The Lost Cause

by March Madness

Karkaroff need a way to escape the Dark Lord's attention, and during the summer he finds it. Harry turns up missing just a month into the summer break, leaving a tormented Remus Lupin and moody Severus Snape to find him.

2. Scourged by the Sequent Effects

Chapter Two: Scourged by the Sequent Effects

GLOUCESTER: These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us. Though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourged by the sequent effects. Love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide; in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond cracked 'twixt son and father.

-King Lear, Shakespeare

So (her owled message read) I've managed to come up with a horde of valid excuses for us to get Harry out of his family's hands. The only problem is that I'm almost certain none of them will work. I'm not allowed to leave my house, and if I'm restricted I can't imagine how bad Harry's summer is going. The only real hope I have is that Dumbledore will let him go shopping with us in Diagon Alley. If he does, then we might be able to drag Harry out a week early -- maybe even two weeks!

Something else has been bothering me a lot, Ron. Right at the end of the year, Harry and Professor Dumbledore had another of their talks like they have every year, every time something horrible happens. Usually Harry runs around and tells us immediately. Now, I'm just realizing that I don't have a clue whatever it was that Dumbledore told him! I'm worried. It has to be something about those prophecies, about how You-Know-Who tricked us, about... about You-Know-What.

True, we were in the hospital wing until practically the last day of school. But there are owls Never mind, I've just answered my own question. Of course Harry hasn't told us yet! He hasn't had the chance, really. In the hospital wing, there were always plenty of other D.A. members around and he probably didn't want to involve all them (he's an idiot sometimes, but predictable after a while). And he can't tell us now because owls can be intercepted. Hedwig's not even with him, is she? Poor Harry.

I guess we're just going to have to wait until we see each other again. I know this is probably eating you up as much as it's bothering me -- or else you never really gave it a thought, and now you don't see a point in worrying, so you'll just forget about it until I bring it up with Harry. I know you just as well as I know him, Ronald Weasley!

The summer assignments are so easy, I don't even need to open a book! I'm thinking all the professors believe we really needed a break this time so they laid off. I don't know what they're thinking! We need everything we can learn...

The letter sat on his desk for approximately three days before another joined it, again from Hermione. Two days later, she wrote again. Another owl came from her almost like clockwork, rarely taking more than two or three days. Harry, of course, wrote once early on stating "Rule Number Fourteen: You are prohibited from sending owls out as they can be intercepted or tracked."

Summer, Ron decided unhappily, was beginning to suck. Not even the twins could lighten the mood as they weren't living at the Burrow anymore. They'd rented a flat in muggle London of all places, saying they wanted to be close to their new store, Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes in Diagon Alley. He didn't want to guess at how it looked.

Moping, Ron forced himself to get up from his desk and drooped downstairs, mood as drippy as cold rain.

His mum looked up from reading the Daily Prophet to shoot him a disapproving look. "It's about time you've come down from your room," she stated in her authoritative tone, the one she got when she started long lectures. "You've been up there all day hiding away and it's already sundown." She sniffed, eyes going back to the paper. "I hope you don't expect me to get up and make you dinner, now that you've missed it by an hour."

Ron ignored her like any moody teenager, slinking over to the cupboard where he'd undoubtedly find himself a plate of food set aside earlier when he didn't come down. It was still warm. He shuffled over to the table, eating to satisfy his rumbling belly.

His mum sniffed again, but this time it was for something she read. She didn't share, of course, and Ron didn't want to know. He'd just received an owl from Hermione about some of the ridiculous claims being printed up, from "I Am Lord Voldemort's...Mother" to "Analysis of the Boy Who Lived" where experts put their opinions together on how badly the last year had treated Harry.

Hearing about that made Ron want to just storm over there and give his own personal narrative of all the indignities Harry went through, all the stares and whispers and other such nonsense he had to put up with. Ron, at that point, would then point out that most of it came from the Prophet's own yellow journalism.

There were more footsteps coming down the stairs and the only other occupant in the house entered the kitchen. Ginny took a look around, sighed, and sat down at the table. "So, what's going on?" she asked brightly. She looked at Ron. "I see you're not dead like we thought you were, but I hope you can explain the smell coming from your room."

"That's the smell of cleanliness," Ron retorted easily between swallows. "Obviously you've never encountered it before."

Ginny snorted. A minute or so went by before it happened, just like Ron knew it would: she picked at the edge of his plate, stealing a piece of celery. "Hey!" he started, glaring. "Leave off. This is my food!"

"Technically, mum left it on the cupboard for anyone to eat," Ginny countered, stealing another piece. "Any bum could have walked in and taken it with full permission. Since I'm now hungry, a part of that food belongs to me."

"Children, settle down," their mother calmly inserted without missing a beat. She turned a page before continuing. "Ginny, you already ate dinner and said you were stuffed to the bone. And Ron, how did you know that wasn't for your father?"

