Chapter 8: Harry Potter, the One

Muscles clenched, sweaty fingers strained . . .

But even before his fingers were pried open, Harry knew . . . .

It wasn't a Portkey.

He opened his hand and Ron snatched at the parchment, releasing him and sitting back on his heels. Harry slowly collapsed against the floor, knees bent. His wand fell loose and he threw an arm over his eyes. Once again, he was helpless; he couldn't do anything but wait for Tom's next move. He hated it with every fiber of his being.

The sound of balled-up parchment hitting the floor cut through Harry's haze. "I can't believe you just did that," Ron said hoarsely. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"No." Harry said, pleased with his matter-of-fact tone. "That's just it. I don't want you to die." His voice broke on the last word, and whatever else he would have said clogged up behind the lump in his throat.

Ron sniffed throughout the long silence. "Yeah, well, now you know how I feel all the time." Then, with a languid thud, he sat beside Harry, back to the bed.

Harry looked up from under his arm and took in Ron's miserable expression. "I do know what the Prophecy says, and it's just going to make you feel worse."

"I don't really think that's possible," Ron said listlessly. "My best friend has a death wish. And if this bloody Prophecy is the reason why, then I wanna hear it."

Harry felt surprisingly numb, and despite the fact that he'd banished the words of the Prophecy to a deep, dark corner of his mind, they came out surprisingly easy. They sounded less mystical coming from his own mouth, but just as final, nevertheless. Afterwards, he didn't look at Ron. He knew exactly the face his friend would be wearing right now: pale, jaw dropped open, eyes bugged out. As soon as Ron spoke, Harry knew he'd been right.

"Bloody hell, Harry! I always thought you acted like you had the world on your shoulders 'cause you were kept in a cupboard for ten years and, you know, it messed you up somehow. But that wasn't it at all. You were born to it." He gulped. "What's that part about you and him not surviving while the other one lives? What's that supposed to mean?"

Harry shrugged. "One of us has to die. Not just because we hate each other, but because only one of us can live at a time. I think it's this connection thing. It's just getting stronger."

There was a long silence. "Why does it always have to be you?"

Harry snorted. "It didn't have to be. Two babies fit the Prophecy at the time it was given. Neville Longbottom was the other."

Ron barked out a laugh. "Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived? Can't imagine that."

"I can, very easily. Turns out Tom chose me. One of his men had overheard the first part of the Prophecy and went after me first, for some reason. My mum and dad tried to protect me. That's why they died-some stupid Prophecy that didn't even have to be me." Harry knew that he probably should have told Ron that Trelawney was the one who gave it, but then Harry didn't want to waste time trying to convince Ron that it was real. He only had a tentative hold on all of it himself.

"But is there any chance Neville could still do it, somehow . . . ?" Harry looked up to see desperate hope in Ron's eyes.

"No. It's the connection, Ron, the power Tom gave me when he tried to kill me the first time. That makes me the One."

Ron swore vehemently, several words that he reserved for times like this. Harry sat up and maneuvered himself so that he could lean back against the wall. He watched Ron, who was looking up at the window, arms resting on the tops of his knees, his face a study of deep thought, like when he was playing chess. For the first time in a while, Harry found himself wondering how much the events in June had changed Ron, and how much effect those scars had on him. He seemed different somehow-older.

Finally, he smirked. "Then I know what that power is, the one that Tom doesn't know about that you have." He settled serious blue eyes on Harry. "He got you at the Ministry because, well, I guess, because he knew you so well. He knew you couldn't stand to let Sirius be hurt and he used that against you." Harry looked down, feeling a lump in his throat just at the quick mention. "He thought he had you sewn up. You'd show up, grab the Prophecy and be surrounded by Death Eaters. Game over. But it didn't work. And why not?"

Harry nodded, knowing where he was headed. "Because I wasn't alone."

"Exactly," Ron said triumphantly. "You couldn't get rid of us even when you tried. You think any of those Death Eaters stick around Volde-Voldemort because they love him?"

Harry's eyes flickered up and then down again. Ron kept talking, but a little faster, as though covering for that lapse in wording.

"Of course they don't! If they weren't scared out of their knickers, they'd split like spiders when a basilisk's hissing around. He doesn't understand why we'd go with you, and he can't. He's always going to underestimate your friends, Harry, because he doesn't have any."

