Responsibility

Harry wasn't allowed to brood in the bedroom for long before Trowa came after him. His older brother didn't say anything; he merely sat at the edge of the bed in silent support. Harry curled into a ball, pushed his face into a pillow, and tried to pretend he was still alone. He managed for all of two minutes before he found himself rolling over toward his brother's warm side and within arm's reach. Trowa immediately placed a gentle hand on his head.

All the others would have wanted answers, an explanation, or details of some sort, but Trowa was the least demanding and more accepting one by far of the group. Even Quatre, the empath, would have been feeling Harry out, trying to help him. Sometimes their need to fix everything was too much. When that happened Harry always ran to Trowa, and his quiet brother was just who he needed right then.

Eyes burning, Harry wrapped his arms around Trowa's middle and pressed his face against his side. Trowa's hand slid down to cup the back of his neck. Harry closed his eyes tight, almost painfully so, and hugged Trowa as hard as he could. The horrific vision, the weight of the prophecy and a war, Neville and his grandmother…

He was so close to giving in to despair and panic, but the long lessons with Dr. Bohren had taught him how to deal with such feelings. This wasn't the first time he'd felt overwhelmed in his life, nor the first time he survived something terrifying. It wasn't even the first time he'd faced impossible expectations. Dr. Bohren had taught him to focus on the tangible as a way of overcoming his fears.

Okay, so little goals, what could he do now that could benefit him or the situation? With his vision strobing red and his arms aching from holding on so tightly, Harry breathed deep, forced his heart to slow. He had no idea what to do! Nothing came to him. Anxiety threatened to crash over him again, but he shook his head hard. In answer, Trowa began to massage the tension from the base of his skull and slowly moved down his neck to his shoulders.

It reminded Harry of something he'd learned from Heero. When Heero had a problem thinking up solutions, he'd do something physical. It never failed to clear the mind. Harry pulled away from his brother and blinked the black spots from his eyes. Quietly, he asked, "Will you play Monkey Tag with me?" It was a game Trowa and he had made up. Duo sometimes played as well, but he wasn't quite as skilled.

Trowa's answer was simple. "One."

Harry's heart instantly beat faster, excitement and anticipation shivering through him. He loved this game, and it was hard not to feel better already.

"Two."

Harry stared up at his brother looking patiently down at him, and he tried to convey all his thanks in a single smile.

Trowa smiled back and brushed his knuckles across Harry's cheek. "Three."

Nearly squirming, Harry fled the bed, then the room. He turned left in the hall and practically flew toward the stairs. Leaping agilely onto the banister, he did a front handspring, landed at the bend in the staircase where it did a sharp turn, and sprang at the wall. He flipped in the air and landed feet first, completely horizontal to the ground. He pushed off the wall and soared over the edge of the banister, twisted, and landed in a crouch in the middle of the foyer on the first floor. Sirius, who had been coming from the kitchen, gasped in shock.

"Harry… What the…?"

He had no time to explain. He could feel his brother coming after him. Harry sprang forward and dove between the wizard's legs, causing the man to yelp. He came up on his feet and ran toward the kitchen. Flipping onto the kitchen table, he then jumped to the counter and lifted himself on top of the head-high cabinets. He snaked his way along the top, covering his nose to prevent the dust from choking him, only to freeze as he heard Trowa enter.

"What's going on?" Sirius was demanding.

Trowa ignored him. "Clever, little one. You are using your size to your advantage." He was turning, scanning the higher shelves, looking for Harry's exact position.

Harry narrowed his eyes on the cupboard across the room. Reaching out with his mind, he let the intangible force within him uncurl. The cupboard door flew open and bowels and cups of all sizes came flying out, peppering Trowa and Sirius both. The wizard cried out in alarm and pain, but Trowa moved forward quickly, tipped the kitchen table, and used it as a shield. Using the precious seconds this afforded him, Harry fell to the floor and sprinted for the doorway. Trowa did a back handspring, his legs reaching for Harry, but Harry slipped right under them in a baseball slide.

"You're crazy! What in the bloody hell is going on?" Sirius screamed, still being bombarded by dishes.

Harry burst into loud laughter and dove into the sitting room. All the problems he faced were long gone from his mind. He was having too much fun to worry about anything except winning the game.

xXxXxXx

Dumbledore,

Considering how much you appreciate letters, having sent several to my thirteen-year-old charge, I thought it would be a good way to communicate. I hope my lack of talent doesn't bother you. The only formal missives I've any experience with are ransom notes, which is pretty ironic considering the situation we find ourselves in. You have to admit that the image of a kidnapper being forced to meet demands instead of making them is a rather good one. I know it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Well, on to business! In honor of our alliance, or whatever the hell we have between us, I'll try to be clear so that there are no further screw-up's on your end. So here it goes!

