Disclaimer: I told you all before, I don't own anything related to the Harry Potter franchise nor am I making any money off of this fic.

Chapter 10:

Return to The Most Noble House of Black

Harry wasn't sure what to expect. What would death feel like? Would he see his parents, or Sirius? The last thing he had expected to happen, though it really should have been the first, was nothing. The green energy impacted upon his chest, causing a slight stinging through the numbing charms. And then nothing happened, or more precisely nothing changed. He had survived again.

Harry looked down at the place above his heart where the Killing Curse his him, his robes smoldering a bit. He then moved his gaze to Lestrange. He could not help but let out a low, almost evil chuckle as he saw the surprise and shock plastered on her face. A phrase, almost unbidden, immediately ran through his head: 'One must die at the hand of the other'. With a triumphant laugh he wandlessly summoned his dagger from his boot. He felt strong, powerful, as if the failed curse had given him energy. The sense of power seemed to originate at the impact point of the curse and spread throughout his body. Bellatrix had no time to react as Harry plunged the blade into the woman's chest. She let out a scream as he felt, rather than heard the enchanted blade slice through one of her ribs and come out her back. He twisted the blade before he wrenched it out of her, allowing her body to crumple to the ground. He stood up as he reversed his grip on the knife and prepared for the killing blow.

Before he could, however, he was forced to leap out of the way as another Death Eater tried to hit him with a stunner. Another Death Eater seeing his opening and no doubt interested in gaining the Dark Lord's favor by saving his favorite servant (and having a legitimate excuse to run away), did not waste the distraction and ran to Bellatrix. He grabbed a pendant that was around his neck and shoved it into her hand. The Death Eater murmured something and then both of them were whisked away by the portkey. Angry that his prey had gotten away, Harry flicked his wrist, sending the dagger, guided propelled by his magic, into the throat of the man that had tried to curse him.

Harry held out his hands as his wand and sword flew to him. Harry raised both of his weapons in a dueling stance, prepared to continue the fight with the rest of the Death Eaters. His opponents raised their wands, a sign that they were either really stupid or amazingly brave. Grinning, Harry sent out his magic with a small scrying spell, looking for something in particular. When he found it, he latched onto its primitive mind and called it to him. He turned back to the Death Eaters.

"You really think you can stop me?" Harry said calmly, though there was an undercurrent of arrogance to it as well. "I'm bloody well invincible!" They seemed to waver, but held firm. 'Perhaps old Voldemort has threatened them if they failed,' he thought with amusement. 'Would explain their hesitation to leave.' He then spoke out loud. "Very well, I suppose I will have to take care of you then." He stated in a very bored tone, however, he was starting to feel the rush of energy that had filled him only minutes before start to dissipate. Quite unexpectedly, he lowered his weapons as he sent out the command through his magic. "Well, someone will take care of you. Right now, I'm not the one you should be worried about." The Death Eaters looked around wearily when movement from the direction of #4 caught their eyes. With an ethereal scream, Harry's demon construct leaped out of the darkness, barreling into the circle of Death Eaters. Using the distraction, Harry blended into the shadows.

The Death Eaters, meanwhile, all seemed to come to the same conclusion. Potter had somehow escaped and now this terrible monstrosity was tearing their compatriots apart. This was in addition to the destruction The-Boy-Who-Lived had already let loose upon Voldemort's forces. Tack on the fact that he had survived the killing curse, again, and there was not much fight left in them. They quickly grabbed pendants around their own necks and port-keyed out. As soon as they had left, Harry stepped out of the shadows and limped over to his demon. Without any further commands, the creature had remained absolutely still.

It was the first chance Harry had to see his creature that night and he definitely understood why the Death Eaters had fled. While it looked impressive in his tent, that was nothing compared to how it looked now. It's carapace glistened in the rain, as the dozens of fires reflected off its black eyes and wet body. He ran his hand over the creature's hard shell. 'Most definitely one of my best ideas yet.' He thought fondly. He turned away from his creation.

Holding out his wand, he summoned his dagger, securing it back into his boot. He stumbled suddenly as he felt a wave of fatigue crash over him. Without imminent danger, his adrenaline was no longer flowing and he felt a great desire to lay down and sleep.

The lack of energy also hit his mind, taking down all but the most basic of Occlumency shields, including the ones he had set up to help block out physical pain. The pain he had been blocking throughout the evening finally caught up to him, forcing him to his knees. He leaned back against the hard leg of his creation, and grimacing through the pain that shot up his legs, he began to take in his surroundings. The wind had calmed down a bit, but not by much. The rain continued to fall heavily and smoke hung thickly in the night air as many of the homes on Privet Drive were still engulfed in magical fire that seemed unaffected by the heavy downpour. Even with the poor visibility, Harry could see the streets littered with the bodies of both muggles and Death Eaters. He dared not look directly at #4, for he knew the gruesome scene he would see there. He felt a sharp pain as he tried to stand up. He looked down at himself and for the first time since the battle begun, tried to take full stock of his condition.