Harry continued to stare at the floor. Love, again. That's what Ron was talking about-the key to defeating Tom. Everyone kept saying that. Maybe they were right. Maybe they were all right. But if they were, it didn't make his job any easier. "He won't hesitate to use you all against me. He's already trying."

Ron hitched a deep breath. "Yeah, well, so what? We've survived this long. I mean, I can't speak for Luna, but Hermione, Neville, Ginny and me and Fred and George aren't going to quit now."

Harry's blood ran cold. "Ron, you can't tell them about the Prophecy."

He shook his head. "I have to tell 'Mione. And you ought to tell Ginny at least, if not Luna and Neville. They risked their lives for it, too."

"It's too dangerous. And Neville . . . well, I dunno. Maybe he has a right to know. But then again, maybe it will just make things harder. I keep wondering if that's why his parents were tortured for so long, to find out if he was really the One and Tom made the wrong choice."

"Blimey, Harry. You've been thinking too much."

"Not much else to do around here."

"Yeah. Just get beat up or poisoned, I guess."

Harry grinned. "Something like that."

"And to think all I get is too many brothers and a curfew," Ron said mock-mournfully.

"I'd trade it in a heartbeat."

"You don't have to. You're coming to the Burrow next week!"

Harry brightened at that and the last hour of Ron's watch was spent chatting lightly and catching up. All the tension was gone between them, and Harry no longer felt so desperate. He'd just have to let his friends help him and trust them to be careful. And Hermione was right about that, trusting came very hard for him.

A knock came on the door downstairs, and the house descended into silence.

"Oh, that must be Ginny, then."

Harry gave a start. "Ginny?"

"Your next Weasley bodyguard." Harry heard this with a great degree of concern. His room was a disaster. One of the Weasleys had obviously tried to tidy up, but the others had made themselves at home and there was even more trash than before mixed in with the dirty clothes. And Harry himself hadn't showered in . . . how long? He panicked a bit when he couldn't remember.

The door was opened downstairs and a deep voice rumbled.

"That's not Ginny," Ron said and stood. He pulled out his wand and motioned to Harry to stay back. Harry's stomach turned to stone. He pulled out his wand and followed Ron to the bedroom door. He opened it a crack and they could barely hear Aunt Petunia speaking.

"Oh," Ron said with relief as the deep voice began again. "That's Bill. They must have skipped Gin. She won't be happy about that. Oi! Bill, we're up here! Everything's fine! Harry's awake!"

"Glad to hear it," Bill called up. "But I've got some work to do down here first. I'll be along soon enough."

Ron turned to Harry, puzzled, then called back down. "Hurry up, Bill, I'm starved!" He turned from the door with a frown. "I'm already sick of this room and I'm only here for six hours. How do you stand it?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, it's better than the cupboard. I try to keep it in perspective."

Ron grinned. "Hey did you hear that the World Cup is going to be in Spain next year?"

"How would I hear about that? So are you going to go?"

"I wish!" Ron said fervently. For the next ten minutes, they talked Quidditch, as though there was no Dark Lord threatening to disrupt the normal things of life at any second. Finally, Bill stomped his way up the stairs. Harry listened, thinking to himself with a grin that all the noise from the Weasley brothers had probably driven Petunia quite mad.

"Hey Harry," Bill said easily as he entered the room, carrying several parchments and a small leather pouch. "How are you feeling, mate?"

"Much better." Harry watched with interest as Bill sat down at the desk. "What have you been doing downstairs?"

"Talking with your aunt. Dumbledore has been trying to reach a solution to all the trouble we've been having with the wards and your family. It hasn't been easy. Petunia and Vernon-that sodding pig-have been trying to kick you out ever since the last attack."

"But I thought they were Obliviated."

Ron shook his head darkly. "They were, but it only made them worse."

Bill agreed. "They're concerned for Dudley's health, which we all understand. He doesn't seem to be doing well."

"Oh, come off it," Ron railed and stood up. "Dudley's a git and he deserved whatever he got." Harry had to refrain from nodding. "That's why I knocked his lights out first thing when I got here. Fat git."

"Well, nevertheless, the only way we could get them to continue to host Harry in their home was to make a few financial arrangements." Harry's stomach dropped. He knew this was going to happen: the Dursleys were blackmailing the Wizarding World. "In two days, we'll move Dudley and Vernon to a new house across town, a slightly larger home with a bathing pool. In return, Harry may stay here for another week. But that is the only agreement we could come to. Next summer, Harry, you'll likely be staying somewhere else."

