Vernon and Petunia Dursley had no idea what to do with their nephew. The
other residents of Little Whinging thought this was because Harry Potter
attended St. Brutus's, a school for incurably criminal boys, but -
according to the Dursleys and their son Dudley - the truth was much, much
worse.
Harry was a wizard who spent most of the year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where he was going to be attending his sixth year. This not being bad enough, he had been singled out by the Dark Lord Voldemort - "You Know Who" or "He Who Must Not Be Named" in most wizarding circles - and thus was more dangerous than basically any other person on the planet. The Dursleys were already a bit apprehensive of Harry knowing magic: whenever they caught a glimpse of the wand shoved in the waistband of his jeans they were liable to shut up, turn pale, and possibly leave the room.
It really didn't bother Harry all that much. Well, the fact that he was a wizard and bore a lightening-shaped scar on his forehead made him jumpier than usual, always listening for the swish of a cloak or fearing the moment when his scar would again sear with pain. Whet didn't bother him all that much was the fact that the Dursleys were ignoring him. It was easier to deal with them that way.
Harry sighed, collapsed back in the large armchair in front of the television, and shoved his glasses up on his nose. One more day, he told himself grimly. Just one more day . . .
He was sick of the Dursleys, sick of them alternating between ignoring him and treating him as they did Dudley, trying to figure out which would anger him less. Aunt Petunia's worst fear was that the members of the Order of the Phoenix that had stood by Harry at his return home would come strolling up the walk of number four, Privet Drive, and the neighbors - just as nosy as she was - would have plenty of gossip to round out the summer. Harry, on the other hand, would like nothing better than seeing Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin, the Weasleys, and Hermione Granger again. At least they knew Sirius had existed.
His stomach had stopped clenching every time he thought of his godfather and had started disappearing, leaving a heavy emptiness inside him. Far worse, in his opinion, were the times when he realized with a start that he had not thought of Sirius for hours, concentrating on the news or reading the Daily Prophet thoroughly cover-to-cover.
Nothing had happened. With glazed eyes Harry blearily half-watched an infomercial on some new exercise equipment, not even bothering to read the scrolling marquee on the bottom of the screen as it was giving weather and sports scores. Whee. Maybe Voldemort was causing the torrential rains that were following last year's drought and causing the lawns along Privet Drive and Magnolia Crescent to spring to life with renewed fervor and their owners to chance it outside between showers with the lawnmowers. Uncle Vernon was usually the one to do it as Dudley had been the Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Boxing Champion of the Southeast for the second year in a row and could be rather intimidating when he wanted to be.
Hedwig zoomed in lazily through a nearby open window, a letter clutched in her beak. Half-melted in the heat and currently apathetic, Harry reached out a hand to take the roll of parchment before his owl settles on the back of the chair. Not bothering to look at the address on the outside - it would be for him, of course, but he might have recognized the handwriting - Harry slit it open.
Harry -
I trust your summer is going as well as can be expected and regret that I have not written sooner, as I have been rather busy. I am searching for both a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and a replacement for Madam Pompfrey as she has been asked to join the elite team of Healers at St. Mungo's, but I did not write to bore you with such details. With the recent events of our Minister coming to his senses, he has again been seeking my council quite frequently and, I can only assume, will continue to do so throughout the year ahead, and I will give it gladly. Sadly, this means that my plans of teaching you Occlumency have been rather jeopardized. Still, I have added to my list of people to search for an accomplished Occlumens other than myself or Professor Snape and will inform you as soon as I have found one.
Stay out of trouble.
Albus Dumbledore
Harry blinked slowly, rereading the letter twice more and feeling a slight tingle in his scar, something that was easy to ignore. It had not occurred to him that he would have to continue learning Occlumency, not since the dreams of long unlit corridors and locked doors had abated. Still, if he had to learn it, he would rather be taught by Dumbledore. The memory of his last would-be lesson with Snape caused his stomach to come back and clench . . .
Aunt Petunia came into the room with a duster and began going over all the little knickknacks on the end table and carefully cleaning the myriad pictures of Dudley, carefully ignoring her nephew, who was ignoring her right back. Finally Petunia could stand it no longer. She cleared her throat. "Is that from one of your - er - friends?" she asked, not exactly looking at him.
He nodded once.
"The - er - one with the pink hair?" She was trying hard not to wrinkle her nose at the member of the Order that was probably the most Dursley-ish, but that was not saying much.
"The headmaster at school," he said glumly, heaving himself out of the chair. Hedwig took wing, hooting hopefully, clearly wanting Harry to go to his room and give her a few Owl Treats. "About - about lessons."
"I thought you already got something about lessons," Aunt Petunia said, raising an eyebrow.
He tried to not glow with pride. "Yeah, I did." He had gotten a rather fantastic eight OWLs, considering the only one in which he had not achieved at least an Acceptable was Divination. He'd even managed a good enough Potions grade to advance to NEWT level, something he would not normally celebrate except for the fact that to become an Auror - a Dark Wizard hunter - he needed NEWT level Potions. History of Magic was a barely scraped Acceptable, but Defense Against the Dark Arts had secured him top marks, an Outstanding, and the fact that he could finally drop Divination almost made up for continuing in Potions. Hermione, of course, had achieved nothing less than Exceeds Expectations on every single one of her OWLs, earning a Percy-type twelve. Ron had five, missing out on History of Magic, Divination, and Astronomy, but he, too, would be suffering through Potions another year.
"Well?" aunt Petunia snapped.
Harry blinked, realizing he had been quiet for a bit. "It's a special lesson, because of Voldemort."
Despite being one of the biggest Muggles - non-magical people - on the planet, Petunia had the decency to pale at the mention of the wizard who had killed her sister and brother-in-law, landing her with Harry in the first place. "I see." Her voice was light. "Why?"
"Because he wants to destroy me" seemed a bit melodramatic, but that was the general idea. Harry sighed, tucking the letter in his pocket and sitting back down on the edge of the chair. "Before I was born there was a prophecy made regarding him and me."
"That's why he killed her, then?"
A muscle in his cheek twitched. "Yes, that's why he killed my mum. And why he's tried to kill me four times already." He had escaped, something, Dumbledore had pointed out, that was more than his parent's had ever done, having only been able to defy Voldemort three times. "It's for protection."
"Like your staying here." Her back was to him again. "But you're leaving tomorrow. Those - people - are coming for you?"
"Yeah. They're my full guard." He laughed hollowly, standing up once more and making as if to leave, but Dudley burst into the room, followed closely by his father.
Aunt Petunia was the first to find her voice. "What is it, Duddykins?"
Harry, who had been blinking rather owlishly at his cousin, immediately turned to the news, scanning the scrolling words for death, disappearance, torture . . .
It was Uncle Vernon who found his voice first. "The river's on fire."
* * * * *
Aunt Petunia sputtered something that might have been a laugh. "What in heaven's name are you talking about?"
But the infomercial had been interrupted with a news bulletin and Uncle Vernon leaned down to turn up the volume. ". . . baffling scientists. The last time the Thames burned it was much more polluted than it has been allowed to become in recent news. Here's Jim Sanor with the story."
The view switched to a man looking rather flustered and wind-blown. "Thanks, Erik. As you can see behind me" - he gestured with a hand full of papers, clearly trying not to curse as some of them flew out of his hand - "the Thames is burning for a course at least a kilometer long. Now, we have no news about how the blaze was started, but authorities are here to assure us that they will soon have it under control."
The scene changed back to Erik in the news room. "Thank you, Jim. We will follow up on this report, as well as any other news, at seven." Harry and the Dursleys found themselves staring at "Before" and "After" pictures from a woman who had supposedly lost twenty-five kilos using an amazing new machine, stupid music blaring from the speakers. Uncle Vernon reached down and switched the set off.
Aunt Petunia was the first to speak, having to clear her throat a couple times in order to do so. "So that's - that's him, then, is it?"
Harry shook his head slightly. Voldemort had waited a year for his first attack and it was this? Setting fire to the Thames? It didn't even amount to anything resembling panic, just a quick little news spot and a "tune in at seven." He was expecting something else, something more along the lines of mass deaths, clear destruction, something with little or no chance of escaping. Then again, nagged a small voice in the back of his head, how often does he do what you expect?
"Well, is it?" Uncle Vernon barked, stroking his walrus-like mustache as if he were wondering whether to get worked up enough to start tearing chunks out of it. "With more dementoids?"
Harry rubbed his forehead, trying to think as it twinged again. He was annoyed, not overly so, but they emotion was still there . . . "Something went wrong," he said slowly, hollowly, in the detached voice his mouth used when he was not planning on the words. "It was supposed to be worse, an explosion, but someone went and messed it up . . . a distraction in London while they escapes Azkaban . . ."