To say he was not happy with what he saw would be a gross understatement. His robes were practically shredded and caked in mud and blood, some his own, some from the Death Eaters. His chest hurt when he breathed and he had a long, deep gash running down the length of his forearm. The rest of him was covered in a multitude of cuts and scrapes varying in seriousness. His robes were burnt where the killing curse had hit and he felt a stinging pain where it had impacted with his flesh. He just skipped over his legs, already knowing what horrendous condition they were in. The one bright spot was that his regenerative abilities had pretty much stopped the bleeding.

'At least I won't die of blood loss. Wait, right, can't die.' At the time, this thought brought little comfort since, seeing as how if he were dead, he wouldn't be in so much pain. He had finally managed to bring up some of mental shields, but they were flimsy at best. However, they complemented the numbing charms wonderfully and this brought his mind back to the task at hand.

He was unsure whether Voldemort would send even more people after him. He hoped the answer was no, for he was in no condition to defend himself. Riddle, hopefully, would want to think on his supposed invulnerability to the Killing Curse, not to mention the beating he had given his followers, but Harry didn't want to take that chance. He needed to leave Privet Drive, and soon.

Grabbing his creature for support, he pulled himself to his feet. Weakly lifting his wand, he summoned his trunk to him and shrunk it before placing it in his pocket. As much as he liked his tent, it was hardly necessary right now. He once again tried his portkey and once again was met with failure. 'Damn, whatever anti-portkey wards they made must have been pretty complex to only allow certain keys out' he thought as he flung the now useless portkey to the ground. He did not even dare to try to apparate, as splinching himself would most certainly happen and would not improve his situation. He was in no shape to fly so he couldn't use his broom. The only link he had to the wizarding world on Privet Drive was Ms. Figg, but he could see her home ablaze in the distance, so no floo travel. He knew that in all likelihood the batty old woman was dead, but he was mentally and emotionally too exhausted to feel anything at that moment. He had one other option that he could think of. Using his blade as a sort of walking stick and ignoring the aching in his arm and leg, he held out his wand.

And nothing happened.

"Must be some sort of non-detection warding around here. Well, that would explain why no-one showed up," Harry said thoughtfully to his demon, not that it actually understood anything. The limited cognitive abilities that he had been able to give it only allowed it to follow relatively simple instructions, so for all intensive purposes, he may as well have been talking to one of the burning cars that now littered Privet Drive. "They probably don't even know anything happened yet," he said, thinking about the ministry and the Order.

He took another look at the wasteland that was once Privet Drive. "Well, I suppose it's best that we get out of here." With that, he tried to walk. Pain lanced through his body and his head swam, forcing him to lean back against his creation. Walking was definitely out of the question. He looked around him, trying to see if there was something that could help him. He saw nothing but burnt cars and he was wet, cold, and in pain. Sighing in defeat, he banged his head against the demon. Of course, the most obvious solution was the last one he thought of.

Shaking his head at his own stupidity, he sent a command to his demon construct. Wrapping one its serpentine tentacles around him, which cause Harry to hiss in pain, it lifted Harry onto its back. At Harry's command, the creature began slowly walking away, Harry sitting securely on its back, from what remained of Privet Drive.

R-o-t-G-L-

Severus Snape and the rest of the Death Eater survivors had just apparated back to the Riddle Manor, where the Dark Lord was waiting for them. The Hogwarts Potions Master cringed as the Dark Lord immediately singled him out.

"Severus, so good that you have returned intact." The Dark Lord then gestured to the broken form of Bellatrix that was lying on a conjured stretcher near by. "As you are most likely aware, Bellatrix has been gravely injured, no doubt due to the incompetence of the rest of my servants. I need you to start on some potions right away. I have already compiled a list of what must be done. Do not disappoint me Severus." He practically hissed as he thrust a piece of parchment in Severus' direction, which Severus quickly took with a bow, and was dismissed.

"Yes, my Lord," he replied as he bowed again. As he left the chamber, he let out a quiet sigh of relief that he was the potions master and did not have to suffer the punishments the Dark Lord would no doubt give the others who made it out of Privet Drive. The creature that was the Dark Lord really hated failure and would most likely be torturing his followers well into the night. Not that Severus could truly blame him.

They had set out with over thirty Death Eaters to Privet Drive. Only twelve returned while the rest were either killed or incapacitated in some form. Surprisingly, the muggles had managed to take a few of their numbers out, but it was Potter who did the most damage.

Snape didn't know what to think about the Potter boy, except now he knew why the Dark Lord spent so much time on him. Severus had been part of the group of Death Eaters who had ambushed Potter after he had left the remains of Privet Drive. He watched as Potter threw a knife into another Death Eater and he watched as that creature, that thing that looked as if it was born out of hell itself, had come barreling down upon them, tearing into their ranks. It was apparent to anyone that Potter was either a friend with the creature or actually controlled it. The idea that the boy could call upon such a creature to defend him was frightening enough. What scared him even more was Potters ruthlessness. Apparently the death of that dog of a godfather Sirius effected him more than the potions master thought possible. He had expected the spoiled little Gryffindor to be wallowing in self-pity, not slaying Death Eaters. Though, he supposed, all the signs pointed to Potter's new aggressiveness.

