A/N:I would like to apologize in advance for the romance part of this story. I'll try my best, but being inept in the social graces myself, and not an experienced writer, it will probably be lacking. I'll try to make up for it, somehow.

As for how often I'll update, I'm going to try for weekly, but it'll probably fluctuate. I'd like to say I won't give up on this story half-way through, and I will try not to, but I'm not a prophet; anything could happen. If I choose not to finish it, I'll definitely hand it to an author who will. Probably won't be a problem, though.

Chapter 2

Harry woke up and found himself, surprisingly, in a ditch. The sky was gray, with threads of black storm clouds running through it. Looking down, he found that his fingers were bloody and raw, and that the ground was clawed and stained a dark red. It seemed he'd made this ditch, by hand.

Suddenly, lightning crashed all around him. It seemed to rip through him, bursting with a malevolent energy. The deep, continuous roll of thunder like mocking laughter. He panicked and rent at the dirt, desperately seeking to shelter himself from this otherworldly storm.

"Pathetic, Potter." Harry froze. His whole body tense, he slowly dragged his gaze up from the ground. It fell upon a sneering face, coated with disgusting greasy hair.

"Digging for worms, Potter? Would have thought you-" But Harry wasn't listening. His attention was focused on dark hateful eyes. The eyes that had peeled his mind, layer by layer, dissecting him. Bearing all he held sacred to a man he hated. Without a thought, he leapt upon Snape, lashing out at him with years of repressed anger. Each angry movement brought him an almost euphoric high. By the time he came down, Snape was gone completely. In his place lay a pair of Quidditch gloves.

Harry put them on, and went back to digging. He wasn't scared now - he just needed to dig. He needed to more desperately than he had ever needed anything before.

"Better, Harry, but still not enough." A voice laced with wisdom and concern, probably feigned Harry now thought, cut through the still present thunder and the scraping sounds of Harry's clawing. Locking eyes with the Headmaster, Harry drew back a hand and punched out… but stopped. An inch from the Headmaster's chest, he opened his fist palm forward.

"No more." Harry stated, and gently shoved. He thought he saw a single tear fall from Dumbledore's eye before he was gone. In his stead lay Gryffindor's sword, glittering brightly in the lightning storm.

Grasping the hilt, Harry worked the tip through the muck, still trying to dig, though not as frantically as before. After a few minutes, another voice, unnaturally high and cold, once again distracted him.

"Not bad, Potter." Harry turned to face Voldemort, sword held in front of him defiantly.

"Tom." The red eyes, already snake-like slits, narrowed further. The Dark Lord took a step forward, raising his wand.

"How… very brave. Your father was brave, Potter." Harry raised the sword, only to find his wand there instead. "Come, boy. Let's finish this like men." They bowed to each other. The curse on Voldemort's lips died as Harry brought up a fist. It smashed into Tom's jaw, sending him flying through the veil that now stood behind him.

"How long has that been there?" Was Harry's lone comment. The fact that he had seen his godfather fall through it not long ago didn't seem to matter at the moment.

A bark-like laugh was emitted from the veil not long after Voldemort fell through.

"Damn, kid. That was good." Sirius' voice echoed. "Remember, Harry, we're proud. We're all so proud." Harry thought he heard his parents' voices, but he couldn't be sure. He was too focused on the veil. He let the lightning get him. He could swear he felt innumerable soft hands touching him before he let himself slip into blissful slumber.

-------

"Harry!" Tonks' scream ripped through the night. Harry's room was filled with bursts of light, and she could hear his ragged scream. Dashing towards the door with Fleur in tow, she blasted it down. She vaguely realized that the Muggles were shocked and extremely scared. They weren't important.

The next door, however, seemed beyond them.

"Alohamora!" Still stuck.

"Alohamora!" This time, two voices. Still stuck.

"Pello!" The door shuddered under the power of the Blasting Curse.

"Both of us, Fleur." Tonks stated simply, pointing her wand. "On three. One," the door rattled, a blast of black light and cold rolling from it. "Two," a loud explosion and bright white light washed through the door. Their grips on their wands tightened in anticipation. "Three!"

