Tonks was making rather a mess of waltzing around the kitchen, bumping
alternatively into chairs, the table, or the wall, brandishing yet another
Daily Prophet clipping. "Can you believe it?" she gushed, thankfully
lowering herself into a tottery little black chair as Harry and Ron came
downstairs, taking seats next to a dazed looking Ginny and a Hermione whose
eyes were rather larger than usual, especially this early in the morning.
Clearly they were relieved that the dancing lesson was over. "Twice in six
days!"
Harry's heart leapt to his throat, pounding there uncomfortably as Mrs. Weasley passed him the toast. Six days ago he had come here. Six days ago the river had been on fire, six days ago the Death Eaters were escaping, six days ago, six days ago . . . The fact that Tonks was happy enough to actually attempt to waltz with the news was not registering. She grinned, showing no less than three dimples, brushing her hair - today long and black - out of her eyes, which - Harry had to blink a few times - were violet. "She's famous, that's what!"
Harry looked at the article she had thrust under his nose. "Yesterday's, but that means it happens today!" Tonks added as he took it, reaching for the eggs and knocking over her orange juice. "Oops."
"I'll get it," Mrs. Weasley said, a look on her face telling them she was slightly annoyed as she swiped the dark wood with a rag. Harry mentally shrugged and began to read.
Famous Witch to Receive Award
Madam Amy, formerly of Durmstang Academy and the creator of the now-famous Vampire Cure, will be attending a ceremony tomorrow afternoon at St. Mungo's Hospital to receive the Healer of the Year Award. "I'm quite pleased, rather shocked," she said yesterday in a hasty interview. "It's all so sudden, really."
"It" not only includes her discovery and the announcement of the award but the fact that her assistant for the past three years is now taking over her old job at Durmstrang. "Oh, Andy'll be great full-time," she assured us. "No hard feelings there; he deserves it." And what is in this Healer's future? "I can't say," she said, a twinkle in her eye. "Nothing's been signed yet." But there is something there? "Oh, well, yes - yes, there is."
We can only say that, whatever future she occupies, Madam Amy will undoubtedly make it better.
"Why don't they call her Madam Black?" Harry said as the pounding in his throat dissolved and he actually thought he could manage the three slices of toast Ron had tossed on his plate before passing the rest around.
"That's the whole deception thing," Tonks said, taking a large gulp of juice, recently poured. "See, it's like this: her Mum and Dad - I mean the second adopted set, Sirius's parents - were rather definitely Dark wizards, as were Regulus, Narcissa, and Bellatrix, with whom she actually kept close ties."
"Oh, so they wanted the appearance of someone legitimate in their family?" Hermione asked, looking up from where she and Ginny and bent their heads over the article, their hair giving off golden highlights in the pale glow of the gas lamps.
"Right. See, if Bellatrix had actually gotten a proper trial with witnesses and stuff, Amy would have been expected to stand up fro her moral character and whatnot, and be believed, since there's nothing bad about being a perfectly honest school Healer." Tonks nodded, again sweeping the hair out of her eyes as it did not seem to want to stay tucked behind her ears.
"But she was really good," Ron clarified, looking as though his eyes were crossing with the strain of trying to figure this out.
"'Course she was. Good at faking, too; Amy visited a quick bit last Easter, calmed down the portrait and everything. Even had Kreacher talking nice to her, obeying and not muttering so much when she was around."
Although this seemed to amuse Tonks, Harry felt a bit uneasy. Someone faking a Dark mentality enough to actually get that horrid House Elf to listen to her, much less Sirius's mum, who screamed insults every time the curtain was parted? Supposedly Snape had done it, largely thanks to the fact that he was an accomplished Occlumens, but comparing Amy to Snape in no way filled Harry with warmth. On the contrary, Harry and Ron had never been convinced of Snape's true return to their side.
Besides,Harry continued to himself, absentmindedly buttering his toast but forgetting the butter, everyone thought Wormtail was good and he betrayed my parents. The knife pierced the dry toast, barely scraping his finger, and he quickly looked up to see if anyone had noticed. No one had' Tonks was talking again.
"- her about it, she can say it better. Or worse, it's more real that way. Jus be sure to ask about the Regulus disaster." A smile, albeit a rather grimace-like one, was back. "That would have been a rather sticky situation."
"I thought he was dead," Harry said, more to look involved than anything else.
"Well, he is; that's what saved her."
Harry stared, but no one else seemed to catch the wording. Then again, maybe Tonks hadn't meant it that way, as if Amy had gotten out of . . . whatever . . . by killing Regulus, or at least arranging his death. Maybe it was all just a happy coincidence, Regulus dieing and Amy breathing a secret sigh of relief that she didn't have to do anything about it.
"She's rather obsessed with her aunt, isn't she?" Ginny asked Harry later, plopping down beside him on the couch with a large book in her lap, a finger between the pages to mark her spot.
He looked up from one of Ron's Quidditch books. "So you noticed, too?"
Ginny rolled her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ear. She had gotten it cut, just past shoulder-length, but, unlike Tonks's, it stayed where she put it. "Come on, how can you not notice Tonks dancing around down there? There's no room to fall, unless she went across the table and got marmalade all over her or into our laps."
"D'you think she - erm - is going to be joining the Order?" Harry tried to keep his voice neutral, though he had to admit he was sending out mental warning messages to see if she had caught anything strange.
She cast a furtive look over her shoulder at the cracked door to see if anyone else was there, but Hermione had stayed down with Mrs. Weasley and Tonks and Ron had been invited to spend the day with the twins and had left when they came to get him after breakfast. "D'you really think it's possible to fake well enough to get past Kreacher?"
"Honestly? I have no idea. Tonks idolizes her or something."
"Hermione said that Amy had enough OWLs and stuff to become an Auror, but they don't teach that at Durmstrang." Ginny smiled wryly, and Harry was struck by the fact that he'd never seen her grin enough for a dimple. "Safer to be a Healer in this house, anyway. That's not taking sides."
"Safe?" Harry frowned at her last statement. "But then we don't really know what side she's on."
There was a moment in thoughtful silence in which Harry continued to crease his forehead and Ginny bit her lip, both of them focusing on the floor in front of them, but then she gave a little laugh. "Y'know, we haven't even met her yet."
He had to agree, though his laugh was a bit more forced. "Yeah, OK . . . Hey, um . . . I haven't heard any of you talk about Percy?" Halfway through the question he had realized it might have been safer to leave it unasked, but he was really wondering.
Ginny's face tightened; Harry noticed she was clutching the book tightly and she was still not looking at him. "He's ashamed, that's what Dad says. Avoids him, actually, avoids all of us. Mum's torn to bits, says we won't hold it against him - Fred and George have a rather different opinion on that - but he won't listen, sends the letters back unopened -"
"Or resealed," Harry said, trying to be reassuring.
She finally looked at him, eyes unnaturally bright. "Penelope left him right after the news came out, did you know? She'd stuck with him, but then she was blabbing all over the place that he was an idiot, couldn't think for himself, and they were through. Mum's worried about him, Dad too, but he won't say it, just clams up and studies his hands until someone changes the subject. They're afraid of what he's going to do, if he's depressed . . ." She trailed off, not looking at him again.
Harry felt rather helpless, sitting on the outside of a family problem and having no idea how to help. Not that he could, anyway, but the Weasleys had done so much for him already . . .
"Hermione's been really nice," Ginny said softly, breaking the silence so he wouldn't have to, running her free hand along the edges of her book's cover. "I mean, she listens and everything, but . . ."
"But then she starts quoting Hogwarts, A History and you lose all patience?" Harry said, attempting a smile.
She actually laughed, a reaction with which he was quite pleased, and they smiled at each other before returning to the books. For a while Harry remained on the same page, the same line - the same word, actually. He was taken back to before Christmas when another girl had tried telling him about her problems and he had proven . . . well . . . less than adequate as she sobbed uncontrollably on his shoulder, but at least Hermione had not accused him with the emotional range of a teaspoon, right? And Ginny had at least laughed, right? I mean, she wasn't crying like Cho had been - he'd had enough of that, thank you very much - and she'd even smiled, right?
Sighing, Harry returned to his book. At least Quidditch had rules, and once the game was over you could forget it, because there was always another game to play and it all started out the same, clean slate and all. Unlike life. Forcing that thought out of his head, Harry focused his eyes on the page and actually managed to read, at least until Hermione and Tonks had come to look for them to play Exploding Snap and the young Auror once again toppled the umbrella stand, actually catching it before it fell completely, but still the umbrellas went everywhere and cries of, "Filth! Mudbloods! Half-bloods and traitors!" echoed through the house until Mrs. Weasley could finally put a stop to it.
* * * * *
Harry was wondering how in the world Andromeda Tonks had put up with her daughter twenty-four hours a day, seven days a year, for at least seventeen years. The young Auror was a flurry of activity. "She's arriving here tomorrow!" she'd exclaimed upon reading a short letter, jumping to her feet, black hair in her face once more. "We have to get ready!" And then Tonks had bustled out of the room, by some miracle missing the umbrella stand on her way to prepare Mrs. Black's old bedroom for her aunt.
Mrs. Weasley raised an eyebrow. "Did anyone pause to warn her aunt she's going to have a Hippogriff for a roommate?"
"Oh, Amy was here for a quick visit last Easter, I'm sure she knows," Hermione said, helping to pick up the dishes from their recently finished lunch. "But I really don't see why Tonks has to get that room ready; didn't Amy live here?"
"Her mum's room is probably bigger," Ron said, snagging one more piece of chocolate cake and trying to ignore the reproachful look his mum gave him. "And maybe Buckbeak likes the company."
"Sure, so she can feed it dead rats all day, that sounds absolutely wonderful," Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes, but Ron ignored her, too.
Tonks was a nervous wreck all the next day, pacing and making it impossible for Harry to concentrate on his book, glad to get away from the lunch table where she was tapping her fingernails, long and pink and eerily reminiscent of Rita Skeeter's. "She's s'posed to arrive around five," Ginny said, slipping into the den with the others.
"Thank God, I can't take this much longer," Ron moaned. No one had bothered to point out to him that the book he had been staring at for at least half an hour was upside-down. Then again, Harry had to check to make sure his wasn't, after noticing that.
"Ron," Hermione admonished sharply. "Tonks hasn't seen her aunt in a while, and from what I can tell they're rather close."
"Yeah, well, we haven't seen Percy in a while, and I'm quite sure I wouldn't be jumpy as a cat if we got a letter saying he was going to come at five o'clock." He blinked, seeming to notice for the first time that his book was upside-down, but he was too stubborn to change it. Instead he turned a page from right to left, as if he were actually reading it despite its orientation. Harry was reminded rather forcefully of one Luna Lovegood . . .
"Well, that's a bit different, isn't it?" Hermione sniffed, raising her book up again so there was no question she was reading.
Ginny, who had been standing by the doorway and watching this exchange, raised an eyebrow and came over to sit by Harry. "Happy couple," she muttered, leafing through a stack of magazines on the end table, none of them more recent than 1976.
Harry snorted. "Them? A couple? Where in the world have you been?"
She smiled, selecting a tattered issue of Witch Weekly. "So, how well do you know Dean Thomas?"