He, along with the rest of the Order, had heard Potters explosive temperament last summer. The boy harbored a deep-seated anger, and it was only now starting to come through. He also knew, from his service for the Dark Lord, about the boy's semi-successful attempt at a Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix. He had also seen images of the boy's past during his failed attempt to teach the brat occlumency. On hindsight, it obviously was only a matter of time before the boy became violently aggressive.

Sighing at the new complication that was The-Boy-Who-Lived, Snape unrolled the parchment the Dark Lord had given him and began gathering the ingredients to make Bellatrix's potions. No matter what happened, he would need to keep an eye on the boy.

-R-o-t-G-L-

Harry and his demon traveled for almost a half an hour, deliberately going slow so as to make the ride as smooth as possible for Harry. They had traveled until there was no more signs of Death Eater activity, which, Harry assumed, meant they were beyond the wards. By now, it was relatively late, which pretty much guaranteed that the muggles wouldn't see him, especially in this weather. The lateness of the day also meant that it was getting colder, a fact that, for once, Harry was grateful for, as it helped numb his body. He chuckled at the thought of him and his creature coming across a muggle right now. 'I'm sure that would make for a fun day for the Magic Reversal Squad.'

He had his demon stop so that he could look around. Perhaps he could summon the Knight Bus now. He ordered Ted (He had decided to name the thing, not that it had any personality. It was, after all, more of an automaton. But having a name had made it easier to talk to on his trip from Privet Drive) to stop and remove him from its back. He looked at the street signs and memorized the location. He gave his demon instructions to hide out in the area until he called upon it again. He figured he could come back later and de-transfigure it. As it was, if he couldn't summon the Knight Bus, he didn't have the energy to de-transfigure it and then re-create it. Leaning against a light post for support, Harry waited until Ted was gone from sight before he stuck his wand out into the street.

A loud bang broke the soothing patter of rain hitting pavement as a gaudy, purple, triple-decker bus appeared out of nowhere and came to a stop right in front of him. Leaning his weight against his makeshift walking stick/sword, he ambled over to the entrance to the bus, trying his best to ignore the pain that shot up his legs with ever step he took. The door opened and he was greeted with the pimply-faced Stan.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, transportation for the strand...What the hell!" It was only then that Stan had at the man who had summoned the bus. Stan took in his shredded robes and damaged body before inevitably reaching his face and his damned scar.

"Mr. Potter sir, um.. eh, where to?"

Harry, not wanting to waste time explaining anything, shoved a few galleons into his hands, muttered Diagon Alley, and pushed past Stan and got on the bus. Still slightly in shock, Stan hurried to the front of the bus and told the driver to get them to Diagon Alley on the double. The other occupants just stared at Harry as he took the first available bed. He closed his eyes as he tried to rebuild build up his magical reserves.

'I am going to feel like shit tomorrow,' he thought as he reached into his pocket and grabbed the last bottle of pepper-up potion. He was becoming acutely aware of why Aurors needed to be proficient potion makers.

The ride passed somewhat peacefully, though as the bus sped recklessly through Britain, he could not help but wish he were back with Ted and traveling a bit slower. In the background, he heard various people muttering. 'That's Harry Potter' or 'Wow, do you think he dueled You-Know-Who?' Harry tried his best to ignore them, eventually deciding to silence them with a glare before going back to rebuilding his reserves. After two stops, he felt the bus lurch to a halt as Stan called out Diagon Alley.

"Mr. Potter, do you need any help?" It was Stan who had come up to him. He gave the conductor a weak grin before replying.

"No thank you, Stan. I can manage."

With that said, he limped off of the bus and into the Leaky Cauldron, a few others following slowly behind him. All noise seemed to stop when he walked through the doors. The bar tavern was relatively busy, especially compared to the last time he had visited. He ignored all the stares that followed him as he limped as gracefully as he could to the bar.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?"

Tom had stopped what he was doing and was looking very worriedly at Harry. 'Huh, I must look pretty bad. Of course I look bad, what the hell am I thinking? Perhaps I'm going insane? Stupid Cruciatus probably did it.'

He turned to Tom and spoke very quietly. "Do you have a private floo connection I can use? And something to eat before I go."

"Yes sir, right this way. Oh, and it's on the house," Tom replied.

Harry was very grateful Tom wasn't going to insist on payment, as he had just given Stan the few coins he had in his pocket at the time. Harry followed Tom into a side room and nodded his thanks to the barkeep. He sat down and waited for Tom to bring in food. Harry had no intention of using the floo network, he only hoped that if any of Voldemort's spies were there tonight, he would have mislead them. Once the food arrived, he began to eat very gingerly. Everything hurt. It hurt to chew, it hurt to swallow, it even hurt to move his arm and fingers. But he ate on, though he only managed to complete about half of the meal. Concentrating, he forced his body to turn the food he had just eaten into magical energy. He didn't bother letting it digest, as his magic just sapped what it needed straight from the food.