Ron froze in the act of spooning another mouthful to his mouth, suddenly feeling very guilty. His dad had been coming home completely worn out every night. If this was supposed to be his...

"Well, of course it's not dad's," stated Ginny with some superiority. "It's Friday and you already told us that you were both going out tonight." She rolled her eyes at Ron. "You told us practically every night before we went to bed, mum, like a fairy tale or something before getting tucked in."

"Right," Ron agreed, eating with much relief. "I remember now."

"I heard that eating vegetables helps memory increase," Ginny said, eye twinkling as she watched him, "from Hermione."

"Maybe you'd better eat some more, then," he retorted darkly. "Or else you'll never remember where you hid all those pictures of Harry in the attic."

Ginny went red in the face but again their mother started in without so much as looking up from the paper. "Both of you, knock it off. If I can handle seven of you at one time, think about what I can do with only two. And Ginny, it's certain herbs that help memory, not vegetables."

She put the paper down and started to stand. "Oh, Ron, make sure you eat all those potatoes, will you? I'm sure you'll like the spicing a lot."

Ginny broke out into a great grin and Ron caught the one on his mother's face. "Hey, no fair," he complained. "There's two of you and only one of me."

"There used to be six of you and only one of me," stated Ginny. "I think this is very fair."

"He's coming home," their mum said suddenly, eyes on the family clock. "Ginny, you'll want to move a little out of the way of the fireplace. That's good, love."

As soon as their dad appeared, Ron knew something was wrong. His face was all worry lines and frowns. Their mum picked up on it immediately and began to fuss over him, dusting off the ashes and taking his coat. Ginny stared at him worryingly. "What happened, dad?" she asked softly.

"What else ever happens during the summer?" the oldest Weasley started slowly. He looked over at their mum. "It's those blasted muggles at it again. They've up and left altogether. Dumbledore isn't sure the wards will last 'til the end of summer, but until they collapse entirely, Harry can't be moved."

"Harry..." Ron breathed. Ginny swallowed audibly.

"There are at least a dozen Order members with him, in case something happens, and a Portkey ready to use in emergencies, but it'll hardly be enough if the Dark Lord manages to sneak through those shambled wards. No matter what, this is the absolute last year he spends there. Even Dumbledore's admitted it. Once time runs out, the wards are gone forever and they'll be no point in putting all the effort into remaking them for only a short summer."

"I hate them," Ginny hissed quietly. Ron glanced over at her in great surprise. "Every year it's something different, something worse. I hate those muggles. They treat him horribly."

Somehow, their dad managed to catch ear of what she said. Wearily, Arthur Weasley looked at his children. "We can't hate them, Ginny," he said softly. "No matter what. Look at what hate's gotten us so far: a war and deaths, done and to come. They're despicable, yes, inexcusable, yes, but it's only because of the way they are. They're taught to hate magic, and look what it's done to Harry."

He looked up sadly to his wife, who only smiled.

"Well, we can always go out another time, can't we?" she suggested with a false light-heartedness, busying herself around the kitchen. "And there are always new recipes to try. Unless you want something in particular tonight, love?"

Arthur shook his head, haggard as he'd ever looked. "There's more," he went on in a sober tone. "The Dark Lord's released his first public message. A Death Eater apparated into the middle of Diagon Alley today, fully robed and all, proclaiming the Dark Lord's return to power. Before he managed to get away, he also claimed a great reward in store for new followers. The Ministry's clumsy attempt to capture him probably only cemented the image in people's minds."

He looked at her sadly. "It's begun again, Molly, just like last time."

In front of her children, Molly tried to help break this latest depression in her house. "Well, at least he can't be original." When no one so much as relaxed, she kissed her husband's cheek and gave her two youngest children quick hugs. "Don't worry. We're ready for him."

"And we have Harry, right?" Ginny tried, voice trembling. She was probably remembering the Ministry, just like Ron was, remembering how Harry had led them and had fought with them.

Their father looked oddly weakened by this latest question, but he managed to nod slowly. "Yes, we do have Harry."

...

"Have you checked all of the park?" Kingsley demanded, worry undermining his authority. Tonks rolled her eyes.

"No," she responded sarcastically, "I actually forgot to check any of it. None of the swing-sets, none of the monkey bars, and definitely none of the slides. My hair, it's not full of static because I put it next to every plastic slide here! It's full of static because it's trying to be worse than you are!"

"Don't panic," the Auror muttered to himself, tuning the witch out as he scanned the area one more time. It was getting close to dark and still no Potter. Earlier, when they'd walked by and hadn't seen him, they'd assumed he was one of the millions of kids hanging in the area. Now, they weren't even sure he was there to begin with.

"Relax. Harry said he'd be here. He probably already got bored with the place and started back. Even he wouldn't stay out past dark with all these dang mosquitoes out."