He had to grin as Ron visibly perked up, straining to listen to them. He dropped the pretense of reading after a record three minutes, contradicting everything good Harry had to say, whereupon Hermione joined in on Harry's side, clearly wanting Ginny to get together with Dean, even just because it irked Ron.
Five o'clock came rather quickly and, before anything more lethal than pillows flew across the room, there was the sound of Tonks clattering down the stairs and a rather distant shriek of delight. "I wonder if he aunt's here," Ginny said vaguely, trying to retrieve a particularly horrid puce- colored pillow without having to get out of her seat, failing, and having to save herself from toppling to the floor.
Harry laughed, standing and helping her up. The four of them spent a bit gathering the pillows and arranging them in the most horrid way possible, checks and plaids and colors that almost-but-not-quite matched. "I think that's enough time for the family reunion," Hermione said, checking the black - and rather menacing - Grandfather clock in the corner. There'd been a Bogart in that, too, before they'd brought it down from the attic, but Mad-Eye had been around to identify it and take care of it, much to Mrs. Weasley's relief.
They went downstairs, Harry hanging back to be last, not entirely sure how he was going to react at the meeting. Luckily, there were two other people there to distract them: Mr. Wesley, who greeted his children enthusiastically, hat sliding from his head as he gave Ginny a hug and throwing Harry a little salute, and Professor Snape. He gazed at Harry rather stonily from behind his greasy black hair, managing to look down his nose even though Harry's last growth spurt had brought them within a few inches of each other. His scar gave a little twinge - something to do with Snape? Something else? - but he turned away to take in the newcomer.
Amy was talking animatedly to Tonks and Hermione about the details of the ceremony, giving him time to look. Her hair, indeed a deep black, was cut to just brush her shoulders but, unlike Snape's, it was silky and gave a hint of red highlights in the flicker from the lamps. She was about Harry's height and of medium build, and her smile was rather infectious, especially when her eyes sparkled to match her laugh. Tonks seemed to finally notice him. "Auntie, this is Harry," she said, beckoning him forward.
"'Wotcher,' Harry," Amy said, a wink at her niece as she used her unique greeting. "I've been told a lot about you." Her voice was medium pitched, and she almost seemed to sing the words, though Harry could not help glance over his shoulder. "Don't worry," she said, tossing Snape a flash of her smile, "it's not all been from Sev."
Ron caught Harry's eye and mouthed, Sev? Harry quickly had to look away to keep from laughing. He was sure that, had anyone of them tried to call the Potions master by his first name, let alone a nickname, they would have been fried on the spot.
"Will you be staying for dinner?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking at Snape as she knew the rest of them would be.
"Oh, please do!" Amy said, grabbing his arm as if to prevent any thought of him leaving.
He lifted an eyebrow. "We've just spent six days in each other's company."
Amy released him, brushing her hair out of her eyes and pretending to look hurt. "Oh, I see. I'm dreadfully boring, is that it? Can't stand me another minute?"
Mrs. Weasley nodded knowingly. "I'll go and set another place." She turned and went down the stairs.
Amy smiled smugly, linking arms with Tonks and going downstairs with her, discussing Tonks's social life - admittedly, not much. Harry hurried after them, not wanting to be stuck too close to Snape for very long. Forget disappearing, it felt as if his stomach had been filled with burning embers. If Snape hadn't treated him like such an idiot that night . . . He shook himself mentally, shoving that to the back of his mind, remembering Dumbledore had found him a good Occlumens to teach him to keep it there.
Dinner was a noisy affair, the twins and Charlie showing up as a surprise right before they started. "Had to drag him away," Fred said, pulling up a chair next to Harry.
"Yeah, just couldn't leave all those dragons," George chimed in, heaping mashed potatoes on his plate as if he'd heard a prediction that this would be the last night he could have any.
Mrs. Weasley was so happy she had to wipe her eyes on her apron corner before hugging her second-oldest son tightly. "Charlie! How long are you staying?"
"Two weeks," he grinned, though Harry noticed the shine of a burn at the base of his neck, covered mostly by his shirt. "I didn't want to tell you, in case I couldn't get away."
"You'll be here for the next meeting, then," Tonks said, looking rather pleased to see him, something that escaped neither Harry's notice, nor her aunt's, who smiled into her peas.
"It appears so." He smiled back, and everyone squeezed in closer to fit them in.
Harry spent dinner studying the different groups of people. Charlie and his parents were carefully staying on topics that involved things other than the Order, though Charlie and Tonks had no problem filling the time with the Weird Sister's, her favorite band and apparently his, too, and some of the new broomsticks, Charlie having been Quidditch Captain and Seeker, Tonks having been Chaser. Ron and the twins were involved in something to do with the joke shop, something that made them all laugh, and Hermione - who had actually brought a book to the table - didn't even look up.
Amy spent most of the time between Tonks and Snape, the latter usually speaking in low tones. One he even put a hand on the back of her chair to whisper something in her ear, at which she tried to keep a straight face but ended up laughing, swatting him playfully on the shoulder.
It was during a lull in the conversation that Ron tactlessly asked, "If you're a Healer, why didn't you fix up your nose?"
Dead silence for perhaps two seconds before Mrs. Weasley and Hermione started saying "Ron!" in annoyed voices, but Harry was looking at Amy. She, Snape, and Tonks were all grinning, finally giving in and cracking up.
"It's be - because she's vain!" Tonks hooted, slapping the table.
"Oh - shut up!" Amy gasped, and it was her turn to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. "No, really, it's all right," she assured Mrs. Weasley. "Actually, I'm surprised not more people ask, they usually aren't that observant."
Ron looked like he wanted to puff up with pride, but his mum was still watching him, so he settled for a blank face.
"When I was younger," Amy explained, "I hated my nose. Horrible thing, in my opinion, but Mum - either of them - disapproved of me changing it. I was a Beater starting my fifth year, not too good in our first game, and I took a Bludger to the face before it was through. Basically I liked my reflection better after I mopped up the blood and didn't let anyone fix it. They can only be fixed properly within a couple hours, anyway, so that's all I had to be stubborn for. So, yeah, maybe I'm vain, but I didn't get hit any more after that, either." She shrugged, self-consciously tracing the bump on her nose with her index finger.
"Dumbledore has a broken nose," Fred piped up.
"Yeah, twice, by the looks of it," George added.
"Decided to stop before the full look, did you?"
Amy grinned. "That, and I seem to be cursed with a thin beard."
They all laughed, and the conversations rose again, though Harry kept a particularly close watch on her and Snape. When dinner was over, before he left, Harry dawdled on the stairs as the two of them stood by the door. "Take care of yourself, Severus," she told him, hugging him tightly.
"You too." Then - Harry tried not to pull a face - he kissed her cheek before they parted, hurrying up the stairs so he wouldn't have to speak to her.
"What was up with that?" Hermione was asking as he went into the den, pulling the door shut behind him.
"Yeah, how long have Tonks and Charlie -"
"Not them," Hermione said, cutting off Ron, exasperated. "Didn't you notice anything else going on?"
"Please, I just ate," Ginny said, curling up on "her" corner of the couch.
"It got worse," Harry said grimly, sitting down next to her on the edge of the cushion. "Before they left, he kissed her good-bye. On the cheek," he hastened as Ginny and Hermione looked a little green.
"But still." Hermione was pacing back and forth between the grandfather clock and a map of the world, one that looked ancient but was really up-to- date as it was bewitched to change as borders did. "That doesn't say much about her, now, does it?"
"About who?" Ron looked rather confused, flopped into an armchair haphazardly. "Who are we talking about?"
Before Hermione could say anything about teaspoons, Ginny cut in, "Snape and Amy, does that mean anything to you?"
Ron had the decency to pale. "You're joking."
"Just because you have no feelings for your fellow human beings doesn't mean the rest of us are just as cursed," Hermione snapped, whirling around by the map, arms crossed. "Listen, you know what Tonks said about Amy faking to be Dark, right?"
Harry inclined his head, still sitting almost uncomfortably upright. "I thought you were the one who said Snape was good, he'd proven it to Dumbledore and all."
"But the fact remains he was a Death Eater." She stopped in the middle of the room in front of the fireplace, empty as it was so hot. "If he could turn around and spy, then how much could she be fooling us?"
"Hey, wait." Ron was waving his hand in the air like she was a teacher and he had a question about the test. "Haven't we gone this route before, suspecting someone was Dark when he really wasn't and completely missing out on Quirell or 'Moody'? And let's not forget Sirius, everyone thought he was a mass-murderer and -" He stopped talking abruptly, hastily looking at Harry. "Sorry, mate, I didn't mean to -"
"It's all right," Harry said quickly, more because that would get this over faster than because it really was all right. "I think we all got your point."
Hermione looked like she was going to argue, actually bouncing on the balls of her feet, as if saying something would be stepping off the edge of a cliff and she was not sure she wanted the fall. "All right, then," she finally said, still biting her lip. "It was just - something to point out."
It was Ginny who broke the silence, steering them onto the safer topic of Quidditch and the empty spots on the Gryffindor team, keeping the four of tem occupied until the inevitable cries from Mrs. Weasley: "Bed! All of you! Now!" Smiling, they scurried off.
Harry dropped off almost immediately, something for which he was rather thankful, at least until the dream began - then he felt a bit nauseated. He was standing in a church, except there were no walls, only stained glass windows floating there, and the ceiling was that of the Great Hall. He was in some frilly set of silver robes, obviously performing the marriage ceremony. Snape was the groom, and when the bride came up and lifted her veil -
He gave a yelp and started running, spurred on by the fact that the bride had Snape's face, as well. But the silver robes tripped him up and he was falling, falling, and landing hard on his back, looking up to see a dark blue sky, but then Ron gave a snort and he burst awake, sitting up quickly in the swatch of moonlight falling across his bed. Hedwig and Pigwidgeon were hooting softly from the top of the wardrobe, but they could not be let out to hunt that night. Harry blinked, shaking his head to clear it of the image of the church, then - almost against his will - his lips curled into a smile and he shook with silent laughter, turning over and going back to sleep. When he woke up in the morning, he didn't remember the dream.
* * * * *
Harry was heading upstairs from breakfast when he heard voices in the den. Casting a glance over his shoulder assured him he was alone, so he side- stepped closer to the door, putting his ear to the crack. "- know what's going on!" Tonks was saying. "Look, I don't even know who you are." Harry held his breath; this sounded promising.
"My birth parents don't factor into this at all," Amy said, sounding exasperated. "You've asked me time and time again, but they don't matter. They got rid of me and never looked back, never even put forth an effort to see if I was still alive."
"But you know who they are."
"Well, yes; they can't hide that from you." There was a creak inside as if she had just sat on one of the armchairs. "But that's not what's bothering you this time, is it?" Her voice was softer.
Tonks hesitated. "No."
Amy waited, just to see if her niece would continue, picking up the thread when she did not. "He told me you're concerned."
"He told you I talked to you?" The young Auror's voice was sharp. "How much did he say?"
"That you were concerned, and that he was flattered. I was, too, if you care enough about him to go so far as to go behind my back and tell him."
"It wasn't like I could have done it in front of you," Tonks said stiffly.