Please gather any information you have pertaining to Voldemort, aka the Dark Lord, aka He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, aka You-Know-Who. (I can't believe a grown man has been allowed to get away with such silliness. The hyphenated nonsense is bad enough, but my brother has informed me that Voldemort means Flight from Death. Isn't that just a fancy way of saying "coward"? My own professional name is much more tasteful if you ask me, and I'm not even a Dark Lord.)

Once you've gathered all the information you possess, please prepare yourself to give a thorough explanation regarding Smoldyshorts. (Yes, I do actually plan on setting his pants on fire. Preferably with him still in them.) And I do mean everything you have on this cartoon character. Things will not end pleasantly for you if I discover you left something out. I might even turn my pyromania in your direction.

Clear your schedule for tomorrow and be at the restaurant nearest Big Ben at noon. Don't be late, don't stand us up, and come alone. And if we see anyone else magical, our alliance will be broken. I warn you now, Harry's other guardians and I have fought wars against multiple enemies once or twice before and have always come out the victors. We can easily do it again.

Last but not least, wear Muggle attire so as not to draw undue attention to our party. This also means you should avoid any extremely vivid colors. Harry suspects that you are colorblind, so I suggest you have one of your pet teachers look you over before leaving.

That wasn't so bad, was it? I'm hoping these instructions aren't too difficult for you to manage, but if you do happen to fail on any of these points, I will be forced to bring the meeting to you and take what I need. Trust me. You don't want that to happen. You see, although being Harry's guardian will always come first, that doesn't change the fact that his family consists of assassins, genius tacticians, and experienced soldiers. In other words, you would not want to meet any of us in a dark corridor, and from what I've seen, your castle is full of them. My advice: tread carefully. You've already hurt my family. There won't be any third chances.

Signed,

Duo Maxwell

aka Shinigami, God of Death

aka the Maxwell Demon

Albus sighed as he rolled up the missive and made sure he had everything he'd been instructed to bring. His plans hadn't back-fired this badly in a long, long time. He was almost at a loss on how to manage the situation. Things were well and truly out of his control, and it was strangely exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. After all, the future depended on these next few moves.

Grabbing the floo powder, he tossed some in the fireplace and called out the address to the Leaky Cauldron in London. He'd gotten strict instructions from Minerva on how to go about arriving at the rendezvous. It had been decades since he'd been truly familiar with the Muggle world, and a lot had changed since then.

She had emphasized several times that he would be required to pay the driver before exiting instead of offering payment immediately. She had even picked out his clothes, as per instructions. He felt it was a shame to wear only one color when there were so many, but he supposed the earthy brown of his suit wasn't too terrible. It reminded him delightfully of mud.

Albus stepped out of the hearth and into the pub. He'd already Disillusioned himself, so he was practically invisible. No one stopped to stare or tried to speak to him. Sure enough, not long after he stepped outside the Leaky Cauldron, a yellow taxi turned the corner and drove slowly in his direction. Albus waved his arm and the vehicle came to a stop; he'd taken the Notice-Me-Not charm off the second he'd seen the vehicle.

The driver leaned over the passenger seat to speak through the lowered window. "You call for a cab?"

"I did indeed." Albus smiled cheerfully. "Are you going in the direction of the clock tower?"

The man looked at Albus for a long minute. "I'm going in whatever direction you want me to go, old man," he said, not unkindly.

"Then let's be off."

Albus climbed into the back of the machine. Like many Muggle things, it was loud and smelly. It also wasn't particularly clean. Something sticky was coating the seat, which tugged at his clothes. He shifted uncomfortably for a minute before checking to make sure the driver's eyes were on the road while he cast a surreptitious cleaning charm around him.

The distance wasn't very great, but due to traffic it took a good thirty-five minutes. Albus tried to use this time to clear his thoughts and prepare for the meeting, but it was very difficult. The Muggle world had changed significantly. The clothing styles he saw were interesting, but some were outrageous, even to him. A few youngsters were nearly naked! Electricity and gadgets were in use everywhere. He didn't even know the purpose of most of the items people were toying with.

The taxi rolled to a stop and Albus climbed out the back, thankfully remembering to pay. He caught sight of a restaurant outside the Parliament complex near the tube station and strode in that direction. The famous clock tower rose high into the air in the background. The famous street was distressingly crowded, and Albus felt great relief as soon as he stepped into the ordered space of the restaurant. A hostess smiled as he approached and offered to seat him.