Kingsley sighed, looking around one more time. There were only a few older teenagers hanging by a tree, one or two of them smoking a cigarette (for the first time from all the coughing. They'd probably stole one from a parent and were trying it out, pretending to be cool and looking like they were just ready to kill over). Harry was no where in sight.

He rubbed at his face once more, trying to get some warmth back into the chilled skin. "All right, let's head back then."

Smiling, the witch slapped him on the shoulder rather solidly. "You'll see, you worrywart. Then I'll get to tell everyone you were having another panic attack, and we'll all have a good laugh. Except for you, of course."

"We'll get back and he won't be there," Kingsley corrected darkly, his voice deeper than normal. "Then Mad-Eye will call us all out with torches and all, alert Dumbledore, and discharge me. This is exactly how I planned on spending my summer, chasing down teenage-"

"HARRY?" Tonks suddenly shouted, arms going off to her sides and waving around frantically. "HARRY POTTER, IS THAT YOU OVER THERE?"

Up ahead and going the same direction as the two Aurors, Harry Potter was indeed heading home. He stopped on a corner of a street, pausing beneath a lamplight. For a moment, Kingsley caught a bitter expression on the boy's face that could've been a shadow for its consistency; seeing Tonks, Potter broke into a sincere-looking grin. The smile only made Kingsley feel worse, if anything. "Hey!" the teenager called out. "What are you two doing out here?"

"Looking for your ugly butt," Tonks joked, walking a little faster to stand beneath the light as well. "We went and looked all through the park for you, you know. My hair's standing on end from fright!"

"From static," Kingsley corrected absently, studying the enigma of a boy before him. He'd never known anyone like Harry Potter, not anyone with that kind of personality and control at so young an age. "She decided to go down a few slides while diligently calling your name."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You can still fit down those things?" he asked incredulously. "And you go willingly? I don't think I've ever met anyone like you, Tonks. Craziness."

He turned away quickly, blocking his face momentarily, then looked back. "It's getting kind of cool, don't you think? I'm ready to get back to the house." Harry looked between the two of them with a smile that seemed strained, at least to one of the Aurors. "I suppose you're my sitters for tonight, then?"

Tonks ruffled up his hair affectionately and then tried to undo the action by flattening the strands with her hands. "Nope. You get one last night of independence. Moody said he doesn't think the protections on the house are down enough to let anyone stay the night."

"Down enough?" The teenager went completely still. "I thought there was no danger to the wards."

"There isn't," Kingsley hurried answered. "Tonks just used to wrong phrase. What she means is that the house is still suspicious of us, despite all our Order identification. It's automatically contacted Dumbledore, who's... settled, for lack of a better word, the house's anxiety. However, it needs a few more hours before any of us can safely go to sleep in it, expecting to wake up the next morning."

"What does all that mean?" Harry asked almost desperately. "The house needs to get used to you? Does that mean it can get used to anyone?"

"Not anyone," Kingsley replied calmly. "Just those Dumbledore approves of."

Harry shook his head slightly. "I'm still very shaky on how all those wards work," he admitted wryly as they started walking again, "even after everything Dumbledore told me."

"He probably didn't tell you much," Tonks pointed out. "Old badger likes to keep a lot of secrets to himself."

"He sure does," Harry agreed with another of his faintly stiff grins. "I'm sure he knows about everything that goes on in Hogwarts, but he lets students get away with a lot more than the other professors would -- I bet he even lets some professors get away with more than the students do."

"Professors?" Kingsley wondered. He remembered hearing some rumors about last year's Defense professor, some witch of the Ministry.

Harry shrugged. "I don't really know, but it's logical, isn't it? Like, if they had a stressful day, he wouldn't mind them getting a little drunk, would he?" When he and Tonks laughed, Kingsley stayed quiet. The light of the lamps they passed under caught onto all weird angles of Harry's body, and it was strange to see the boy portrayed so darkly. Harry had started absently rubbing something on the back of his right hand, and when he let it swing, those same lights caught onto the skin and made it seem as though there were actual writing embedded into the skin.

Maybe lines of the prophecy he was born into, Kingsley mused to himself jokingly, picturing for a moment words instead of blood running through the boy's body.

"So, he was on the verge of breaking down -- truly, honestly believed that you had run off somewhere or worse, that you'd been kidnapped by smelly old ladies -- when I finally convince him that you'd never do that! It took forever. I'm surprised we caught up with you so fast."

"I was walking really slow. After being so hot all day, the night feels really good."

"Don't I know. This heat wilts my hair! Anyway, I'm going to have a blast tonight telling everyone. They all know how terrible he is at stress. Maybe they'll force him to go on a break like they forced Remus. Crazy man, him, worse than anything Kingsley could ever do."

