A/N: Sorry for how long this took. I have about 5 drafts of this chapter, total, and it still didn't turn out quite how I wanted. And it's not even an especially long chapter! But, I figured if I didn't get it after 5 tries, I'd have to settle. So I did.

Chapter 4

It was unleashed, now. Free. And it had work to do. Some would see what it was doing as wrong - that such subtle compulsions, while not nearly as bad as mind control, are still desecrations of that free will people seem to hold in such high regard. It would neither agree nor disagree. Right and wrong were abstract concepts to it, incomprehensible, and therefore, unnecessary. In reality, it didn't even know what it was doing. It was merely doing what it thought would help it's host. And so, it did.

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It was 2:00 in the afternoon and Tonks and Fleur were bored. They had nothing to do until 6:00, so they did what they usually did when they were bored - they talked about Harry.

"What do you think of this new Harry, Fleur?"

"Well, I definitely prefer the way he handled Dumbledore this time. Breaking his things was so childish."

"Yeah. But it was understandable, you have to admit."

"Yes. To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure what to make of this 'new' Harry. I don't care much about whatever happened to his powers - but he changed in another way, too."

"I know what you mean. I'm pretty sure I like it, though. Except for just dismissing us like that - he's going to pay for that one." They lapsed into a thoughtful silence.

Fleur was trying to figure the new Harry out. She felt the same for him, still, except now he was more intimidating and attractive, at the same time. And now, she knew they couldn't just jump him - they'd have to take it slower. Harry wouldn't trust their motives if she and Tonks just started snogging him all of a sudden.

Tonks was thinking the same way. It a way, it saddened her, to have to wait even longer to be with Harry. But she was also happy. She figured the chances of the relationship working were probably better if they didn't just rush into it. But still…

"Hey, Fleur?" Fleur was shaken out of her thoughts by Tonks' voice.

"Yes, Tonks?"

"Do you have any idea how we're going to tell Harry how we feel about him without making him suspicious of us? I prefer it not be awkward, but I'll do pretty much anything, if it'll help."

Fleur frowned prettily, obviously thinking. Tonks waited a few seconds before talking. "Well?"

"We could always tell him the truth, you know." Tonks sighed dramatically.

"If you say so…"

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About the same time, Remus was trying to get some answers for Harry. He hoped the twins had some explanations - he himself was curious. Why had Harry's friends cut him off, all of a sudden? It didn't make sense, from what he knew.

"What did you find?" He was understandably annoyed with the response he got.

"Not much."

"Ron kept insisting Dumbledore told him not to."

"Hermione was a bit more slick. Implied Ron was sending all the letters she was writing to Harry, every couple days."

"Trying to throw us off, we s'pose."

"It was pretty obvious she was lying, though. We have no idea who started it, or if they decided jointly to ignore Harry, though."

"Don't even know why they did this, to be honest." Remus sighed. He didn't know what to do about this. He decided, after a little thinking, to let Harry deal with it - it was a personal problem, after all.

"Oh well. We tried." He paused as Moody and Kingsley walked in the room, carrying a trunk between them.

"Got all he'll need in here." Kingsley's deep voice explained.

"For now, anyways. He's going to need more before this is over, I'd say." Moody amended. Remus nodded.

"Right. Anyways, we have to talk. Harry didn't tell us the whole truth. But what was he hiding? And is he going to let us in on it, or is he hiding it from everyone, not just Dumbledore?"

"I'd say we're getting the partial story, at least." Moody mulled it over for a while. "Yeah, the lad's got something up his sleeve. He's probably going to get us to help him with it. As long as it helps in the fight, I'm willing." The rest nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. What, though, was he going to do? The group pondered it, not knowing exactly what to expect.

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Harry squinted. He was facing a light so bright, telling it's color would be impossible - it didn't have one. It wasn't white, either, though… it was just… all-consuming. Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. After what seemed like an eternity of staring at the light, Harry began to recognize shapes, moving to and fro in it. Then it was gone.

He looked at his surroundings and was immediately filled with shock, loathing, and disgust; he was in his cupboard, and looked how he had when he was four. Something was strange, though. Harry could feel something foreign, but at the same time, all-too-familiar. His eyes widened when he realized that he could feel what the cupboard was feeling. It hated him, almost as much as he hated it, but, from this hatred, they had formed a bond. It was a hatred born of forced coexistence, not one of actual dislike.

