A/N: Thanks to Treck and Nedlin for checking these stories for me.

Chapter 4: Aftermath

Albus Dumbledore was seated in the sitting room at Grimmauld Place. The only occupants of the house being himself, Poppy, Alastor, and Molly and Arthur Weasley; not counting their unconscious friends. It was early in the morning, around 3:00 or so and Poppy still wasn't able to determine what had happened last night.

Albus wasn't worried about an external attack per se; he himself had set up the wards guarding Grimmauld Place. Even if someone was able to locate the house they could not have entered without disrupting his wards and the only thing that had happened inside or around Grimmauld Place was a huge magical backlash that started somewhere inside the house itself.

Poppy had been working on all three of them for five hours now and none of them had shown any change. They appeared to be healthy, with the exception of magical exhaustion, but that did little to explain the events of the evening. Even Mad Eye had not been able to determine the cause of the backlash as he sometimes can with his magical eye.

As it was now entering the early hours of the morning, he decided to send everyone home with the promise that what they had seen did not leave the house. He didn't want to alarm anyone to the, as of yet, unknown situation. They would act as if nothing out of the norm had occurred until there was a reason to do so.

All the while he kept his own opinions on the matter close at hand. He searched the area and found six magical signatures linked to the backlash. The first few were unsurprising, but the last three made him slightly nervous and at the same time slightly curious. The first three magical signatures belonged to: Mr. Potter, Miss Tonks, and Ms. Delacour. The last three were: Albus Dumbledore, Lily Potter, and Tom Riddle.

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Poppy Pomfrey had seen many things in her days as a healer. She had been a healer at one of the strongholds of the light, since the end of the war with Grindelwald and had been well into her career when Voldemort rose the first time. However, even with her fifty plus years of experience she was baffled by what had happened to two of her most frequent patients as well as her apprentice.

She suspected that Dumbledore knew more than he let on. The old man always knew more than he was willing to share. She only hoped that they would all be ok, but she trusted the headmaster enough to know that if there was something life threatening going on then he would have at least informed them of that.

Flipping close another useless tome she decided to give the headmaster a few days before demanding an explanation.

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Fleur groaned, feeling the beginnings of a major headache. She hadn't felt this bad since she found out she got her internship and got drunk on firewhiskey with some friends. She couldn't remember drinking anything, but the way she was feeling was eerily similar to a hangover. She shielded her eyes from the waning sunlight that was just filtering into the room through the dirt covered window.

The first thing she noticed, when her eyes adjusted to the light, was that she wasn't in her own room. She didn't even recognize the room she was in. It almost looked like a make-shift infirmary.

The next thing she noticed was her best friend and her up-and-coming friend on two beds similar to hers that were crammed into the small room. They both looked to be sleeping soundly, so she decided against bothering them.

She approached the door that had no handle before realizing that she didn't have her wand with her to try and open the door. She searched through both Harry and Tonks' things and found that both of their wands were missing as well. What the hell was going on? Were they captured and being held prisoner?

Sighing she sat down at the end of her bed and tried to think about the situation logically. They most likely weren't prisoners. Prisoners were locked in cells or dungeons, not surgically clean rooms. She pondered the situation for almost an hour before she got frustrated and started to pound on the door to the room.

Her pounding was interrupted by a groan from behind her. Startled that, after over an hour of silence in the small room, her friend was stirring, she walked over to Tonks' bedside just as she lifted her hand to block out the miniscule amount of light that still filtered into the room. After a minute or so, Tonks looked up at her friend questioningly and what she saw didn't reassure her.

Neither one of them could remember anything that happened leading up to their incarceration in the small room. The last thing that either of the really remembered was Harry's birthday party. Sighing together, and causing a small giggle at their similar thinking, they sat down and chatted much like they would any other day. They figured that there was no use in trying to get out of the room without their wands, so they would just have to wait and see what was going to happen. Hopefully someone would be around soon as it was almost dinner time and they were starting to get hungry.

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Albus Dumbledore returned to his office after a long discussion with Minister Fudge. He was on his way out as Minister of Magic. Too many failures to the general populace, most of which were unforgivable, had caused an overwhelming public call for his dismissal.

As soon as he arrived in his office he noticed that one of his silver instruments was whirling around giving off two puffs of smoke every few seconds. He immediately floo'd Poppy and asked her to meet him at Grimmauld Place.

He apparated right outside the secured door on the third floor and waved his wand to unlock it. The many locks clicked as the door swung open to reveal two highly agitated witches.

"What the hell is going on here, Albus?" Tonks shouted at her former headmaster and leader of the Order.

