A/N: Ack, I wanted to get this up sooner but I went on holiday for a week with no computer access, so I couldn't :(

Following chapter is from Harry's POV, and chapter 3 will be from Draco's POV. Yes, Draco is the main character, but I think this part was important and needed to be written.

That said, happy reading and enjoy!

Chapter 2: Attack

Harry awoke every day for the next week with the same feeling of anticipation only to have disappointment grab at him at night, when it became clear, once again, that Harry was not going to leave the Dursleys that day.

It was disheartening. One of the things that made staying in the house all the time bearable was the thought of leaving – but when was he going to leave? He had heard nothing further from Ron or Hermione and only had to assume that they were still working on getting him out of his aunt and uncle's house.

Harry wasn't very sure how to feel when he awoke on Wednesday, about a week after he'd received the phone call from the Burrow. Most of the anticipation had turned to hope; hope that today would be the day; hope that he would not be disappointed again, that he would finally be leaving the Dursleys.

Getting out of bed, Harry sighed as he saw the clear blue sky out his bedroom window. It looked like the beginnings of a perfect summer day and Harry longed to be out in the sunlight, enjoying it all.

It's summer, he thought indignantly. I should be out there! Not stuck in the house…

When he went downstairs the Dursleys were already at breakfast. None of them said anything to Harry as he sat down, though the corner of Uncle Vernon's mouth twitched.

Breakfast was silent save for the tinkle of knife and fork against plate as Harry and the Dursleys ate their bacon and eggs. Harry wondered how long he would have to endure this; the silence, uncomfortableness, everything. He needed to get out!

Harry stared idly at the broken television set in front of Dudley, who was gobbling up his tenth egg. Dudley had accidentally put his elbow to the screen a few days ago, when he'd seen Harry and tripped into the set. It was one of the more interesting things that had happened since that phone call.

"Dudley, I need you to wash the car," Uncle Vernon said, as Dudley reached for another egg.

"I'll do it," Harry said quickly.

Dudley, who had opened his mouth to argue, now opened it in shock.

"You'll what?" Uncle Vernon clearly thought he had misheard Harry.

"I'll wash the car," Harry said. "This evening."

"Why?" Uncle Vernon asked, suspicion evident in his voice.

"Well, if you don't want me to, fine then," Harry went back to his bacon.

"No!" Uncle Vernon said quickly. "No," he repeated, slower this time, "it would be – er – lovely if you did that." Even Uncle Vernon could see it was best for Harry to do the job, even if he was suspiciously willing; Dudley just wasn't good at it. He made the car, if possible, even dirtier sometimes.

Harry didn't know what had prompted him to offer to wash his uncle's car – he just had. Perhaps it was a bit reckless because outside the house he could be open to attack, but it wasn't as if he couldn't run back in quickly if he wanted to. It didn't look as if the Weasleys were coming to fetch him anytime soon anyway. What could be the harm in washing Uncle Vernon's car, outside?

At five thirty Harry fetched a bucket and an old rag. On his way out he saw Uncle Vernon and Dudley parked on the living room couch, munching on potato chips and watching a wrestling match.

Therefore Harry was very much surprised to see a soapy bucket and the blurry figure of someone with a hose through the car door glass.

Harry frowned. Hadn't he just seen Dudley and Uncle Vernon in the living room? Aunt Petunia wouldn't have taken it upon herself to wash the car, would she? Why on earth would she want to do that if Harry had already volunteered?

Harry moved over to the other side of the car to see who was washing it – and got the biggest shock of his life.

Hosing down Uncle Vernon's car, wearing a pair of jeans and a white sweatshirt was himself.

Harry gaped. It couldn't be …

But it was. There was no mistaking what Harry saw; a boy who looked exactly like him with black hair that stuck up in odd places and the same pair of glasses perched on his nose.

Perhaps he was hallucinating, he thought, or perhaps he had gone quite mad … either way they weren't comforting thoughts.

The person he was looking at, the person who looked awfully like himself turned and came face-to-face with Harry. Harry looked into green eyes that were exactly the same as his and as his eyes flicked upwards he saw a lightning bolt shaped scar.

Harry yelled and so did the person he was looking at. His look-alike recovered first.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing out here?" his look-alike demanded.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing.