He rose, a look of fierce determination etched onto every line of his face. But he had forgotten he was four, and how malnourished he had been at that age. He toppled over, his shaky legs not able to bear his weight so suddenly. The ground rushed up to meet him, and he shut his eyes tightly. When he opened them, he saw under the door, the light once again. This time, one of the shadows was clear, though the rest were still nearly impossible to see. It was his own face, staring intently at him. It stretched out from the light, slowly, drawn to him. They touched, their scars meeting, and neither was sure who had been Harry and who had been the shadow that looked like him. But they both heard a voice echoing in their head, without words, but clearly comforting, trying to hold back the troubles of the outside world. Dimly, Harry could hear Dudley, whining about something, before he was whisked away, back to the light.

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Harry woke with a start, sweat dripping down his face in sheets. He wasn't sure if it was the heat or the dream. Either way, he needed to calm down. Reaching in to his newly found knowledge of spells, he began going over them in his head, cementing their place in his mind. His thoughts, though, drifted to last night, when he was alone, and how he had discovered how to effectively use what he had learned.

Harry was lying in bed, having given up trying to dissemble what Dumbledore had said. It was too complicated for him, at the moment. Reaching for a book, and opening it to a random page, he resolved to read himself to sleep.

The fates were against him, it seemed, as he was extremely interested in the reading - one of the later chapters of Enchanted, I'm Sure. Enchantments were a branch of Charms that weren't covered until 7th year, normally. It differed from normal Charms in several ways. Normal Charms usually only affected an object for the space of a nanosecond, or less - they exerted enough magic to send something flying, or summon something, and then they stopped. There were some borderline Enchantments, like the Cheering Charm, which technically only exerted magic for a short period of time, but had lasting effects, or the Fidelius Charm, which had long lasting effects, but only exerted magic in short spurts, when necessary to keep a place secret, but real Enchantments exerted their magic for a long time, depending on the caster's magical strength.

Wards were the most common form of Enchantments, and were usually used to teach beginners. Another beginners Enchantment was what caused brooms to fly. The chapter Harry was currently on was mostly about how the effects of Rituals and Enchantments differed. Harry was confused, but not about the text - he understood the author perfectly. That confused the hell out of him. A second ago, he hadn't known anything about the subject. Then it clicked - this was how to utilize the knowledge he had magically gained. He had tried to think of some spells earlier, but it had been fuzzy, and recalling them was nearly impossible. With a slow smile, Harry went back to reading avidly.

That same slow smile appeared on his face again. He had spent longer than he intended last night (or this morning, whatever you wanted to call it) reading before he went to sleep. He was annoyed when he couldn't recall perfectly every spell he had "relearned" last night, but for the most part, he was satisfied with what he knew.He glanced at the clock, and saw it was already 5:20.

"Not as much time as I wanted to get ready, but that's what I get for reading too much…" Harry paused when he heard what came out of his own mouth, before laughing. "Okay, that is something I never wanted to hear myself say." He continued chuckling to himself for a while, thinking about how fucked up his life was - disregarding everything except the fact that he was 16, and he had stayed up to late, reading what was essentially school books. He was rudely shaken out of his thoughts by two pops, and tentative knock on his door.

He narrowed his eyes. "I told you, Dumbledore, ten! What part of-" He wrenched the door open and stopped, mid-rant. Tonks and Fleur were standing there, looking down meekly. Now, Harry knew they wanted something. He was working frantically to establish what it was exactly, but he masked his agitation, with some effort. "Oh… Sorry about that. I suppose you want to come in?" They both flashed him bright smiles, and Harry backed away, opening the door fully to let them in. He sat on his bed, and looked at them. They just stood there for a while, before he decided to get them talking.

"Right. Spill. What do you two want?" He reached for his wand, careful not to draw attention to the act.

Fleur looked at Tonks. She could see that the Metamoph was too flustered to answer at the moment, so she took a steadying breath, and started herself. "How much do you know about Veela, Harry?"

"I know you're trying to use your Veela charm on me right now, and I don't appreciate it." He stated wryly, his lips curling into a grin. Fleur smiled at that, too.