"The Dementors have escaped Azkaban?" Petunia whispered, peering around her husband and son, craning her rather long neck so as to get a view up and down Privet Drive.
"Well, sort of; they're out of Ministry control, anyway. And you can't see them," Harry continued as his aunt's search grew a bit more frantic. "Muggles can't see them. You just feel them."
Dudley sucked in a quick breath, growing rather pale and nervously running a hand through his hair. The year previous he had had the . . . pleasure . . . of doing just that, and it was obvious the memory had not faded. "D'you see any, Harry?" he asked, almost succeeding in keeping his voice steady.
"No." Harry shook his head, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "This wasn't about the Dementors, he had them already. It was the Death Eaters." He blinked, realizing the others were looking at him strangely. "His followers. I kind of helped in sending some of them to Azkaban a couple months ago. There was supposed to be something in London, something bigger, but something went wrong and now . . . the river's on fire," he finished lamely.
"Voldy-whatsis made a mistake? I didn't think your kind made mistakes. He certainly didn't when he . . . ah . . ." Feeling it safer, Uncle Vernon stopped talking and began smoothing his mustache, looking for all the world as though it was what he had meant to do all along.
Harry, quite certain how that statement was going to end, had a hard time keeping his hand away from his wand. "The Death Eaters made a mistake," he said slowly, trying not to sound as though he were speaking to a small child. "But he's not as mad as he would have been if the others hadn't managed to escape Azkaban. He's still building his army."
Aunt Petunia was about to ask another question when they doorbell rang, causing her head to whip around quickly. Harry only had time to see her eyes widen before she was practically sprinting toward the door. She could be heard, in a false, cheery voice, welcoming whoever it was that was standing there and ushering them inside the house, a move that became clear when Harry found Tonks, Mad-Eye, and Lupin being ushered into the sitting room.
"It was a mistake," Harry said, rubbing his forehead again as it gave another small tingle. "It wasn't supposed to be quite so -"
"Benign?" Tonks finished, raising an eyebrow. It disappeared up into her bangs, violently curly and very blonde today. "Yeah, we suspected that . . ."
"You know what else happened?" Lupin asked in his familiar, hoarse voice, looking at Harry seriously out of a prematurely lined face.
"Yeah, the Death Eaters -"
"A simple 'yes' will suffice, Potter," Moody barked, looking at Harry with his normal eye, the other, electric blue one whirling madly, no doubt making sure the neighbors were sufficiently back to plotting their lawn- mowing to do so when it was driest. "We're here to take you. We might need that scar of yours, come what may. Go and get your things."
Tonks tipped an invisible hat to the Dursleys as she passed them, following Harry up the stairs, both of them taking them two at a time. "Wotcher, Harry," she said, rather cheerily, considering the situation. "Glad to get out of here?"
"Yeah," said Harry, not so enthusiastic as the sight of Tonks had reminded him of a room in the Department of Mysteries, one with many stone benches and a raised stone dais with an archway, from which hung a curtain that flittered in its own breeze . . .
"Harry? Yoo-hoo, Harry?" She actually reached out to knock on his head. "You're packed, grab that end of the trunk, would you?" Tonks had done her little packing spell, not neat, but effective, and she had Hedwig's cage in one hand, a handle of his trunk in the other. "You all right?" she asked in an undertone as they started down the stairs, the trunk hitting him uncomfortably in the backs of his legs as they maneuvered down the stairs.
"Better now," he said, glad his back was to her so he did not have to fake a smile. At least at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, he might be able to keep busy enough that the memories it held would not have time to wrap themselves around him. Briefly he though of the faint scars on Ron's arms and Madam Pompfrey saying that thoughts could leave deeper scars than anything else . . . He shook his head to clear it as they returned to the living room.
Moody was snapping a pocket watch shut. "Thank you for keeping him alive," he said gruffly, the tone more because he was not sure how the Dursleys would react than the fact that he was moved by their kindness. "You'll see him as usual when term ends. Come here," he said, this time to Harry and Tonks. He pulled out his wand. "Stand back." In a trice the trunk and cage had shrunk to miniatures small enough to fit in his pocket, and that was exactly where he put them. "Easier to travel on the Underground this way," he explained.
"You know where to go," Lupin said softly to Hedwig. She looked at him with large eyes, blinked once, gave a small hoot, and took off.
"Go on," Moody said rather impatiently.
Harry was puzzled. "What'm I -?"
His question was cut off by Tonks, who placed herself in front of Aunt Petunia. "If you'd just hold still," she said conversationally, wiping her hands on her long skirt. For the first time Harry noticed the strange was she was dressed, blouse and all, and it rather confused him a moment. "There we go." Tonks looked Harry's aunt up and down before screwing up her face in a painful sort of way and she began to change.
The Dursleys watched in horror, Harry with a kind of morbid glee as Tonks began to change and become an exact copy of Aunt Petunia, explaining her chosen ensemble. "Is that right?" she asked a couple minutes later, turning this way and that so they could see.
Harry cleared his throat. "You, uh - you still have your voice."
She waved that away. "Takes too long to change that, too. I just won't talk."
"Promise?" Lupin asked quickly, grinning at her.
"No time," Moody said swiftly. "You two wait a couple minutes after Remus goes; I'll be following. Tonks knows where to get off." He nodded toward the twin Aunt Petunias, one looking a bit faint, the other grinning in a completely un-Petunia like way. "You won't see the others."
"Dung nicked us a few good Invisibility Cloaks," the disguised Tonks said happily. "But we'll talk about that later," she added hurriedly as Moody gave her a glare with both eyes.
Lupin winked at Harry before he turned to go. A moment later the door opened and closed as he strolled down the street.
Harry turned to his aunt, uncle and cousin. "Er . . . I'll see you next summer, than."
The real Aunt Petunia nodded numbly. Uncle Vernon ran a finger over his mustache. "We treated you well," he said, eyes darting to Moody, who was once again securing a bowler had over his crazy eye.
"Your turn," Moody said, electric blue eye swiveling to the face of his closed watch. "Go on."
Harry shrugged. "Well . . . bye."
It was the best exits from number four, Privet Drive with what remained of his family in attendance: no shouting, no running, and the door wasn't even slammed on his heels.
* * * * *
The welcome Harry received when he arrived at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, far outshone the farewell from number four, Privet Drive, but that that was to be expected. "Harry, it's so good to see you!" Hermione said, enthusiastically hugging him around the neck and almost smothering him with her bushy hair.
"Just wish the situation was different, huh, mate?" Ron Weasley asked, grinning at his best friend when Hermione released Harry.
"Could be worse. We could've changed the headquarters to my house." But Harry was grinning when he said it.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just wait till you hear why we still have it. It'll make your eyes spin in opposite directions, honestly."
"Ah, we have time for that later," Tonks said, looking rather like something was painfully crawling around the inside of her skull as she reverted back to looking like herself, only this time her hair was her preferred short, bubblegum pink, and rather spiky. "First, y'see, I have to change . . . and then Remus hasn't seen the Prophet yet today, there's an article that'll interest him . . ." She disappeared up the stairs.
"Harry, dear, I thought that was you," Mrs. Weasley said, coming up the stairs from the basement kitchen and wiping her hands on her apron.
"Should be, if Moody's his usual self," Lupin said, following her and looking a bit irked. "Tonks stole the paper before we left," he explained to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Been taunting me with it all day, that one . . ."
Far from telling him to grow up, Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes indulgently as she gave Harry what amounted to a rather floury hug. "It won't kill you to wait."
"Exactly," Fred said, bounding down the stairs and followed closely by his twin brother George, each of them wearing the acid green dragon skin jackets that proved the success of their joke shop.
"We had to wait an entire year to join the Order," George added.
"Weren't exactly sympathetic to us last summer, were you?"
"I'd say not."
Ron rolled his eyes, turning his back on them so they wouldn't overhear. "Not like they're telling us anything," he whispered to Harry. "Say they're sworn to secrecy and all that."
"Well, they probably are, Ron," Hermione said, crossing her arms. "And it's not right to see if you can pry anything out of them, it might be dangerous."
"Well, at least the Order's growing," Harry said quickly to stop the argument before they could build up steam. "I mean, since Voldemort's building up his ranks -"
"Oh, Ron, grow up!" Hermione said irritably as he had jumped at the Dark Lord's name yet again.
"- then we should be building up ours," Harry finished before Ron could reply. "Right?"
