Disclaimer: Obviously, I didn't write the Harry Potter series. J.K. Rowling is responsible for those masterpieces, and I will always worship her for it. Please don't sue me. I'm already poor and all you'd get from me is a fifteen year-old TV, a futon and some clothes that fit me better than you. The only way you would get my computer is by prying it from my cold, dead fingers.
A/N: You all either have forgotten me or hate me by now for taking a century (or something like that) to update. Excuse time: I went to my friend's lake party, got back, and found the company that connects us to the internet via satellite terminated my family's account a lot earlier than we told them to. Therefore, we had no connection to the internet until about a week ago when we finally got the modems hooked up again and started up accounts with EVIL America Online again. Oh, to be back at college already where pages load in a snap...Anyway, I still should have updated a week earlier than I did, but don't worry; I've been punished. I deprived myself of mint-chocolate ice cream for dessert tonight, and will continue to do so until I get the next chapter up as well.
I've decided not to do reviewer responses until next chapter, because I got quite a few last chapter since I didn't update for so long. However, I must give a short reply to Dzeytoun, who gave me a very informative an honest review that has made me swear to get my act together (and I wouldn't want you to think I'm chickening out at responding to a bit of helpful criticism). So, Dzeytoun, this is for you: Thanks very much for pointing out the glaring error in chapter nine, which I think I attempted to fix right after reading what you said. You're right about my character development—I'm still very new at writing a story this long, and there are still many weak points in my writing.
Also, gohan/videlgoten/trunkslover, this chapter is dedicated to you, who reminded me to UPDATE. It didn't really motivate me too much, but the one word review did make me smile.
Chapter 15: Why Can't We Be Friends?
Ever since beginning Hogwarts, Harry had been virtually untouchable on Privet Drive due to Dudley's fear of magic. His cousin expressly forbade his friends to pester him in any way, terrified that the "freak" would retaliate by turning him into a pig or perhaps blow him up like he did Aunt Marge. However, judging by the malevolent smiles on the faces of the five gathering bullies, they had Dudley's permission, or maybe orders, to beat the stuffing out of him. While searching for an escape, he decided that in the future, avoiding his cousin altogether might be a good idea. He was obviously not as easily intimidated as Harry thought.
Once they had Harry surrounded, Piers released his bruised arm. Although he put on a façade of bravado, his insides were twisting with fear. The streetlamp illuminating his circle of attackers was too reminiscent of the moonlight shining down on the ring of Death Eaters on the night of Voldemort's rebirth. I'm not helpless, and there are only five of them. I can't let them scare me into submission. No matter what he told himself though, nothing changed the fact that he was just one scrawny boy, on his own in the dark.
As a boy nearly Dudley's size advanced on him with his meaty fist raised, Piers called out, "Any last words, Potter?" The rest of the gang laughed heartily before closing in. Harry tensed, edgy and poised to spring into action. Afraid or not, defense was second nature due to the many fights—muggle and magical—he'd been involved in since childhood.
Harry ducked the first fist and dodged a kick to his stomach. In his mind, he ran through his options. I could scream bloody murder…Doubt anyone around here would help me, though. He turned sideways to avoid a punch to the nose, but felt another hit glance off his shoulder. Sidestepping another fist that had been headed for his chest, he took advantage of the attacker's momentary vulnerability and threw all of his 130-plus pounds into a punch to the boy's right eye that knocked him back several steps with a holler of pain and surprise. Blast them with magic—yeah, right, and get expelled…Something struck him on the side of the face, knocking off his glasses and scraping his cheekbone.
Unable to see properly, he stumbled right into a punch powerful enough to split his lip. He pushed the pain to the back of his mind and tried to focus on Piers and the gang, but there were too many of them. All he could make out were large, blurry shapes and by the time he could make out the direction their hands and feet were headed, it was too late. A knee slammed into his midsection, and he crumpled to the pavement with a groan. He tried to get away, but there seemed to be feet and fists raining down upon him from every direction.
"C'mon, Potter, you could try to make this a challenge!" jeered one of the nameless thugs, kicking him in the side.