"That's one thing - I can't control it. I certainly wouldn't use it so much if I could. But that's not exactly the direction I want to go. Veela are loosely related to Nymphs, where Nymphs desire all men, and have no thought processes beyond carnal desires, Veela desire certain qualities in their men, and are quite normal in most other ways. What allowed us to survive where Nymphs went extinct was how picky we are about males. We don't know the exact qualities Veela desire in men - they're too numerous to define exactly - but one of the most important is power. Others are compassion and protectiveness." Harry quirked an eyebrow. He could tell from how she said it, it was probably taken from a textbook. That's when Tonks began speaking.

Tonks relaxed when Fleur had said her part. All she had to do was mimic it, but for Metamorphs. "Harry… Metamorphmagi are an anomaly. We're more united with our magic than normal witches and wizards, like magical creatures are. I… I can't describe it to you. Magic, my magic anyways, has its own urges, its own desires, but at the same time, they're just an extension of mine. One thing I can explain is how I Morph. I'm a female, as you can tell." She winked, and Harry rolled his eyes, though he felt a smile force its way on to his face, "That means, as a Metamorph, I can tell exactly what men want in a woman, and I instinctively Morph to it. That was the hardest part of training - when every man around you is accidentally sending you signals as to what he wants you to be, and when you automatically try to be it… It was hard." Tonks exchanged a look with Fleur, pleading with her eyes for Fleur to take over once again.

Harry, for his part, was just confused. He didn't even want to try and hazard guesses about what they wanted. He figured they'd get to that at their own speed.

"You're very powerful, Harry." Fleur blurted out. She cringed. 'That was not exactly how I wanted it to be.' She hastened to correct herself. "What I mean is… "

"Just tell me what you want!" Harry snapped, not exactly liking where this was going. He didn't need this right now. Fleur sighed. 'Nothing left to lose.' Tonks eyed her carefully.

"I want you." She said simply. Harry stiffened. He decided to throw out logic, and just go on instinct. He was seething.

"So…" He started slowly, his voice shaking from anger, or sorrow, or some other unnamed emotion, "You decided that the all mighty Boy-Who-Lived, savior of the world was worth a shag, did you?" Fleur felt her own temper rise.

"No! Didn't you listen to what I was saying? I don't know how to word what Veela look for in men - all I know is I found all of them in you."

"Don't emotions play a part in this? Or do I fit all the criteria? You use a check-list, or do you have graphs?" He snapped back bitingly. Fleur let out a string of curses in French, or at least Harry assumed that's what they were.

"Those are my emotions." She said, visibly calming herself down. "I already told you, there isn't a list. I only even mentioned Veela because I knew you wouldn't believe how I felt otherwise. This didn't seem to work, either." She looked dangerously close to tears, of anger or sadness, Harry didn't know. He didn't seem to know much, these days. He did know he was sorry, though.

"Look… I'm sorry. But how am I supposed to react? You… you could have picked a better time to tell me, you know?" He said weakly. Fleur nodded, but didn't try to tell him he was forgiven, or that she was sorry. Harry looked at Tonks, most of his ire gone. "I assume you have something similar to say?"

"Yep!" Tonks chirped way too cheerfully. "You're the only man whose never broadcast any image of me. At all. What me and my magic get from you isn't that defined it's more a feeling I can't describe. But I like it!" Harry tried to glower and failed. He was too drained. He thought about it. 'Two gorgeous women want me. Or they think they do. It seems to me like their magic wants an idealized illusion of me.' He was really confused, now. His whole world was in a state of turmoil that wasn't life-threatening, just taxing, and distracting. He had a few options, that he could think of off the top of his head. He could reject them outright, which would hurt them now, but probably be best in the long run, or he could tell them he was willing to give them a try. When they found out how wrong they were, and how they didn't really like him, they would leave, and no one would be hurt. Or they could all live happily ever after. Or they could be abducted by aliens. 'What was that thing about Occam's Razor?' Harry rubbed his forehead, thinking furiously. He almost cried with happiness when he heard pops, and a surprised sound.

"Tonks, Fleur, you're already here!" Remus exclaimed, internally wondering why they were. But he pushed it aside, for now. Harry seemed to be fine, if a little worried. Remus was concerned, but they both had other things to worry about. So he pushed his concern aside. "We're all here, Harry."