"Oh, and they have!" Hermione said, looking as though she were talking about SPEW again. "They don't all come to all the meetings - can't, really, if they want to keep it secret - but there've been so many new witches and wizards, Dumbledore's talking about expanding internationally and recruiting from other countries, maybe some from Durmstrang and other places -"
"She's hoping we get Krum," Ron muttered under his breath, but, thankfully, Hermione either did not hear or chose to ignore him.
"She's right," Lupin said, though he looked rather glum as he did. "He's actually looking for a Dark Arts professor from one of the other schools, as well, to promote unity."
Harry bit his lip, wondering if his old professor's lack of excitement came from the fact that he had once held the Defense Against the Dark Arts professorship and wanted it back. His clothes were ragged and worn thin, not all that worse from the previous summer, but unemployment was not being kind to the man who could not get a job because he was also a werewolf. Thankfully they were saved a response by Tonks appearing at the top of the stairs, holding a newspaper clipping in one hand, the other over her heart as she cleared her throat, clearly preparing to give a speech.
"'School Healer Gives Hope to Vampires,'" she began. "That's the headline, by the way."
Harry, Ron and Hermione shared looks that asked what this had to do with anything, but Lupin was definitely listening. "Go on, then."
"The resident Healer at Durmstrang, known to the students as Madam Amy, has finally brought to a conclusion years of long research. 'It took longer than I thought, I'll admit,' she said last Thursday in an interview, 'but the fact that I actually made it still kind of shocks me.' Madam Amy has, in short, provided the world with three different guarantees that they will not become unwilling prey for vampires.
"'I know some vampires use voluntary donors, having worked with them in the past, but that still leaves too many who try to satisfy their cravings with blood-flavored items and then reach a point where they can't stand it anymore.' Thus, Madam Amy has created three ways for a vampire to get his fill without actually biting a neck.
"'The first is a pill they have to take once a week, if that's what they decide,' she explained. 'Then a patch that needs to be changed once every two weeks, or a shot that is once monthly. The cost is all about the same, it just depends on personal preference.' When asked why she decided to work on what many have considered to be the Vampire Problem for centuries, she laughed and said, 'It sounded easier than a substitute for the Wolfsbane Potion that would prevent any transformation of a werewolf at all.' Will she attempt this next? 'We'll see,' she allowed; 'just give me another ten years.'"
Tonks came down the stairs then, handing the scrap to Lupin. "There you go. Try not to drool too much."
"Har, har," he said, but he inspected the picture closely before handing it back to Tonks. "Take Harry up and try to explain her, then; I still need to pack." He grinned at them before leaving, practically running Moody over as the Auror was coming in.
"I'm guessing he's going to pack?" Mad-Eye said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at Lupin's retreating figure.
"Right in one," Tonks said cheerfully. "Come on, it's easier by the tapestry."
"Tapestry?" Harry began to follow her up the stairs, Ron and Hermione tagging along behind. The only tapestry he knew of was the Black family tree, and that was where she led them.
"Right, this is my aunt, or at least the only one I'll admit to," said Tonks, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the tapestry and handing over the Prophet clipping. "Actually, her name's Adele Mavis Yvonne" - she wrinkled her nose - "but, unlike some of us with horrid first names, she can shorten that to Amy and be done with it."
Harry held the picture so his friends could see it, as well. A rather young- looking witch was grinning at them, though, upon looking at the caption, it said she was thirty-six. Still, Amy could have passed for twenty-five, considering her young face. Her hair was pulled back, just as dark as her eyes, and her nose looked as though it had been broken and not properly healed with magic, creating a rather cute effect. "But she's not on there," Harry said, pointing to where Tonks's mother had been blasted off for marrying a Muggle and the two sisters flanking her, Narcissa Black Malfoy and Bellatrix Black Lestrange.
"You two ready to hear this again?" Tonks asked, showing a dimple as she grinned at Ron and Hermione. "Right, so - Amy's real parents - full blood, of course - said they already had one brat, why keep another, and gave her up for adoption." Tonks took the picture back and held it up over the names of her aunts. "She was adopted into the Black family as the youngest sister, quite a lot younger, actually; Mum's twins with Bellatrix and they're eight years older."
Harry's mouth twitched at that. Bellatrix Lestrange was responsible for killing her cousin, Sirius, and the thought that Tonks's mum might have the same heavy-lidded eyes and facial features was unsettling.
"They're not identical," Tonks continued as though reading his thoughts. "But, anyway . . . when Aunt Amy was eight, my grandparents were killed in an accident. Trying to work out some horrid curse on their own or something, got themselves really bad. Still, Mum and the other two were old enough to be on their own, but my aunt was adopted again" - Tonks moved the picture - "and she became the sister of Sirius and Regulus."
"Sirius never mentioned a sister." Harry said it quickly so the name would not have to longer long on his tongue, painfully working its way down to a knot in his chest.
"Nah, she had a different way of going about things. Anyway, he was twelve then, already in Gryffindor, and Regulus was ten, ready to start at Hogwarts. He was Slytherin and Sirius wanted Amy to have an easier time, so he told her she should fake being Dark minded to their parents. She didn't have much say in this, but she was asked to join Durmstrang, which made it a bit easier. Anyway, she grew up pretending to be a Dark Witch to the family and a good on to the public. Told me how she'd explained it to Bellatrix once, something like, if Bellatrix was caught, she'd need someone respectable to defend her. Amy had dozens of those excuses."
"But she's really good." Harry looked from the picture to Tonks's face.
She looked almost sad, almost wistful. "She's amazing. Actually, she -"
"Dinner!" Mrs. Weasley called up the stairs.
"Hey, c'mon, Harry," Ron said, eagerly getting to his feet and tugging at Harry's arm. "I'm starving!"
Harry followed him out of the room, past an exasperated Hermione, wondering what Tonks was going to say Amy actually was, but those thoughts disappeared when he was faced with a table creaking under mountains of food and surrounded by people he had yearned for all summer. Smiling, Harry took his seat and began to tuck in.
* * * * *
After dinner, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny got together in the room the boys shared, Harry and Ron on Ron's bed, Hermione perched at the foot of Harry's, and Ginny on the floor, trailing a string for Crookshanks. "What happened to Kreacher?" Harry asked suddenly. "I mean, I guess you got the house because of Amy -"
"Yeah, it's hers now," Hermione said, "and she wrote right after . . . right afterwards to tell Dumbledore that we could still use it."
"But, to actually answer your question," Ginny said, "he's gone. To either the Lestranges or the Malfoys, we're not sure, but he's definitely gone."
"You should hear Sirius's mum wail about it," Ron moaned, collapsing back against the wall and appearing to slam his head painfully, but he didn't show it. "When she wakes up . . . there's no shuttering her up, honestly!"
"At least Tonks didn't knock over the umbrella stand when she came up here," Ginny pointed out. "That would've been horrid."
"Yeah . . . hey, what was with that Daily Prophet article, anyway?" Harry asked, stifling a yawn. It was warm in the room and he was stuffed to the brim with more types of food than he could count.
Ginny and Hermione shared a look. "Well, what do you think?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, come on, if Tonks's aunt actually figures out a way to stop him from turning into a wolf once a month, that'll be like he was never bitten at all, right?" Ron said eagerly. "Then that thingy that stupid Umbridge -
"Ron!" Ginny and Hermione had spoken together, covering up any further description of the woman.
"- wrote won't have any effect on him." He shared a grin with Harry, who had nonetheless caught every word.
Hermione rolled her eyes, muttering something about teaspoons, but it was Ginny who spoke up. "Well, it's not like we know or anything, considering the fact that seen Fred and George won't say."
"Yeah, you've noticed they're not here," Ron said, clearly irked, though whether it was at his brothers or at not catching Hermione's meaning, Harry couldn't tell. "They're always avoiding us, doing something for their joke shop or whatever."
"So you don't keep bugging them," Hermione said, definitely loud enough for him to hear. "You think they like not being able to tell you?"
"Yes," said Ginny and Ron quickly.
Hermione frowned. "Well, maybe, but at least they're not waving it in your faces, are they?"
Ron grinned. "Not like Tonks was with that Prophet this morning. Man, Harry, you should've seen it . . . her prancing all about the kitchen and Lupin trying to snag it without knocking nay of us out of chairs or spilling eggs in our laps . . ."
Ginny giggled. "It was a sight to see. Definitely funny . . . anyway, we actually think -
"Bed! All of you! Haven't you even looked at the time?" Mrs. Weasley was in the doorway, hands on her hips. "Hermione and Ginny, shoo! You can catch up on all the news tomorrow!" With a meaningful look at Harry and her youngest son, she closed the door after them, clearly expecting lights to be out in a trice.
Harry and Ron rummaged around in the trunks and changed quickly into their pajamas, sliding between the cool summer sheets. "What d'you think they were going to say?" Ron asked as the candles extinguished themselves.