"I – you have to get inside!" his look-alike was frantic.

"What? Why? Who are you?"

"Death-Eater attack … get inside!"

"How do I know you're not one yourself?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"If I was I'd have cursed you by now, get inside!"

"Wait – you wouldn't happen to be a future me, would you? Using a time-turner?" Harry's eyes lit up. "To warn me about –"

"Yes, yes, yes, think whatever you like, just get inside before they get here! Now!" He pushed Harry in the direction of the house. "Go!"

Was this really his future self? The theory had just popped into Harry's head, as theories (no matter how far-fetched) often do, and he'd voiced it out. Before Harry had time to think out his theory however he heard a series of 'pop's and six Death-Eaters materialised out of thin air.

"Run!" his look-alike yelled, brandishing a wand that looked nothing like Harry's.

Who is this? Harry wondered. A second later he was forced down and a curse shot past his head.

"Thanks," Harry gasped to his look-alike. Whoever it was, he seemed to be there to help.

With incredible rapidity his look-alike fired off spells at the Death-Eaters. Then he flung the car door open and pushed Harry inside before going in after him. The car rocked as (Harry supposed) the Death-Eaters' spells hit it. Irrelevantly he thought of the look Uncle Vernon would have on his face when he would see the damage that was inflicted on the car and smiled.

"What are you grinning at?" his look-alike said irritably, pointing his wand at each of the windows to make them stronger. "We're being attacked, if you didn't notice. Dammit, we're cornered."

Harry pulled out the Gameboy Dudley had left in the car – he'd been sitting on it – and said, "What do we do now?"

"Give me that," his look-alike said suddenly. Taking it, he pointed his wand at the Gameboy and muttered, "Portus."

He thrust it at Harry. "Come one, we're getting out of here."

As Harry's fingers closed around the Gameboy-turned-Portkey he felt a familiar tug on his navel. Colours swirled around him and he landed with a thud on the floor a few moments later.

Harry looked around. He was sitting on a dark wood-panelled floor in a room that looked like it hadn't been used in years. Cobwebs covered the corners of the room and a dusty armchair stood in one corner. The windows were grimy and light barely filtered through.

As Harry wondered if he'd been led into a trap he heard a 'pop!' and next moment he was looking at what appeared to be himself.

"You ok? Good. Get up, come on …" he extended a hand to Harry but the boy did not take it. As Harry reached for his wand (which was located in the back pocket of his jeans) his look-alike said quickly, "I'm from the Order, Harry, this isn't a trap."

"Who are you then?" Harry questioned, getting up, hand on his wand. His look-alike hadn't taken out his own wand, which was a good sign but it was better, Harry thought, to be cautious. His hand tightened on the wand. "Why do you look just like me?"

"Given up on the time-turner theory?" There was an amused look in his eyes. "Have you ever heard of Polyjuice Potion, Harry?"

"Yeah … wait, you're using Polyjuice Potion? But don't you need a bit of me for that to work?" Harry frowned.

"That was easy," his look-alike laughed. "Mrs. Figg's always combing your hair, isn't she?" It was true. Almost every time Harry saw her now she was trying to neaten up his hair. And of course, every time she failed.

He must be from the Order, Harry figured. He knows about Mrs. Figg and I don't think any Death-Eater knows that.

Harry's look-alike must have thought that Harry didn't suspect a threat anymore, because he said very amicably, "You seem very well-versed in the Polyjuice Potion … sure you haven't made it before?" He chuckled but Harry only managed to give a weak smile in return. If he only knew how close to the truth he was …

"So – who are you?" Harry asked, taking the subject off Polyjuice Potions. Harry loosened his grip on his wand.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt," his look-alike said promptly. He smiled at Harry's surprised look. "Weren't expecting that, were you?"

"You're kidding," Harry started to laugh. "Kingsley?"

"Yep. Now let me tell you, the plan was not supposed to go this way. Arthur was supposed to get you, he was supposed to go in your aunt and uncle's house –"

"Mr. Weasley? So I'm going to the Burrow?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Yes," Kingsley affirmed. "He had the Portkey to bring you there. We knew the Death-Eaters were planning an attack so I acted as a decoy. Of course, we didn't expect you to be out of the house yourself – why were you out, Harry? After Arthur told you, why did you do that?"