Feeling the slight increase in his energy, Harry tapped the fork with his wand. 'Portus.' Wand still in hand, he stood up, grabbed the fork and counted down from three. He felt a pull behind his navel and found himself on his way to the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. As soon as the spinning stopped, he dug his sword-now-walking stick into the ground, keeping himself upright. Concentrating on the buildings location, #12 popped into existence right in front of him. He limped up the steps and threw open the door. Already greatly fatigued, he entered the house and almost fell over in surprise.

The place had been cleaned since he had last been there. Gone were the troll foot umbrella stand, the threadbare carpeting, and the portrait of Sirius's mother. Instead, the walls were now clean and free of cobwebs, along with the chandeliers. The serpent door handles were still there, but they had been polished up. The old gas lamps remained as well, casting shadows and generally doing a poor job of properly lighting the place. What shocked him most was the floor, which was now covered, in a solid, plush pink carpet. He could only stare while muttered to himself "What the hell happened to this place?"

He glanced at the stairs and down at his legs and let out a small groan. While he wanted nothing more than to just climb into a bed and go to sleep, the thought of climbing the stairs made him cringe. Deciding that he would have to make do with a couch, he hobbled down the hallway that once held Mrs. Black's portrait and into the siting room, unaware of the blood red boot-prints he was leaving on the ridiculous pink carpet. He threw open the door and looked around. Like the entryway, the room had been completely cleaned. The carpet, however, was the still pink and the lighting was much better. His observations were cut short when a figure he had failed to notice earlier sitting on one of the couches jumped up and screamed his name.

"Harry!"

Harry had barely registered that he was not alone in the room when his vision was obscured by something brown and bushy. He cried out in pain as his best friend Hermione Granger squeezed him in a bone-crushing hug, or would have been a bone-crushing hug had his bones had not already been crushed.

R-o-t-G-L-

Remus and Dumbledore had left for a meeting after Hermione had finished telling her family about her time in the wizarding world and the story behind Voldemort. Since then, Hermione had been answering questions about her life when the door to the sitting room had been thrown open, banging loudly against the wall. She twirled around and immediately recognized the form in the doorway as Harry. She had been so excited to see his face and his body still in the shadows of the hallway that she had not mentally registered his broken condition until she had thrown her arms around him and he had cried out in obvious pain.

"Oh my god, Harry! You're hurt! Come on and lay down. Dad, go get the Headmaster! Mom, help me with Harry!" The rest of Hermione's family, not knowing what to do, moved off into a corner to watch and remain out of the way letting John and Anne deal with the situation. John and Anne were, after all, the medical professionals of the family and were more aware about the magical world then the rest of them.

Again, Harry's lack of perception (not that he felt it was really his fault at the moment) slapped him in the face as he had failed to realize the others in the room. He felt Hermione and who he assumed was Mrs. Granger help him to one of the couches. Once he was laying down, he felt someone take the sword from his hands as the other pair of hands pulled open his robes. Knowing that he was now safe and now currently resting on cushions, he allowed himself to relax and fell into blissful unconsciousness.

Hermione had taken the bloody sword from her best friend's hands and leaned it against the fireplace while her mother started to remove his robes. When she returned to Harry's side she let out a small gasp. His body was marred with various spell wounds, and there were odd shaped welts all around his torso that reminded Hermione of runes. Her attention, however, was drawn to an oozing, odd shaped wound that seemed to spider-web away from a point of impact right above his heart, as if whatever had hit him had shattered part of his flesh. Her gazed traveled upwards. Around his neck she saw some things that she knew he most definitely should not legally have; a Cloaking amulet (she had read about them and knew what they looked like) and a time turner. Both were covered in blood, but the time turner had broken sometime during the fighting, leaving the glass shattered, devoid of its magical sand and leaving small shards of glass sticking into the flesh of Harry's neck. She heard footsteps coming up the stairs from the kitchen so she quickly removed the items from around Harry's neck and discretely stuffed them into the pockets of her pants. Her mother looked at her questioningly. Hermione just shook her head and her mother understood not to bring it up in front of the others. The door burst open as a group of people led by Albus Dumbledore, including Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Amelia Bones, and Minerva McGonagall came running into the room.

R-o-t-G-L-

The meeting had been going on for a good hour. Remus looked around at the other Order Members who were in attendance. Though the meeting was rather unexpected, most members were there. The only notable exception was the lack of the Weasley clan and Severus Snape. After the almost simultaneous Death Eater raids on the Grangers, the Longbottoms, and the Lovegoods, Dumbledore had called an emergency Order meeting. Tonks was here as well as Kingsley, who had just come back from doing clean up at the locations of the raids. Madame Bones, who had been invited to join the Order soon after the Ministry had publicly announced Voldemort's return, had been able to excuse herself from her duties at the Ministry for the meeting. Voldemort had summoned Severus Snape much earlier in the day so he was not available to shed any light on the Death Eater's activities. Minerva McGonagall was there, along with much of the Advanced Guard that had picked Harry up last year and quite a few of the professors. Remus turned his attention back to what Dumbledore was saying.