Harry shrugged, yawning hugely. The blank portrait frame on the wall gave a small snigger of laughter, but his eyes were closed and Snape was chasing after him, holding a rather lethal-looking syringe. "It's your shot, Potter," the Potions professor said gleefully. "For anyone who receives a Niffler bite . . ." There was a Niffler right in front of him, looking all cute and cuddly, but then it was rearing up on its hind legs and baring horrific teeth. Harry tripped over it and went flying, then falling, landing hard on the ground far below. He had barely gotten to his feet, starting to look around his shadowy surroundings when someone poked him in the side. "Get up," Ron said rather crossly. "You won't believe it, the attic's infested, Mum got attacked by more Doxys when she went up . . ."
Harry blinked, pulling himself out of bed, scrambling into his clothes and bolting down breakfast. "I've done the Doxys," Mrs. Weasley said, coming down as he finished his last bite of cereal, "but there's practically a whole half of the attic untouched, it's like last summer all over again . . ."
He quickly swallowed, reaching for a glass of water to wash his mouthful down past the lump that had formed in his throat. Last summer, except Sirius was no long with them. Thankfully an interruption came from above when Lupin clattered down to the main floor as they were heading up. "Have you seen this?" he demanded. For a moment Harry, Hermione, and the two youngest Weasleys had no idea who he was talking to as the open front door was in the way, but it closed quickly enough to reveal Snape.
The professor picked the roll of parchment from Lupin's fingers, reading it quickly. "Dumbledore obviously thinks it best if you leave today."
"Today?" Lupin grabbed the letter back. "Severus, I've been planning this for -"
"Weeks. Yes, I know. Pity. Some of the best-laid plans . . ." Snape gave him a smile that he usually saved for Harry. Say, after he'd just told him that he would be receiving no grade that day.
Mrs. Weasley, who had been following them up the stairs, frowned and held out her hand for the parchment, reading it with a crease between her eyebrows. "My, that doesn't give you any time, does it?"
"No. And it's not like I can get reimbursed for setting up a Portkey, not this late." Lupin sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. "Great, just great."
"It's not like anyone knew you were coming," Mrs. Weasley said almost hopefully, as if she was not sure whether or not this would make him angrier. "No one will be disappointed."
"Yeah, except me," the former Dark Arts professor sighed, taking the letter back and stowing it in a pocket.
"Well," Snape said, the smile still on his lips, "if you are unable to use the Portkey, that does not mean it should be wasted."
To everyone's surprise - especially Snape's and even Mrs. Weasley's, considering she seemed to know everything else that was going on - Lupin frowned a moment before nodding. "All right, Severus." He pulled a button out of his pocket and held it out for the other man to take. "Tomorrow, nine thirty-two in the morning. Guess I'd better be going, then."
An unknown emotion flitted across Snape's face and he grabbed Lupin's shoulder before the other man could open the door to leave, reaching into a pocket with the hand that held the button. Harry glanced at Ron, both of them clearly thinking Snape could be going for his wand, but when his hand came out it had exchanged the button for a Galleon. "Here."
Lupin hesitated for a moment, then took it, nodding good-bye to the others before he left, not looking at Snape. The professor shrugged, hand back in his pocket as he ran his fingers over the button. "Well, then. That solves my problem."
"I'll tell Dumbledore," Mrs. Weasley said quietly.
Snape almost - Harry blinked - smiled. "Do that." Then he, too, turned and left.
Mrs. Weasley spent a moment deep in thought before she seemed to realize with a start that the rest of them were standing there, staring at her, questioning. "Well, off to the attic with you!" she said, shooing them ahead of her on the stairs. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all shared looks. They had a bit to discuss, later, without anyone else listening in.
* * * * *
The moment the door to their room was closed, Ron and Harry turned to Hermione and Ginny. "Well?"
Hermione shrugged, completely at a loss. "Professor Lupin was going to go somewhere and got some orders for something else, I guess."
"And then let Snape take his place," Ron finished off. "What in the world would interest both of them that much?"
"A Dark Arts position?" Ginny suggested. "That's all I can think of for common interest."
Harry frowned. "But no one knew Professor Lupin was going to be coming, and that kind of defeats the purpose of a job interview, doesn't it?"
Ron cast a scalding glance at the ceiling. "Bet Fred and George know. I mean, if Mum knew what they were talking about . . ."
But Hermione was not done thinking. "It sounded like they were talking about surprising someone," she said slowly, tapping her chin.
"Since when have Snape and Professor Lupin had mutual friends?" Ron snorted. "Seriously, a werewolf and a former Death Eater? Where's the common ground?"
"They both went to Hogwarts?" Ginny suggested in a voice that said she knew that wasn't saying much. "They were in the same year . . . maybe it's someone they went to school with or something."
"Someone joining the Order." Hermione had sat straight up, eyes sparkling. "Like Harry said, if Voldemort's building up his ranks - come on, Ron! - then we should be, too."
For a moment Harry was satisfied with this, but then he thought of something else. "Professor Lupin said he's been planning this for weeks and he just got an order for the . . . er . . . Order. Dumbledore wouldn't do something like that without telling someone else to take over the recruiting, would he?"
Hermione looked as if he had just told her the answers to all her exams. "Ugh. Probably not, no. But maybe he's all caught up with things and it . . . slipped his mind or something. I mean, they worked it out, didn't they?"
"Yeah, the first time ever those two've worked anything out." Harry ran a hand through his hair. "If Professor Lupin were still here, we could've asked him."
"And he'd tell us?" Ginny's voice was doubtful. "You know there's a whole lot of stuff they aren't telling us because we're too young or too inexperienced or whatever."
Harry winced. He remembered arguing with Ginny only a few short months before, saying she was too young, too inexperienced to accompany him on Sirius's rescue mission. The wince turned into something darker as memories of that night flitted past: the last time he had seen his godfather, the fact that Harry thought it was all his fault, the things Dumbledore had told him. . . .
Ron waved a hand in front of his face. "Harry? Are you all right?"
He started. "Yeah - yeah, I'm fine." He flattened his hair, hoping he sounded convincing. No one else knew about the prophecy - they all thought it had been smashed, and Harry had not yet figured out exactly how to tell them otherwise. "Hey, guys, I'm either going to murder Voldemort or be murdered by him - isn't that wonderful?" just didn't seem to be the right way to word it.
The others exchanged glances, trying to figure out whether or not to drag it out of him, but they mutely decided to move on. "What about Tonks?" Hermione asked suddenly.
"What about her?" Ron returned.
"Well, d'you think she would know?"
"D'you think she would tell us?"
"Well . . . I mean, she's younger, more like us, after all . . . I just thought maybe . . ." She trailed off. "OK, fine then. You think of something."
Silence hung in the air for approximately thirteen and a half seconds, interrupted by the appearance of a man in the blank portrait on the wall. He was yawning, daintily covering his mouth with a silk gloved hand and grooming his pointed goatee to perfection. Harry's lip curled. "Phineas Nigellus."
"Harry Potter." Sirius's great-great-grandfather, a former Headmaster of Hogwarts, looked utterly bored, as if this were below him. "And a rather interesting display of . . . friends."
Harry's jaw clenched, which at least had the benefit of keeping the sneer away. "Did you come here to insult us or did you have another purpose in mind?"
"Hmm, as impolite as ever . . . very well, Potter: a message from Dumbledore. He has found you a teacher." Raising an eyebrow, Phineas stepped sideways out of the frame and disappeared.
Ron cleared his throat. "Umm . . . what was that about?"
"Oh, he's a former Headmaster, Sirius's great-great-grandfather, a Slytherin, utterly annoying, and a rather poor messenger." Rather poor, as in he delivered exactly the information he was told and failed to question for more.
Hermione frowned. "What does he mean, Dumbledore has found you a teacher?"
"Occlumency, must be," Harry said, pondering, eyes glazed over as he gazed unseeingly at a spot on the worn rug. "Because Fudge's going to be going to Dumbledore for help now that he's finally come to his senses and he's not going to be able to teach me regularly." Hermione was still frowning. "What?"
"Well, it's just that . . . I've been doing some research, you know, and as for Occlumency . . . that's a trait that usually runs strong within family groups, and . . ." She spread her hands, willing them to finish the sentence.
"And you think maybe Snape has an evil twin or something," Harry finished flatly.
Ginny looked a bit wary. "But couldn't it be someone related to Dumbledore, like a son or grandson or something?"
Ron perked up. "Hey, that'd work! What d'you think, Harry?"
"He thinks it's time for all of you to be in bed," Mrs. Weasley said, pushing to door open as she did so. "Honestly, the four of you . . . you'd think you hadn't spoken in years."