"No, no, of course not," Amy hastened to reassure her. "And it was the right thing to do."
Harry tried to shift his weight without the old floorboards giving a creak. They had dropped their voices, making it harder for them to hear, and they were both familiar with the topic whereas he had no clue. Were they talking about Snape? He had to suppress a shudder at that thought, mentally shaking himself and straining to hear.
"And what you're doing is the right thing too, is it?" Tonks was not accusatory, more questioning, wanting reassurance.
"Trust me."
"How?" her niece cried. "You have no idea how it looks -"
"Tonks. My entire life has been about 'how this looks.'" Amy's voice was wry; she might have been smiling.
There was a moment of silence. "I'm not going to be at the Ministry this year," Tonks said at last, not sounding as though she were changing the subject but doing to anyway.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, Fudge's assigned two Aurors to Hogwarts, me and Mad-Eye." Harry perked up; this sounded like fun. Well, and like a good idea, but having Tonks and Moody around was definitely not a recipe for dull.
"And isn't a certain someone going to be there as well, to care for the new attack dragon?"
Harry knew Tonks was blushing furiously. "Yes, Charlie'll be there, he only told me last night."
Amy laughed. "Dumbledore warned me what I was getting into, accepting the position of school Healer. I said I'd be sure to keep an eye on you, chaperone dates . . ."
"Aunt Amy!"
She heaved a sigh. "Fine, take away all my fun." A short pause. "You'd rather I wasn't there at all, huh?"
"Well . . . not that I don't want you around," Tonks said hastily, "but St. Mungo's said all you had to do was wave your hand to get a job, and I know you like school Healing, but . . . it'll be just like you-know-when, is all."
To Harry that was an entirely unsatisfactory ending. Sure, maybe Amy and Tonks knew when, but he certainly had no clue. He shoved his glassed up on his nose and leaned in closer.
"It'll be better," Amy said softly, reassuring her. "And besides, no one has to know, if you don't want to tell anyone. You're Nymphadora Tonks and I'm Amy -"
"Adele Mavis Yvonne," Tonks cut in. "Turnabout's fair play."
"Fine, Adele Mavis Yvonne Black -"
"But you're not," Tonks interrupted again. "You're Adele Mavis Yvonne Something Black."
Another, shorter pause. Harry could hear voices downstairs and mentally willed the pair in the den to hurry up and come out and say it.
"Tonks -"
"Look, I'm just having a hard time believing he's letting you do it. I mean, maybe you're okay with it, but he can't be - can he? Because he looks for all the world like he's enjoying it."
How many "he's" were there? Harry wondered. Half a dozen, at least . . .
"Oh, but he's not, not like that . . ." Amy trailed off.
"Aunt Amy?" Tonks said softly.
A door slammed downstairs and there was the sound of footsteps.
"You're right," Amy said softly. "I do need to tell you. You see, Tonks, I was -"
"Harry!" Ron's voice echoed in the entryway below. "Harry, the letters are here! Grab your cloak, we're going to Diagon Alley!"
"Coming!" Harry said, forcing cheeriness into his voice as he ran to get his cloak. Still, even as they were on the Underground and the people around him were laughing and chatting up a storm, he was thinking about Amy. You see, Tonks, I was - She was what? Amy was what?
Hermione noticed he wasn't joining in, just staring moodily out the window, and elbowed him slightly. "What's up?"
Ron had noticed and nudged Ginny.
"Tell you later," Harry said, looking at each of them to include them all. Then maybe they'd think of something, maybe they'd fill in some of the holes.
Hermione linked arms with him and Ginny as they emerged into the sunlight. "C'mon, you two!" she cried merrily, and, laughing, they made a rather bad job of skipping down the street, Ron running to catch up.
* * * * *
Dumbledore showed up briefly the next afternoon, mostly to have a word with Mrs. Weasley and the members of the Order present, but he did actually ask to see Harry. He smiled at the teenager, adjusting the half-moon glasses on his nose and tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robes, a brilliant jade green embroidered with golden suns. "Ah, Harry. I believe Phineas delivered my message?"
It took him a moment to work out exactly what the message had been. "Oh, my teacher?"
"Yes. You have not been curious?"
There had been so much going on with Amy - and Snape; he tried not to shudder - that Occlumency had totally slipped his mind. Harry was trying to work that into some sort of pun when the Headmaster seemed to read his thoughts. "It's Amy."
"Huh?" What was Amy? Had he done it right there, actually read his mind? Then again, he had not been keeping eye contact, and Snape had stressed that that was key.
"Your Occlumency teacher is Amy." Dumbledore paused for a moment, though Harry once again avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the opposite wall in the kitchen. "Was there something you wanted to ask me?"
About Amy? Yes. Was she a Death Eater? Was she "with" Snape, perhaps an old girlfriend brought back into light or something? Was she really as awful as Snape and just so good at acting as to fool them all? Was she fooling Dumbledore, or was she fooling the rest of her adopted family? In short, to whom was she lying, because it couldn't all be the truth?
"She is a good teacher, a friend of an old friend, though I do not know her well as I'd like; he seems to find her rather wonderful." Dumbledore's blue eyes sparkled. "Actually, she'd like to begin lessons straight away," he said, moving to the staircase. Harry stayed put, not knowing exactly what to do, but he opened the door, stuck his head out, and Amy came down, dressed today in a maroon t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans, looking younger than her supposed age. "Well, then; I suppose I should leave you two to start." With a smile for her and a wink for Harry, Dumbledore Disapparated.
"All right, then," Amy said, shutting the door securely behind her and removing her wand form her pocket as she came down the stairs. "Severus has told me how far he thinks you got when he was teaching, but I'm kind of looking for your opinion on this, as well."
Harry swallowed. He'd never practiced, only managed to deflect the spell once using his wand, and basically wanted the dreams to continue. "Actually . . . what he said's probably true," Harry said carefully, wiping his suddenly sweaty palms down the sides of his blue jeans. He stood up, rather uncomfortable with sitting and being below her level.
"Hmm. Than you're an arrogant fool who has no respect for other people's private things, always gives cheek to the professor, and thinks he's too good for homework or extra practice." She was rubbing her temple with the end of her wand, and Harry was struck by the color of the wood, a golden- red, almost like Ginny's hair. "I could go on, you know."
"Rather you didn't. What kind of wand is that?" It was a random question, he knew, but still . . .
"Rosewood. With a rather exceptional wand polish. Twelve and three quarters inches, dragon heartstring. Why, does it look rather threatening?" Her grin, meant to calm him, only half worked.
"Well - hey, look: I'm not very good at this, he wasn't lying about that. And you're kind of going to be having free access to my memories, so, yeah, I'd say that's rather threatening." Harry ran a hand through his hair. Granted, he'd never quite trusted Snape, either, but this was a stranger, related to Bellatrix Lestrange with the same closeness as Sirius, and this was not going to be fun any way you looked at it.
"You blocked it once," she said softly, wand pointed downward in her relaxed hand. "You managed."
"But I'm not going to be able to do it now!" Harry wished desperately for one of Dumbledore's spindly little silver instruments; he could have used one to throw just then. "I can't clear my mind the way he said you have to, not now!" His chest was heaving, constricting, and he had no idea why.
Amy put her wand away, looking like someone was tearing her heart out through her chest. "You have to face it, Harry. You can't just keep shoving it into the back of your mind, hoping it'll stay there, because the first things I'm going to see are the ones you haven't let yourself look at since they happened. No, I'm not finished," she said, holding up a hand as she tried to protest. "I think I know what I'm saying, having seen so many die."
"You think I should mourn him like you mourned Regulus," Harry spat, not entirely sure of what he was saying, but he wanted to hurt her, to make her feel the way he was feeling.
Amy looked as though she had just been slapped. "How can you say that? How can you - Harry -" She paused to collect herself. "I did mourn Regulus," she said, measuring every word, "but not for the reason people think. I mourned that brother for the man he might have been, but we need to mourn Sirius for the man he was. Don't you see the difference?"
"But then that means he's really dead." Harry couldn't look at her, not when his vision was blurring with tears that burned his eyes. "That makes it really final, I'll never speak to him again, never see him, never, never, never anything!" For lack of anything to throw, he kicked the wall, welcoming the sort of pain that would easily fade with time. "He's the only parent I've ever known, don't you see that? I lost Mum and Dad before I could even know I had them, ever be thankful for it, and now" - he kicked again - "now I don't even have that second chance!" He broke down then, just collapsing sideways against the cool wall and sinking to the floor, tears spilling down his cheeks.
She was there beside him, kneeling next to him, putting her arms around him and rocking him gently like a mother would. "God, Harry, don't you think I know? My real parents didn't even want me . . . Lily and James . . . you were their pride and joy . . ."
"But it didn't matter, I lost them anyway," he managed in a strained whisper, taking his glasses off so he could press his face into her shoulder. "It didn't matter, and it didn't matter I loved him back, he's still gone . . ." A fresh wave of sobs wracked his body and he felt helpless, so helpless in the grip of grief that he was turning to her for comfort.
Amy held him tightly, rubbing his back soothingly even though she was crying, too. "Dumbledore told me what you'd said that night, about how you thought it was your fault." She took a shuddery breath. "I would have done the same thing if I'd seen that."
"But it wouldn't have mattered!" He was having a hard time getting the words out in his anguish. "It wouldn't have mattered because Kreacher couldn't've lied to you, or you would have done something different, or you wouldn't've dragged everyone else along with you!"
"Be glad he could lie, you wouldn't like the alternative," she said wryly, shifting so her legs wouldn't fall asleep beneath her. "As for your friends - you didn't want to take them because they weren't ready, they weren't experienced. I feel the same way about Tonks all the time - she's too young to do that, she hasn't done enough yet. But you know what, Harry?" Gently she pulled him away to look at her, smoothing the hair off his hot forehead and not letting him look away. "If I don't let her go out and do it, she'll never have the experience. And, deny someone something, they're just going to go out and do it."
"But it's myfault," he insisted, cursing his eyes as they welled up again and scrubbing at them with the back of his hand, turning partially away from her but still having to lean against her because of his position. "If I'd kept up with Occlumency, if I'd really checked, if I'd gone to - to Snape first, if I'd just used the damned mirror . . ." He slammed a fist into the wall this time, scraping his knuckles, almost glad to see blood.
Amy caught his hand before he could injure it further. "And it's my fault, too. I was going to leave Durmstrang last year, to come here and keep him company, keep Kreacher under some measure of control, but Sirius insisted I stay up there and live my life. If I'd been here, d'you think any of this would have happened? If any of a thousand little things had been different, would this have happened?"
"How are you supposed to tell?" Harry said, almost shouting it. "How are you supposed to know any of that, if it would have worked? That's the way it happened, dammit!" She was too slow to keep him from punching again, this time splitting his knuckle wide open.
"Hey, stop!" Amy said, grabbing his wrist with more strength this time and forcing him away from the wall. "You want to destroy something, I'll give you dishes, just stop this!"
He was too out of it to notice the blood running down the back of his hand. "What's the point?" he raged. "Nothing matters anymore!" Struggling hard, he managed to throw her off, quickly getting his feet under him in a crouch as he scrabbled for his glasses and slipped them back on.