Things were beginning to look very bleak indeed. If he didn't do something soon, he would end up in as bad of shape as Mark Evans. As a hard shoe slammed into his back, he reluctantly stuck his hand in his pocket to retrieve his wand. However, his fingers brushed a smooth, plastic surface and Harry was suddenly struck with another idea.
"He's already given up!" laughed Piers. The malicious teen bent down and grabbed a handful of his mussed hair, jerking Harry to sit. "Beg us to stop, and we might just leave you alone," Piers offered, kneeling down and looking at him with a mixture of glee and expectance.
Swallowing his pride, Harry choked out, "Please…"
"Please what?" urged Piers in power-hungry anticipation, above the gang's obnoxious guffawing.
"Please…brush your teeth before you open your mouth that close to my face again," Harry cheeked boldly.
Ignoring his plea, Piers growled, "You little bastard!" Harry could see the blurry outline of a raised fist and fought the urge to flinch.
"Okay, but you can't say I didn't ask nicely," Harry said with forced nonchalance. As Piers' fist descended upon him, he rolled to the left, leaving a few strands of ebony hair in the bully's clenched hand. Pain couldn't penetrate the adrenaline rush in his veins, though, as he finally caught his attackers off guard and whipped the pepper spray out of his pocket. Before the other gang members could react, he twisted the top off and sprayed directly into Piers' rodent-like face.
The bully jumped up and stood stock-still for a moment, blinking in surprise. The next second, he screeched in agony and began swiping and clawing frantically at his eyes. The other thugs backed away from Harry and their screaming friend as if they were carrying some kind of contagious disease.
"HELP! HELP!" shrieked Piers, staggering toward the rest of the gang. He was still pawing his eyes and blinking, only irritating them more.
The boy about Dudley's size, still backing away, lifted his fat arm to point at Harry. "W-what did you do to him?" he asked, trying and failing to sound commanding.
"Haven't you blokes ever seen pepper spray before? Honestly, I can't believe I'm the first person to use it on you. Come here, I'll give you another demonstration," said Harry, beckoning from his seat on the curb.
The four, one still holding his palm against his bruised eye, turned and ran in the opposite direction. The fat one had the nerve to shout back, "This isn't over, Potter!" as he ran. Piers cried out for his cowardly friends to wait, but ended up stumbling after them as none seemed inclined to stop. Harry thought about going after him—he was nearly blind at the moment, after all—but quickly realized he was not much better off.
The muscles in his stomach and back throbbed terribly as he crawled along the pavement in search of his glasses. I really have to get contacts or something. Maybe wizards have some way to fix eyesight…After a few minutes of blind groping, his fingers finally brushed the metal frame of his spectacles in the street gutter.
Harry pushed himself to his feet and could feel the aches and pangs of bruises forming all over his arms and legs. Nothing was broken, but lumps and scrapes dotted his body from head to toe. Overall he felt like he had been hit by the Knight Bus. Blood still dribbled down his chin from his split lip and stained the front of his shirt, and his clothes were covered in shoe prints and dirt. Tonks'll go spare when she sees me like this.
Luckily, the fight had taken place practically next door to the Dursleys'. Even that short distance seemed like several kilometers to Harry, though. When he reached the doorstep, he sat down gracelessly, leaning his face against the cool, wrought-iron railing. Hopefully Tonks would turn up soon; he wanted nothing more than to barricade himself in the loo and sink into a hot bath to soothe his aching muscles.
He had been waiting about ten minutes when he noticed someone jogging up the dark street. Slowly, he stood, this time going straight for the pepper spray without sparing his wand a thought. Sure enough, the person was headed his way.
"Harry!"
It was Remus. Harry's breath caught in his chest as he agonized over all the possible reasons it wasn't Tonks hobbling up to him in disguise right now.
"Remus? What are you doing here—where's Tonks?" he asked fearfully when the werewolf reached him.
"Hang on," Remus panted, "Just ran all the way here from the wards." If Harry didn't know better, he would have thought the gaunt man with the silver-streaked hair, bent double and gasping for breath in front of him, was an escapee from the nearest nursing home.