Smiling, the friends bid each other good night, though it was a long and torturous while before Harry fell asleep.
Harry was a wizard who spent most of the year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where he was going to be attending his sixth year. This not being bad enough, he had been singled out by the Dark Lord Voldemort - "You Know Who" or "He Who Must Not Be Named" in most wizarding circles - and thus was more dangerous than basically any other person on the planet. The Dursleys were already a bit apprehensive of Harry knowing magic: whenever they caught a glimpse of the wand shoved in the waistband of his jeans they were liable to shut up, turn pale, and possibly leave the room.
It really didn't bother Harry all that much. Well, the fact that he was a wizard and bore a lightening-shaped scar on his forehead made him jumpier than usual, always listening for the swish of a cloak or fearing the moment when his scar would again sear with pain. Whet didn't bother him all that much was the fact that the Dursleys were ignoring him. It was easier to deal with them that way.
Harry sighed, collapsed back in the large armchair in front of the television, and shoved his glasses up on his nose. One more day, he told himself grimly. Just one more day . . .
He was sick of the Dursleys, sick of them alternating between ignoring him and treating him as they did Dudley, trying to figure out which would anger him less. Aunt Petunia's worst fear was that the members of the Order of the Phoenix that had stood by Harry at his return home would come strolling up the walk of number four, Privet Drive, and the neighbors - just as nosy as she was - would have plenty of gossip to round out the summer. Harry, on the other hand, would like nothing better than seeing Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin, the Weasleys, and Hermione Granger again. At least they knew Sirius had existed.
His stomach had stopped clenching every time he thought of his godfather and had started disappearing, leaving a heavy emptiness inside him. Far worse, in his opinion, were the times when he realized with a start that he had not thought of Sirius for hours, concentrating on the news or reading the Daily Prophet thoroughly cover-to-cover.
Nothing had happened. With glazed eyes Harry blearily half-watched an infomercial on some new exercise equipment, not even bothering to read the scrolling marquee on the bottom of the screen as it was giving weather and sports scores. Whee. Maybe Voldemort was causing the torrential rains that were following last year's drought and causing the lawns along Privet Drive and Magnolia Crescent to spring to life with renewed fervor and their owners to chance it outside between showers with the lawnmowers. Uncle Vernon was usually the one to do it as Dudley had been the Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Boxing Champion of the Southeast for the second year in a row and could be rather intimidating when he wanted to be.
Hedwig zoomed in lazily through a nearby open window, a letter clutched in her beak. Half-melted in the heat and currently apathetic, Harry reached out a hand to take the roll of parchment before his owl settles on the back of the chair. Not bothering to look at the address on the outside - it would be for him, of course, but he might have recognized the handwriting - Harry slit it open.
Harry -
I trust your summer is going as well as can be expected and regret that I have not written sooner, as I have been rather busy. I am searching for both a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and a replacement for Madam Pompfrey as she has been asked to join the elite team of Healers at St. Mungo's, but I did not write to bore you with such details. With the recent events of our Minister coming to his senses, he has again been seeking my council quite frequently and, I can only assume, will continue to do so throughout the year ahead, and I will give it gladly. Sadly, this means that my plans of teaching you Occlumency have been rather jeopardized. Still, I have added to my list of people to search for an accomplished Occlumens other than myself or Professor Snape and will inform you as soon as I have found one.
Stay out of trouble.
Albus Dumbledore
Harry blinked slowly, rereading the letter twice more and feeling a slight tingle in his scar, something that was easy to ignore. It had not occurred to him that he would have to continue learning Occlumency, not since the dreams of long unlit corridors and locked doors had abated. Still, if he had to learn it, he would rather be taught by Dumbledore. The memory of his last would-be lesson with Snape caused his stomach to come back and clench . . .
Aunt Petunia came into the room with a duster and began going over all the little knickknacks on the end table and carefully cleaning the myriad pictures of Dudley, carefully ignoring her nephew, who was ignoring her right back. Finally Petunia could stand it no longer. She cleared her throat. "Is that from one of your - er - friends?" she asked, not exactly looking at him.
He nodded once.
"The - er - one with the pink hair?" She was trying hard not to wrinkle her nose at the member of the Order that was probably the most Dursley-ish, but that was not saying much.
"The headmaster at school," he said glumly, heaving himself out of the chair. Hedwig took wing, hooting hopefully, clearly wanting Harry to go to his room and give her a few Owl Treats. "About - about lessons."
"I thought you already got something about lessons," Aunt Petunia said, raising an eyebrow.
He tried to not glow with pride. "Yeah, I did." He had gotten a rather fantastic eight OWLs, considering the only one in which he had not achieved at least an Acceptable was Divination. He'd even managed a good enough Potions grade to advance to NEWT level, something he would not normally celebrate except for the fact that to become an Auror - a Dark Wizard hunter - he needed NEWT level Potions. History of Magic was a barely scraped Acceptable, but Defense Against the Dark Arts had secured him top marks, an Outstanding, and the fact that he could finally drop Divination almost made up for continuing in Potions. Hermione, of course, had achieved nothing less than Exceeds Expectations on every single one of her OWLs, earning a Percy-type twelve. Ron had five, missing out on History of Magic, Divination, and Astronomy, but he, too, would be suffering through Potions another year.
"Well?" aunt Petunia snapped.
Harry blinked, realizing he had been quiet for a bit. "It's a special lesson, because of Voldemort."
Despite being one of the biggest Muggles - non-magical people - on the planet, Petunia had the decency to pale at the mention of the wizard who had killed her sister and brother-in-law, landing her with Harry in the first place. "I see." Her voice was light. "Why?"
"Because he wants to destroy me" seemed a bit melodramatic, but that was the general idea. Harry sighed, tucking the letter in his pocket and sitting back down on the edge of the chair. "Before I was born there was a prophecy made regarding him and me."
"That's why he killed her, then?"
A muscle in his cheek twitched. "Yes, that's why he killed my mum. And why he's tried to kill me four times already." He had escaped, something, Dumbledore had pointed out, that was more than his parent's had ever done, having only been able to defy Voldemort three times. "It's for protection."
"Like your staying here." Her back was to him again. "But you're leaving tomorrow. Those - people - are coming for you?"
"Yeah. They're my full guard." He laughed hollowly, standing up once more and making as if to leave, but Dudley burst into the room, followed closely by his father.
Aunt Petunia was the first to find her voice. "What is it, Duddykins?"
Harry, who had been blinking rather owlishly at his cousin, immediately turned to the news, scanning the scrolling words for death, disappearance, torture . . .
It was Uncle Vernon who found his voice first. "The river's on fire."
* * * * *
Aunt Petunia sputtered something that might have been a laugh. "What in heaven's name are you talking about?"
But the infomercial had been interrupted with a news bulletin and Uncle Vernon leaned down to turn up the volume. ". . . baffling scientists. The last time the Thames burned it was much more polluted than it has been allowed to become in recent news. Here's Jim Sanor with the story."
The view switched to a man looking rather flustered and wind-blown. "Thanks, Erik. As you can see behind me" - he gestured with a hand full of papers, clearly trying not to curse as some of them flew out of his hand - "the Thames is burning for a course at least a kilometer long. Now, we have no news about how the blaze was started, but authorities are here to assure us that they will soon have it under control."
The scene changed back to Erik in the news room. "Thank you, Jim. We will follow up on this report, as well as any other news, at seven." Harry and the Dursleys found themselves staring at "Before" and "After" pictures from a woman who had supposedly lost twenty-five kilos using an amazing new machine, stupid music blaring from the speakers. Uncle Vernon reached down and switched the set off.
Aunt Petunia was the first to speak, having to clear her throat a couple times in order to do so. "So that's - that's him, then, is it?"
Harry shook his head slightly. Voldemort had waited a year for his first attack and it was this? Setting fire to the Thames? It didn't even amount to anything resembling panic, just a quick little news spot and a "tune in at seven." He was expecting something else, something more along the lines of mass deaths, clear destruction, something with little or no chance of escaping. Then again, nagged a small voice in the back of his head, how often does he do what you expect?
"Well, is it?" Uncle Vernon barked, stroking his walrus-like mustache as if he were wondering whether to get worked up enough to start tearing chunks out of it. "With more dementoids?"
Harry rubbed his forehead, trying to think as it twinged again. He was annoyed, not overly so, but they emotion was still there . . . "Something went wrong," he said slowly, hollowly, in the detached voice his mouth used when he was not planning on the words. "It was supposed to be worse, an explosion, but someone went and messed it up . . . a distraction in London while they escapes Azkaban . . ."