Kingsley snapped back into the conversation, ready to say something to stop her. After all, it was Moody's orders that Remus Lupin not be mentioned, only to say that he was taking a break. But he couldn't. For once, he could see clearly through the laughing mask Harry Potter was presenting, and beneath it the boy was simply frightened silly that someone as important as the werewolf had abandoned him.

Harry laughed at the joke. "Don't I know! Every time I see him, there's more gray in his hair!" His green eyes were void of anything close to mirth but Tonks wasn't paying any attention to that. "I always thought he needed someone to tell him off, make him lay down at least. Someone did at last?"

Tonks nodded. "And what a fight that was! He really cares for you, Harry, but he was about to break down."

"Oh, I know. Don't worry about it," the boy answered easily, smirking. "It's better, right? He always did look like he was ready to collapse, anyway. How did you manage it? I tried to make him rest five minutes, but couldn't even do that. You must be some sort of master manipulator!"

"It was actually pretty easy. See, Remus doesn't like to show his feelings or whatnot, so he was simply determined to go on pretending like Sirius's death had no affect on him whatsoever." Kingsley winced and Harry's hand balled into sharp fists for a moment before forcibly relaxing. Tonks went on, oblivious. "We all knew that he needed some time to grieve, but if he had his way, he'd have spent everyday with you. Well, me and Moody cornered him after seeing you at the train station and told him that he needed some time off, and that if he went off with you every day, he'd only spoil you rotten and no one wanted that. Plus, you've really grown up enough not to need some sort of nurse maid."

"I can see how that might have done it," Harry conceded, and Kingsley picked up a faint trembling in his voice, "but I put more effort when I tried to get him to relax than that. Or was he really that bad off?"

"We talked to him for pretty much an hour, just drilling at him, you know? You probably didn't go for long enough -- you have to wear him down! And then we threw our biggest piece at him!"

"Biggest piece?" His voice even managed to sound suitably excited.

Tonks grinned. "We told him Dumbledore had forbidden him to come here at all this summer. Everyone listens to Dumbledore, you know. He hardly stayed a minute after before just leaving, and we haven't seen him since. It's really kind of sad, you know."

"How so? You think he's pouting somewhere?"

The witch burst out in a fit of girlish giggles. "Oh my, the thought of Remus, in a corner with a little pout!" She laughed for a few more seconds, then shook her head. "I never thought of him that way! But it's true, he's just like a little child. That's it, actually. He didn't get his way, so now he's off to hide until he thinks he's 'punished' us enough with his absence."

"Well," Harry began as they stopped at his door. His head was slightly down-turned, casting weirder shadows on his eyes and blocking the green of them with black. "I'll be sure to let him know what all his little pouting means to me when I see him." He smiled one last time, but this time it was so obviously fake that it only lasted a second. "I guess I'll be seeing everyone tomorrow, then?"

"Bright and early," Tonks agreed. "Maybe you could do a repeat and have breakfast ready? It was delicious, even from pre-made junk-"

"Or maybe we can cook for you," Kingsley suggested, the start of his voice like a closing bell. Tonks laughed and started away, leaving him to face Harry alone.

The boy was tired, ready to collapse at the door, but he'd never do it in front of witnesses. Kingsley wanted to talk, then, wanted to get the boy to relax and let go. He wasn't sure about everything that had been said about Remus, but it all applied to Harry. This child was more willing to just play at life than truly participate in it.

But Harry looked so tired, Kingsley couldn't make himself keep the boy up any longer. He nodded his head. "Goodnight, Harry. And please, don't worry about breakfast. I'm sure I'll be able to keep everyone occupied with something or other at least until lunch." It wasn't his imagination that the boy relaxed greatly, something like relief on his young features. "I won't keep you up when you're tired."

He walked away, joining up with the still-energetic witch who was raving on about pancakes and bacon and waking up in the morning. He was trying his best to think up some distraction to just give the boy some rest.

...

Night was, ironically, the worst time of the day. There weren't any nightmares, as he usually worked himself to exhaustion and slept soundly. It was the time before he actually fell asleep that was torturous.

Harry tossed over to one side, felt overwhelmed by the thick blankets he'd stolen from his aunt's room, and kicked the heavy things off. In fact, he felt unnaturally hot as though he was in the gutsy hands of some fever. He kicked off the sheets and on impulse, tossed his pillow off as well. The heat was still too much, so he grouchily got up and opened the window to his room, passing the empty birdcage. Hedwig was being kept at Hogwarts the summer.

The bed was no cooler with the open window. In fact, it felt as though someone had cast a warming charm on it. Groaning, giving up on sleep even though his body was ready to shut down on him, Harry got to his feet and stumbled downstairs.

The house was unnaturally quiet. Usually, he could count on hearing the loud snores of his cousin and uncle or the nighttime pacing of his aunt as she worried what the neighborhood was thinking. Now, it was only his soft breathing and the fleshy sounds of bare feet through the house.