Harry looked. Behind Remus was the Weasley twins, Kingsley, and Moody. Harry didn't know if he should have expected more or not. "This all?"

"Well, you didn't really give me a whole lot of time to find people I was sure would be loyal. This is all you get for now." Remus stated, somewhat dryly. Harry laughed.

"Good point, Moony. Anyways, I guess you guys know I didn't tell Dumbledore everything?"

"We assumed as much." Remus admitted. Harry smiled slightly.

"Good. The Quixtor Ward being broken did have some side effects." He hurried to explain when their faces took on concerned looks. "Nothing bad, I don't think. Just… odd."

"Odd how?" Either Fred or George - Harry couldn't tell - asked.

"Well, I can remembered things. A lot of things." The other twin snorted.

"Real strange, mate."

"Quiet you. I mean, I can remember magic I know for a fact I never learned. Really advanced."

"How advanced?" Kingsley this time. Harry sighed.

"That's the thing; I'm not completely sure. All the memories are hazy and jumbled, until I relearn them. I can remember what I know in general terms - like, I know I can't Channel - but specifics are harder. When I relearn something, though, I remember it, mostly."

"Good." Moody opened the Trunk he and Kingsley had been carrying, and dug in it for a moment, before tossing Harry a few books. "Those are hard to find. Written by Aurors for Aurors. There's some other stuff in here," he motioned to the trunk, "But those are the really important reads." Remus nodded.

"Anything else you need, Harry? Or was that it?"

"Yeah, actually. I'm not going to stay here all summer. And I'm not going to just sit idle until I'm allowed to cast spells in September. I'm going to need you guys to teach my whatever I don't know. Soon." Remus was silent for a moment, before he bent to look in the trunk they'd brought. He took out a plain wooden box, with the letters SB in bold, black letters. He handed it over to Harry, who took it, before he began talking in a quiet voice.

"That first one is taken care of, I think. Sirius gave you Number 12. You can check - everything he left to you is in there."

"This is it?" Harry exclaimed. He blanched when he realized how that sounded. "I didn't mean-" He was cutoff by a slightly bitter laugh.

"I know, Harry, I know. To be honest, it's more than it looks, but honestly - how much can an escaped convict really give you?" Not knowing how to respond, Harry just opened the box. It was packed with a mass of papers, with a letter addressed to Harry on the top. He reached for it, tentatively.

Harry,

If you're reading this, I'm dead. Which sucks, because as I'm writing this, you aren't quite a 5th year yet, and with the way we seem to attract trouble, I doubt I wouldn't update this regularly, so I died a lot earlier than I intended. Hopefully, I died fighting, though I can think of several other ways to die that wouldn't be completely horrible. Most of them completely inappropriate.

I'm sorry I can't leave you much, but you're pretty loaded as it is, if what Molly told me is true. Some of the stuff here will probably help, though. The most important is, I'm giving you Grimmauld Place. If it's safe enough for the Order, it should be safe enough for you. There's some other documents in this box you should look over, but they're mostly self-explanatory, so I'll leave them to you.

Look. I'm not exactly good with words. I'm sure you can relate. I'm sorry if you were expecting a novel full of personal philosophies and tidbits of wisdom, but I don't have any of either that would apply to you. I'd tell you to lighten up, but you have a damn good reason for being a moody bastard. I'd tell you to do what you want, not what others do, but that's how I landed myself in Azkaban. So I'll just tell you I love you, and I regret not being there (in the past and in the future)

For the last time,

Snuffles

Harry could feel mixed feeling of sorrow and guilt rise up in him, threatening to be released in the form of tears. He quashed them both, ruthlessly, relying on years of training from the Dursleys. The guilt was because Sirius had bought Harry's freedom with his life. The sorrow because Harry felt like he loved the idea of Sirius more than he loved the man. Which isn't to say he didn't love Sirius - he did. It's just, the loss of his last possible chance for a family had hit Harry harder than the loss of his good, and his dad's best, friend.

Remus saw the emotions pass over Harry's face, before he blanked them out, and sighed. He didn't think it was healthy to do that. But then, isn't that what he himself did every waking moment? Keeping himself especially restrained, for fear someone would discover the fury that lurked far beneath the surface. Or not so far, depending on what phase the moon was in. Who was he to judge? Hypocrisy wasn't in him, despite what else was, so he didn't comment.