"The Dementors have escaped Azkaban?" Petunia whispered, peering around her husband and son, craning her rather long neck so as to get a view up and down Privet Drive.
"Well, sort of; they're out of Ministry control, anyway. And you can't see them," Harry continued as his aunt's search grew a bit more frantic. "Muggles can't see them. You just feel them."
Dudley sucked in a quick breath, growing rather pale and nervously running a hand through his hair. The year previous he had had the . . . pleasure . . . of doing just that, and it was obvious the memory had not faded. "D'you see any, Harry?" he asked, almost succeeding in keeping his voice steady.
"No." Harry shook his head, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "This wasn't about the Dementors, he had them already. It was the Death Eaters." He blinked, realizing the others were looking at him strangely. "His followers. I kind of helped in sending some of them to Azkaban a couple months ago. There was supposed to be something in London, something bigger, but something went wrong and now . . . the river's on fire," he finished lamely.
"Voldy-whatsis made a mistake? I didn't think your kind made mistakes. He certainly didn't when he . . . ah . . ." Feeling it safer, Uncle Vernon stopped talking and began smoothing his mustache, looking for all the world as though it was what he had meant to do all along.
Harry, quite certain how that statement was going to end, had a hard time keeping his hand away from his wand. "The Death Eaters made a mistake," he said slowly, trying not to sound as though he were speaking to a small child. "But he's not as mad as he would have been if the others hadn't managed to escape Azkaban. He's still building his army."
Aunt Petunia was about to ask another question when they doorbell rang, causing her head to whip around quickly. Harry only had time to see her eyes widen before she was practically sprinting toward the door. She could be heard, in a false, cheery voice, welcoming whoever it was that was standing there and ushering them inside the house, a move that became clear when Harry found Tonks, Mad-Eye, and Lupin being ushered into the sitting room.
"It was a mistake," Harry said, rubbing his forehead again as it gave another small tingle. "It wasn't supposed to be quite so -"
"Benign?" Tonks finished, raising an eyebrow. It disappeared up into her bangs, violently curly and very blonde today. "Yeah, we suspected that . . ."
"You know what else happened?" Lupin asked in his familiar, hoarse voice, looking at Harry seriously out of a prematurely lined face.
"Yeah, the Death Eaters -"
"A simple 'yes' will suffice, Potter," Moody barked, looking at Harry with his normal eye, the other, electric blue one whirling madly, no doubt making sure the neighbors were sufficiently back to plotting their lawn- mowing to do so when it was driest. "We're here to take you. We might need that scar of yours, come what may. Go and get your things."
Tonks tipped an invisible hat to the Dursleys as she passed them, following Harry up the stairs, both of them taking them two at a time. "Wotcher, Harry," she said, rather cheerily, considering the situation. "Glad to get out of here?"
"Yeah," said Harry, not so enthusiastic as the sight of Tonks had reminded him of a room in the Department of Mysteries, one with many stone benches and a raised stone dais with an archway, from which hung a curtain that flittered in its own breeze . . .
"Harry? Yoo-hoo, Harry?" She actually reached out to knock on his head. "You're packed, grab that end of the trunk, would you?" Tonks had done her little packing spell, not neat, but effective, and she had Hedwig's cage in one hand, a handle of his trunk in the other. "You all right?" she asked in an undertone as they started down the stairs, the trunk hitting him uncomfortably in the backs of his legs as they maneuvered down the stairs.
"Better now," he said, glad his back was to her so he did not have to fake a smile. At least at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, he might be able to keep busy enough that the memories it held would not have time to wrap themselves around him. Briefly he though of the faint scars on Ron's arms and Madam Pompfrey saying that thoughts could leave deeper scars than anything else . . . He shook his head to clear it as they returned to the living room.
Moody was snapping a pocket watch shut. "Thank you for keeping him alive," he said gruffly, the tone more because he was not sure how the Dursleys would react than the fact that he was moved by their kindness. "You'll see him as usual when term ends. Come here," he said, this time to Harry and Tonks. He pulled out his wand. "Stand back." In a trice the trunk and cage had shrunk to miniatures small enough to fit in his pocket, and that was exactly where he put them. "Easier to travel on the Underground this way," he explained.
"You know where to go," Lupin said softly to Hedwig. She looked at him with large eyes, blinked once, gave a small hoot, and took off.
"Go on," Moody said rather impatiently.
Harry was puzzled. "What'm I -?"
His question was cut off by Tonks, who placed herself in front of Aunt Petunia. "If you'd just hold still," she said conversationally, wiping her hands on her long skirt. For the first time Harry noticed the strange was she was dressed, blouse and all, and it rather confused him a moment. "There we go." Tonks looked Harry's aunt up and down before screwing up her face in a painful sort of way and she began to change.
The Dursleys watched in horror, Harry with a kind of morbid glee as Tonks began to change and become an exact copy of Aunt Petunia, explaining her chosen ensemble. "Is that right?" she asked a couple minutes later, turning this way and that so they could see.
Harry cleared his throat. "You, uh - you still have your voice."
She waved that away. "Takes too long to change that, too. I just won't talk."
"Promise?" Lupin asked quickly, grinning at her.
"No time," Moody said swiftly. "You two wait a couple minutes after Remus goes; I'll be following. Tonks knows where to get off." He nodded toward the twin Aunt Petunias, one looking a bit faint, the other grinning in a completely un-Petunia like way. "You won't see the others."
"Dung nicked us a few good Invisibility Cloaks," the disguised Tonks said happily. "But we'll talk about that later," she added hurriedly as Moody gave her a glare with both eyes.
Lupin winked at Harry before he turned to go. A moment later the door opened and closed as he strolled down the street.
Harry turned to his aunt, uncle and cousin. "Er . . . I'll see you next summer, than."
The real Aunt Petunia nodded numbly. Uncle Vernon ran a finger over his mustache. "We treated you well," he said, eyes darting to Moody, who was once again securing a bowler had over his crazy eye.
"Your turn," Moody said, electric blue eye swiveling to the face of his closed watch. "Go on."
Harry shrugged. "Well . . . bye."
It was the best exits from number four, Privet Drive with what remained of his family in attendance: no shouting, no running, and the door wasn't even slammed on his heels.
* * * * *
The welcome Harry received when he arrived at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, far outshone the farewell from number four, Privet Drive, but that that was to be expected. "Harry, it's so good to see you!" Hermione said, enthusiastically hugging him around the neck and almost smothering him with her bushy hair.
"Just wish the situation was different, huh, mate?" Ron Weasley asked, grinning at his best friend when Hermione released Harry.
"Could be worse. We could've changed the headquarters to my house." But Harry was grinning when he said it.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just wait till you hear why we still have it. It'll make your eyes spin in opposite directions, honestly."
"Ah, we have time for that later," Tonks said, looking rather like something was painfully crawling around the inside of her skull as she reverted back to looking like herself, only this time her hair was her preferred short, bubblegum pink, and rather spiky. "First, y'see, I have to change . . . and then Remus hasn't seen the Prophet yet today, there's an article that'll interest him . . ." She disappeared up the stairs.
"Harry, dear, I thought that was you," Mrs. Weasley said, coming up the stairs from the basement kitchen and wiping her hands on her apron.
"Should be, if Moody's his usual self," Lupin said, following her and looking a bit irked. "Tonks stole the paper before we left," he explained to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Been taunting me with it all day, that one . . ."
Far from telling him to grow up, Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes indulgently as she gave Harry what amounted to a rather floury hug. "It won't kill you to wait."
"Exactly," Fred said, bounding down the stairs and followed closely by his twin brother George, each of them wearing the acid green dragon skin jackets that proved the success of their joke shop.
"We had to wait an entire year to join the Order," George added.
"Weren't exactly sympathetic to us last summer, were you?"
"I'd say not."
Ron rolled his eyes, turning his back on them so they wouldn't overhear. "Not like they're telling us anything," he whispered to Harry. "Say they're sworn to secrecy and all that."
"Well, they probably are, Ron," Hermione said, crossing her arms. "And it's not right to see if you can pry anything out of them, it might be dangerous."
"Well, at least the Order's growing," Harry said quickly to stop the argument before they could build up steam. "I mean, since Voldemort's building up his ranks -"
"Oh, Ron, grow up!" Hermione said irritably as he had jumped at the Dark Lord's name yet again.
"- then we should be building up ours," Harry finished before Ron could reply. "Right?"
"Oh, and they have!" Hermione said, looking as though she were talking about SPEW again. "They don't all come to all the meetings - can't, really, if they want to keep it secret - but there've been so many new witches and wizards, Dumbledore's talking about expanding internationally and recruiting from other countries, maybe some from Durmstrang and other places -"
"She's hoping we get Krum," Ron muttered under his breath, but, thankfully, Hermione either did not hear or chose to ignore him.
