Lost: Young Man, Answers to Harry

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A dark red bolt slammed into the silvery shield, and Nymphadora staggered back, the shield vanishing like a wisp of smoke.

"Get up! Faster!"

Tonks raised her wand but a second bolt was already bursting from her opponent's wand and she flittered sideways, crying, "Expelliarmus!"

Her aim was way off; the spell ricocheted off the stone wall and evaporated. However, Tonks had already cried a second incantation and this one struck home, wrapping her opponent in tendrils of fog that contracted and pinned their arms to their sides. Tonks grinned in triumph, but her grin vanished as her momentum made her take two more steps backwards. She lost her footing and staggered, barely managing to throw out her arms to cushion her fall onto the solid stone.

When she looked up, Kingsley Shacklebolt was standing over her, having freed himself of her smoke-spell, his wand pointed straight at her heart.

"And bang, you're dead," he said. He lowered his wand and held out a hand to help Tonks to her feet.

"Yet again, Miss Tonks," the tall wizard said in his deep, baritone voice, "your centre of gravity betrays you."

"It's not my fault," Tonks grumbled, wincing as she stood up. She had landed rather hard on her hip. Yet another bruise, "I just fell over."

"It is your one failing, Tonks," Kingsley said seriously, "look at you. Top marks in social interaction, potions, ward-work, languages – but you cannot coordinate yourself to save your own life. Tonks, you are going to fail the next examination if you do not get this…clumsiness under your control."

Tonks' shoulders slumped, "I know," she said, unable to meet Kingsley's piercing gaze. She liked Kingsley, though as a full auror he rarely had time to give lessons to the students who were training to be dark wizards hunters like himself.

"Come on, Tonks," Kingsley said, patting her shoulder, "keep that chin up. We've got four weeks until the exam. We'll get there."

They left the stone room and headed through the corridors of the auror headquarters, a great maze of long wooden buildings situated on a highly-enchanted old swamp. Kingsley turned off as they passed his office, "Catch you later, Nymphadora," he said, raising one hand to say goodbye.

Tonks paused, steeling herself, then said, "Kingsley, wait a moment."

The black wizard turned back to her.

"Er… I thought I'd ask you," Tonks twisted her hands, and decided it was best to just spit it out, "I heard that they were sending a taskforce to Romania next month, after my exam, and they're short a few spaces, so they were bringing a couple of students. Is there any chance I could be part of the team? I thought, maybe, well…I'd like some hands-on experience…"

Kingsley's brows furrowed, "this wouldn't have anything to do with Charlie Weasley working in Romania, would it, Tonks?"

Tonks dropped her hands to her sides, not bothering to deny it, "he hardly ever gets to come home, and I want to visit him. I wouldn't interfere with anything. I'd just pop over and say hello, see his dragons, jinx his shampoo again, maybe."

But Kingsley was shaking his head, "I can't promise you anything, Tonks. Emmeline Vance is in charge of assembling the task force, and she'll pick the students she feels are most apt," he took in Tonks' disappointed face, "but if you really want to go," he added, "have a word to her. Now, I've got to get some paperwork typed up, so I'll see you later," he slipped into his office and shut the door.

Tonks sighed and headed onwards. Emmeline Vance was second in command of the aurors under the Minister himself, and she was a cold and forbidding woman. Tonks had only spoken to her once or twice in the past year, and did not fancy trying to convince her of anything, let alone that a pink-haired, clumsy, second-year auror-in-training was fit for a high-security mission to Romania. Besides, Emmeline Vance had been at the Ministry for over a week, and Tonks did not have a clue when she might be coming back to headquarters.

So when, to her surprise, she caught sight of Emmeline striding across the open grounds, her green robes dulled by the fog that hung perpetually over auror headquarters, Tonks did not waste a moment in chasing after her. Emmeline must have just arrived, since her cheeks were pink from the exertion of apparating. She was also walking very quickly, so that Tonks practically had to run just to keep up with her.

She briefly lost sight of Emmeline in the fog, then saw a flash of green around the corner of the long wing where the brooms were kept, and heard Emmeline's voice float across the grounds, "…Minister!…". A moment later came the dull thud of Minister Moody's wooden leg on the packed earth.