"Calm down Miss Tonks." Dumbledore soothed as he surveyed the room. "How are you two feeling?" He directed the question at both Tonks and Fleur.

"I 'ave a headache from hell, sir," Fleur said, before cursing herself as she realized she needed to reapply the charm to help her accent.

"Ms. Tonks?" Dumbledore turned his gaze back to her.

"Same here. It feels like I drained a keg by myself." At Dumbledore's dumbfounded expression she continued, "Muggle device that holds alcohol."

Dumbledore nodded his head in understanding.

"Now, would you mind telling us what's going on, and why we're being locked in a room with sleeping beauty over there?" Tonks jabbed a finger in Harry's direction.

Dumbledore switched his gaze back and forth between the two witches as if he was trying to read their minds; which in a way he was.

"What can the two of you tell me about young Mr. Potter after everyone left from the party?"

Tonks waited a second before answering. She didn't want Fleur to feel as though she wasn't apart of the conversation, but after a minute of waiting Tonks decided that Fleur was too embarrassed about her accent to continue on with a long conversation.

"Well, the three of us went into the sitting room to talk. Its something that we've been doing most of the summer," she added. "After that, I remember him clutching at his scar and writhing as if he were in pain."

Dumbledore listened to her account of the night and nodded. This was nothing he wasn't able to gleam from her mind as it was. He had less luck with Fleur's mind since magical creatures have an inherent ability to shield their minds, at least to some extent.

"Can either of you remember anything else?" He asked.

"I noticed that his scar started to bleed. Fleur said she had read about a healing charm that was supposed to stop massive blood loss but she said she wasn't powerful enough to cast it alone. So both of us cast the charm at the same time. I don't remember anything else happening after that." Tonks finished.

"Thank you, Ms. Tonks, Ms. Delacour. I must ask the both of you to not leave this room until further notice." He waved his wand and a door appeared in-between Harry and the women's beds. "You may use that restroom for the time being. Now I will leave you to the tender mercies of the healer waiting patiently outside the door." Dumbledore gave a small smile to the women and headed out of the door to allow Madam Pomfrey in to make sure they were healthy.

Madam Pomfrey gave them a few restorative potions and a mild pain reliever for the headache. She told them to take the restorative potions after they had dinner which was to be brought up soon.

"Poppy, why do we need these?" Tonks asked.

"You both have been unconscious for three and a half days now. Your bodies need the nourishment." She said with a curt nod before turning on her heel and walking out of the room, which left the two witches to their own devices for who knows how long.

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Severus Snape knew he was in for an extended bout of the cruciatus this evening. So far it had been four days since the brat's birthday and he hasn't been able to get any information out of the old man about him.

The Dark Lord claims that the connection has been severed, as he can no longer sense Harry's conscience mind. However, this news wasn't enough to make him happy. He wanted irrefutable evidence that the thorn in his side was dead once and for all. It was to be the job of his spy to gleam this information from the old man.

So he knew that his failure to gain the required knowledge would arouse his master's suspicion and cause himself an extreme amount of pain to prove his worth.

"What news do you bring, Severus?" Voldemort hissed. He sat on his makeshift throne in the once ancient and noble manor that Salazar Slytherin himself once owned.

"Forgive me master," Snape started and hurried up as he saw his master raising his wand in preparation for the bad news. "The old man will not divulge ANY information about the boy. I know that he was at the Order's headquarters that night but no one has seen him since then and Dumbledore diverts any conversation that may broach him as a subject of the conversation."

Voldemort was seething with rage. How was he supposed to achieve world domination when his plans were constantly thwarted by a geriatric and a snot nosed teenager. Not to mention the incompetent followers he was forced to use to accomplish the rudimentary tasks.

"Once again you have failed me Severus. I grow tired of showing you any lenience. If you fail me again Severus it will be the last time. Is that understood?"

Trembling slightly despite himself, Snape replied, "Yes, Master."

Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it directly at Snape. "For your failure this time. Crucio."

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Albus Dumbledore sat alone in his office at Hogwarts pondering the bizarre events of the last few days. The magical signatures he detected in Grimmauld Place led him to a theory about what had happened after the celebrations ended. The only possible way that Lily Potter's signature could have been there was through scar on Harry's forehead. He had theorized long ago why the killing curse only marked Harry and did not kill him. He was partially responsible if his theory was true and as such he decided to withhold that information for the time being. No one knew the real reason that he was there for the birth of Harry Potter.