"No, no, I'm looking for someone." He caught sight of golden blond hair and recognized Mr. Winner. He gave the woman a sweet smile. "Thank you, my dear, but I see my party."

As he strode toward the table, he observed the young man waiting for him. Winner sat with his chair pushed slightly away from the table so that he could comfortably cross his legs. One hand rested in his lap, while the other arm lay at the edge of the table next to a delicate china cup. He was wearing clothes that wouldn't have looked out of place on a Pureblood and watched Albus approach with a polite smile.

Albus sighed to himself, knowing on an instinctual level that, had Winner been sorted at Hogwarts, he'd have been placed in Slytherin. Looking around carefully, he was surprised when he did not find the young man's bodyguard and husband lurking in the shadows. This instantly set Albus on guard. He was not fool enough to believe this cunning and ruthless man would come alone.

As neutrally as he could, Albus inclined his head in greeting. "Good afternoon, Mr. Winner. I hope I am not tardy."

Winner's plastic smile didn't waver as the blond gestured for Albus to take a seat. "You're right on time."

"How fortunate for me," Albus quipped, sitting. Had he not been scrutinizing the blond so carefully, he would have missed the flash of confusion in the bright blue eyes. It appeared Winner was not aware of the threats penned to him in the letter, and when dealing with Slytherins, it was essential to take full advantage of any ignorance, no matter how small.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," the blond spoke politely.

"It was my pleasure. Would you mind if I cast privacy charms?"

Winner cocked his head curiously. "Do you feel they are necessary?"

"It is standard procedure for magical persons in a Muggle environment. We tend to use magic quite habitually without thinking."

The blond casually brushed hair from his eyes and uncrossed his legs. "If it would make you feel comfortable."

Albus was surprised by the allowance. He was certain there was another person here, but perhaps it was Winner's Squib husband who would be able to see through the Muggle wards. In any case, he gave Winner a smile and waved his wand discretely around the table.

"Did you bring the information requested?" Winner asked pleasantly, lifting a cup to his lips.

"I did. However, it involves a magical device that isn't appropriate to utilize here," Albus answered, taking his seat.

Winner lifted an eyebrow, eyes widening in mock surprise. "An interesting choice when you knew the venue of this meeting."

Albus nodded, conceding the point. "However, it is the best way of sharing my knowledge," he stated simply. "Nothing else would be quite as effective."

Winner sat back. "What does this device do?"

"It allows you to experience my memories. Therefore you can draw your own conclusions and perhaps pick up on nuances that I have missed."

Winner's expression immediately grew cold and forbidding. "Are you suggesting I go inside your mind?"

Albus was honestly shocked by such a suggestion. "Certainly not! The memories have been placed in a specially designed basin. You view them from there." He placed the shrunken stone bowl on the table. It would remain the size of a tea cup until the key phrase was spoken. "It is called a Pensieve. It is a very expensive and delicate instrument, so you can understand why I would prefer to have it returned, along with my memories, when you are finished with it."

Winner relaxed in his seat and took a casual sip of his tea. "That can be arranged. I'm sure that after viewing your memories, we would appreciate the chance to discuss the information within."

Albus graced the man with a smile. Perhaps it wouldn't be impossible to work with them in the future. "I would be glad to. And perhaps it wouldn't be too inconvenient to bring proof of Harry's wellbeing?"

"Such information is not appropriate at this time," Winner refused, and Albus felt his expression darken with temper.

"As much as I want to stop the Darkness threatening our worlds, I will not stand by and allow Harry to be mistreated," he warned, giving the young man with a hard stare over his spectacles. "I'd like to remind you that I am cooperating by choice. I demand some consideration and a cessation to the threats delivered against me."

Winner regarded Albus with a serious expression, his hands folded neatly on the table in front of him. He was the very picture of understanding and patience. "I do not recall threatening you since our peace agreement, Mr. Dumbledore."

With great interest as to how the blond would react, he passed over the letter Duo Maxwell had written him. It was saturated in threats, varying from overt to subtle. "Forgive me, but I have been threatened, and I do not feel it justified in the slightest considering my motives and my promise to abstain from future interference between Harry and his family."

It was impressive how quickly Winner read through the lengthy thing, reminding Albus sharply of Severus. The blond calmly set the letter on the table next to his elbow, and for a long moment, the two regarded each other over the table. Blue eyes met blue. Albus wasn't sure what Winner saw in his gaze, but Albus read clearly the blond's intention to stand united with his chosen family. No outsider would breach that wall.