"It seems that these were supposed to be diversionary tactics, but to our knowledge, there have not been anymore attacks since these raids. Madame Bones, has your office come up with anything?"

"Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. The Death Eater raids were small, with the teams only consisting of, at most, five people. Once reinforcements showed up, they stayed just long enough to give us trouble, but when it looked like they would be defeated, they apparated out. They have been doing these types of raids all day, though there seems to be no purpose, besides just trying to cause trouble. However, we have increased security at the Ministry and Azkaban in case they are trying to keep us diverted from a larger target." A sudden buzzing filled the room and everyone's head turned to Dumbledore.

"It is just indicating that someone is trying to get into the room. It's nothing to worry about. Alastor?" Moody's eye swung to the door before responding.

"Its John Granger, Albus. He looks a little panicked; perhaps you should let him in." Dumbledore merely nodded his head, and with a wave of his wand the door opened and a frantic looking John Granger came stumbling into the room.

"Mr. Dumbledore sir, we need you immediately. One of Hermione's friends is hurt pretty badly." Everyone in the room stood up and followed Albus as he walked swiftly from the room. The aging headmasters pace sped up as he came across the bloody boot prints on the carpet leading to the sitting room. Albus stopped dead in his tracks at the sight he saw when he entered the drawing room. All the order members seemed to be unsure of what to do as Remus summed up all their thought with one phrase.

"Shit."

This seemed to shake Dumbledore from his shock and he quickly began issuing command to the other Order members.

"Minerva, I need you to go get Madame Pomfrey. I know she won't be happy to have her vacation interrupted, but I am sure that she will understand once she is aware of the situation. Remus, Mr. Granger, I want you to go prepare Sirius' old bedroom for Harry. Amelia, Tonks, Alastor, Kingsley, I want you to go to Privet Drive and figure out what happened. Find Fletcher, he was supposed to be on guard duty tonight. He might have left again for another 'business opportunity'. The rest of you, make sure the house is secure." With commands given, everyone sprang into action. He stood there watching the young woman and her mother clean the boy's, no, he corrected himself, man's wounds. The aged headmaster let his eyes wander the room and his gaze settled onto the blood-encrusted sword leaning against the fireplace. His stare then moved to the filthy, mutilated remains of Harry's dueling robes, and finally back to the robes owner. He moved closer and started to inspect the wounds, doing the minor healing spells he knew when he could, but much of the damage was extensive and needed an expert's touch. It did surprise him that there were very few minor wounds, leaving primarily the major injuries. What concerned him most, however, was the wound just above the young man's heart. It was the oddly shaped wound, and looked as if something had hit him and shattered his skin. The shape of the 'shatter' marks looked eerily familiar, just like the one on his forehead. It certainly didn't take a genius to connect the two and the old man let out a gasp of surprise.

Hermione, who for the past ten minutes had been trying to hold back the tears she felt building up at seeing her dearest friend's mutilated body while she tried to clean his wounds, looked up when she heard the Headmaster.

"H-h-headmaster? What is it?" Her voice came out as barely a whisper, but it was heard clearly in the quiet room.

"Ms. Granger, look at that wound on Harry's chest. What do those wounds remind you of?"

"They are almost like lightning bolts, just like the... oh my" the young woman paled as she realized what the headmaster was getting at. "H-how? How did he survive?"

"I have a theory or two, but that can wait for now." Just then Remus burst into the room.

"The room is ready Albus. How do you plan on getting him up there?" Remus seemed to be in panic mode and his eyes were slightly glossy from unshed tears. Dumbledore conjured a stretcher and proceeded to float Harry in front of him up to Sirius's room, followed by Remus, Hermione, and her mother. As they were moving Harry onto the bed, McGonagall came running into the room followed by Madame Pomfrey.

"Out of the way! Out of the way! Let me get to my patient! Everyone out! That includes you Ms. Granger." She said the last part to Hermione who was sitting on the bed next to Harry holding desperately to his hand with quiet tears running down his face.

Madame Pomfrey addressing John Granger stopped the rest of them as they were leaving. "Mr. Granger, you are a muggle healer, correct?"

"That is correct, ma'm." He decided it was probably best not to quibble over the details of dentistry.

"Good, I want you to stay. I may need your help. Some dark spell wounds can't be healed by magic." He just nodded and went to the bathroom to get cleaned up. She then turned to Remus. "Mr. Lupin, I'm going to need you to stay as well. I need an extra wand who knows something about the dark arts." Remus nodded in acceptance. "Now, the rest of you, out!"

Anne Granger lead her daughter out of the room and waited a moment for Dumbledore, who, followed by McGonagall, lead the three women to the kitchen where they had been having a meeting just minutes before. After everyone had been seated, Albus sealed the door and began to speak.

"Right now, I know that you are a bit stressed and perhaps wanting answers," he said, looking at Hermione. "I will tell you what I can, but some of this tale is up to Harry."