Harry waited about three full seconds before launching into questions again. Seeing that he would not be deterred, Remus began to explain.
"Tonks is fine," he said breathlessly. Harry heaved a sigh of relief, and felt his heart rate slow instantly.
"Where is she then?"
Remus held up his index finger and drew in a few more large breaths before continuing. "A Death Eater attacked her and your friend as they were walking back to his house. Tonks said she heard the incantation for the Cruciatous Curse and threw herself and the boy out of the way in the nick of time. Good thing the idiot thought they were muggles, because she caught him completely by surprise when she drew her wand." Finally having caught his breath, Remus finally looked up and noticed Harry's ragged and bloody state.
"What happened to you?" he yelped, lifting Harry's chin up to examine his swollen, blood-encrusted lip. Harry gently pushed his hand away.
"I'll tell you as soon as you finish telling me what happened with Tonks and Justin."
Remus frowned, but continued the explanation. "Long story short, Tonks took the bloke down. You might even know him—Flint? The Aurors said he graduated Hogwarts just a few years ago."
"Marcus Flint?!" Harry exclaimed. "He was Slytherin's quidditch captain!" Thinking on it now, though, he didn't know why it surprised him so much that Flint would have joined Voldemort. He certainly seemed the type from what Harry could remember of his attitude and underhanded quidditch tactics. "So what happened to him after Tonks got him?"
"Well, right now I suppose he's in a holding cell waiting for the Ministry to set a trial date. He's the first Death Eater to be apprehended since the Department of Mysteries battle. There will be a few less unexplained muggle deaths in the papers from now on. Your friend was a little shaken up, but he's safe at home now. Kingsley Shacklebolt went with him to explain the situation to his parents and keep watch for the night just in case."
It pleased Harry to know that he hadn't gotten the stuffing knocked out of him for nothing. He shivered thinking about what would have happened to Justin had Tonks not been with him.
"I suppose the Ministry's really pleased with Tonks," Harry said distractedly, as he processed all that had happened in the last hour.
He was surprised by Remus' angry snort. "Oh, certainly. Fudge was ecstatic and praised her for about ten seconds before flooing straight to the Daily Prophet to inform them of the Ministry's latest victory over Voldemort. It's Dumbledore who's personally reprimanding her at the moment."
"What? Why?" Tonks had caught a Death Eater and most likely saved Justin's life. Harry couldn't imagine what reason Dumbledore had to be angry with her for.
"She left you, unguarded, to walk home in the dark!" Remus pointed out, incredulously. "There is supposed to be someone watching out for you twenty-four hours a day!"
The last person Harry wanted to argue with was Remus, but he wasn't about to let the man accuse Tonks of negligence. "I asked her to go! If she hadn't been with Justin, he'd probably be dead right now! You said yourself that no one has a chance of breaking through Dumbledore's wards!"
"No, I said the chance of that happening was slim. The difference between no chance and slim chance in this case is life and death. It was Tonks' responsibility to find a temporary replacement while she walked your friend home, or else find someone else to go with him. The fact that you made it home without her makes no difference; she directly disobeyed orders. Besides, it looks like you could've used a guard tonight," Remus said sternly, indicating his puffy, bruised lip and all-around sloppy appearance. "The stage is all yours, Mr. Potter. What's your story?"
"I ran into some old friends."
"Must've run into them pretty hard, by the looks of it. Care to elaborate?"
Worry and frustration was already amplifying the pain of his injuries, and now it seemed to Harry that he was expected to give a play-by-play of the fight he had been in. At this rate, he would never get inside to tend his cuts and bruises. Nevertheless, Remus was looming over him with his arms crossed and an eyebrow arched. It made him feel like an errant child being forced to confess to some naughty deed.
"My cousin's gang ambushed me a few houses down while I was walking home. It's over now and it's no big deal."
A muscle twitched in the werewolf's jaw and his gaze intensified. The only thing that could have made him look more feral would be bared teeth and a raised ruff.
"What do you mean, 'no big deal'? Has this happened before?"