In the kitchen, the dishes were stacked just as he'd told them to be. More, from what might have been lunch and dinner, were added in the sink, and with so many people eating at once those numbers added up quickly. Sighing, Harry padded over to the sink and cleared it out, starting the water to run as he began to clean up.

"So, Sirius, what would you say to all this?" he murmured quietly, voice hardly a whisper. He picked up a plate and scrubbed at it roughly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I'd bet you'd say something about this being a great prank opportunity, huh? They leave all the dishes to me -- why don't I leave some pepper sauce on the plates for tomorrow, when they come back? We'd all have a great laugh and I'd never have to wash dishes again." Rinsing and drying went faster, keeping up a steady dialogue with the invisible wizard.

Harry snorted at a thought. "I bet they didn't even take Dudley to the doctor's. Aunt Petunia would be too scared that the doctor would have no idea what the problem is. Dudley's going to just have to suffer all summer long. I bet he scars from all that itching."

He buffed a chipped glass, looking at a thin line in its broken surface. "Tonks's work, don't you think? Probably bopped it against someone's head. She's the clumsiest witch I've ever met. You said something like that, right? And you're her cousin, so you'd know her better than me."

The glass got tossed.

Harry paused his work, leaning heavily on his elbows, hands still submerged in the water. "What was it like for you growing up, Sirius?" he whispered, eyes unfocused. "I bet it was nothing like I'm living. Maybe all your bad memories in that house, and then being forced to stay in there all year, maybe that's why you were so eager to just get out... maybe you were just ready to leave..."

He cleared his throat and blinked a few times, pretending that the water on his face had just been splashed up from the sink. A minute later the rest of the dishes were cleaned. Emptying the sink and rinsing it out, Harry dried his hands and padded back to the stairs. He stopped at the door, looking outside the midnight world. Everything looked so still, like a sad painting all colored in blues and yellows. It was enough to make him angrily toss off his glasses, leaving them on the desk next to the front door.

The room was cold now, enough to make him shiver when he walked in. Closing the window, Harry yawned and fell into his bed, absently dragging the blankets up with him. The first few moments of closed eyes were only images of Sirius replaying in his head, of the Department of Mysteries and of Grimmauld Place, the Shrieking Shack and the small cave outside of Hogsmeade.

In only a few minutes, he was dead asleep, mind still replaying every scene with picture-like accuracy. The images plagued his sleep until he escaped them, plunging deep enough into his mind that nothing could touch him. Exhaustion helped, keeping his body too weary to catch his mind. Deep in sleep, Harry let out a little moan and a trickle of tears, tears that he'd never shed when awake, leaked out in sleep.

The noises woke him up, soft sounds that gradually got loud enough to shock his mind. Hyper tense, Harry sat up in bed like a spring. His mind scrambled a moment, trying to shake off the once-helpful exhaustion and struggling at it. A few thoughts made it through: the Order members were a few blocks away, his wand was on his desk, and the heavy footsteps were at his door. Even as he thought it, the door to his room slowly began to swing open.

Harry rolled off his bed, taking his load of blankets with him. Their heaviness forced a grunt from him, and on the floor he could see that the door abruptly stopped moving. There were feet in the shadows of the hallway.

Maybe it was Moody or Tonks, come to check on him in the middle of the night. Maybe Shacklebolt confessed something and now the entire group was come to check to make sure he didn't sneak off to the Burrow.

Harry slowly tried to untangle himself from the blankets but they acted like weights and he didn't dare make a sound.

The door slowly resumed opening, and a pair of feet entered quietly. Thinking quick, Harry rolled with his thrice-cursed blankets beneath the bed. Dust covered him like another sheet and he fought not to cough. He jerked sharply, pulling the extra material beneath with him just as the feet came around the bed.

Harry held his breath, watching nervously and aware of just how vulnerable he was. In his mind's eye, his wand was practically glowing from where it sat on the desk. Just a casual glance around would see it, and then whoever it was in here would know that a certain Harry Potter was nearby.

"Come out quietly, boy, and nothing will happen to you," a low voice suddenly said. "There's more than just me looking for you."

The feet shuffled over to the bookcase, clumsily smacking against one of the bed's legs and unintentionally sending a shower of dust raining down on Harry. He choked into the blankets, eyes watering. The man swaggered around, going through the small room very slowly for its size.

"I know you're in here, Potter. I know you're... very close..."

"Do I know you?" Harry wanted to ask, the man's accent sounding peculiarly familiar. Instead, he scooted a little further in beneath the bed, backing up against the wall soundlessly. There were, however, other noises coming from outside his own bedroom which verified the man's statement. He couldn't tell, but there had to be more than a few people tearing through the house.

"If I find you, it'll be much worse than if you just come out," came the threat as the feet stopped where Harry's desk would be. The man rattled the desk angrily, then paced over to the window. However, the damage was done. Not in the best conditions to begin with, the piece of furniture gave a loud groan and tumbled over, apparently startling the man from how high his feet jumped.