Albus looked at Anne Granger. "Mrs. Granger, I would like you to stay, if only for your daughter. Normally I would not allow non-order members to hear this, especially if that person is a muggle. However, at the moment I am of the mind that your daughter will want someone to talk this over with. Should you stay for the duration of this conversation, I will have to ask you to remain here at Headquarters until suitable security precautions are set up so as to guarantee you do not fall into Voldemorts hands." Anne seemed a bit scared at the notion of her and her family being put into even more danger, but her daughter needed her right now, so she merely nodded her head in understanding.

"Well, I suppose I should start at the beginning. As you are aware Ms. Granger, there was a prophecy made concerning Harry and Voldemort." Hermione just nodded slightly while she leaned against her mother for support.

"As you are also undoubtedly aware, the recording of this prophecy was destroyed in August. However, sixteen years ago, a spy of Voldemorts heard the beginning of the prophecy as it was told to someone. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your perspective, he did not hear the entire contents, which is why he orchestrated the plan to retrieve it. The part he does know, however, had led him to believe that Harry was a threat to his power and that is why he tried to kill him those fifteen years ago. You know the story from there. Where I need to catch you up too is right after I sent Harry to my office after the conflict at the Department of Mysteries. Minerva," he moved his head and looked at the concerned Transfiguration Professor, "would you be so kind as to retrieve my Pensieve for me?"

She merely nodded before disappearing into the fireplace in a flash of green flame.

Turning back to the two Granger women, he continued his story.

"To say Harry was distraught and angry before he arrived at Hogwarts would be an understatement. I believe he actually tried to use an unforgivable against Bellatrix Lestrange, though I have yet to speak to Harry on this matter. I thought it best to let Harry sort through his emotions on this incident" Hermione gasped at this "He also did a most excellent job wrecking my office. However," he said as he waved away whatever comment Hermione was about to make, "that is not important, what is important is what I told him. I informed him the entire contents of the prophecy."

"He knows what it says? You know what it says? How? I mean, I had my suspicions, but I couldn't prove it." Hermione said it all in one breath. As Hermione paused to take a breath, Albus grabbed his opportunity

"Simple, really. I was the one who heard it." The fireplace burst into green flames as McGonagall came out carrying the round stone basin that is Dumbledore's Pensieve.

After the Transfiguration Professor set the stone basin on the table on front of him, Albus put his want to his temple and seemed to extract a string of silver from it and he dumped it into the pensieve.

"Now Ms. Granger, Mrs. Granger, Minerva, what I am about to show you is what you might call 'Top Secret.' Normally I would ask for Harry's permission to tell you, as it really is his secret to share, but I feel with the current situation you need to understand how and why the events of the past fifteen years, and tonight, came about. I will show you only the most relevant part for tonight, that which confirms Harry as the recipient of the prophecy and why the prophecy has importance. I know he was most hesitant to share this information with anyone, even the people he trusts the most." He shot a look at Hermione. "Now, you do understand that you can not, under any circumstance, tell anyone what I am about to show you?" The other four heads nodded in understanding.

"Very well then, I am going to hold you to your word." With that, he tapped the pensieve with his wand and the image of Sibyll Trelawny floated out of it just like it had when the prophecy had been told to Harry. The three women and the werewolf sat at rapt attention as one of the light side's greatest secrets was presented to them. After Albus ended the memory, just before it mention the part about how one must die at the hand of the other, there a contemplative silence that filled the space for a few minutes until Hermione spoke up.

"O-okay," she said in a slightly shaky voice, "that would explain why Voldemort is after Harry, but how can Harry have survived another killing curse?"

"I have many theories Ms. Granger, though no definite answers. It may have to do with the prophecy, it may have to do with having survived once already."

"I take it then that the rest of the Prophecy has something to do with how Harry is supposed to destroy V-Voldemort?" McGonagall still had trouble saying his name.

"We, that is Harry and I, are not sure. When I spoke to him earlier this summer, we both came up with some ideas on what the last bit implies, but nothing that we were willing to test. It would appear, however, that one of Mr. Potter's theories may have panned out. However, asking him for a repeat performance may be an unwise suggestion." Hermione, after contemplating this new development in her friends life, felt a sort of anger well up in her at the Headmaster.

"Why did you not tell Harry earlier? He could have been using the past few years to prepare for this fight! As it is, he is lying upstairs, beaten and bloody! It's only by some unknown luck that he is not dead!" Hermione snapped at the headmaster.

"Hermione!" her mother interrupted the growing lecture, "Calm down and let the Headmaster speak!" A look of horror crossed the girl's face as she realized she had not just yelled at the most powerful wizard in the world. Looking extremely sheepish, Hermione sat back in her chair and found her shoes terribly interesting.

"A valid question, Ms. Granger," Albus said kindly, trying to show the girl that he did not take offence. "I did not tell Harry the prophecy before his fifth year because it was not necessary. Voldemort was bodiless and not a threat yet. It was my hope that we would be able to continue with delay tactics, such as the business with the Philosopher's Stone, until Mr. Potter was older and more ready to accept the burden. Obviously, that is impossible now. I did not inform Mr. Potter after Voldemorts rebirth because of the failings of age. You see, I have become somewhat fond of Mr. Potter, and I could not bring myself to tell him of the burden he would have to carry. I suppose I should have been more professional, more impersonal so as to properly prepare him for the inevitable fight." Dumbledores shoulder seemed to sag a bit the more he talked and the normal twinkle found in his eyes seemed to dim. There was another silence, but more oppressive this time. After a few moments, he regained his composure and continued. "As for your second question, the fact that Harry made it here to Headquarters at all has very little to do with fate." Whatever else he was going to say was cut off as a light knocking was heard coming from the door.