"She's right," Lupin said, though he looked rather glum as he did. "He's actually looking for a Dark Arts professor from one of the other schools, as well, to promote unity."
Harry bit his lip, wondering if his old professor's lack of excitement came from the fact that he had once held the Defense Against the Dark Arts professorship and wanted it back. His clothes were ragged and worn thin, not all that worse from the previous summer, but unemployment was not being kind to the man who could not get a job because he was also a werewolf. Thankfully they were saved a response by Tonks appearing at the top of the stairs, holding a newspaper clipping in one hand, the other over her heart as she cleared her throat, clearly preparing to give a speech.
"'School Healer Gives Hope to Vampires,'" she began. "That's the headline, by the way."
Harry, Ron and Hermione shared looks that asked what this had to do with anything, but Lupin was definitely listening. "Go on, then."
"The resident Healer at Durmstrang, known to the students as Madam Amy, has finally brought to a conclusion years of long research. 'It took longer than I thought, I'll admit,' she said last Thursday in an interview, 'but the fact that I actually made it still kind of shocks me.' Madam Amy has, in short, provided the world with three different guarantees that they will not become unwilling prey for vampires.
"'I know some vampires use voluntary donors, having worked with them in the past, but that still leaves too many who try to satisfy their cravings with blood-flavored items and then reach a point where they can't stand it anymore.' Thus, Madam Amy has created three ways for a vampire to get his fill without actually biting a neck.
"'The first is a pill they have to take once a week, if that's what they decide,' she explained. 'Then a patch that needs to be changed once every two weeks, or a shot that is once monthly. The cost is all about the same, it just depends on personal preference.' When asked why she decided to work on what many have considered to be the Vampire Problem for centuries, she laughed and said, 'It sounded easier than a substitute for the Wolfsbane Potion that would prevent any transformation of a werewolf at all.' Will she attempt this next? 'We'll see,' she allowed; 'just give me another ten years.'"
Tonks came down the stairs then, handing the scrap to Lupin. "There you go. Try not to drool too much."
"Har, har," he said, but he inspected the picture closely before handing it back to Tonks. "Take Harry up and try to explain her, then; I still need to pack." He grinned at them before leaving, practically running Moody over as the Auror was coming in.
"I'm guessing he's going to pack?" Mad-Eye said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at Lupin's retreating figure.
"Right in one," Tonks said cheerfully. "Come on, it's easier by the tapestry."
"Tapestry?" Harry began to follow her up the stairs, Ron and Hermione tagging along behind. The only tapestry he knew of was the Black family tree, and that was where she led them.
"Right, this is my aunt, or at least the only one I'll admit to," said Tonks, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the tapestry and handing over the Prophet clipping. "Actually, her name's Adele Mavis Yvonne" - she wrinkled her nose - "but, unlike some of us with horrid first names, she can shorten that to Amy and be done with it."
Harry held the picture so his friends could see it, as well. A rather young- looking witch was grinning at them, though, upon looking at the caption, it said she was thirty-six. Still, Amy could have passed for twenty-five, considering her young face. Her hair was pulled back, just as dark as her eyes, and her nose looked as though it had been broken and not properly healed with magic, creating a rather cute effect. "But she's not on there," Harry said, pointing to where Tonks's mother had been blasted off for marrying a Muggle and the two sisters flanking her, Narcissa Black Malfoy and Bellatrix Black Lestrange.
"You two ready to hear this again?" Tonks asked, showing a dimple as she grinned at Ron and Hermione. "Right, so - Amy's real parents - full blood, of course - said they already had one brat, why keep another, and gave her up for adoption." Tonks took the picture back and held it up over the names of her aunts. "She was adopted into the Black family as the youngest sister, quite a lot younger, actually; Mum's twins with Bellatrix and they're eight years older."
Harry's mouth twitched at that. Bellatrix Lestrange was responsible for killing her cousin, Sirius, and the thought that Tonks's mum might have the same heavy-lidded eyes and facial features was unsettling.
"They're not identical," Tonks continued as though reading his thoughts. "But, anyway . . . when Aunt Amy was eight, my grandparents were killed in an accident. Trying to work out some horrid curse on their own or something, got themselves really bad. Still, Mum and the other two were old enough to be on their own, but my aunt was adopted again" - Tonks moved the picture - "and she became the sister of Sirius and Regulus."
"Sirius never mentioned a sister." Harry said it quickly so the name would not have to longer long on his tongue, painfully working its way down to a knot in his chest.
"Nah, she had a different way of going about things. Anyway, he was twelve then, already in Gryffindor, and Regulus was ten, ready to start at Hogwarts. He was Slytherin and Sirius wanted Amy to have an easier time, so he told her she should fake being Dark minded to their parents. She didn't have much say in this, but she was asked to join Durmstrang, which made it a bit easier. Anyway, she grew up pretending to be a Dark Witch to the family and a good on to the public. Told me how she'd explained it to Bellatrix once, something like, if Bellatrix was caught, she'd need someone respectable to defend her. Amy had dozens of those excuses."
"But she's really good." Harry looked from the picture to Tonks's face.
She looked almost sad, almost wistful. "She's amazing. Actually, she -"
"Dinner!" Mrs. Weasley called up the stairs.
"Hey, c'mon, Harry," Ron said, eagerly getting to his feet and tugging at Harry's arm. "I'm starving!"
Harry followed him out of the room, past an exasperated Hermione, wondering what Tonks was going to say Amy actually was, but those thoughts disappeared when he was faced with a table creaking under mountains of food and surrounded by people he had yearned for all summer. Smiling, Harry took his seat and began to tuck in.
* * * * *
After dinner, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny got together in the room the boys shared, Harry and Ron on Ron's bed, Hermione perched at the foot of Harry's, and Ginny on the floor, trailing a string for Crookshanks. "What happened to Kreacher?" Harry asked suddenly. "I mean, I guess you got the house because of Amy -"
"Yeah, it's hers now," Hermione said, "and she wrote right after . . . right afterwards to tell Dumbledore that we could still use it."
"But, to actually answer your question," Ginny said, "he's gone. To either the Lestranges or the Malfoys, we're not sure, but he's definitely gone."
"You should hear Sirius's mum wail about it," Ron moaned, collapsing back against the wall and appearing to slam his head painfully, but he didn't show it. "When she wakes up . . . there's no shuttering her up, honestly!"
"At least Tonks didn't knock over the umbrella stand when she came up here," Ginny pointed out. "That would've been horrid."
"Yeah . . . hey, what was with that Daily Prophet article, anyway?" Harry asked, stifling a yawn. It was warm in the room and he was stuffed to the brim with more types of food than he could count.
Ginny and Hermione shared a look. "Well, what do you think?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, come on, if Tonks's aunt actually figures out a way to stop him from turning into a wolf once a month, that'll be like he was never bitten at all, right?" Ron said eagerly. "Then that thingy that stupid Umbridge -
"Ron!" Ginny and Hermione had spoken together, covering up any further description of the woman.
"- wrote won't have any effect on him." He shared a grin with Harry, who had nonetheless caught every word.
Hermione rolled her eyes, muttering something about teaspoons, but it was Ginny who spoke up. "Well, it's not like we know or anything, considering the fact that seen Fred and George won't say."
"Yeah, you've noticed they're not here," Ron said, clearly irked, though whether it was at his brothers or at not catching Hermione's meaning, Harry couldn't tell. "They're always avoiding us, doing something for their joke shop or whatever."
"So you don't keep bugging them," Hermione said, definitely loud enough for him to hear. "You think they like not being able to tell you?"
"Yes," said Ginny and Ron quickly.
Hermione frowned. "Well, maybe, but at least they're not waving it in your faces, are they?"
Ron grinned. "Not like Tonks was with that Prophet this morning. Man, Harry, you should've seen it . . . her prancing all about the kitchen and Lupin trying to snag it without knocking nay of us out of chairs or spilling eggs in our laps . . ."
Ginny giggled. "It was a sight to see. Definitely funny . . . anyway, we actually think -
"Bed! All of you! Haven't you even looked at the time?" Mrs. Weasley was in the doorway, hands on her hips. "Hermione and Ginny, shoo! You can catch up on all the news tomorrow!" With a meaningful look at Harry and her youngest son, she closed the door after them, clearly expecting lights to be out in a trice.
Harry and Ron rummaged around in the trunks and changed quickly into their pajamas, sliding between the cool summer sheets. "What d'you think they were going to say?" Ron asked as the candles extinguished themselves.