Harry flushed and fought conflicting emotions. Leaving the Dursleys was a dream come true, but then, how embarrassing that his only relatives wished him dead.

"You'll be with us, Harry," Ron crowed. "Dumbledore won't have any excuse next summer since you can't come here." Harry nodded, feeling the pressure ease a bit. "Hey, Bill, how come you're here? Where's Ginny?"

"At home, fighting with Mum, of course. She was supposed to relieve you, but Mum's railing rightly at her about her being alone with Harry in his bedroom for hours on end." Harry flushed, jumped up, and started haphazardly picking up dirty clothes. He was relieved that Ginny wasn't coming. Thinking of her sitting there, watching him drool in his sleep, counting the dirty clothes on the floor, guarding him from failing wards or the Dursleys or whatever happened next . . . he didn't need that.

Ron snorted. "As if! This is Harry and Ginny we're talking about, not Fred and Angelina!"

Bill chuckled as he looked at the papers in his hands. "Come on, Ron. A teenage boy and a teenage girl locked in a bedroom for six hours? What mother in their right mind would agree to that?"

Ron barked out a laugh. "Bill, but this is Harry! He wouldn't know what to do with a girl alone in his room if she threw herself into his lap, naked!"

Harry froze and then flushed a slow, furious red.

"Oi! Shut that fat trap of yours! That's my little sister you're talking about!"

"Mine, too, you prat!" Ron shot back. "And I wasn't talking about Ginny throwing herself into Harry's lap na-"

"Bloody right you weren't! And that goes for you, too, Harry!" Harry froze in the middle of dumping a dirty sock into the waste paper basket, only halfway knowing what he was doing. "No one thinks about my little sister that way, got it?" He nodded nervously, completely blocking all thoughts of Ginny, dressed or otherwise from his mind.

"Right."

Ron cackled. "I'm tellin' you, Bill, you're barking up the wrong tree. This is Harry we're talking about!"

Harry frowned at Ron, starting to feel resentful. He wasn't that hopeless, was he? After all, he had been kissed by the prettiest girl in school.

"Right," Bill said, a bit suspicious still. "Well, anyway, Ginny's not coming and that's that. Now, since you're up and around, Harry, I'm going to do the healer's blood test on you to make sure the potion has had time to work itself out of your system. Won't hurt a bit. Just a prick." He held out his wand and Harry walked over, holding out his hand. There was a small stinging sensation and then a spot of blood turned up on the small piece of paper Bill had laid on the desk. The blood was absorbed by the paper almost immediately and the paper turned a bright orange. "Ah! Just what we were hoping for. Looks like you're back to normal, Harry. Actually, from what I've heard, you look better now than you did before. Guess all that sleeping helped a bit.

"So, that means you don't need a bodyguard anymore. And the Dursleys should leave you alone until your birthday tomorrow, when Vernon and Dudley will be moved to the other house. Then it will just be you and Petunia for a week before the Order moves you. How's that sound?"

Harry nodded, surprised to hear that his birthday was so soon. He'd been asleep for almost five days. "I'm sorry you had to be pulled away from work to do this, Bill."

Bill laughed. "You're practically a Weasley now and Mum'd have my head if I didn't help. Although, I have to say that she's none to happy to hear about your long hair. She says I'm a bad influence on you."

Harry grinned.

"Yeah, what is up with that hair, anyway," Ron spouted. "You look like a completely different person."

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. Just can't leave to have it cut. And it actually sort of behaves this way, doesn't it?"

"Quite weird, but yeah. I guess I kinda like it."

"Have to get back, Harry." Bill stood and gathered his things. "Come on, Ron, let's Floo together so Mum won't worry. You know how she is."

"Do I ever! And Fred's getting as bad as she is. Hate to leave you now, Harry, but it won't be long before you'll be at the Burrow. Hang in there." He got up to follow Bill out the door.

"Bye, Harry," called Bill back over his shoulder. "Let me know when you want to get an earring, too!"

"Yeah. Ginny likes earrings on guys, too." Ron grinned and ducked a blow from Bill just as he shut the door behind him.

Harry frowned to himself, trying to push the idea out of his head that he cared what Ginny thought one way or the other. Ron was really carrying all of this too far. Hadn't Harry just tried this with Cho? And it hadn't worked out at all. He just wasn't cut out to be a boyfriend. Boyfriends had to deal with crying girls and kissing and things that Harry wasn't ready for, especially not now, when any kind of distraction could prove fatal to someone around him.