A funny noise, like a cross between a sniff and a laugh escaped Harry as memories of being chased by Dudley and his gang in schoolyards and around the neighborhood flashed through his mind. "Only all my life. Believe me, though, my cousin's best mate came away from it feeling loads worse than me."
"This isn't funny, Harry. Did you use your wand?" Remus asked worriedly. More to himself, he added, "Damnit, Tonks should have been there…the woman's turning into Mundungus."
The whole conversation was really beginning to wear on Harry's already frazzled nerves.
"I didn't use my wand. I don't see why you're being so peevish about this. Everything turned out all right—Justin's home, I'm home, and Flint isn't running around torturing muggles thanks to Tonks."
"I'm being so 'peevish' about this because you think that being outnumbered and pounded by a bunch of muggle bullies is no big deal! This is exactly why you need to be guarded!"
Remus was pushing all the wrong buttons tonight. Harry wasn't about to put up with being patronized and treated like some delicate, defenseless child when he had just proved he could handle himself against five bullies without using his wand. "I'm fine! I went thirteen years without anybody looking out for me, so please excuse me if the occasional bullying has become a bit trivial to me!"
It took the sound of deafening silence to alert him to the fact that he was nearly shouting. The worst thing was, he didn't really know why he was getting so defensive. Remus was only worried about him, and if anything he should have been grateful that someone cared. Most likely, his irritability stemmed from the feeling of overprotection, which was still relatively new. Up until Voldemort's rebirth, he had been free to do as he pleased and face the consequences of his decisions (at least during the summer). Now, his every step was dogged by some guard from the Order, and he was certain that Dumbledore had other ways of keeping an eye on him as well.
"I'm sorry you've had to deal with this all your life, Harry. This certainly isn't what your parents wanted for you, and it makes me wish Sirius or I could have taken you away much sooner," Remus said quietly, making Harry feel bad for his previous words. In retrospect, it sounded almost as if he was blaming Remus for his painful childhood.
To change the uncomfortable subject, Remus turned his attention back to Harry's injuries. "I suppose we should take you inside and patch you up," he said, tentatively laying a hand on Harry's elbow and guiding him to the door.
Harry blew out a heavy breath of air and let Remus lead him into the house. "It's not your fault. I'm sorry for being so tetchy lately—I'm just tired of everything being so complicated. I just wish everything could go back to how it was a few years ago when all I had to worry about was looking for trouble with Hermione and Ron at Hogwarts and hiding from my relatives here while I waited for the Weasleys to come to my rescue. Now I have guards following me everywhere, the wizarding world is on the brink of war, and I'm expected to…" The words died in his mouth the moment he realized what he had been about to say.
That was all it took to spark Remus' suspicion, though. "You're expected to what?" he asked, pulling Harry into the kitchen without even noticing Aunt Petunia who was putting the finishing touches on a huge chocolate pudding. When she spotted the intruders, she gasped in fright and raced from the room, only to run back in quickly once she realized she had forgotten to take the dessert with her.
Could he tell Remus about the prophecy? He found that he really wanted to, but didn't know if he was even allowed. After Harry had finally been told, Dumbledore hadn't really given him instructions on what to do with the information...Wait a minute; since when did I start waiting for instructions from Dumbledore to make my decisions? He won't even let me be part of the Order, so it's not like I'm sworn to secrecy.
Sooner or later, he would have to tell someone. The secret was already weighing heavily on him, and it could only get worse once he got back to the wizarding world. There was also no chance that he'd be seeking counsel on the matter with Dumbledore in his sixth year—not after Harry had learned just how secretive and manipulative the man could be. If there was anyone left he trusted to talk to about his role according to the prophecy, it was Remus.
"If I tell you a secret, can you swear not to tell anyone about it without my permission?" Harry asked, just to be sure.
The suspicious look increased as Remus slowly answered, "Of course," then hesitantly, "Is it something Dumbledore should know about?"
"He already knows, but he's the only other person who does. Remus, this has to do with why Voldemort's always been after me and what happened at the Department of Mysteries."
"I promise not to tell a soul," Remus said, this time with certainty.