Amy shoved the hair off her face, propping herself up on an elbow but not rising to challenge him, blood on her lip from where she had bitten it. "Then it doesn't matter if Voldemort wins."
Harry froze, not even entirely sure what he was going to do, but he was halfway to standing. "What?"
"Nothing matters anymore." She tossed his words back to him in a dull, flat voice. "You might as well go kill yourself now, fulfill the prophecy and all."
He blinked, noticing for the first time that the cuff of his sleeve was soaked and glistening darkly. "I didn't say that."
Her eyes bored into his.
"I didn't mean that!" Harry stood swiftly, cradling his right hand in his left and trying not to flee. "I didn't mean that." Softer this time, so that it didn't echo in the small space. His eyes darted around as if something might come at him from the shadowed corners, but they were alone.
Amy sat up slowly, though she did not stand, choosing only to sit cross- legged almost under the table where he had shoved her. "You need to learn something Severus made me figure out on my own and probably didn't tell you: you can't ignore the memories that hurt. You have to take them out, look at them, examine them, and be able to get past the pain. Don't think of the graveyard; think about when Cedric beat you at Quidditch and feel bemused. Don't think about what happened to Sirius then; think about finding him, about him chasing his tail and being absolutely ridiculous when he was a dog. See, the point isn't not to feel anything - the point is not to feel anything that hurts you. When you avoid something, I can pull it from your mind faster and it will hurt you all the more."
"Snape taught you?" Harry's voice was as dull as his eyes. They were focused on the nearest corner, at the shadows that lay there unmoving. He was exhausted, truly exhausted, unable to even conjure a spark of hatred at the Potions professor, or at the fact that she had mentioned him again.
Amy nodded once. "After I was out of school. After most of the horrible stuff had happened. He's a tough teacher, doesn't give any hints or anything, makes you do it all yourself and feel stupid in the process."
"Did he take out three memories for you?" He turned to her, trying to call forth some sort of reaction, a tiny flare of thought, but his brain had witnessed enough for the day and was waiting for him to catch on.
A wry smile lifted one side of her mouth. "Two. I happen to be part of the third."
If he hadn't felt a bit queasy then, he definitely felt a twinge now. Good thing he was too tired to even start to imagine what that memory was . . . He shuddered anyway. "Are we done then?" His tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth.
"No." Amy stood, reaching for her wand again and brushing the remnants of tears of her face. "Wand at the ready, Harry. The sooner we start, the sooner you begin to succeed."
"No." He shook his head, unconsciously backing up, and he only realized it when he hit the wall, stinging his head as well as his hand. "No, Amy -"
"Wand at the ready," she repeated, her own raised and pointed at him. "Empty your mind."
He didn't have time. "Legilimens."
The graveyard and Cedric's spread-eagle body . . . the brain wrapping its tendrils around Ron . . . Sirius falling though the veil, never to bee seen again . . . No, Harry thought. No, not him . . . not him . . .
He was on the floor, on all fours, breathing hard, and his wand was still in his pocket. Amy reached down to help him up, conjuring bandages out of the air and having them wrap around his hand tightly. Immediately the pain started to ease. "You were handing me the memories," she said softly.
"I didn't have time!" he snapped, pulling away from her.
"And Voldemort is going to warn you before he raises his wand?"
They looked at each other, Harry glaring, Amy looking . . . sad, almost . . . for a long minute. "You're making me think of them," he spat. "You're making me weak."
"If you can think of them and smile you're not weak. But first you have to think of them and not be able to smile." Her mouth twitched slightly, as if she were going to say something more but thought better of it, visibly settling on another line of thought. "I've had two sets of parents die, two brothers, a sister . . . not all of them all I'd have liked them to be, but they were parents and such just the same. And when they die, and you do care . . ." She took a deep, steadying breath. "Nothing prepares you for it, Harry, not even the second time. But please, listen to me on this: I've suffered before, and the only way I can rationalize it is to help you not to suffer, to help you do this."
He turned away, face set and stony, jaw clenched and lips pressed together tightly.
She paused a moment, just studying his back, the stiffness in his posture. "We will do this again three nights hence," Amy said softly, returning her wand to her pocket. "I wish you would practice. And Harry -" He had been about to leave, but he stopped, still not looking at her. "I wish you wouldn't hate me."
He had no response for her, shoving his wand in his jeans and taking the stairs two at a time up to his room, glad Ron was already asleep. Ignoring the hooting of the owls he went to the window seat, tucking his legs up and staring moodily outside, forehead pressed to the cool glass. It was very late when he changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed, though later still when he finally fell asleep, wiping the fresh tears from his face and being too exhausted to even have a nightmare.
* * * * *
Hermione sighed, kneading her eyes with the heels of her hands. "Harry, I really don't know what to say. Amy's fine, she's not Dark or anything."
"How do you know she's not faking for you, too?" he demanded, tossing a glass paperweight back and forth as he walked around the den, circling Ginny, who was curled up on the couch and listening with only half an ear as she read, and Ron and Hermione, each sitting on the floor and concentrating on killing the other in a rather vicious game of chess. "How d'you know you're not being duped like the rest of us?"
Her eyes narrowed, though they were focused on the welfare of her queen, not on Harry's face, as she had seen that stormy look may times before. "It's not like you've given us much information, really. I mean," she hastily added, "maybe you've quoted them word for word, but still, that's not much, not when we have no idea what they were talking about in the first place."
"She's teaching me Occlumency - d'you think I'm able to hide anything from her?" The paperweight was being thrown more carelessly now; a slip would send it into the glass on the front of the grandfather clock, ruining the casing, the small, clear cauldron, or both.
"This isn't about you, Harry," she said, rushing through the words as if afraid he would have a reaction. "This is about the Order, keeping the secrets they feel they need to keep and not telling us more than we need to know."
He was white-knuckled, clutching the cauldron with such ferocity the bewitched liquid inside started turning from a pleasant green to a rather acrid yellow. "This isn't about me?" It was hard to read his voice, though it sounded strained, and his face was carefully, stonily blank. "Then what I think and feel doesn't matter."
Ginny and Ron tensed, not wanting to get into this in case Harry somehow tangled them up in a web of being against him, leaving Hermione very much alone. "That's not what I meant," she said irritably, carelessly sacrificing a knight, "and you know it. You're just in a bad mood because Amy gave you good advice."
Harry stopped, shoving the hair off his forehead - almost using the hand that held the paperweight and clobbering himself, switching to the left at the last second - and felt as if steam were about to come out of his ears. "Good advice? Like hell she gave me good advice!"
"About Sirius," Hermione persisted, sighing and looking up as Ron did a little victory dance, having won the game by a long shot. "You've been avoiding thinking about him. She's right, you have to, or else it's just an open wound that doesn't go away and is more easily infected."
"Poetic analogy, Hermione," Ron muttered, making a face. "But you have to admit you've been ignoring him, mate," he said, looking cautiously up at his best friend as if afraid Harry had recently acquired eyes that shot flames on command.
Harry almost wished he had. "Maybe it's just my way of dealing it," he spat, starting to pace again so he wouldn't have to meet anyone's eyes.
"Then you're not dealing very well." Hermione looked almost ill as she said it, waiting for him to start shouting, or worse. "You have to admit at least that, Harry, even if you don't want to admit her way is right. You're avoiding it completely."
"Yeah? And have your parents ever died? No? Didn't think so. And you," Harry spat viciously, whirling on Ron and almost losing control of the paperweight - South America actually shrank away from what might have been the point of collision. "Don't you have any sympathy? Look at your dad, last year, but that time I didn't mess up, did I? I actually saved him, instead of killing him." Thoroughly angry with himself, he dropped the cauldron and punched the wall again, swearing loudly as the pain shot through his already bandaged hand. "Look, I don't care what Dumbledore says, or Amy, or anyone else, it's my fault and always will be, because I'm just some gullible idiot with a 'saving people' thing!"
Hermione looked close to tears. "But Harry, it's not," she pleaded softly.
He looked about to explode. "It is, and it's my fault my parents died, too!" There, he'd said it, finally come out and said it. He, the boy who lived, famous Harry Potter, had gotten at least three people killed, the three that had loved him best.
Silence rang throughout the room. Ginny had stopped turning pages; even the chessmen had stopped magically mending themselves.
"That's not true," Hermione finally managed, licking her dry lips, eyes intent on Harry's face.
"Wanna bet?" Then, after having worried so long about how to tell them, he rattled off the prophecy that his friends had through lost. "Now try and tell me it wasn't," he finished, green eyes flashing as he crossed his arms over his chest, actually cradling his right in his left but trying not to show it, looking rather like a young Tom Riddle, resurrected from his diary and urging on a Basilisk.
Hermione took a deep breath. "You didn't ask to be born."
Harry actually barked a laugh. "Tell me about it." The anger seeped from him, weakening him at the seams and he flopped into one of the armchairs, leg flung over its arm, the other one digging into his back.
Ginny cleared her throat. "Umm, if it's not too off topic . . . who's the sister?"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to her with identical looks, each speaking, "Huh?"
"Harry said Amy said she'd lost two sets of parents, two brothers, and a sister," Ginny said, recalling them to the original conversation. "The brothers would be Regulus and Sirius, from the second set of adoptive parents, but what about the sister?"
"From the first," Ron said matter-of-factly. "There were enough of them, weren't there?"
"Andromeda Tonks, Narcissa Malfoy, and Bellatrix Lestrange," Harry listed off slowly.
"Narcissa and Bellatrix are still alive, aren't they?" Ginny asked.
"Unfortunately," Harry snorted.
Hermione cast him a wary glace. "Maybe she had a sister from her original family."
"She said the parents never gave a rip about her," Harry pointed out, sitting up as the position was giving him a pain in his back.
"Well, that didn't say anything for the - what did she say?" Ron, who had turned around to face Harry, looked over his shoulder at Hermione.
"You mean the thing about how they already had one brat and didn't want anything to do with another? According to Tonks," she added.
"Yeah, that." He turned back to Harry. "Maybe that - er, brat - was female and Amy got in touch with her later, then . . . well . . . died."
"And you said I was poetic?" Hermione muttered under her breath.
"What if she does?" Ginny asked quickly, swiping her hair out of her face while keeping a hold on the book with the other, finger once again between the pages as a sort of bookmark. "What if, even, they had another brat after Amy and she has some regular siblings running around here, too? What if she has more family than anyone else knows?"
Harry had a temporary mental image of a small army, all of whom looked like Amy in different years of her life, treating vampires and teaching kids Occlumency . . . "We just don't know enough about her," he decided.
Hermione snorted. "We know a lot about, say, Professor Lupin? Does he have any relatives? Does he even have a social life? I mean, come on, Harry, you trust him, don't you?"
"He was friends with Sirius and my dad," Harry objected.
"Amy was his sister."
"Sirius talked about him!" he protested. There was no way she was going to get him to admit he should trust Amy, because something about her was just . . . wrong. "You can't compare them like that," he snapped, almost pounding a fist on the arm of the chair and remembering before he could regret it. "She's just outside of all of the rules."
Hermione forced herself to look away. "So, more chess, Ron?" she asked in a forced voice.