Tonks and Fleur both shouted the Blasting Curse at the same time. Twin beams of blue lanced out, striking the door. It shattered, exploding inward with a resounding crack.

And there was Harry, on his bed, completely naked. The lights had stopped, and his head was tilted to the side, a little drool coming out of his mouth. He had a contented look on his face.

"He looks so adorable. But what happened?"

"No idea. He looks okay, though, that's what matters."

"Yes, but still. I don't want to take any chances with Harry. That… thing that happened; it was powerful. I doubt it was trying to keep us out, but it was still strong enough to withstand either of our Blasting Curses alone, and both of our Unlocking Charms together."

Tonks sighed. "I know you're right, but… I feel… something. Like it would be wrong to go running to Dumbledore, ya know?"

Fleur paused, taking that in. "I feel the same way." Tonks looked up hopefully, until Fleur continued, "But that's just more reason to tell him. What if what happened is making us feel that way?"

"How about we check him out, see if he's okay, first. Then we can decide whether to tell anyone about this, kay? Please?" Tonks pleaded, pouting.

"You know how much I hate that face."

"Only 'cause it makes you do stuff."

Fleur stuck her tongue out, admitting defeat, and went over to Harry. She tucked him under his blanket - he was extremely distracting otherwise - and cast what diagnostic spells she knew.

"So, how is he?"

"I've never cared for him before, so I'm not 100 sure, but he seems fine. Except for one thing." Fleur stopped, trying to think of how to phrase it. Tonks, though, was impatient.

"What do you mean? Should I go get Dumbledore? Maybe-" Fleur decided to cut her off before she went off on a tangent.

"No, no. He is okay, just magically exhausted."

"That's it? That's not exactly surprising, hun. He had to have done that… whatever it was… and it seemed like pretty impressive magic."

"That's only a part of it, Nymph. He's showing the signs of magical exhaustion - comatose-like state, strain on his magic - but his actual magic levels are average. A little above, actually."

"Well, that's our Harry. Fighting Dark Lords and casting Patronuses since he was just a little guy." Tonks reached out and ruffled his hair affectionately.

Fleur huffed in exasperation. "It is a good thing you're so pretty. No, don't give me that look, I was just kidding. My point is, that's extremely high. I'm not sure how high, exactly, but higher than I've ever heard of."

"Sooo… that means… Dumbledore is going to find out?"

"And the Ministry, probably. It'd be a good idea to get the Headmaster, now. It's either that or Aurors."

"What's wrong with Aurors?" Tonks said playfully, before moving to get outside the wards, to apparate. She was stopped by the presence of a tall man, wearing purple robes, with a beard reaching down to his belt, in the doorway. He was flanked by at least a dozen members of the Order.

"Professor Dumbledore! We were just about to get you!" Tonks said happily. Internally, she was hoping he hadn't heard much. And kind of wishing he hadn't come. She still didn't' know why. Fleur was having similar thoughts, but she stayed close to Harry. Tonks was a bit nervous; Dumbledore's eyes weren't twinkling, but he also didn't look too upset. If Tonks were to describe it, she'd say he looked a little confused, but that was disconcerting in itself. She'd never seen him anything but completely self-assured before.

-------

Dumbledore, for his part, was very confused. His instruments - recently repaired - had picked up an enormous amount of magical energy being released in the area around Privet Drive. As soon as he had been able to pinpoint the place of release, he had gathered the Order and gone off. It had all come from Harry's room.

At first, he had feared the worst. He wouldn't put it past Voldemort and his Death Eaters to completely annihilate Harry Potter and his home. When he had arrived, though, he had found Nymphadora and Miss Delacour already there, one apparently treating Harry, the other about to leave. Fletcher was supposed to be here, and Nymphadora wasn't. 'Perhaps they decided to switch, without giving me notice? Ah well, that's unimportant, for now.'

"Ah, Nymphadora," He started, taking a step forward. As soon as he did, he felt a small tingle of magic, like a ward being set off. He reacted instinctively, years upon years of training taking over. He flicked his wrist, ready to protect himself - he felt the Order members behind him tense and do the same. No sooner had his wand hit his hand than the boy on the bed, previously sleeping, rolled off it with feline alacrity.