Harry shrugged, yawning hugely. The blank portrait frame on the wall gave a small snigger of laughter, but his eyes were closed and Snape was chasing after him, holding a rather lethal-looking syringe. "It's your shot, Potter," the Potions professor said gleefully. "For anyone who receives a Niffler bite . . ." There was a Niffler right in front of him, looking all cute and cuddly, but then it was rearing up on its hind legs and baring horrific teeth. Harry tripped over it and went flying, then falling, landing hard on the ground far below. He had barely gotten to his feet, starting to look around his shadowy surroundings when someone poked him in the side. "Get up," Ron said rather crossly. "You won't believe it, the attic's infested, Mum got attacked by more Doxys when she went up . . ."
Harry blinked, pulling himself out of bed, scrambling into his clothes and bolting down breakfast. "I've done the Doxys," Mrs. Weasley said, coming down as he finished his last bite of cereal, "but there's practically a whole half of the attic untouched, it's like last summer all over again . . ."
He quickly swallowed, reaching for a glass of water to wash his mouthful down past the lump that had formed in his throat. Last summer, except Sirius was no long with them. Thankfully an interruption came from above when Lupin clattered down to the main floor as they were heading up. "Have you seen this?" he demanded. For a moment Harry, Hermione, and the two youngest Weasleys had no idea who he was talking to as the open front door was in the way, but it closed quickly enough to reveal Snape.
The professor picked the roll of parchment from Lupin's fingers, reading it quickly. "Dumbledore obviously thinks it best if you leave today."
"Today?" Lupin grabbed the letter back. "Severus, I've been planning this for -"
"Weeks. Yes, I know. Pity. Some of the best-laid plans . . ." Snape gave him a smile that he usually saved for Harry. Say, after he'd just told him that he would be receiving no grade that day.
Mrs. Weasley, who had been following them up the stairs, frowned and held out her hand for the parchment, reading it with a crease between her eyebrows. "My, that doesn't give you any time, does it?"
"No. And it's not like I can get reimbursed for setting up a Portkey, not this late." Lupin sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. "Great, just great."
"It's not like anyone knew you were coming," Mrs. Weasley said almost hopefully, as if she was not sure whether or not this would make him angrier. "No one will be disappointed."
"Yeah, except me," the former Dark Arts professor sighed, taking the letter back and stowing it in a pocket.
"Well," Snape said, the smile still on his lips, "if you are unable to use the Portkey, that does not mean it should be wasted."
To everyone's surprise - especially Snape's and even Mrs. Weasley's, considering she seemed to know everything else that was going on - Lupin frowned a moment before nodding. "All right, Severus." He pulled a button out of his pocket and held it out for the other man to take. "Tomorrow, nine thirty-two in the morning. Guess I'd better be going, then."
An unknown emotion flitted across Snape's face and he grabbed Lupin's shoulder before the other man could open the door to leave, reaching into a pocket with the hand that held the button. Harry glanced at Ron, both of them clearly thinking Snape could be going for his wand, but when his hand came out it had exchanged the button for a Galleon. "Here."
Lupin hesitated for a moment, then took it, nodding good-bye to the others before he left, not looking at Snape. The professor shrugged, hand back in his pocket as he ran his fingers over the button. "Well, then. That solves my problem."
"I'll tell Dumbledore," Mrs. Weasley said quietly.
Snape almost - Harry blinked - smiled. "Do that." Then he, too, turned and left.
Mrs. Weasley spent a moment deep in thought before she seemed to realize with a start that the rest of them were standing there, staring at her, questioning. "Well, off to the attic with you!" she said, shooing them ahead of her on the stairs. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all shared looks. They had a bit to discuss, later, without anyone else listening in.
* * * * *
The moment the door to their room was closed, Ron and Harry turned to Hermione and Ginny. "Well?"
Hermione shrugged, completely at a loss. "Professor Lupin was going to go somewhere and got some orders for something else, I guess."
"And then let Snape take his place," Ron finished off. "What in the world would interest both of them that much?"
"A Dark Arts position?" Ginny suggested. "That's all I can think of for common interest."
Harry frowned. "But no one knew Professor Lupin was going to be coming, and that kind of defeats the purpose of a job interview, doesn't it?"
Ron cast a scalding glance at the ceiling. "Bet Fred and George know. I mean, if Mum knew what they were talking about . . ."
But Hermione was not done thinking. "It sounded like they were talking about surprising someone," she said slowly, tapping her chin.
"Since when have Snape and Professor Lupin had mutual friends?" Ron snorted. "Seriously, a werewolf and a former Death Eater? Where's the common ground?"
"They both went to Hogwarts?" Ginny suggested in a voice that said she knew that wasn't saying much. "They were in the same year . . . maybe it's someone they went to school with or something."
"Someone joining the Order." Hermione had sat straight up, eyes sparkling. "Like Harry said, if Voldemort's building up his ranks - come on, Ron! - then we should be, too."
For a moment Harry was satisfied with this, but then he thought of something else. "Professor Lupin said he's been planning this for weeks and he just got an order for the . . . er . . . Order. Dumbledore wouldn't do something like that without telling someone else to take over the recruiting, would he?"
Hermione looked as if he had just told her the answers to all her exams. "Ugh. Probably not, no. But maybe he's all caught up with things and it . . . slipped his mind or something. I mean, they worked it out, didn't they?"
"Yeah, the first time ever those two've worked anything out." Harry ran a hand through his hair. "If Professor Lupin were still here, we could've asked him."
"And he'd tell us?" Ginny's voice was doubtful. "You know there's a whole lot of stuff they aren't telling us because we're too young or too inexperienced or whatever."
Harry winced. He remembered arguing with Ginny only a few short months before, saying she was too young, too inexperienced to accompany him on Sirius's rescue mission. The wince turned into something darker as memories of that night flitted past: the last time he had seen his godfather, the fact that Harry thought it was all his fault, the things Dumbledore had told him. . . .
Ron waved a hand in front of his face. "Harry? Are you all right?"
He started. "Yeah - yeah, I'm fine." He flattened his hair, hoping he sounded convincing. No one else knew about the prophecy - they all thought it had been smashed, and Harry had not yet figured out exactly how to tell them otherwise. "Hey, guys, I'm either going to murder Voldemort or be murdered by him - isn't that wonderful?" just didn't seem to be the right way to word it.
The others exchanged glances, trying to figure out whether or not to drag it out of him, but they mutely decided to move on. "What about Tonks?" Hermione asked suddenly.
"What about her?" Ron returned.
"Well, d'you think she would know?"
"D'you think she would tell us?"
"Well . . . I mean, she's younger, more like us, after all . . . I just thought maybe . . ." She trailed off. "OK, fine then. You think of something."
Silence hung in the air for approximately thirteen and a half seconds, interrupted by the appearance of a man in the blank portrait on the wall. He was yawning, daintily covering his mouth with a silk gloved hand and grooming his pointed goatee to perfection. Harry's lip curled. "Phineas Nigellus."
"Harry Potter." Sirius's great-great-grandfather, a former Headmaster of Hogwarts, looked utterly bored, as if this were below him. "And a rather interesting display of . . . friends."
Harry's jaw clenched, which at least had the benefit of keeping the sneer away. "Did you come here to insult us or did you have another purpose in mind?"
"Hmm, as impolite as ever . . . very well, Potter: a message from Dumbledore. He has found you a teacher." Raising an eyebrow, Phineas stepped sideways out of the frame and disappeared.
Ron cleared his throat. "Umm . . . what was that about?"
"Oh, he's a former Headmaster, Sirius's great-great-grandfather, a Slytherin, utterly annoying, and a rather poor messenger." Rather poor, as in he delivered exactly the information he was told and failed to question for more.
Hermione frowned. "What does he mean, Dumbledore has found you a teacher?"
"Occlumency, must be," Harry said, pondering, eyes glazed over as he gazed unseeingly at a spot on the worn rug. "Because Fudge's going to be going to Dumbledore for help now that he's finally come to his senses and he's not going to be able to teach me regularly." Hermione was still frowning. "What?"
"Well, it's just that . . . I've been doing some research, you know, and as for Occlumency . . . that's a trait that usually runs strong within family groups, and . . ." She spread her hands, willing them to finish the sentence.
"And you think maybe Snape has an evil twin or something," Harry finished flatly.
Ginny looked a bit wary. "But couldn't it be someone related to Dumbledore, like a son or grandson or something?"
Ron perked up. "Hey, that'd work! What d'you think, Harry?"
"He thinks it's time for all of you to be in bed," Mrs. Weasley said, pushing to door open as she did so. "Honestly, the four of you . . . you'd think you hadn't spoken in years."
Smiling, the friends bid each other good night, though it was a long and torturous while before Harry fell asleep.