"Enter."

A soaked, pale looking Tonks hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and looked at the five serious faces that looked at her with an almost expectant look.

"What have you learned of the attack on Privet Drive Ms. Tonks?"

"Attack? It was a slaughter sir. There is not much left of Privet Drive. Most of the homes have been burned down, along with the muggles in them..." Tonks trailed off and shuddered at the memory of it.

The aged headmaster seemed to think for a moment before he asked a question that he really did not want an answer for. "How many dead?"

"Were not sure just yet. Like I states, there are a lot of muggles. The last count I heard before Kingsley sent me here to report in was at least 98 muggles, 12 Death Eaters, and Fletcher"

"I see." Hermione didn't think she had ever seen the Headmaster look so grave. "What were the causes of death? I can pretty much guess about the muggles, though."

"Sir, um, are you sure we should be discussing this in front of students?" seeing the look of defiance on Hermione's face, she quickly added, "and I am not talking about secrecy. Except for the muggles, none of the deaths were very clean."

"Very well. Ms. and Mrs. Granger, I can only assume from Tonk's hesitation that the rest of this briefing is not going to be pretty. You are, of course, free to leave."

Mrs. Granger looked at her daughter who had moved her defiant gaze from Tonks to the Headmaster. "It looks like we will be staying, Mr. Dumbledore."

"Very well then. Ms. Tonks, please continue."

"Well, we had to approach the area on foot. There are some pretty heavy wards set up, which might explain why we didn't have any knowledge of the attack. We first came upon Crabbe Sr. Apparently, from what one of the aurors who is muggle born figured, he was shot in the head with a muggle weapon called shoot-gun or something. We found the muggle wielding the weapon about 10 meters away. Killing curse. Then there was this guy we identified as Murdock Brentwood. He was run down by a car. Apparently that muggle also injured quite a few others but they managed to get away." Tonks looked like she wanted to stop at that point, but Dumbledore would not hear of it.

"Please, Ms. Tonks, continue."

"Well, sir, the rest of the dead Death Eaters died by magical causes, or at least magic was an influence in their deaths. We know from field interrogations of some of the remaining Death Eaters that Fletcher was taken out before he could do anything. The only non-Death Eater wizard present at the time was Harry, so we can assume he is responsible for the rest of the casualties." Albus merely nodded, as this was no surprise to him. "The first body we found was that of Nicholas Carter and a few we haven't been able to identify yet. It looks like an enchanted blade, perhaps a knife of some sorts, impaled itself into Carter's neck. There were three others in the immediate area. They seemed to have been torn apart by something. We aren't sure what though."

"How do you know it was enchanted?" Hermione could not help satisfy her curiosity, even under these dark circumstances.

"The wound was unnaturally clean, and it went through the spine completely, both indicating that the blade had sharpness enchantments and was most likely magically propelled."

"Oh," Hermione said, slightly surprised that they could deduce that sort of thing.

"Please Ms. Tonks, continue." Dumbledore seemed anxious to get the briefing over with.

"Yes sir. In the backyard of the Dursley's, we found two more mutilated corpses. Moody believes it was done by the same thing that killed the other three in the front."

"I see. I have an idea what caused those deaths, but I must consult with Harry before I say anything more. Were there any more casualties of note in the Death Eater's ranks?"

"Well, sir, once we entered #4, that's where we found the real carnage. Mundungus was stuck to the exterior wall above the front door. Sticking charm. It looks like they used him as target practice for cutting hexes. He bled to death." Gasps were heard from the others who were present for the briefing. "On the first floor, we found Macnair. He was beheaded. Apparently Harry has a sword."

"Yes, I saw it in the sitting room." Dumbledore dared not tell them he had encouraged Harry to learn these skills. Fear of the wrath that would be brought down upon him by both Hermione and Minerva made him hold his tongue. Instead, he continued with the phrase that he seemed to be repeating quite often tonight. "Continue, Nymphadora."

"Yes sir. You should know that the house is a mess. It appears there was a large explosion on the inside. We'll need to ask Harry what happened. We came upon the Dursleys, or rather what was left of them. We interrogated one of the Death Eaters who we found unconscious and it seemed that they put Vernon Dursley under the Imperious and had him kill Petunia and his sister Marge. Vernon Dursley, while under the Imperious, used a butcher knife to dismember Petunia Dursley. They made Vernon gut his sister Marge like a fish. They had some fun with Vernon Dursley and eventually killed him. Apparently that just before Harry showed up after dealing with Malfoy".

"What do you mean by 'dealing with Malfoy'?" McGonagall said, a bit perplexed.