He saw Fleur move back cautiously, in surprise, but she had kept her wand aimed away from Harry. So had Tonks, and, Dumbledore would be able to see if he had eyes on the back of his head, a few Order members.

-------

Harry was jolted to wakefulness by a spark of magic running through him. He rolled hard to the side, hitting the floor on his knees. He reached under the mattress and pulled out his wand and a dagger. One of Dudley's friends from Smeltings had gotten him into sword collecting - temporarily, like almost everything Dudley got interested in - and Dudley had gotten Vernon to buy quite a few before he stopped liking them. Harry had nicked the one that looked least ceremonial.

It was undecorated, a simple foot or so of steel atop a black leather hilt. Nothing like the other gaudy blades covered in glass-jewels, like the rest of Dudley's collection. Harry wasn't sure what kind of knife it was supposed to be, or whether it was built for a "real" battle, but he didn't need to. It was hard and sharp, and Death Eaters didn't wear armor.

He tilted his head slightly so his attention was focused on the closest intruder, but everyone was still in his field of vision. As soon as his eyes grazed across her, he felt the pull of the Veela charm, but only in an offhand way. It had no power over him. On closer inspection, he realized he knew this Veela.

"Fleur." With that and a curt nod, he looked to the next closest person. This one took longer to identify. It wasn't until he saw the heart shaped face that he realized it was Tonks - she had neutral brown colored eyes and hair.

She was greeted the same way as Fleur was - her name and a nod. Had he been paying closer attention after he dismissed them, Harry would have seen the hurt expressions playing across their faces before they were gone once again.

The next person he saw, though, got a wildly different greeting.

"Dumbledore…" The word was hissed, coldly. When the man took yet another step forward, Harry gave him another warning - apparently the obvious loathing in his tone wasn't enough. Flipping the knife up and grasping it by the tip, he ineptly hurled it at the man. It was only partially effective.

Harry had meant to hit the man in his arm. The knife, though, hit him hilt first in the hand. It was hard enough to make him drop his wand, so Harry guessed it was good enough. Straightening, he calmly strode forward, trying to ignoring the gasps of shock from the Order. And trying not to be incredibly embarrassed by his current mode of dress. 'I can't show him what I'm really feeling. I have to keep hi unbalanced.'

"Professor Dumbledore." He said politely once he was within a few feet of the man. "I assume you have a reason for being here?" At the man's bemused nod, he continued, "Perhaps we can discuss it downstairs?" He looked down at himself. "Unless you like what you see?" He almost burst out laughing - he had never seen the Headmaster blush before. He heard amused snorts that told him no one else had, either.

"Of course, Harry. We shall await you in the kitchen." Dumbledore said, recovering quickly. With that, he strode away, most of the Order following suit. Remus, Fred, George, Tonks, and Fleur stayed behind, in the doorway. Everyone was silent. Harry because he was putting on clothes, Remus because he wasn't sure how to phrase his question, and everyone else because they knew Lupin wanted to say something.

Remus fidgeted for a bit longer before he decided to be direct. "How have you been, Harry?"

Harry sighed. He had expected this. "I'm okay, Moony, really." At Lupin's unbelieving gaze, Harry turned to look at him, now in boxers. "Really. You're all I have left, but… that's enough, for me. I'll be okay."

That did it, for Remus. This man in front of him had just admitted the depth of affection he held for him. 'Bugger Dumbledore. Bugger the Order, too. Harry needs me.' Dumbledore had told everyone not to tell Harry too much. Remus decided immediately that he would tell Harry everything, as soon as he could. He was so engrossed in his thoughts, he didn't catch Fred and George's indignant looks.

"Oi!"

"What are we?"

"Neighbors?"

"Maybe you didn't get this"

"Obvious as it was"

"But you have us, Harry. All the Weasleys."

Harry had been getting angrier by the second. Now, he was infuriated. "Yeah? And where the hell has Ron been this summer? The git forget how to write?" He would have continued, but he saw the twins' genuinely confused looks.

"What are you talking about, mate?" they said simultaneously, after sharing a look.