Harry's wand rolled off into the corner of the floor.

Eyes popping open, Harry licked his lips and judged the distance between the man's feet and the fallen wand. They were too close. He bit down, thinking as fast as he could, and finally settled on an idea. Covering his mouth to dull the sound, Harry whispered, "Accio wand."

The wood stick gave a limp roll towards him, making a few turns closer before stopping. Harry glared at it and tried again, this time stretching out his hand a bit. "Accio wand!"

It flew into his hand at the same time that the man overturned the bed completely, leaving Harry completely exposed. Automatically, Harry pointed the wand up. "Stupefy!" Whoever it was went down without a word. And whoever it was, he was a wizard by his dark green robes.

Relieved, Harry struggled out of his tangles. As quietly as possible, he crept to the door of his room. The wizard didn't look like a Death Eater, being without the traditional black robes and all, but who else would try to break in and kidnap him? Kidnap, if not kill outright.

Harry looked around the hall and saw nothing, but there were noises coming from perhaps the kitchen. He could imagine a load of Death Eaters so sure of themselves that they'd stop to take a snack -- maybe it was Crabbe and Goyle's parents.

There was a tree outside of Dudley's window, one that Harry had seen his cousin actually sneak down. The limbs always groaned heavily at the weight, but hadn't cracked yet. With all the noise downstairs, he doubted anyone would hear a window open.

Creeping along the walls, Harry stepped outside of his bedroom. The lights were all on downstairs and silhouettes walked along the floor. He tried to count them, but they mixed with others until it looked like a giant monster with dozens of hands was waiting for him. Luckily, his uncle had had the floors reinforced some years ago when Dudley had started jumping around after winning some video game and had stuck a foot through the floor. Nothing creaked as he closed the door to Dudley's room behind him.

The window was locked. His cousin often got scared late at night that someone was trying to sneak in and would often bar the window, but it slid open easy enough. The tree swayed welcomingly not a foot out of the window and it didn't look like anyone was even outside. Harry took a final look around and then carefully began to climb out of the room.

The tree groaned under his weight.

He climbed around easily, having learned to monkey around in trees after spending so much time escaping Dudley. A few feet from the ground, Harry leaped down and got on a running start through the neighborhood. He ducked into a backway, trying to confuse his trail by turning this way and that until he burst out into sight a few houses down from Figg's.

"MOODY!" yelled Harry, not caring what the time was. "TONKS!" He panted, running up to the door and pounding on it. "HEY! HEY!" Meowing, a cat up inside one of the windows looked at him reproachfully through the glass. "HELLO? IS ANYONE EVEN AWAKE?"

The cat in the window settled down to watch him, but nothing else so much as stirred in the darkened house. A few doors down, someone's window cracked open and an irritated voice yelled, "SHUT IT, YOU! WE'RE TRYING TO SLEEP IN HERE!" The window closed with a snap.

Harry looked at the closed door uncomprehendingly, still breathing hard from running all the way. He pounded on it once more, a little softer, and waited a moment more to still find himself alone outside. Swallowing, Harry fisted his hands and turned to find somewhere else to hide until morning. It was too unreal; where did they all go?

At the end of Mrs. Figg's lawn, a wizard stood watching him with his arms crossed against his chest. When Harry froze in shock, the wizard sneered. "Good morning, Harry."

"Karkaroff!" Harry breathed, mouth dropping open. "You're Professor Karkaroff, of Durmstrang."

"The former headmaster of that school, yes."

Harry couldn't think of anything else to say other than a blunt, "I thought you were dead. Voldemort said he'd have you killed!"

"Rumors of my death..." He sneer widened, "...are greatly exaggerated, Mister Potter. I'm afraid that Lord Voldemort hasn't the strength yet to spend on killing me." He paused, giving Harry a considering look. "However, I'm sure that a... bargaining can be arranged between me and my former master. If I offer him something in return, I won't have to spend the rest of my life wondering if he's trying to kill me."

Harry glared at him. "Go ahead and try," he taunted, turning his wand slowly in his hand. "I'm sure that even if you had something he really wanted, Voldemort would just kill you to get it. And," he brought his wand up, "if you're talking about taking me to him, I suggest you rethink that plan."

Karkaroff broke off into a fit of hacking laughter that Harry could easily grow to hate. "Ah, Potter, what makes you think I want to bring you to Voldemort? I could hardly slip through Dumbledore's wards if I wanted to do something like that."

Harry didn't let his wand drop. "You're going to have to try better than that if you want to fool me."

"I'm only on a mission to disrupt the Order, which I'm certain will please the Dark Lord greatly. That's what's keeping your friends, in case you were wondering. They're locked down back at your house, dueling right now with some of my men. I'll keep their attention for a few more minutes before I give the order to evacuate. See, the real reason I came here was to speak with you."