Harry was saved from answering when several 'pop!'s punctuated the air. Four wizards and two witches appeared. One of them was Mr. Weasley and to Harry's surprise he hugged both him and Kingsley.

"Thank goodness, the Death-Eaters blew up the car, I was afraid –"

"We're fine, Mr. Weasley," Harry assured him.

"I told you I heard someone Disapparate, Arthur," a witch said. She had short brown hair and a brisk voice. "Well, the boy's all right, which is good, but I'd lime to know what he was doing outside. I thought you told him to stay in," she addressed Mr. Weasley.

"He did," Harry said quickly. "It's just – I – I hated being inside all the time, and when Uncle Vernon mentioned the car wanted washing –" he faltered a bit at all the Aurors looking at him. It occurred to him how irresponsible he must look. Nevertheless he carried on, "I didn't know when I was leaving, I wanted to get out –"

"So you couldn't wait, is that it?" the brown-haired Auror said.

"Well –" Harry said uncomfortably.

"Patience," she snapped, "is a virtue." Harry was really starting to dislike her. "You almost got yourself and Kingsley killed."

"Now, it's all right, Harry's safe, it's all that matters, eh? That and no one getting hurt … what happened after we left?"

"Nothing," said an Auror with a ponytail. "The Death-Eaters Disapparated almost immediately after they blew up the car. Must've figured no one could survive."

"And then the Muggles," another Auror chuckled.

"Yes, well, I think I'll get Harry back now," Mr. Weasley said. He whispered to Harry, "We can talk more later."

"Make sure you give him a good talking-to, Arthur, he almost ruined everything for us," the witch with the brown hair said.

Mr. Weasley did not say anything to that, choosing instead to bring out the Portkey. After saying to goodbye he signalled for Harry to take the old magazine and the last thing Harry heard before colours swirled around him again was the brown-haired witch saying, "Well, how are we supposed to save him if he doesn't listen?"

When the world righted itself around him again Harry found himself not at the Burrow but in a room surrounded by portraits of sleeping wizards. Several delicate silver instruments sat on spindle-legged tables and a phoenix stood on a stand next to a desk. He was in Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts.

"Slight change of plan," Mr. Weasley said at Harry's questioning look. "The Burrow might not be safe enough, you see, so we thought of Hogwarts. And Headquarters – well – Molly and I thought it best if you didn't go there for now."

Something seemed to restrict Harry's throat. Headquarters was located at Number 12, Grimmauld Place – Sirius' old home. "Yeah," Harry managed at last. "Hogwarts is fine."

"Good," Mr. Weasley smiled. "It's three weeks until the start of school proper, but some of the teachers are here, so you won't be lonely. I'm sure Ron and Hermione would love to join you as well … and we'll help you get all your things, Harry, don't worry, including your schoolbooks from Diagon Alley."

"Oh – wow, thanks, Mr. Weasley … but all my things at the Dursleys –"

"All taken care of," Mr. Weasley said. "They're on their way to your dormitory now."

"Mr. Weasley," Harry said suddenly. "One of the Aurors said the Death-Eaters blew up Uncle Vernon's car …"

"Oh, yes, that," Mr. Weasley looked rather uncomfortable.

According to Mr. Weasley, Uncle Vernon had gone ballistic. It had taken a long time for him to calm down enough to hear that the Ministry would provide for another car. Of course, Uncle Vernon didn't like that – he didn't want anything to do with wizards. In the end, they'd settled the whole matter though Uncle Vernon was (the last Mr. Weasley had seen of him) furious with Harry.

"Good thing I'm here then," Harry grinned. "Where's Dumbledore?"

"Still at the Ministry, he's been so busy these days … what with everything that's happened," Mr. Weasley sighed. "Fudge wasn't completely useless, and now no one but Dumbledore … but I'm sure things will work out," Mr. Weasley said. "There are people in the Ministry I can think of who could take Fudge's place, so we'll see how it goes. In the meantime … why don't you head off, Harry? I'll see if I can get Ron and Hermione to join you."

Harry turned to go, then stopped as something came into his head. "What was that place Kingsley brought me to? That house?"