Harry let himself slip into a sour mood as they started playing. His hand hurt. That meant he'd have to go and see Amy again for more bandages with the soothing potion on them. Great. Maybe he'd be able to overhear something more while he was at it.
Harry's heart leapt to his throat, pounding there uncomfortably as Mrs. Weasley passed him the toast. Six days ago he had come here. Six days ago the river had been on fire, six days ago the Death Eaters were escaping, six days ago, six days ago . . . The fact that Tonks was happy enough to actually attempt to waltz with the news was not registering. She grinned, showing no less than three dimples, brushing her hair - today long and black - out of her eyes, which - Harry had to blink a few times - were violet. "She's famous, that's what!"
Harry looked at the article she had thrust under his nose. "Yesterday's, but that means it happens today!" Tonks added as he took it, reaching for the eggs and knocking over her orange juice. "Oops."
"I'll get it," Mrs. Weasley said, a look on her face telling them she was slightly annoyed as she swiped the dark wood with a rag. Harry mentally shrugged and began to read.
Famous Witch to Receive Award
Madam Amy, formerly of Durmstang Academy and the creator of the now-famous Vampire Cure, will be attending a ceremony tomorrow afternoon at St. Mungo's Hospital to receive the Healer of the Year Award. "I'm quite pleased, rather shocked," she said yesterday in a hasty interview. "It's all so sudden, really."
"It" not only includes her discovery and the announcement of the award but the fact that her assistant for the past three years is now taking over her old job at Durmstrang. "Oh, Andy'll be great full-time," she assured us. "No hard feelings there; he deserves it." And what is in this Healer's future? "I can't say," she said, a twinkle in her eye. "Nothing's been signed yet." But there is something there? "Oh, well, yes - yes, there is."
We can only say that, whatever future she occupies, Madam Amy will undoubtedly make it better.
"Why don't they call her Madam Black?" Harry said as the pounding in his throat dissolved and he actually thought he could manage the three slices of toast Ron had tossed on his plate before passing the rest around.
"That's the whole deception thing," Tonks said, taking a large gulp of juice, recently poured. "See, it's like this: her Mum and Dad - I mean the second adopted set, Sirius's parents - were rather definitely Dark wizards, as were Regulus, Narcissa, and Bellatrix, with whom she actually kept close ties."
"Oh, so they wanted the appearance of someone legitimate in their family?" Hermione asked, looking up from where she and Ginny and bent their heads over the article, their hair giving off golden highlights in the pale glow of the gas lamps.
"Right. See, if Bellatrix had actually gotten a proper trial with witnesses and stuff, Amy would have been expected to stand up fro her moral character and whatnot, and be believed, since there's nothing bad about being a perfectly honest school Healer." Tonks nodded, again sweeping the hair out of her eyes as it did not seem to want to stay tucked behind her ears.
"But she was really good," Ron clarified, looking as though his eyes were crossing with the strain of trying to figure this out.
"'Course she was. Good at faking, too; Amy visited a quick bit last Easter, calmed down the portrait and everything. Even had Kreacher talking nice to her, obeying and not muttering so much when she was around."
Although this seemed to amuse Tonks, Harry felt a bit uneasy. Someone faking a Dark mentality enough to actually get that horrid House Elf to listen to her, much less Sirius's mum, who screamed insults every time the curtain was parted? Supposedly Snape had done it, largely thanks to the fact that he was an accomplished Occlumens, but comparing Amy to Snape in no way filled Harry with warmth. On the contrary, Harry and Ron had never been convinced of Snape's true return to their side.
Besides,Harry continued to himself, absentmindedly buttering his toast but forgetting the butter, everyone thought Wormtail was good and he betrayed my parents. The knife pierced the dry toast, barely scraping his finger, and he quickly looked up to see if anyone had noticed. No one had' Tonks was talking again.
"- her about it, she can say it better. Or worse, it's more real that way. Jus be sure to ask about the Regulus disaster." A smile, albeit a rather grimace-like one, was back. "That would have been a rather sticky situation."
"I thought he was dead," Harry said, more to look involved than anything else.
"Well, he is; that's what saved her."
Harry stared, but no one else seemed to catch the wording. Then again, maybe Tonks hadn't meant it that way, as if Amy had gotten out of . . . whatever . . . by killing Regulus, or at least arranging his death. Maybe it was all just a happy coincidence, Regulus dieing and Amy breathing a secret sigh of relief that she didn't have to do anything about it.
"She's rather obsessed with her aunt, isn't she?" Ginny asked Harry later, plopping down beside him on the couch with a large book in her lap, a finger between the pages to mark her spot.
He looked up from one of Ron's Quidditch books. "So you noticed, too?"
Ginny rolled her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ear. She had gotten it cut, just past shoulder-length, but, unlike Tonks's, it stayed where she put it. "Come on, how can you not notice Tonks dancing around down there? There's no room to fall, unless she went across the table and got marmalade all over her or into our laps."
"D'you think she - erm - is going to be joining the Order?" Harry tried to keep his voice neutral, though he had to admit he was sending out mental warning messages to see if she had caught anything strange.
She cast a furtive look over her shoulder at the cracked door to see if anyone else was there, but Hermione had stayed down with Mrs. Weasley and Tonks and Ron had been invited to spend the day with the twins and had left when they came to get him after breakfast. "D'you really think it's possible to fake well enough to get past Kreacher?"
"Honestly? I have no idea. Tonks idolizes her or something."
"Hermione said that Amy had enough OWLs and stuff to become an Auror, but they don't teach that at Durmstrang." Ginny smiled wryly, and Harry was struck by the fact that he'd never seen her grin enough for a dimple. "Safer to be a Healer in this house, anyway. That's not taking sides."
"Safe?" Harry frowned at her last statement. "But then we don't really know what side she's on."
There was a moment in thoughtful silence in which Harry continued to crease his forehead and Ginny bit her lip, both of them focusing on the floor in front of them, but then she gave a little laugh. "Y'know, we haven't even met her yet."
He had to agree, though his laugh was a bit more forced. "Yeah, OK . . . Hey, um . . . I haven't heard any of you talk about Percy?" Halfway through the question he had realized it might have been safer to leave it unasked, but he was really wondering.
Ginny's face tightened; Harry noticed she was clutching the book tightly and she was still not looking at him. "He's ashamed, that's what Dad says. Avoids him, actually, avoids all of us. Mum's torn to bits, says we won't hold it against him - Fred and George have a rather different opinion on that - but he won't listen, sends the letters back unopened -"
"Or resealed," Harry said, trying to be reassuring.
She finally looked at him, eyes unnaturally bright. "Penelope left him right after the news came out, did you know? She'd stuck with him, but then she was blabbing all over the place that he was an idiot, couldn't think for himself, and they were through. Mum's worried about him, Dad too, but he won't say it, just clams up and studies his hands until someone changes the subject. They're afraid of what he's going to do, if he's depressed . . ." She trailed off, not looking at him again.
Harry felt rather helpless, sitting on the outside of a family problem and having no idea how to help. Not that he could, anyway, but the Weasleys had done so much for him already . . .
"Hermione's been really nice," Ginny said softly, breaking the silence so he wouldn't have to, running her free hand along the edges of her book's cover. "I mean, she listens and everything, but . . ."
"But then she starts quoting Hogwarts, A History and you lose all patience?" Harry said, attempting a smile.
She actually laughed, a reaction with which he was quite pleased, and they smiled at each other before returning to the books. For a while Harry remained on the same page, the same line - the same word, actually. He was taken back to before Christmas when another girl had tried telling him about her problems and he had proven . . . well . . . less than adequate as she sobbed uncontrollably on his shoulder, but at least Hermione had not accused him with the emotional range of a teaspoon, right? And Ginny had at least laughed, right? I mean, she wasn't crying like Cho had been - he'd had enough of that, thank you very much - and she'd even smiled, right?
Sighing, Harry returned to his book. At least Quidditch had rules, and once the game was over you could forget it, because there was always another game to play and it all started out the same, clean slate and all. Unlike life. Forcing that thought out of his head, Harry focused his eyes on the page and actually managed to read, at least until Hermione and Tonks had come to look for them to play Exploding Snap and the young Auror once again toppled the umbrella stand, actually catching it before it fell completely, but still the umbrellas went everywhere and cries of, "Filth! Mudbloods! Half-bloods and traitors!" echoed through the house until Mrs. Weasley could finally put a stop to it.
* * * * *
Harry was wondering how in the world Andromeda Tonks had put up with her daughter twenty-four hours a day, seven days a year, for at least seventeen years. The young Auror was a flurry of activity. "She's arriving here tomorrow!" she'd exclaimed upon reading a short letter, jumping to her feet, black hair in her face once more. "We have to get ready!" And then Tonks had bustled out of the room, by some miracle missing the umbrella stand on her way to prepare Mrs. Black's old bedroom for her aunt.
Mrs. Weasley raised an eyebrow. "Did anyone pause to warn her aunt she's going to have a Hippogriff for a roommate?"
"Oh, Amy was here for a quick visit last Easter, I'm sure she knows," Hermione said, helping to pick up the dishes from their recently finished lunch. "But I really don't see why Tonks has to get that room ready; didn't Amy live here?"
"Her mum's room is probably bigger," Ron said, snagging one more piece of chocolate cake and trying to ignore the reproachful look his mum gave him. "And maybe Buckbeak likes the company."
"Sure, so she can feed it dead rats all day, that sounds absolutely wonderful," Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes, but Ron ignored her, too.
Tonks was a nervous wreck all the next day, pacing and making it impossible for Harry to concentrate on his book, glad to get away from the lunch table where she was tapping her fingernails, long and pink and eerily reminiscent of Rita Skeeter's. "She's s'posed to arrive around five," Ginny said, slipping into the den with the others.
"Thank God, I can't take this much longer," Ron moaned. No one had bothered to point out to him that the book he had been staring at for at least half an hour was upside-down. Then again, Harry had to check to make sure his wasn't, after noticing that.
"Ron," Hermione admonished sharply. "Tonks hasn't seen her aunt in a while, and from what I can tell they're rather close."
"Yeah, well, we haven't seen Percy in a while, and I'm quite sure I wouldn't be jumpy as a cat if we got a letter saying he was going to come at five o'clock." He blinked, seeming to notice for the first time that his book was upside-down, but he was too stubborn to change it. Instead he turned a page from right to left, as if he were actually reading it despite its orientation. Harry was reminded rather forcefully of one Luna Lovegood . . .
"Well, that's a bit different, isn't it?" Hermione sniffed, raising her book up again so there was no question she was reading.
Ginny, who had been standing by the doorway and watching this exchange, raised an eyebrow and came over to sit by Harry. "Happy couple," she muttered, leafing through a stack of magazines on the end table, none of them more recent than 1976.
Harry snorted. "Them? A couple? Where in the world have you been?"
She smiled, selecting a tattered issue of Witch Weekly. "So, how well do you know Dean Thomas?"
He had to grin as Ron visibly perked up, straining to listen to them. He dropped the pretense of reading after a record three minutes, contradicting everything good Harry had to say, whereupon Hermione joined in on Harry's side, clearly wanting Ginny to get together with Dean, even just because it irked Ron.