Tonks paused, feeling a little frustrated. Emmeline was just around the corner, but she obviously wanted to speak to Minister Moody at once, and it would be unforgivably rude of Tonks to rush up and demand her attention. On the other hand, Tonks couldn't stand here listening in on their conversation, which would certainly be interpreted as eavesdropping. But if she went away, Emmeline might be gone before she came back, and Tonks would not get to ask her about Romania…

As she hovered around the corner, torn by indecision, Tonks caught a few of Emmeline's words, though the woman was speaking to the Minister in a low tone, "…Harry Potter is at Hogwarts…Dumbledore seems to be protecting the boy…"

Tonks froze. Two thoughts flashed through her mind. The first was a memory of Sirius, taking her hand and telling her that neither the Ministry nor Dumbledore must ever know that Harry was alive. The second was the knowledge that the Minister need only glimpse in her direction with his magical eye and he would see her standing there, whether or not there was solid wood walls between them – and Tonks knew Alastor Moody would not believe that she was listening accidentally. She had to act quickly

A moment later, Nymphadora Tonks was gone. Kingsley Shacklebolt was standing where she had been a moment before. Tonks looked down at her brown hands, Kingsley's hands, and saw that she still had the body of a woman, even if her face was Kingsley's. She gritted her teeth and drew her cloak around herself, to cover the curves.

She stepped around the corner and Emmeline fell silent and looked up. Tonks nodded to her, then to the Minister, and felt relief flood through her. Minister Moody was leaning his elbow on his staff, holding a glass of water in his hand, in which he was swirling his magical blue eye. Tonks did not know if a magical eye could see through the disguise of a metamorphmagus, but she did not want to find out the hard way. Moody nodded to her without any apparent suspicion.

"What's this about the Potter boy?" she said gruffly. Her metamorphmagus abilities did could not change her voice, but she had long ago learned to imitate the voices of others. It came in handy when you were trying to give Fred and George Weasley a fright by pretending to be their mother.

Emmeline looked at the Minister for reassurance. Moody growled to Tonks, "he's been found, Shacklebolt. Dumbledore's got the lad."

Tonks nodded, "and what do you propose we do about it?"

"What we've always planned to do," Moody shrugged, and turned to Emmeline, "you head over to Azkaban now, Emmeline, and find a pair of dementors we know are loyal to us."

"Dementors?" Tonks interrupted before she could stop herself.

Moody swung his single eye in her direction, "aye, dementors," he said, "we have to have them perform the kiss on the boy before this news spreads around," Tonks heard in his voice the undeniable note of suspicion: the unspoken words 'but you should already have known that, Shacklebolt…'

"Well, of course," Tonks said hastily, "but surely you'll want to hold him in custody for a few days first?"

Moody turned towards Tonks now, and there was no doubt he had lost his casual edge, "no, there's no need. We already know everything we need to know."

He seemed to be waiting for Kingsley to reply to this, but Tonks did not know what he expected her to say. Panicking, she decided now was the moment to bail, "well, shall I go and find a pair of aurors who can keep their mouths shut? You surely won't be going to Hogwarts yourself, Minister."

"Of course I will," Moody said. He put two fingers into the jar, bobbing his magical eye up and down, "but yes, you do that, Kingsley."

Tonks nodded to him and strode away across the grounds, cursing under her breath, forcing herself not to look back. She could feel Minister Moody's eyes watching her as she headed around the nearest building and vanished into the mist.

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Moody plucked his magical eye out of the glass and pushed it back into the empty socket in his face. He watched Kingsley's retreating back with an expressionless face.

Emmeline was also watching the dark-skinned wizard until he was out of sight, "Was it just me, but was Kingsley acting rather odd?" she said, turning to Moody, "and he seemed to be a lot shorter than usual."

"That wasn't Kingsley," Minister Moody's face remained blank, or as blank as a man's face can be when it is as badly scarred as Alastor Moody's was.

"What?" Emmeline tensed and her hand flew to her robe where she kept her wand.

Moody merely frowned, "it was that student, the metamorphmagus – you know the girl. I think he name is Tonks. But what could possible interest could she have in the Potter lad?"

Emmeline relaxed a little, "oh, Tonks, I think I know her. Kingsley said she's always up to mischief. Well, she's gone too far this time – spying on the Minister for Magic! That's enough to warrant termination of her auror training, if she doesn't own up to it."

Moody continued to stare at the spot where 'Kingsley' had disappeared, "she wasn't just making mischief," he said, but before he could muse any further, a woman appeared out of the mist not far away and called out to them.

"Minister! Minister – ouch! Get off, you blasted thing – Minister, a letter!" It was Hestia Jones, a senior auror. Her black hair was bobbing as she dashed across the packed earth, waving a piece of parchment in her hand. A large black owl was flying after her, trying to snatch the parchment back. It banked sharply when it saw Moody, then flew towards him and began to circle him like a vulture.

"Jones, I'm having a private conversation with Emmeline," Moody growled, "whatever it is, file it and be done with it."

Hestia waved the parchment. She was one of the few senior aurors who bickered with Moody on a regular basis, "that damn owl was pretty desperate to reach you, Minister, I nearly lost three fingers trying to get this letter. It could have been cursed or anything, so don't you tell me piss off, I was doing you a favour."