He would have to wait and see if his theories were correct. Harry needed to regain consciousness before they could fully understand what had occurred. He was also certain that the two young women who had been growing steadily closer to Mr. Potter over the last month would start to understand what was going on shortly. It would be better if they could make the conclusions on their own. It usually makes things more 'bearable' to slowly come to major changes in life in your own time; rather than have it thrown at you by somebody that, in Harry's case, you didn't completely trust anymore.

For now he would do as he always has. He would hold his tongue and play his cards close at hand. He would make sure that no word about Harry would be uttered until everything was certain. Even the inner circle of the Order would have to remain oblivious to certain things. He was starting to have a few doubts in some of their loyalties and now was certainly not the time to play into Tom's hand.

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"What do you think is going on? Why won't they let us out of the room?" Tonks asked her only, conscious, companion. It had been a week since the supposed accident and about four days since they had regained consciousness and they were still being held prisoner by their own leader.

"I do not know why ze headmaster is acting this way." Fleur answered.

"Is it just me or does it seem like he knows more than he's saying? Madam Pomfrey's the only other person that comes in the room except for Dumbledore himself and she was acting just as confused as both of us."

"What's he keeping from people now?" A new voice interrupted causing both of the women to jump slightly and in Tonks' case for her to fall out of her chair.

Both women were on Harry in a matter of seconds, trying to make sure that he was ok. He assured them that with the exception of a severe headache and hunger pains that he was quite fine.

"Would you care to answer my question now that I've answered the last twenty of yours?"

Fleur looked confused, "What question?"

Harry sighed trying not to sound annoyed at the two, "When I woke up, you two were saying that it seemed like Dumbledore knew something that he wasn't telling anyone else."

Tonks decided to take up answering the question since it would probably take a bit of explaining and Fleur still couldn't recast the charm on her voice.

"Well, it's been a week since your birthday."

"A week?" Harry shouted.

"Yes, now let me finish so you can get your answers. I don't know how much you remember, so I am going to explain everything that's happened that we can remember." The next hour and half was spent explaining everything that had occurred the night of his party and the resulting scenario. Harry had plenty of questions, just like the two women, and also just like them, he received no answers.

In order to have Madam Pomfrey come in and check on Harry now that he was awake, as well as to get some lunch, they pressed the 'panic' button, as Tonks so eloquently named, to alert the headmaster that they needed help.

Sometime in the next twenty minutes, Madam Pomfrey arrived at their room. She didn't appear the least bit surprised that Harry was awake. In fact, she wasn't surprised at all. When the headmaster had summoned her, it was almost as if he knew that the young man was awake or was going to awaken soon, so she had packed her bags accordingly.

She gave him the same potions as she had given both women, as well as conjuring a fairly large meal for the three of them to share. Just before leaving the room she made one final comment. "The headmaster claims that he will by to speak with you all tonight. I do not know what time he expects to get away from his duties, but he assures me that it will be tonight."

However none of them could know that the events of this night would cause a great many changes in not only the Order but the Wizarding world as a whole, and Dumbledore himself wouldn't make it to Grimmauld Place this night.

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Wormtail, aka Peter Pettigrew, scurried through the dirt filled streets of Hogsmeade trying his hardest to reach the massive castle that loomed in the background. He could make it to the castle much faster if he were to change into his human form, but that simply was not possible since it wouldn't do for a dead man to be seen walking freely through the streets of the small Wizarding community.

He approached the hollowed out house that he and his friends once used to seek refuge after their many pranks around the school. The shrieking shack was much the same as it was the last time he was in the house but now was not the time to reminisce on such things. He had a mission to accomplish.

Scurrying through the magically made tunnel that emptied out onto the grounds of Hogwarts, he hurried as fast as his rat legs would carry him. Once out onto the sacred ground of the magical institution, he transformed into his human self in the hopes of making the trip to his destination all the faster.

Approaching the massive wood doors, he was dismayed to discover them locked and barred and no matter what he tried he could not enter. Cursing his own bad luck even in a situation such as this, Peter transformed once more into his animagus form long enough to squeeze through a small hole in the wall before becoming human again.

The second he transformed, he almost wished he hadn't as he came face to face with a very angry caretaker, deputy headmistress, and charms master. The two non-squibs had their wands directed at Peter and Filch just sneered at him.

"What are you doing here Peter?" Minerva McGonagall asked, face to face with a man she thought to be dead for the first time in almost two decades.

Peter shivered at the coldness in her voice before reaching into his robes to pull something out. Immediately the wands were trained on his head as he slowly pulled out his wand from his robes and, surprisingly, tossed it to their feet. "I've come to turn myself in to Dumbledore."