"Well, thanks a lot but I'm not in the mood-"

"Of course you wouldn't be, with your godfather's death and your isolation here."

Harry's breath hitched, and he abruptly narrowed his eyes. "Shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you-"

"Aren't you even wondering if Minister Fudge ever got around to publicly expunging Black's murder convictions? Or didn't you hear about the Death Eater raids that allowed the Order of the Phoenix to capture Peter Pettigrew? There's hardly been a worse scandal than this one."

"Shut up, shut up now-"

Harry was shaking, struggling hard to control himself. Someone would have told him! Someone would have said something if they caught Peter -- everyone knew how much that would mean for him. He swallowed loudly, breathing so hard it seemed like the only thing he could really feel was the furious beating of his heart. He took a deep breath.

"You're lying-"

"And if I'm not? It's not like everyone tells you everything, or in fact that anyone tells you anything. Why do you think they send you here every summer? Protection, maybe, but isolation more so. You go back to school knowing only what they want you to know."

Harry closed his eyes, feeling blood rushing to his head at the sound of someone else repeating what he'd dreaded to himself since leaving Hogwarts and coming here. His wand abruptly flew out of his hand, and even as Harry's eyes popped open, he found himself paralyzed.

Karkaroff laughed again, starting on about how gullible Harry was, about great plans for the summer, about a lot of things Harry couldn't believe. The former headmaster raised his wand again, a wand that Harry hadn't seen before, and started some incantation that made Harry's skin tingle.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eyes, a great white thing smashed into him, knocking him down. His paralysis fizzled away.

Harry peeked his eyes open to see Karkaroff screaming, some huge collar thing hanging from his hands. Grinning wolfishly, Harry started to get up only to be knocked by the unseen white beast once more.

He grunted, down on all fours, and decided to just the heck out of there. Eyes closing, he focused his attention, and then lost it.

...

As quickly as the battle had begun, it was over. Moody glared around the smoking house, wondering how Death Eaters had managed to break through the wards. Dumbledore had assured him that no one could get in, that the fading spells had all be firmly strengthened to block any Death Eater attempt. He let the thought distract him for only a second, then ran upstairs, magical eye seeing ahead of him. When it reached Potter's room, he nearly sighed in relief.

The boy was fine, worse for the wear was all.Moody slowed down, taking the time to view all the damage made by the attackers. Emmaline Vance, the Order's resident warder, siddled up beside him and Moody gave her a hard look.

She answered with a shake of her head before he could say anything. "No, the wards are all fine," the witch started slowly. "Nothing's wrong with any of them--Death Eaters shouldn't have been allowed a block within this area without sending off the alarms!" She huffed, frustrated, and shook her head again. "I don't know what happened, if it was a momentary blitz, but there's nothing wrong now. I checked everything."

"Everything?" Moody pressed, his voice unforgiving of any mistake. The witch looked back evenly, and he grunted, satisfied with her answers if not with the answers themselves. No matter what she said, Death Eaters had managed to get in. Dumbledore would have to be contacted again, new wards set up, new plans and escape routes thought up...

Tonks, sitting next to Potter, was talking animatedly with him, the conversation stopping as he got closer. Potter looked up with a tired frown once he and Vance walked in. "Moody, is everyone all right?"

"Worry about yourself first, boy. What happened?" The others of the team began piling in. Undoubtedly, many more were on their way, coming when the wards went off.

Potter sighed. "I was just sleeping," he started simply, "and I heard some news. When I realized someone was in the house and trying to get into my room, I tried to get up but these things," he gestured angrily to the pile of dirty blankets on the floor, "made me fall down. I managed to roll under the bed just as he got in, and summoned my wand just when he found me."

"Summoning charm," Tonks confirmed with a smile. "That's what woke us up and got us moving here.

"The Ministry felt it, too," Vance suggested from beside him, nervously tugging at the shawl around her shoulders. She looked around. "We better not move anything. If they see evidence of the fight themselves, they won't be able to argue against it."

Arabella Figg came in, her face lined with stress. "That's all of them for sure," she informed the room wearily. "My cats are already heading home in high spirits, climbing down trees and going the longabout way, crisscrossing through the neighborhood." She seemed to suddenly hear what Vance had said and paled. "The Ministry? I best be going, then! Wouldn't want them to catch a Squib at the scene, they'd like to pin it all on me."

Moody nodded at that. "We don't all need to be here," he announced. "Everyone not an Auror, you're coming with me." There were a lot of groans, but reluctantly the ordered people got up and followed. Potter laughed a little, waving goodbye to the rest of the group while loudly proclaiming his intention to return to sleep.

Outside, he quickly summarized what Vance had told him earlier, and the small group of Order members didn't like the situation anymore than he did. They were only turning onto Figg's street, still muttering between themselves, when they were stopped by a pair of garbed officials with their hands held out in front of them. "I'm sorry people," the first informed them cheerfully, "but a baseline broke-"

"Gas line," the second corrected.