"Oh – well, the Aurors always designate a meeting-place to go to, either after finishing a mission or if anything goes wrong. They can decide what to do next or count casualties, or anything else, without interruption or danger," Mr. Weasley explained.

"I'm sorry I went out of the house, Mr. Weasley," Harry said. "It was careless."

"Yes, it was – but I suppose we can't blame you, no one likes staying indoors all the time, especially during summer," Mr. Weasley said, regarding Harry. "Though I thought you'd have stayed in a bit longer than that."

"Sorry," Harry said again.

"Think no more of it," Mr. Weasley said pleasantly. "Everything's all right in the end, no one's hurt."

"Yeah, but that Auror …" Harry trailed off, wondering if he should continue.

"Janid Lucer?"

"The one with brown hair. Bit grumpy."

"Ah, yes, Janid's tough, but she's good at heart."

"Maybe, but she's not very likeable," Harry remarked.

Mr. Weasley laughed. "No, she isn't, is she? She's full of harsh words, that one. Still, she's very firm on rules and doing good, so no harm to her, really."

Harry sad goodbye to Mr. Weasley then and set off for the Gryffindor common room. It felt odd to be walking along the corridors without any students passing him by but rather peaceful nonetheless. It also gave him a lot of time to think and reflect on the day's events.

I probably should have stayed indoors, Harry thought. But I didn't really cause any harm … he smiled wryly then. Trust that Janid Lucer to make me feel guilty!

It was only when Harry reached the portrait of the Fat lady that he realised he had a problem. He didn't know the password! The Fat Lady herself was unlikely to tell him and there were no Prefects or students around to ask. Would Professor McGonagall know? Harry wondered. Was she even here?

"You're early," the Fat Lady commented when she saw Harry (she'd been looking at herself in the mirror, pruning her hair, before she noticed the black-haired boy).

"Yes – erm – you wouldn't mind letting me know the password, would you?" No harm trying, was there?

"Password? Term hasn't started yet, there is no password!" the Fat Lady scoffed.

"Then – I can just go in? Seeing as there's no password …" Harry said, thinking, I didn't know there isn't a password during the holidays! Probably no need, seeing as no one needs to go in …

"No one can go in without knowing the password," the Fat Lady told him severely.

"But there is no password," Harry reminded her.

She sighed. "No, there isn't. Oh, all right. The password … will be …" she seemed to be thinking. "Lightning rod." Then she looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry was confused. Wasn't she going to let him in, then?

"Well?" she asked him.

"Well what?" Harry said.

"Aren't you going to tell me the password so I can let you in?"

"Oh," Harry said. "Er – lightning rod."

The Fat Lady tutted as the portrait swung open to reveal the common room. "You'd think," she said to herself as it swung shut again, "he wanted to be locked out."

A/N: Chapter 3 – Reunion of father and son (i.e. Draco and his father :P)

Hope you all enjoyed that, don't forget to review! Criticism welcome of course.

Thank you so much, all of you who reviewed chapter 1! I honestly was not expecting a response of that magnitude, I mean the most number of reviews I've ever gotten for a first chapter is less than 5! And now I've got 13! Thank you so much, you all rock!

Lillian

Pierre

Fieryred20

SycoCallie: Well, I'm planning for it to be better! But only the readers can be a true judge of that :P

Sever13

Horseluver13: Don't worry, long reviews are what I like best :P yeah, my rewrite is going to be quite different from Facades, I think … no point me rewriting if it's not going to be different :P

Snow-kitten1: Why is it called Fabrications? The Malfoys' world is an entire fabrication of lies, deceit and pretense, a fabrication that goes so deep no one would suspect a thing. So I named my fic Fabrications :P

Miss Court-A-Doo

Jonet: Oh, could you mail me the links? (or the name of the stories, I'd like to check them out)

Liveandletlive

The Imperius: Oh, a rewrite? Tell me when you get it up :P

Lyra Skywalker

The Legend Keeper: You'll find out Draco's role in the next chapter! Wait for it!

I'm doing a sort of mailing-list, I'll e-mail those on my list whenever I update this fic, so if you'd like to be on the list just e-mail me, or if you're reviewing give me your address :P but no attachments on e-mails, please …

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