After a much-needed shower and a quiet breakfast downstairs alone, Harry started tidying up his room a bit. Someone had rummaged through his school things rather vigorously. Harry wondered who until he flipped through one of his Defense books and saw remarks in Fred's handwriting scrawled throughout such as, "Should've tried this one on Umbridge" and "Wonder if Filch would outlaw this?"

Hedwig arrived shortly afterward, having stayed a few days with the Weasleys. They'd insisted on caring for her as well. Harry felt a pang of guilt and decided to spend a few extra minutes cooing at her and smoothing her ruffled feathers. She still seemed a bit worried about him.

"I'm all right, girl. What's that you've got?" He sat back in the desk chair and let her dig her claws into his the knees of his jeans. She perched up there, looking as smug and content as a cat as he petted her. Harry laughed and pulled the parchment off of her leg after only a moment's hesitation, thinking of the Portkey incident.

It was another letter from Lupin.

Harry,

I sincerely hope that you are feeling better now. It has been a hard enough summer without all the extra duress you have been under. Because of all the interruptions, we are looking toward other means to further your education. You should be receiving help soon.

You have handled yourself very well, Harry. Sirius would be proud.

Remus

Tears stung Harry's eyes without warning. That last line almost felt like a cheap shot, but he knew Remus meant it to be encouraging. Would Sirius have been proud of him? Harry ran his fingers over Hedwig's feathers gently and felt that ache inside him return. He'd almost forgotten, with all the Weasleys here, that he had been so lonely all summer. Now, he remembered.

After a measly lunch alone, Harry returned to his much-improved room and pulled out a parchment. He intended to write Hermione and apologize for everything. Ron was right; he needed his friends.

The doorbell ringing took him by surprise, and not pleasantly so. Harry slowly stood, pulling his wand out of the waistband of his jeans. He remembered Remus' promise of further help to come, and hoped that the wards would hold this time. No matter what, Harry promised himself (and Ron) he wasn't going outside the house.

"Harry, would you get the door?" Petunia's rather strained request barely floated up the stairs. She was scared. Dudley was still in his room; he hadn't made a sound all morning.

Harry moved to the top of the stairs quickly and saw through the window a large, brown van parked in front of the house with the lettering of UPS on the outside. A package, then. Harry jogged down the stairs, searching his mind for some reasoning as to why he should open the door at all. Would Dumbledore send him a message this way? Would Muggle mail be safer than Wizarding mail?

Harry didn't think so, and he again hesitated at the door.

"Hello?" he called, not opening it. "Who is it?"

"Special delivery for Harry Potter." Special delivery? That sounded suspicious, like something picked up off of a Muggle television show. Harry's hand tightened on his wand. Then a whisper caught his ears. "Harry? 'S that you?" The voice sounded familiar. "It's me, Tonks, in disguise!"

With relief, Harry unlatched the door and grinned at Tonks, who was holding back the glass door as a very attractive, muscle-bound twenty-something man in uniform. She was carrying a medium-sized box under one arm.

"Wotcher, Harry!" She said with a smile, then dropped her voice an octave and tried again. "I mean, Wotcher, Harry. Does that sound better?"

"It's great. What's going on?"

"Oh, poor Remus sent me. He just can't get a break. He desperately wants to come, but no one will let him near you. Too dangerous because of last time, you know?" Harry nodded reluctantly. "Anyway, he's got a book here for you to study, with some notes he's put inside. He says it might be the key to everything." She handed him the package with a hopeful look in her eyes. "You are all right, aren't you, Harry? You were very brave in that fight against the Death Eaters, but you should have stayed inside, you know? That's what we're trained for."

"I know, and I'm fine, Tonks, really. Shouldn't I sign something?" She looked at him questioningly, the feminine tilt of her head looking a bit funny on a man. "Usually, they make you sign a computerized ledger when you get one of these."

"Oh. Right!" She discreetly waved her wand and a ledger appeared in her hands. "Kingsley warned me about that and I forgot."

Harry signed the computerized pad and smiled at Tonks again. "Good to see you, Tonks. Have a great rest of the summer."

"Yeah, hope to see you sometime again soon. Although, actually, I guess I really don't. If you need me out here again, that probably won't be a good sign."

Harry nodded and stepped back inside. "Thanks."

Tonks smiled and said in a deep voice. "Have a fine day, then, sir." She winked and turned back to the van.

Harry closed the door and locked it, relieved that for once, a visitor hadn't brought him to a near-death experience.