Five o'clock came rather quickly and, before anything more lethal than pillows flew across the room, there was the sound of Tonks clattering down the stairs and a rather distant shriek of delight. "I wonder if he aunt's here," Ginny said vaguely, trying to retrieve a particularly horrid puce- colored pillow without having to get out of her seat, failing, and having to save herself from toppling to the floor.
Harry laughed, standing and helping her up. The four of them spent a bit gathering the pillows and arranging them in the most horrid way possible, checks and plaids and colors that almost-but-not-quite matched. "I think that's enough time for the family reunion," Hermione said, checking the black - and rather menacing - Grandfather clock in the corner. There'd been a Bogart in that, too, before they'd brought it down from the attic, but Mad-Eye had been around to identify it and take care of it, much to Mrs. Weasley's relief.
They went downstairs, Harry hanging back to be last, not entirely sure how he was going to react at the meeting. Luckily, there were two other people there to distract them: Mr. Wesley, who greeted his children enthusiastically, hat sliding from his head as he gave Ginny a hug and throwing Harry a little salute, and Professor Snape. He gazed at Harry rather stonily from behind his greasy black hair, managing to look down his nose even though Harry's last growth spurt had brought them within a few inches of each other. His scar gave a little twinge - something to do with Snape? Something else? - but he turned away to take in the newcomer.
Amy was talking animatedly to Tonks and Hermione about the details of the ceremony, giving him time to look. Her hair, indeed a deep black, was cut to just brush her shoulders but, unlike Snape's, it was silky and gave a hint of red highlights in the flicker from the lamps. She was about Harry's height and of medium build, and her smile was rather infectious, especially when her eyes sparkled to match her laugh. Tonks seemed to finally notice him. "Auntie, this is Harry," she said, beckoning him forward.
"'Wotcher,' Harry," Amy said, a wink at her niece as she used her unique greeting. "I've been told a lot about you." Her voice was medium pitched, and she almost seemed to sing the words, though Harry could not help glance over his shoulder. "Don't worry," she said, tossing Snape a flash of her smile, "it's not all been from Sev."
Ron caught Harry's eye and mouthed, Sev? Harry quickly had to look away to keep from laughing. He was sure that, had anyone of them tried to call the Potions master by his first name, let alone a nickname, they would have been fried on the spot.
"Will you be staying for dinner?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking at Snape as she knew the rest of them would be.
"Oh, please do!" Amy said, grabbing his arm as if to prevent any thought of him leaving.
He lifted an eyebrow. "We've just spent six days in each other's company."
Amy released him, brushing her hair out of her eyes and pretending to look hurt. "Oh, I see. I'm dreadfully boring, is that it? Can't stand me another minute?"
Mrs. Weasley nodded knowingly. "I'll go and set another place." She turned and went down the stairs.
Amy smiled smugly, linking arms with Tonks and going downstairs with her, discussing Tonks's social life - admittedly, not much. Harry hurried after them, not wanting to be stuck too close to Snape for very long. Forget disappearing, it felt as if his stomach had been filled with burning embers. If Snape hadn't treated him like such an idiot that night . . . He shook himself mentally, shoving that to the back of his mind, remembering Dumbledore had found him a good Occlumens to teach him to keep it there.
Dinner was a noisy affair, the twins and Charlie showing up as a surprise right before they started. "Had to drag him away," Fred said, pulling up a chair next to Harry.
"Yeah, just couldn't leave all those dragons," George chimed in, heaping mashed potatoes on his plate as if he'd heard a prediction that this would be the last night he could have any.
Mrs. Weasley was so happy she had to wipe her eyes on her apron corner before hugging her second-oldest son tightly. "Charlie! How long are you staying?"
"Two weeks," he grinned, though Harry noticed the shine of a burn at the base of his neck, covered mostly by his shirt. "I didn't want to tell you, in case I couldn't get away."
"You'll be here for the next meeting, then," Tonks said, looking rather pleased to see him, something that escaped neither Harry's notice, nor her aunt's, who smiled into her peas.
"It appears so." He smiled back, and everyone squeezed in closer to fit them in.
Harry spent dinner studying the different groups of people. Charlie and his parents were carefully staying on topics that involved things other than the Order, though Charlie and Tonks had no problem filling the time with the Weird Sister's, her favorite band and apparently his, too, and some of the new broomsticks, Charlie having been Quidditch Captain and Seeker, Tonks having been Chaser. Ron and the twins were involved in something to do with the joke shop, something that made them all laugh, and Hermione - who had actually brought a book to the table - didn't even look up.
Amy spent most of the time between Tonks and Snape, the latter usually speaking in low tones. One he even put a hand on the back of her chair to whisper something in her ear, at which she tried to keep a straight face but ended up laughing, swatting him playfully on the shoulder.
It was during a lull in the conversation that Ron tactlessly asked, "If you're a Healer, why didn't you fix up your nose?"
Dead silence for perhaps two seconds before Mrs. Weasley and Hermione started saying "Ron!" in annoyed voices, but Harry was looking at Amy. She, Snape, and Tonks were all grinning, finally giving in and cracking up.
"It's be - because she's vain!" Tonks hooted, slapping the table.
"Oh - shut up!" Amy gasped, and it was her turn to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. "No, really, it's all right," she assured Mrs. Weasley. "Actually, I'm surprised not more people ask, they usually aren't that observant."
Ron looked like he wanted to puff up with pride, but his mum was still watching him, so he settled for a blank face.
"When I was younger," Amy explained, "I hated my nose. Horrible thing, in my opinion, but Mum - either of them - disapproved of me changing it. I was a Beater starting my fifth year, not too good in our first game, and I took a Bludger to the face before it was through. Basically I liked my reflection better after I mopped up the blood and didn't let anyone fix it. They can only be fixed properly within a couple hours, anyway, so that's all I had to be stubborn for. So, yeah, maybe I'm vain, but I didn't get hit any more after that, either." She shrugged, self-consciously tracing the bump on her nose with her index finger.
"Dumbledore has a broken nose," Fred piped up.
"Yeah, twice, by the looks of it," George added.
"Decided to stop before the full look, did you?"
Amy grinned. "That, and I seem to be cursed with a thin beard."
They all laughed, and the conversations rose again, though Harry kept a particularly close watch on her and Snape. When dinner was over, before he left, Harry dawdled on the stairs as the two of them stood by the door. "Take care of yourself, Severus," she told him, hugging him tightly.
"You too." Then - Harry tried not to pull a face - he kissed her cheek before they parted, hurrying up the stairs so he wouldn't have to speak to her.
"What was up with that?" Hermione was asking as he went into the den, pulling the door shut behind him.
"Yeah, how long have Tonks and Charlie -"
"Not them," Hermione said, cutting off Ron, exasperated. "Didn't you notice anything else going on?"
"Please, I just ate," Ginny said, curling up on "her" corner of the couch.
"It got worse," Harry said grimly, sitting down next to her on the edge of the cushion. "Before they left, he kissed her good-bye. On the cheek," he hastened as Ginny and Hermione looked a little green.
"But still." Hermione was pacing back and forth between the grandfather clock and a map of the world, one that looked ancient but was really up-to- date as it was bewitched to change as borders did. "That doesn't say much about her, now, does it?"
"About who?" Ron looked rather confused, flopped into an armchair haphazardly. "Who are we talking about?"
Before Hermione could say anything about teaspoons, Ginny cut in, "Snape and Amy, does that mean anything to you?"
Ron had the decency to pale. "You're joking."
"Just because you have no feelings for your fellow human beings doesn't mean the rest of us are just as cursed," Hermione snapped, whirling around by the map, arms crossed. "Listen, you know what Tonks said about Amy faking to be Dark, right?"
Harry inclined his head, still sitting almost uncomfortably upright. "I thought you were the one who said Snape was good, he'd proven it to Dumbledore and all."
"But the fact remains he was a Death Eater." She stopped in the middle of the room in front of the fireplace, empty as it was so hot. "If he could turn around and spy, then how much could she be fooling us?"
"Hey, wait." Ron was waving his hand in the air like she was a teacher and he had a question about the test. "Haven't we gone this route before, suspecting someone was Dark when he really wasn't and completely missing out on Quirell or 'Moody'? And let's not forget Sirius, everyone thought he was a mass-murderer and -" He stopped talking abruptly, hastily looking at Harry. "Sorry, mate, I didn't mean to -"
"It's all right," Harry said quickly, more because that would get this over faster than because it really was all right. "I think we all got your point."
Hermione looked like she was going to argue, actually bouncing on the balls of her feet, as if saying something would be stepping off the edge of a cliff and she was not sure she wanted the fall. "All right, then," she finally said, still biting her lip. "It was just - something to point out."
It was Ginny who broke the silence, steering them onto the safer topic of Quidditch and the empty spots on the Gryffindor team, keeping the four of tem occupied until the inevitable cries from Mrs. Weasley: "Bed! All of you! Now!" Smiling, they scurried off.
Harry dropped off almost immediately, something for which he was rather thankful, at least until the dream began - then he felt a bit nauseated. He was standing in a church, except there were no walls, only stained glass windows floating there, and the ceiling was that of the Great Hall. He was in some frilly set of silver robes, obviously performing the marriage ceremony. Snape was the groom, and when the bride came up and lifted her veil -
He gave a yelp and started running, spurred on by the fact that the bride had Snape's face, as well. But the silver robes tripped him up and he was falling, falling, and landing hard on his back, looking up to see a dark blue sky, but then Ron gave a snort and he burst awake, sitting up quickly in the swatch of moonlight falling across his bed. Hedwig and Pigwidgeon were hooting softly from the top of the wardrobe, but they could not be let out to hunt that night. Harry blinked, shaking his head to clear it of the image of the church, then - almost against his will - his lips curled into a smile and he shook with silent laughter, turning over and going back to sleep. When he woke up in the morning, he didn't remember the dream.
* * * * *
Harry was heading upstairs from breakfast when he heard voices in the den. Casting a glance over his shoulder assured him he was alone, so he side- stepped closer to the door, putting his ear to the crack. "- know what's going on!" Tonks was saying. "Look, I don't even know who you are." Harry held his breath; this sounded promising.
"My birth parents don't factor into this at all," Amy said, sounding exasperated. "You've asked me time and time again, but they don't matter. They got rid of me and never looked back, never even put forth an effort to see if I was still alive."
"But you know who they are."
"Well, yes; they can't hide that from you." There was a creak inside as if she had just sat on one of the armchairs. "But that's not what's bothering you this time, is it?" Her voice was softer.
Tonks hesitated. "No."
Amy waited, just to see if her niece would continue, picking up the thread when she did not. "He told me you're concerned."
"He told you I talked to you?" The young Auror's voice was sharp. "How much did he say?"
"That you were concerned, and that he was flattered. I was, too, if you care enough about him to go so far as to go behind my back and tell him."
"It wasn't like I could have done it in front of you," Tonks said stiffly.
"No, no, of course not," Amy hastened to reassure her. "And it was the right thing to do."
