an 'S.' He gasped as an icy chill flooded into his veins, this time it did not originate in his own frigid rage, but in the gold locket in his hand. He knew exactly what it was, even if his brain could not figure out how exactly it was here of all places.

I found one.

A raspy, shrill scream tore his attention away from the locket in his hand, and as he whirled around, his vision was filled with the desperately wild eyes of Kreacher the house elf.

Thank you to x102reddragon for polishing this ball of dung that I've rolled up into a glittering pearl, and to Foreal the Chronicler, because he's like one of those brain surgeons that prods at my brain and makes my fingers move. As always, all your thoughts and notes are appreciated, I should have the next chapter up next week sometime, and Harry will finally be finding some answers. Have a great day, and Happy Pride Month!