Harry walked to the counter and pushed up with his arms to take a seat on the edge of it, feet dangling just above the linoleum. "You might want to get comfortable then; this might take a little while."
…
When he finished explaining, it felt like nearly an hour had gone by. Remus was understandably upset and much more worried for Harry after hearing the prophecy for himself, and seemed at a loss for what to do. Surprisingly, his first move was to reach out and wrap his thin arms around Harry's shoulders in a strong hug. It was uncomfortable for Harry, who didn't feel completely at ease even when Hermione hugged him, but Remus obviously needed the contact so he patted the man on the back in return. When he finally drew back, Remus rested his hands at the base of his neck and looked Harry squarely in the eye.
"I know this prophecy sounds dreadful—I don't think it's really sunk in yet for me, and the implications are already terrifying enough—but we'll get you through this. It doesn't say you can't have help, and if anyone can count on their friends, you can," he said reassuringly.
Harry just nodded, hoping that Remus was right.
"I'm glad you told me this, Harry, and I'm glad you feel that you can trust me. Honestly, I can't see how you kept it a secret for so long. It must have been eating you up inside."
"It does feel good to tell someone else about it," Harry admitted. It was the truth, although every time he thought about or spoke the words of the prophecy, a lump formed in his throat and his mind seemed to freeze up with dread.
"Well, we'll figure out what to do about this. In the meantime, do you think you could try to abstain from your yearly meetings with Voldemort? It would be much better if you got some time to train before you ran into him again," Remus joked poorly, trying to lighten the mood. His forced smile wasn't enough to hide the worry wrinkles around his fear-filled eyes.
Playing along, Harry allowed a faint smile to grace his face as he said, "I'll try to restrain myself."
The rest of Remus' time at Number Four was spent bandaging Harry's many wounds and applying ice packs to some of the larger bumps. Once he was satisfied that he had done a job satisfactory of a muggle healer, Remus disappeared outside for a minute. When he returned, he walked right past the kitchen where Harry was waiting, and marched straight into the living room where the Dursleys were avidly watching some moronic television show.
Harry wandered in after him, arriving in time to see Remus holding out a hand crawling with something and speaking softly to Dudley, who sat riveted in his recliner. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon watched from the couch, panicked but not daring to interfere and make the situation any worse.
Holding an ice pack to a throbbing bump on the side of his head, Harry edged further into the room to listen in.
"I'll take them outside and turn them back as soon as you swear to tell them to stay away from Harry. They won't even remember what happened." Remus said slowly and clearly, as if speaking to a young child.
"I—I swear," muttered Dudley, eyes wide and glazed with fear.
Looking closer, Harry realized the things crawling all over Remus' palm were five lightning bugs, which he must have summoned from the yard when he left the kitchen. Apparently he was pranking Dudley into thinking he had changed his gang into harmless insects, and could leave them that way if he liked. Harry smirked. Once a Marauder, always a Marauder.
The Dursleys looked very relieved when Remus finally left the room, with the exception of Dudley, who was so petrified that he was staring stupidly, fat jaw hanging at a commercial on the telly. Vernon still had the dignity to glare menacingly at Harry, but wasn't about to risk saying anything nasty to him. Harry just smiled as well as his split lip would allow and shrugged, before leaving to say goodbye to Remus.
At the front door, Remus gave Harry another awkward hug.
"Don't worry too much over that prophecy. They're tricky things and can often be misinterpreted. For now, just relax, read your books, and remember that you'll be out of here in no time. I've decided to leave the rest of the housework for after I bring you back with me. Painting your room will have to wait until you get there. If you need me, I'll be in the neighborhood. I just don't feel comfortable leaving you here again, even with a guard to watch you."
"I'll be fine," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "But thanks for caring, anyway," he added as an afterthought. "Tell Tonks I'm sorry she got in trouble for me, will you?"
Remus scowled but nodded. "I'll pass the message along. Take care; I'll be around
…
A/N: You all deserve much better than this; I know. I'm working hard to get the next chapter out sooner, and to make it longer as well.