"Ah, yes, gas line broke only a few minutes ago. The noise you heard was the, um-"

"Explosion."

"That's the word! The explosion. No need to be alarmed, of course. Your local polite men-"

"Policemen."

"-are taking care of everything!" Speech over, the pair smiled politely.

"Right," one of Moody's wizards chuckled. "Lads, I've seen better acts than this. But, if you'll excuse us, we're on official business and need to get through."

Before the pair could say anything, Moody pushed his way to the front and looked them over carefully, giving them just as much of a chance to recognize who he was. When he walked on by, the pair were too flabbergasted to say anything. A witch took pity and patted one's arm. "Don't worry, dears. I'm sure that all the muggles will keep away like you planned."

"My house!" Figg gasped. "They've taken over my house!" The older lady began to jog ahead of the rest to where squads of Hit Wizards mobbed the area.

One of the lieutenants looked up with a frown. "Who let you by?" he demanded.

"I live here!"

"Sir," an assistant broke the conversation, coming up looking shocked. "Sir, there's evidence that Harry Potter has been here recently."

"Harry Potter?" The lieutenant's eyebrows shot up. "What the devil is that boy doing here?" He suddenly looked stricken. "By Merlin, you don't suppose this was his hiding place during the summer."

"If it was, then Dumbledore's gotten old. The wards on this place are pretty shabby."

"Harry Potter doesn't live here," Figg informed them smartly. "I live here. But he visits every so often -- as recent as this morning. Potter lives about three blocks down that way."

"Who are you, again?"

"My name's Arabella Figg and I'm a Squib. This is my house. What happened?"

The lieutenant winced. "A lot. Would you mind telling me what you were doing out of the house so late at night?"

The rest of the group caught up at this time, and Moody once again forced himself to the front, taking charge. "What's this all about?" he demanded darkly. "Huh? Why isn't anyone down at the Potter house? It's just been attacked!"

Everyone in the nearby area paled, and the lieutenant stammered out, "A-attacked? When?!"

Figg disappeared into the house, taking most of the Order members with her to escape the inevitable questioning and Moody was left to explain about the short Death Eater attack which had left most of the house in shambles.

"It's pretty much what happened here," the lieutenant revealed reluctantly. Aside from him and his aide, the rest of the Hit Wizards had flown immediately to Privet Drive. "We were sent to investigate magic performed so close to muggles, and found that it was a miniature Death Eater raid." He shook his head in profound disbelief. "It wasn't really true, everything in the Prophet, until I actually saw them. Only for a second, mind, then they apparated away, but that was long enough."

He gestured for Moody to follow. "But this, this is the confusing part. Maybe with all your experience, Moody, you'll be able to figure this out for me."

He led onto the front lawn, where Moody suddenly realized that all the once-green grass was gone. His eye whirled and informed him that for three houses on either side, all grass was vanished, leaving only dead plots of dry, dry dirt. On impulse, he stopped to touch the dirt. He had to jerk his hand away from the freezing chill of it.

The lieutenant nodded. "I'm not surprised you noticed. Someone performed an enormous spell here, one I can't even recognize. All the ground for a ten-yard radius has been put through what looks like a tough chilling charm, the grass just dying straight out and soil getting frozen stiff. I'm guessing it's just the after-effects, though, and won't last through the night. But here, look here."

He pointed down in the middle of the lawn. "They start right here, but the trackers I've set on this say the imprint isn't right for just standing still. Whatever it is leaped here without touching any other part of the dirt, and then strolled off to the street." He let out a deep breath. "I don't want to be the one telling the world that there's a monster that size roaming loose in muggle neighborhoods."

It was a footprint, obviously, a pawprint to be exact. Made from some sort of dog -- but it'd have to be the largest dog Moody ever saw. Sirius, in his animagus form, had been enormous for his breed, Irish wolfhounds known for being one of the tallest of the dog family, and Sirius had nearly come up to Moody's waist, a good 36 inches from the ground. His pawprints, however, could have fit twice into a single one of the prints here.

"Big dog."

"Big dog. Or coyote, wolf, fox, whatever. Aside from it, there are no other animal tracks. The Death Eaters walked on the other side of the lawn, so there are plenty of clear prints to photo. The beast must have leaped into the middle of the lawn for whatever reason, walked off to the street, and after that we can't track it at all. It didn't even leave a scent to follow, for crying out loud!"

"You didn't see it at all, then?"

The lieutenant shook his head. "Not at all, thankfully. We arrived when the Death Eaters started attacking -- trying to break their way into the house but with too little numbers, I suppose. The beast must have been gone before the attack."

Moody frowned, looking over everything once more. "I haven't the slightest idea what it is," he admitted, looking stormy for it, "but maybe someone else does."