Harry wanted to move on, so he reached into the box, under the letter and pulled out a few scrapped of old parchment. One was completely mustard yellow, while the other was lighter, but with burn marks along one edge. The first one said something about a place called The Pariah's Paradise, the burned one mentioned a few places, the most prominent being The Opulent Beggar. Both of these names meant absolutely nothing to Harry, so he started reading.

Pariah's Paradise, apparently, was a shop Sirius had funded before he was sent to Azkaban. In exchange, the shop owner had agreed to let Sirius get anything he wanted free. With a rare touch of foresight, Sirius had worded it so the holder of this piece of paper got the discount, as opposed to just him.

The other paper was more vague. Sirius had done something - it didn't say what - for the owner of the Beggar (which turned out to be an inn of sorts). Nothing specific was outlined, but it looked as though the owner had pledged a transferable Oath to Sirius, which Sirius had decided to pass on to Harry. It only required three drops of blood on specified locations of the parchment. Harry decided to do it later. He searched for the deed, or something, to Grimmauld Place, but it wasn't there.

"Hey, Remus?" Remus, who had been off to a side of the room with everyone else there, discussing various training exercises (the twins were currently outlining plans for different training devices, with Moody and Kingsley grunting in approval every once in a while), turned to Harry.

"Hm?"

"I can't find anything that tells me I own Number 12, except… his letter."

"Oh! That's because we're supposed to be co-owners. I have the contract here somewhere…" Remus started digging through the pockets of his tattered robe. After a while, he snapped his fingers and looked in his shoe. Harry looked at him strangely. "My pockets could have a hole in them." He said in way of explanation, stressing the word 'my' slightly. "Anyways, here it is." He placed it on Harry's desk.

"What do we have to do."

"It's simple. See these places?" Remus tapped his wand to each of the three lines for emphasis. "We each place one drop on each, in reverse order. You start with that one, I start with this one?" At Harry's nod, he pulled out a pin, and pricked his finger, and handed another to Harry who imitated the action. When they had done the ritual, the parchment glowed briefly, before disappearing. Harry nodded to himself - just like the Oath Sirius had sworn to him.

"Good. I'm going to have to go to Knockturn Alley tomorrow."

"Any particular reason why?"

"I have business there, according to some of these papers. Want to come? I'm going either way, but it would be easier for everyone if you were with me." He carefully avoided saying 'someone with me' - he had tried to not think about Fleur and Tonks for the moment, but he was cautious enough to make sure he didn't unintentionally invite them along. Not that he exactly minded their company. He cut that line of thought off quickly. All lines of thought involving those two, actually. He knew they probably wanted to talk about it, but he… he didn't know what to do. He really needed to talk to Remus. Tomorrow. He was struck by an errant, random, thought. "What time is it?"

"'Round 9:00. Why?" One of the twins.

"I doubt Dumbledore is going to wait until 10:00 to show up. I'm surprised he didn't show up with you all. I doubt he'd take well to parchments giving me power over 'his' headquarters and books I probably shouldn't have lying around."

"Too right. Just dump all of this," Moody gestured at the trunk he'd brought, "Into that," he gestured to Harry's trunk. Harry nodded. He got rid of all of his old textbooks - his first and second year books did hold a sentimental value, but not enough to supercede books that might save his life. In his place he dumped books on Healing, Enchanting, and the Auror manuals Moody had given him. Harry found himself thinking about his books. Like they were representing a part of him that was now gone forever, being replaced with something else. He had a sudden urge to scream, and he had no idea where it came from. So he ignored it. He decided to put the box in his trunk as well, but he pocketed the contracts he had already gotten out. And none too soon. Just as he was finished, he heard a steady stream of pops. Dumbledore had arrived.

A/N: That's it for now. Hopefully, updates will become more frequent from now on, but I can't promise anything. If the way I handled the relationship this chapter annoyed anyone, don't worry - that was mostly to introduce it to Harry, so we can start to see how he's going to deal with it. There'll be more H-T-F interaction next chapter, probably, and Harry arms himself for battle (which means a Diagon Alley shopping trip, obviously, but one unusually devoid of both the stereotypical magic trunk and an 8-page paper on Harry's new clothes!)