"Well, it clearly wasn't cursed, so what's the problem?" the Minister grunted.

"Trust me, Minister," said Hestia, thrusting the letter at him, "you'll want to read this."

The seriousness in her voice made Moody hesitate to make another retort. Passing the glass of water to Emmeline, he took the parchment and unfolded it, scanning through it quickly with both eyes. At last, he raised his head, then turned to Emmeline, "muster all the senior aurors not involved in vital work," he said, and there was an icy tone to his voice, "get them geared up and ready to move into battle lines in two hours."

Emmeline shot a look at Hestia, then turned back to the Minister, "what's happened? Where are we going?"

"Hogwarts," said Moody, stuffing the letter into his robes. He began to limp across the grounds, Hestia and Emmeline walking on either side, "that letter was from Lucius Malfoy's son. He claims that Death Eaters are planning to invade the school this very afternoon."

Emmeline gave a derisive snort, "and you believe him?"

"We just arrested his father," Moody replied, "we have irrefutable evidence that Malfoy has been a death eater for over a decade now. I'm willing to bet his son will do anything to keep his father out of prison – including selling us a few Death Eater secrets in the hope of getting his father a pardon. Well, I'm not one to waste a reliable tip-off," he said, turning back to Hestia and Emmeline, "and there can be only one reason they have gone to the castle. They, like us, have just discovered the whereabouts of Harry Potter."

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"I want to stay with you," Harry whispered, clutching Lupin's sleeve. Dumbledore was waiting a few feet away down the corridor, looking at Lupin expectantly.

"I have to go with the headmaster," said Lupin softly, disentangling Harry from his robe, "you should do as Dumbledore says, and go back to Gryffindor Tower."

Harry opened his mouth to protest again, but Lupin put his hand on the young boy's head and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead to silence him. Harry stood and watched Lupin return to Dumbledore's side, and then he spun on his heels and headed away. He felt as if his brain was full of cotton wool, and his legs were moving mechanically. Echoes were ringing in his ears…scar…Voldemort…death… and that strange new word, Horcrux…

He had to die. Dumbledore had said that perhaps there was a way to save him…but the headmaster had not sounded very reassuring when he said it. Harry shook his muggy head, trying to comprehend the idea: he was going to die. He was twelve years old. He had never comprehended death. His parents had died, but that was something that adults did, that wasn't something that concerned Harry. Real children like Harry did not die, that was only something that children in the newspaper did. Death was a word, like scar, and Horcrux.

Harry had never wanted to live more than he did now.

"Harry!" he looked up, and two blurs were running towards him. Harry realised his eyes were out of focus because they were full of tears. He blinked and his sight cleared. Hermione and Ron collided with him in a tumble of hugging, both of them warm, noisy and familiar.

"Oh, you're alright!"

"Professor Lupin, we saw him…"

"…he took off…"

"…had this awful look on his face…"

"…he swore! I wouldn't have thought he knew how! Then he started running…"

"Snape wouldn't let us follow him or we would have come see you…"

"…were so worried…"

"…oh, Harry…"

Both of them were grinning as they stepped back, and Ron said eagerly, "so what happened? You spoke to Dumbledore, didn't you?"

"Yes," said Harry. His voice sounded very fuzzy, like it was coming through a badly-tuned radio.

"And…?" Hermione pressed.

Harry did not reply. Hermione and Ron suddenly seemed to realise that his face was not blank from relief, but from shock.

"He's not letting you stay…?" Hermione croaked, tears suddenly welling up in her eyes, "oh, but he's got to!"

"No, it's not that," Harry said quickly. He had completely forgotten his fears about staying at Hogwarts and about what house he would be in. What trivial fears they had been, "we didn't talk about that," he looked at his feet, then back at his two friends, "I should go to Gryffindor tower. I'll tell you everything there."

Hermione and Ron glanced at each other and then nodded. The three of them headed through the castle. They remained silent, but Hermione and Ron shot fleeting looks of concern in Harry's direction every few moments. Harry kept his eyes ahead, refusing to look either of them in the eye.

"Oh, no," Ron groaned, as they turned a corner and saw a tall, dark-clad figure waiting for them. It was Professor Snape, the Potions Master. He strode towards them and the three children halted. Ron was staring mutinously at Snape, waiting for him to speak.

But Snape had eyes only for Harry. And, indeed, his eyes were wide with disbelief, "you, boy. You're not a student. You shouldn't be here. What's your name?"

Harry looked at Ron. He did not like the icy tone in the Potion Master's voice.

"Answer me, boy!" Snape snarled.

Harry raised his head and looked him square in the face, "I'm Harry Potter," he said, speaking with rather more composure than he felt, "I came to speak to Dumbledore. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go back to Gryffindor Tower."