Harry tried to shift his weight without the old floorboards giving a creak. They had dropped their voices, making it harder for them to hear, and they were both familiar with the topic whereas he had no clue. Were they talking about Snape? He had to suppress a shudder at that thought, mentally shaking himself and straining to hear.
"And what you're doing is the right thing too, is it?" Tonks was not accusatory, more questioning, wanting reassurance.
"Trust me."
"How?" her niece cried. "You have no idea how it looks -"
"Tonks. My entire life has been about 'how this looks.'" Amy's voice was wry; she might have been smiling.
There was a moment of silence. "I'm not going to be at the Ministry this year," Tonks said at last, not sounding as though she were changing the subject but doing to anyway.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, Fudge's assigned two Aurors to Hogwarts, me and Mad-Eye." Harry perked up; this sounded like fun. Well, and like a good idea, but having Tonks and Moody around was definitely not a recipe for dull.
"And isn't a certain someone going to be there as well, to care for the new attack dragon?"
Harry knew Tonks was blushing furiously. "Yes, Charlie'll be there, he only told me last night."
Amy laughed. "Dumbledore warned me what I was getting into, accepting the position of school Healer. I said I'd be sure to keep an eye on you, chaperone dates . . ."
"Aunt Amy!"
She heaved a sigh. "Fine, take away all my fun." A short pause. "You'd rather I wasn't there at all, huh?"
"Well . . . not that I don't want you around," Tonks said hastily, "but St. Mungo's said all you had to do was wave your hand to get a job, and I know you like school Healing, but . . . it'll be just like you-know-when, is all."
To Harry that was an entirely unsatisfactory ending. Sure, maybe Amy and Tonks knew when, but he certainly had no clue. He shoved his glassed up on his nose and leaned in closer.
"It'll be better," Amy said softly, reassuring her. "And besides, no one has to know, if you don't want to tell anyone. You're Nymphadora Tonks and I'm Amy -"
"Adele Mavis Yvonne," Tonks cut in. "Turnabout's fair play."
"Fine, Adele Mavis Yvonne Black -"
"But you're not," Tonks interrupted again. "You're Adele Mavis Yvonne Something Black."
Another, shorter pause. Harry could hear voices downstairs and mentally willed the pair in the den to hurry up and come out and say it.
"Tonks -"
"Look, I'm just having a hard time believing he's letting you do it. I mean, maybe you're okay with it, but he can't be - can he? Because he looks for all the world like he's enjoying it."
How many "he's" were there? Harry wondered. Half a dozen, at least . . .
"Oh, but he's not, not like that . . ." Amy trailed off.
"Aunt Amy?" Tonks said softly.
A door slammed downstairs and there was the sound of footsteps.
"You're right," Amy said softly. "I do need to tell you. You see, Tonks, I was -"
"Harry!" Ron's voice echoed in the entryway below. "Harry, the letters are here! Grab your cloak, we're going to Diagon Alley!"
"Coming!" Harry said, forcing cheeriness into his voice as he ran to get his cloak. Still, even as they were on the Underground and the people around him were laughing and chatting up a storm, he was thinking about Amy. You see, Tonks, I was - She was what? Amy was what?
Hermione noticed he wasn't joining in, just staring moodily out the window, and elbowed him slightly. "What's up?"
Ron had noticed and nudged Ginny.
"Tell you later," Harry said, looking at each of them to include them all. Then maybe they'd think of something, maybe they'd fill in some of the holes.
Hermione linked arms with him and Ginny as they emerged into the sunlight. "C'mon, you two!" she cried merrily, and, laughing, they made a rather bad job of skipping down the street, Ron running to catch up.
* * * * *
Dumbledore showed up briefly the next afternoon, mostly to have a word with Mrs. Weasley and the members of the Order present, but he did actually ask to see Harry. He smiled at the teenager, adjusting the half-moon glasses on his nose and tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robes, a brilliant jade green embroidered with golden suns. "Ah, Harry. I believe Phineas delivered my message?"
It took him a moment to work out exactly what the message had been. "Oh, my teacher?"
"Yes. You have not been curious?"
There had been so much going on with Amy - and Snape; he tried not to shudder - that Occlumency had totally slipped his mind. Harry was trying to work that into some sort of pun when the Headmaster seemed to read his thoughts. "It's Amy."
"Huh?" What was Amy? Had he done it right there, actually read his mind? Then again, he had not been keeping eye contact, and Snape had stressed that that was key.
"Your Occlumency teacher is Amy." Dumbledore paused for a moment, though Harry once again avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the opposite wall in the kitchen. "Was there something you wanted to ask me?"
About Amy? Yes. Was she a Death Eater? Was she "with" Snape, perhaps an old girlfriend brought back into light or something? Was she really as awful as Snape and just so good at acting as to fool them all? Was she fooling Dumbledore, or was she fooling the rest of her adopted family? In short, to whom was she lying, because it couldn't all be the truth?
"She is a good teacher, a friend of an old friend, though I do not know her well as I'd like; he seems to find her rather wonderful." Dumbledore's blue eyes sparkled. "Actually, she'd like to begin lessons straight away," he said, moving to the staircase. Harry stayed put, not knowing exactly what to do, but he opened the door, stuck his head out, and Amy came down, dressed today in a maroon t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans, looking younger than her supposed age. "Well, then; I suppose I should leave you two to start." With a smile for her and a wink for Harry, Dumbledore Disapparated.
"All right, then," Amy said, shutting the door securely behind her and removing her wand form her pocket as she came down the stairs. "Severus has told me how far he thinks you got when he was teaching, but I'm kind of looking for your opinion on this, as well."
Harry swallowed. He'd never practiced, only managed to deflect the spell once using his wand, and basically wanted the dreams to continue. "Actually . . . what he said's probably true," Harry said carefully, wiping his suddenly sweaty palms down the sides of his blue jeans. He stood up, rather uncomfortable with sitting and being below her level.
"Hmm. Than you're an arrogant fool who has no respect for other people's private things, always gives cheek to the professor, and thinks he's too good for homework or extra practice." She was rubbing her temple with the end of her wand, and Harry was struck by the color of the wood, a golden- red, almost like Ginny's hair. "I could go on, you know."
"Rather you didn't. What kind of wand is that?" It was a random question, he knew, but still . . .
"Rosewood. With a rather exceptional wand polish. Twelve and three quarters inches, dragon heartstring. Why, does it look rather threatening?" Her grin, meant to calm him, only half worked.
"Well - hey, look: I'm not very good at this, he wasn't lying about that. And you're kind of going to be having free access to my memories, so, yeah, I'd say that's rather threatening." Harry ran a hand through his hair. Granted, he'd never quite trusted Snape, either, but this was a stranger, related to Bellatrix Lestrange with the same closeness as Sirius, and this was not going to be fun any way you looked at it.
"You blocked it once," she said softly, wand pointed downward in her relaxed hand. "You managed."
"But I'm not going to be able to do it now!" Harry wished desperately for one of Dumbledore's spindly little silver instruments; he could have used one to throw just then. "I can't clear my mind the way he said you have to, not now!" His chest was heaving, constricting, and he had no idea why.
Amy put her wand away, looking like someone was tearing her heart out through her chest. "You have to face it, Harry. You can't just keep shoving it into the back of your mind, hoping it'll stay there, because the first things I'm going to see are the ones you haven't let yourself look at since they happened. No, I'm not finished," she said, holding up a hand as she tried to protest. "I think I know what I'm saying, having seen so many die."
"You think I should mourn him like you mourned Regulus," Harry spat, not entirely sure of what he was saying, but he wanted to hurt her, to make her feel the way he was feeling.
Amy looked as though she had just been slapped. "How can you say that? How can you - Harry -" She paused to collect herself. "I did mourn Regulus," she said, measuring every word, "but not for the reason people think. I mourned that brother for the man he might have been, but we need to mourn Sirius for the man he was. Don't you see the difference?"
"But then that means he's really dead." Harry couldn't look at her, not when his vision was blurring with tears that burned his eyes. "That makes it really final, I'll never speak to him again, never see him, never, never, never anything!" For lack of anything to throw, he kicked the wall, welcoming the sort of pain that would easily fade with time. "He's the only parent I've ever known, don't you see that? I lost Mum and Dad before I could even know I had them, ever be thankful for it, and now" - he kicked again - "now I don't even have that second chance!" He broke down then, just collapsing sideways against the cool wall and sinking to the floor, tears spilling down his cheeks.
She was there beside him, kneeling next to him, putting her arms around him and rocking him gently like a mother would. "God, Harry, don't you think I know? My real parents didn't even want me . . . Lily and James . . . you were their pride and joy . . ."
"But it didn't matter, I lost them anyway," he managed in a strained whisper, taking his glasses off so he could press his face into her shoulder. "It didn't matter, and it didn't matter I loved him back, he's still gone . . ." A fresh wave of sobs wracked his body and he felt helpless, so helpless in the grip of grief that he was turning to her for comfort.
Amy held him tightly, rubbing his back soothingly even though she was crying, too. "Dumbledore told me what you'd said that night, about how you thought it was your fault." She took a shuddery breath. "I would have done the same thing if I'd seen that."
"But it wouldn't have mattered!" He was having a hard time getting the words out in his anguish. "It wouldn't have mattered because Kreacher couldn't've lied to you, or you would have done something different, or you wouldn't've dragged everyone else along with you!"
"Be glad he could lie, you wouldn't like the alternative," she said wryly, shifting so her legs wouldn't fall asleep beneath her. "As for your friends - you didn't want to take them because they weren't ready, they weren't experienced. I feel the same way about Tonks all the time - she's too young to do that, she hasn't done enough yet. But you know what, Harry?" Gently she pulled him away to look at her, smoothing the hair off his hot forehead and not letting him look away. "If I don't let her go out and do it, she'll never have the experience. And, deny someone something, they're just going to go out and do it."
"But it's myfault," he insisted, cursing his eyes as they welled up again and scrubbing at them with the back of his hand, turning partially away from her but still having to lean against her because of his position. "If I'd kept up with Occlumency, if I'd really checked, if I'd gone to - to Snape first, if I'd just used the damned mirror . . ." He slammed a fist into the wall this time, scraping his knuckles, almost glad to see blood.
Amy caught his hand before he could injure it further. "And it's my fault, too. I was going to leave Durmstrang last year, to come here and keep him company, keep Kreacher under some measure of control, but Sirius insisted I stay up there and live my life. If I'd been here, d'you think any of this would have happened? If any of a thousand little things had been different, would this have happened?"
"How are you supposed to tell?" Harry said, almost shouting it. "How are you supposed to know any of that, if it would have worked? That's the way it happened, dammit!" She was too slow to keep him from punching again, this time splitting his knuckle wide open.
"Hey, stop!" Amy said, grabbing his wrist with more strength this time and forcing him away from the wall. "You want to destroy something, I'll give you dishes, just stop this!"
He was too out of it to notice the blood running down the back of his hand. "What's the point?" he raged. "Nothing matters anymore!" Struggling hard, he managed to throw her off, quickly getting his feet under him in a crouch as he scrabbled for his glasses and slipped them back on.
Amy shoved the hair off her face, propping herself up on an elbow but not rising to challenge him, blood on her lip from where she had bitten it. "Then it doesn't matter if Voldemort wins."