"Ron. Haven't heard from him all summer. Said Dumbledore said he couldn't write, but I know better." Fred and George mulled this over before sharing yet another look.

"Right. Like we said."

"You have us" They emphasized the last part. And with that, they turned and left, thinking furiously. Remus quietly followed, looking irritated and sad.

While Harry went back to dressing, Tonks and Fleur looked to each other for help. Harry hadn't exactly welcomed them warmly, although it was understandable, under the circumstances. By the way Harry had acted towards Dumbledore, it looked like a schism had formed. They knew they were firmly on Harry's side, but they couldn't find a way to tell him.

"I liked the way you handled Dumbledore." Fleur offered.

"I thought it was pretty funny myself. What are you two still doing here, anyways?" Harry questioned while pulling a t-shirt over his head. "Not that I'm complaining," he added hastily, "Just curious."

"Well, we came for the scantily-clad man." Tonks teased, "But we stayed for the lively conversation!"

Harry rolled his eyes, trying once again not to blush. "Really? I was under the impression you were here under Dumbledore's orders."

"We were both here before Dumbledore knew what was going on." Fleur started. Harry could tell she was trying to set them apart from the others.

"What was going on, anyways?" Harry thought it over for a few seconds.

"I'm not completely sure myself. I have some theories, though, and I'm sure Dumbledore knows something about what's going on. I'll tell you with the rest of the Order. I think I can trust you, but I can't take chances. Right now, I only trust Remus, and even that's only tenuously, really." With that, he walked from the room, trying to decipher his own conflicting and disjointed emotions.

Tonks and Fleur both sighed. It wasn't much, really. But it was a start.

-------

Downstairs, it was quiet. The Dursleys had been stunned and set in their respective rooms, after making too much noise, and everyone else was lost in thought.

Dumbledore was thinking of what exactly had happened. He had a few theories, but they all required an expert grasp of Occlumency, which he knew Harry didn't have. Even with it, not all of it was explained. Where, for example, had that ward come from?

Kingsley and Moody were having similar thoughts. They wanted to train the kid, get him ready for his inevitable part in this war. So far, Dumbledore had vetoed the idea. After seeing what they had to work with, they resolved to push the idea even harder.

Remus was thinking about what he had done to help Harry so far. He had come up with absolutely nothing, except helping him learn to cast a Patronus, years ago. He was deeply ashamed of himself. He knew Harry and his relatives hated each other, had heard he'd grown up in a cupboard - and what had he done? Nothing. Enough. It was time to do what he should have done long ago. For Harry, and for the friends Remus would never have back.

Fred and George were thinking of the youngest Weasley boy. After Ginny's first year, Ron's second, the whole Weasley clan had come to an understanding about Harry Potter. He was part of the family, and so far, he had done more than enough to deserve it; he'd broken more school rules than anyone they knew, and he even managed to save some people while doing it. What Ron had done was worse than what Percy did. You didn't just backstab a bloke who fought a Basilisk to save your baby sister, and theyboth had. Percy, at least, had been honest about it.

Hestia Jones, along with most of the other women present in the Order, were thinking in a more… eros… way. Harry Potter, apparently, wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived, anymore. Some of the men's thoughts were similar, although theirs included selling pictures to the Profit and Witch Weekly. All they need was a Pensieve.

They were all shaken out of their thoughts by the appearance of the boy who was the cause of their thoughts. He walked into the kitchen and calmly took a seat across from Dumbledore, followed by Tonks and Fleur.

"So, Professor Dumbledore. What exactly do you know about the effects of the Dark Arts on someone's magical core and the Quixtor Ward?"

A/N:Right! That's it, for Chapter 2. Next time, you'll learn more about the ward Harry had, the causes for it, and its effects. Most (if not all) of your questions on what "It" is and what's happening to Harry will probably be answered. It's going to take a lot longer to release the next chapter, though. These first two have mostly been building up to the story, a prologue of sorts, I guess. The next few will really start to show Harry's independence and his growing powers.

Note on Pairings: I'm not sure if this will be only H/T/F, or with more women. I have ideas for more, but I don't know if I'll put them into action.