"Well, sir, there are no witnesses, but the best we can figure out is that Harry hit him with a strong Reductor curse at point-blank range, at least that is our theory right now. Blew a big whole in his chest." Tonks seemed to hesitate before continuing. "Dumbledore sir, we also found Draco Malfoy."

"What! He is not dead, is he?" While he seemed to accept that Harry had slain Death Eaters, Dumbledore looked like he was almost scared at the thought of Harry killing another student.

"No sir. It seems as if his father brought him along under an invisibility cloak so he could see, and I quote, 'Voldemort's greatest victory.' He headed into #4 after the Death Eaters retreated and found Lucius. We are keeping him at the Ministry for now. He technically has not committed a crime so we are just holding him until Narcissa Malfoy picks him up. To continue on, besides the Dursley's there were a two more dead Death Eaters. We are still trying to identify them, but from what we have learned, it was all Harry."

"Very well. Thank you Nymphadora. Why don't you head back and see if you can help with the cleanup." As Dumbledore was about to turn back to the rest of the people in the room, he seemed to remember something. "Tonks, do you happen to know which wards were set up or how they pierced our wards?"

"Moody did some ward detection spells and it seems like the Death Eaters really had this planned out. There are anti-apparation wards, non-detection wards, and some complex anti-portkey wards set up to cover the whole block. There are also some strong anti-muggle wards as well. Moody wants to wait to remove the wards until a full investigation is complete as well as clean-up. Figures that will make it easier to hide it from the muggles."

"Thank you Nymphadora. You can go now."

"One more thing sir." She waited for him to nod his head before she continued. "We found Dudley Dursley. Apparently he was with some friends at a movie during the attack. What is to be done with him?" The old man sighed. Another orphan.

"I don't know." This seemed to be the greatest shock of the nigh. Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard in the world, was at a loss of what to do. "Perhaps," he paused, "perhaps it would be best to bring him here, where we can keep him safe. Though I suggest keeping him away from Harry until he recovers. I will have to think on other solutions as well." Tonks nodded and left the kitchen, not even registering that Dumbledore had called her Nymphadora more than once in the past few minutes.

"Head-Headmaster?"

"Yes Ms. Granger?"

"If Harry had not made it back here, when would we have known of this attack?"

"Mudungus's shift was not supposed to end until 6 A.M. tomorrow morning." Hermione just nodded in response.

"Sir, what can I do to help him? If I know Harry, he won't be happy with himself when he wakes. You know he will feel quilty about the deaths, not only the muggles but the ones he caused."

"Just make sure that he knows that people still love and care about him and keep him from distancing himself from everyone. I fear it may be difficult on all of us when dealing with Harry, but we must stay strong. However, from the discussions I have had with Harry over the summer, it is my belief that he has matured greatly and may be more understanding and accepting of his actions and the inevitability of death in this conflict. I do believe that, in the end, Harry will be alright."

"Albus," Minerva spoke up again, "how was Mr. Potter able to take out so many Death Eaters, or even remain conscious enough to make it back here? I know he is talented in dueling and Defense Against the Dark Arts, but to get through a battle like that only a month after the incident at the Ministry? He was outnumbered and didn't have any back up." Albus sighed, weighing the options on how he should answer. Seeing as how there were only three of them, he decided that an abridged version of the truth would be best.

"Mr. Potter came to me a few weeks ago asking for my help in training over the summer. He told me that he wanted to be able to defend his friends and was committed to seeing his part of the prophecy through. Alas, I was not able to train him until the school year started, though I gave him some suggestions on reading material he might find useful, I must say, the results of his self-education turned out far better than I had thought possible. Mr. Potter is a very resourceful and devious man when he puts his mind into it."

"So you're the one who gave it to him." It was a statement, not a question. Hermione was looking the headmaster straight in the eyes as she fingered the pendant in her pocket, her face a mixture of sadness and perhaps a little anger, anger at what she perceived as irresponsible behavior on the headmaster's part. Where she to think on it more, she would have concluded that it probably saved Harry's life, but now was not the time for completely rational thought.

"I can assure you Ms. Granger, I gave Harry nothing but advice, and perhaps a little encouragement."

"That's a bit of an academic distinction, considering the type of advice and encouragement you probably gave him. You do realize what kind of trouble he might have gotten into if he was caught!"

"What is she talking about Albus?" McGonagall was now looking at Albus questioningly.

"Well, it is getting late and we need our rest. Ms. Granger, I request that you not visit Mr. Potter until Madame Pomfrey has approved." Hermione just nodded her head dejectedly, her anger gone as quickly as it had come, and Minerva just stared at Albus as he abruptly changed the subject and stood up adjusting his robes. "Excellent. Now, if you will excuse me, I must head off to the ministry to make sure Mr. Potter suffers no legal troubles and try to clean up this mess. Goodnight all, and do try to get some sleep." With that, he moved to the fireplace and flooed to the ministry.

As soon as Albus had left, Minerva McGonagall got up and headed over to the stove.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I doubt I will get any sleep tonight. Would any of you care for tea?" The other three occupants in the room voiced their agreement, and soon they were all sitting around the table, sipping tea and discussing their damaged savior.