Harry froze, not even entirely sure what he was going to do, but he was halfway to standing. "What?"
"Nothing matters anymore." She tossed his words back to him in a dull, flat voice. "You might as well go kill yourself now, fulfill the prophecy and all."
He blinked, noticing for the first time that the cuff of his sleeve was soaked and glistening darkly. "I didn't say that."
Her eyes bored into his.
"I didn't mean that!" Harry stood swiftly, cradling his right hand in his left and trying not to flee. "I didn't mean that." Softer this time, so that it didn't echo in the small space. His eyes darted around as if something might come at him from the shadowed corners, but they were alone.
Amy sat up slowly, though she did not stand, choosing only to sit cross- legged almost under the table where he had shoved her. "You need to learn something Severus made me figure out on my own and probably didn't tell you: you can't ignore the memories that hurt. You have to take them out, look at them, examine them, and be able to get past the pain. Don't think of the graveyard; think about when Cedric beat you at Quidditch and feel bemused. Don't think about what happened to Sirius then; think about finding him, about him chasing his tail and being absolutely ridiculous when he was a dog. See, the point isn't not to feel anything - the point is not to feel anything that hurts you. When you avoid something, I can pull it from your mind faster and it will hurt you all the more."
"Snape taught you?" Harry's voice was as dull as his eyes. They were focused on the nearest corner, at the shadows that lay there unmoving. He was exhausted, truly exhausted, unable to even conjure a spark of hatred at the Potions professor, or at the fact that she had mentioned him again.
Amy nodded once. "After I was out of school. After most of the horrible stuff had happened. He's a tough teacher, doesn't give any hints or anything, makes you do it all yourself and feel stupid in the process."
"Did he take out three memories for you?" He turned to her, trying to call forth some sort of reaction, a tiny flare of thought, but his brain had witnessed enough for the day and was waiting for him to catch on.
A wry smile lifted one side of her mouth. "Two. I happen to be part of the third."
If he hadn't felt a bit queasy then, he definitely felt a twinge now. Good thing he was too tired to even start to imagine what that memory was . . . He shuddered anyway. "Are we done then?" His tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth.
"No." Amy stood, reaching for her wand again and brushing the remnants of tears of her face. "Wand at the ready, Harry. The sooner we start, the sooner you begin to succeed."
"No." He shook his head, unconsciously backing up, and he only realized it when he hit the wall, stinging his head as well as his hand. "No, Amy -"
"Wand at the ready," she repeated, her own raised and pointed at him. "Empty your mind."
He didn't have time. "Legilimens."
The graveyard and Cedric's spread-eagle body . . . the brain wrapping its tendrils around Ron . . . Sirius falling though the veil, never to bee seen again . . . No, Harry thought. No, not him . . . not him . . .
He was on the floor, on all fours, breathing hard, and his wand was still in his pocket. Amy reached down to help him up, conjuring bandages out of the air and having them wrap around his hand tightly. Immediately the pain started to ease. "You were handing me the memories," she said softly.
"I didn't have time!" he snapped, pulling away from her.
"And Voldemort is going to warn you before he raises his wand?"
They looked at each other, Harry glaring, Amy looking . . . sad, almost . . . for a long minute. "You're making me think of them," he spat. "You're making me weak."
"If you can think of them and smile you're not weak. But first you have to think of them and not be able to smile." Her mouth twitched slightly, as if she were going to say something more but thought better of it, visibly settling on another line of thought. "I've had two sets of parents die, two brothers, a sister . . . not all of them all I'd have liked them to be, but they were parents and such just the same. And when they die, and you do care . . ." She took a deep, steadying breath. "Nothing prepares you for it, Harry, not even the second time. But please, listen to me on this: I've suffered before, and the only way I can rationalize it is to help you not to suffer, to help you do this."
He turned away, face set and stony, jaw clenched and lips pressed together tightly.
She paused a moment, just studying his back, the stiffness in his posture. "We will do this again three nights hence," Amy said softly, returning her wand to her pocket. "I wish you would practice. And Harry -" He had been about to leave, but he stopped, still not looking at her. "I wish you wouldn't hate me."
He had no response for her, shoving his wand in his jeans and taking the stairs two at a time up to his room, glad Ron was already asleep. Ignoring the hooting of the owls he went to the window seat, tucking his legs up and staring moodily outside, forehead pressed to the cool glass. It was very late when he changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed, though later still when he finally fell asleep, wiping the fresh tears from his face and being too exhausted to even have a nightmare.
* * * * *
Hermione sighed, kneading her eyes with the heels of her hands. "Harry, I really don't know what to say. Amy's fine, she's not Dark or anything."
"How do you know she's not faking for you, too?" he demanded, tossing a glass paperweight back and forth as he walked around the den, circling Ginny, who was curled up on the couch and listening with only half an ear as she read, and Ron and Hermione, each sitting on the floor and concentrating on killing the other in a rather vicious game of chess. "How d'you know you're not being duped like the rest of us?"
Her eyes narrowed, though they were focused on the welfare of her queen, not on Harry's face, as she had seen that stormy look may times before. "It's not like you've given us much information, really. I mean," she hastily added, "maybe you've quoted them word for word, but still, that's not much, not when we have no idea what they were talking about in the first place."
"She's teaching me Occlumency - d'you think I'm able to hide anything from her?" The paperweight was being thrown more carelessly now; a slip would send it into the glass on the front of the grandfather clock, ruining the casing, the small, clear cauldron, or both.
"This isn't about you, Harry," she said, rushing through the words as if afraid he would have a reaction. "This is about the Order, keeping the secrets they feel they need to keep and not telling us more than we need to know."
He was white-knuckled, clutching the cauldron with such ferocity the bewitched liquid inside started turning from a pleasant green to a rather acrid yellow. "This isn't about me?" It was hard to read his voice, though it sounded strained, and his face was carefully, stonily blank. "Then what I think and feel doesn't matter."
Ginny and Ron tensed, not wanting to get into this in case Harry somehow tangled them up in a web of being against him, leaving Hermione very much alone. "That's not what I meant," she said irritably, carelessly sacrificing a knight, "and you know it. You're just in a bad mood because Amy gave you good advice."
Harry stopped, shoving the hair off his forehead - almost using the hand that held the paperweight and clobbering himself, switching to the left at the last second - and felt as if steam were about to come out of his ears. "Good advice? Like hell she gave me good advice!"
"About Sirius," Hermione persisted, sighing and looking up as Ron did a little victory dance, having won the game by a long shot. "You've been avoiding thinking about him. She's right, you have to, or else it's just an open wound that doesn't go away and is more easily infected."
"Poetic analogy, Hermione," Ron muttered, making a face. "But you have to admit you've been ignoring him, mate," he said, looking cautiously up at his best friend as if afraid Harry had recently acquired eyes that shot flames on command.
Harry almost wished he had. "Maybe it's just my way of dealing it," he spat, starting to pace again so he wouldn't have to meet anyone's eyes.
"Then you're not dealing very well." Hermione looked almost ill as she said it, waiting for him to start shouting, or worse. "You have to admit at least that, Harry, even if you don't want to admit her way is right. You're avoiding it completely."
"Yeah? And have your parents ever died? No? Didn't think so. And you," Harry spat viciously, whirling on Ron and almost losing control of the paperweight - South America actually shrank away from what might have been the point of collision. "Don't you have any sympathy? Look at your dad, last year, but that time I didn't mess up, did I? I actually saved him, instead of killing him." Thoroughly angry with himself, he dropped the cauldron and punched the wall again, swearing loudly as the pain shot through his already bandaged hand. "Look, I don't care what Dumbledore says, or Amy, or anyone else, it's my fault and always will be, because I'm just some gullible idiot with a 'saving people' thing!"
Hermione looked close to tears. "But Harry, it's not," she pleaded softly.
He looked about to explode. "It is, and it's my fault my parents died, too!" There, he'd said it, finally come out and said it. He, the boy who lived, famous Harry Potter, had gotten at least three people killed, the three that had loved him best.
Silence rang throughout the room. Ginny had stopped turning pages; even the chessmen had stopped magically mending themselves.
"That's not true," Hermione finally managed, licking her dry lips, eyes intent on Harry's face.
"Wanna bet?" Then, after having worried so long about how to tell them, he rattled off the prophecy that his friends had through lost. "Now try and tell me it wasn't," he finished, green eyes flashing as he crossed his arms over his chest, actually cradling his right in his left but trying not to show it, looking rather like a young Tom Riddle, resurrected from his diary and urging on a Basilisk.
Hermione took a deep breath. "You didn't ask to be born."
Harry actually barked a laugh. "Tell me about it." The anger seeped from him, weakening him at the seams and he flopped into one of the armchairs, leg flung over its arm, the other one digging into his back.
Ginny cleared her throat. "Umm, if it's not too off topic . . . who's the sister?"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to her with identical looks, each speaking, "Huh?"
"Harry said Amy said she'd lost two sets of parents, two brothers, and a sister," Ginny said, recalling them to the original conversation. "The brothers would be Regulus and Sirius, from the second set of adoptive parents, but what about the sister?"
"From the first," Ron said matter-of-factly. "There were enough of them, weren't there?"
"Andromeda Tonks, Narcissa Malfoy, and Bellatrix Lestrange," Harry listed off slowly.
"Narcissa and Bellatrix are still alive, aren't they?" Ginny asked.
"Unfortunately," Harry snorted.
Hermione cast him a wary glace. "Maybe she had a sister from her original family."
"She said the parents never gave a rip about her," Harry pointed out, sitting up as the position was giving him a pain in his back.
"Well, that didn't say anything for the - what did she say?" Ron, who had turned around to face Harry, looked over his shoulder at Hermione.
"You mean the thing about how they already had one brat and didn't want anything to do with another? According to Tonks," she added.
"Yeah, that." He turned back to Harry. "Maybe that - er, brat - was female and Amy got in touch with her later, then . . . well . . . died."
"And you said I was poetic?" Hermione muttered under her breath.
"What if she does?" Ginny asked quickly, swiping her hair out of her face while keeping a hold on the book with the other, finger once again between the pages as a sort of bookmark. "What if, even, they had another brat after Amy and she has some regular siblings running around here, too? What if she has more family than anyone else knows?"
Harry had a temporary mental image of a small army, all of whom looked like Amy in different years of her life, treating vampires and teaching kids Occlumency . . . "We just don't know enough about her," he decided.
Hermione snorted. "We know a lot about, say, Professor Lupin? Does he have any relatives? Does he even have a social life? I mean, come on, Harry, you trust him, don't you?"
"He was friends with Sirius and my dad," Harry objected.
"Amy was his sister."
"Sirius talked about him!" he protested. There was no way she was going to get him to admit he should trust Amy, because something about her was just . . . wrong. "You can't compare them like that," he snapped, almost pounding a fist on the arm of the chair and remembering before he could regret it. "She's just outside of all of the rules."
Hermione forced herself to look away. "So, more chess, Ron?" she asked in a forced voice.
Harry let himself slip into a sour mood as they started playing. His hand hurt. That meant he'd have to go and see Amy again for more bandages with the soothing potion on them. Great. Maybe he'd be able to overhear something more while he was at it.