Harry had expected Snape to glare and then let him pass. After all, Potter was not a name Snape would recognise, was it? But Snape did not move. His mouth fell open a little, and his a look of utmost revulsion flicker over his sallow features. A lock of greasy hair fell over his cheek, but he did not push it away. He simply stared at Harry.

"Well?" said Ron huffily, "you've already given Hermione and me a detention. Can we leave, now?"

"Manners, Weasley," Snape snapped back to normal, and his black eyes swept over Hermione and Ron, "you two may go. I must speak with Mr Potter myself."

Hermione's hand shot out and grabbed a hold of Harry's arm.

"I have instructions from Dumbledore," Harry said firmly, "please don't waylay me."

"You'll do as I say, boy," Snape reached for Harry's arm, but Ron darted out and stood between Harry and the Potions Professor, while Hermione pulled Harry back a little. A grimace plastered itself on Snape's face, "both of you get out of here, before I give you a week's worth of detentions!"

"Take it up with Dumbledore," Harry realised his heart was thumping now. Why was he so afraid of this man? He'd never met him before in his life. But Snape knew who he was. There was no doubt about that, "I have to do as he says."

Snape stepped forward so that Ron's nose was inches away from the high black collar of his robes. It was a credit to Ron's strength of will that his knees did not collapse right there and then.

Hermione was gripping Harry's arm so hard it was starting to cut off the circulation to his fingers. Harry's pried her fingers off and stepped up beside Ron, "alright, Professor," he said, and Ron gave a sharp gasp, "I'll come with you," he looked back at Hermione and Ron, "you two had better go back and tell Dumbledore I'll be a little late to meet him. You know where to find him."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but then she caught Harry's eye and thought better of it. Snape took a moment to reply. When he did, it was in a strained voice, "I will go a speak to the Headmaster at once," he said, his lips barely movement, "now, all three of you, get out of my sight."

They did not need any further urging. The three children were off like a shot and around the corner so fast anyone might have thought they had been hit by banishing charms. They did not stop running until they reached the staircase that lead up to Gryffindor tower.

Panting, Ron leaned on the rail, "phew! What was that about?" he looked at Harry, "I've never seen Snape so angry! He looked like he wanted to hex the lot of us into next week."

"I don't know," Harry shook his head, "I've never met the man before in my life."

"Blimey, he wasn't too eager to let Dumbledore know he was trying to get a hold of you, was he?"

Hermione was gnawing on her lip, "that's really scary, you know. Professor Snape is a teacher at Hogwarts, he shouldn't be trying to act behind Dumbledore's back."

"We can't go up to Gryffindor tower, now," said Harry quietly.

Hermione rounded on him, "why not?"

"Snape knows that's where I was going," Harry said, looking up the marble staircase, "and…well…I don't think I want him to know where I'm going. I think I'm afraid of him."

"Oh, don't be stupid," Hermione said, "Professor Dumbledore said you had to go to Gryffindor tower because it would be safe there. Where else do you plan to go?"

"Lupin's office?" Ron suggested, looking at Harry, "after all, now that he seems to be your friend and all…"

"No," said Harry, "he's probably not there, and it might be locked. But I don't want to go back to the Room of Requirement or I won't know what's happening. We should go somewhere where it's crowded. It will be harder for anyone to find us, then."

"Harry, please, let's just go back to the common room," said Hermione, stepping onto the marble staircase, "I promise you, Snape's always a bit grumpy. It's not as if he's not out to get you or anything."

Ron's put his hand on his stomach, "no, let's go down to the Great Hall. I'm starving. We didn't get any breakfast."

"Yeah," agreed Harry, though he did not feel remotely hungry. But the thought of being blend in among many other students was comforting.

"Ron!" Hermione began furiously.

"Come on, Hermione, it's nearly lunchtime," the red-haired boy headed down the staircase instead of up it, "and a spot of lunch will do us all some good."

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However, neither Ron nor Hermione really wanted to eat once they sat down in the great hall and actually began to notice how very morose Harry was looking. He seemed to be getting paler and greener by the minute, which was exactly the opposite effect meeting Dumbledore was supposed to have achieved.

They were both sitting opposite Harry on one of the long house tables in the Great Hall. The hall was not crowded, since it was just a bit too early for a Sunday lunch but a lot of people had come in for a very late breakfast.

"Please tell us," said Hermione quietly, "what has happened? What did Professor Dumbledore say to you?"

Harry did not want to speak. The numbness that had overcome him when Dumbledore had relayed everything to him was beginning to wear off. The more he thought about what he had learned, the more he felt as if he was going to be sick. His brain kept trying to deny it, but each time it screamed that this was all some big joke, the headmaster's words wriggled a little bit deeper.

Finally he said, "Dumbledore told me the truth."

And then he began to explain to them what exactly he was.

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TBC