"These are not unconditional threats," Winner spoke, unconcerned. He propped his elbow onto the table and rested his chin on the back of his fingers. With his other arm resting casually on the armrest and his legs crossed, he exuded confidence. "This letter merely expresses the consequences of further misconduct toward our family. I give you my word that no action will be taken against you should you maintain the boundaries we've agreed on."

Albus took a deep breath. He could feel things slipping out of his control once more. However, he was growing more and more certain of the levers to pull to tame the dangerous man before him. Winner's world clearly revolved around his family. If only Albus had a way to use that to his advantage! "I realize the situation is unpleasant, but I hope you know I am not the enemy and that I inquire about Harry's wellbeing out of a sense of concern and duty to the child."

Winner sat unmoved by his sentiment. He stared unblinking. "I appreciate that. However, Harry would be better served if you were to trust that he is healthy and safe in our custody."

"We possess different perspectives in this situation," Albus voiced quietly, trying one last time to get the blond to see reason.

Winner unfolded his legs and reached forward to tap the shrunken Pensieve with a butter knife. "Explain this device."

Albus smiled and decided it was time to impress upon the blond that he was playing with fire. No matter how clever or determined, these boys were involving themselves in a war where they were at a disadvantage. They needed to keep in mind how vulnerable they were, and how vital it was that Albus remain on their side. They couldn't afford to throw around their weight carelessly.

"I'm afraid our tea has grown cold," he remarked kindly, eyes likely sparkling over his glasses as he gathered his magic in preparation for a little display. "Let me warm them."

x

Duo watched from the shadows. So this was Dumbledore. The old man didn't seem to be much of a threat; Quatre was clearly in control of the situation and didn't seem to be having any difficulties keeping it that way. However, Duo wasn't dumb, and he wouldn't be underestimating Dumbledore, no matter the wizard's appearance.

Suddenly, a charge began to build in the air. Duo froze in place, hands resting on his weapons, eyes fastened predatorily on the wizard. He slunk closer, only to see Dumbledore wave his hand across the table in a broad arch. Duo's body moved instantly. Things slowed to a crawl as adrenaline dumped into his system. Every sense heightened to an almost painful degree. He felt as a wave of almost tangible energy pressed around him, was aware of the conversations around them stalling and falling silent. His whole vision was focused on that pale, wrinkled hand as it swept across the pristine table cloth, just passing Quatre's position.

Then Duo was there. He reached forward and slammed his hand into the back of the wizard's head, applying brutal force. Dumbledore's head snapped forward and down, slamming into the table hard enough to rattle the china. Simultaneously, Duo had a slender gun barrel pressed firmly to the man's temple.

"Don't move a fucking muscle, Dumbledore," he hissed coldly. "Unless you want to donate your brain matter to the chef. I hear it's a delicacy in some parts."

The magic in the air, for that's only what it could be, throbbed hotly against Duo's face and tugged at his bangs and braid. Then it snapped closed around his wrist, yanking his arm forward while simultaneously shoving him hard in the chest. Duo groaned as pain blazed in his shoulder, and he had no choice but to release his gun or have his arm yanked violently out of the socket. The silver pistol went flying as he went tumbling back, away from the table and Quatre.

As soon as he landed, he rolled and came up armed with knives, ready to deal murder this time instead of a warning. Dumbledore was on his feet as well, and his expression blazed fury. Duo snarled, but before he could spring, Quatre's voice cracked over them both.

"Stop."

The simple command was laced with cold authority. It brought Duo up short and made Dumbledore's blazing eyes dim with hesitation.

"Duo."

Warily, Duo looked past the enemy and up at his friend. He frowned at the release gesture the blond flashed him. Very, very reluctantly, he shifted his weight and lowered the knives to a defensive position. Quatre's unblinking stare shifted to Dumbledore, who had turned so that he could see both Duo and Quatre at the same time.

"Please forgive my companion. He interpreted your gesture, paired with the increase of magic in the atmosphere, as a threat to my person," Quatre said with stiff formality.

It was a wonder that Quatre was bothering continuing this farce of a meeting at all. Dumbledore would never be an effective ally, not if they had to constantly watch for a knife in the back from the old man.

Quatre's cool gaze left Dumbledore and locked on Duo once more. "He was merely warming our tea. Why don't you join us? There's no reason why we can't work through our differences."

Duo narrowed his eyes. That was all he needed to do to let Cat know exactly how much he hated that idea.

"Duo. Please."

Nearly growling, Duo stalked tensely around the table to stand at Quatre's back. He faced the ice cold gaze of the ancient wizard and let the remorseless killer within him shine out of his violet eyes. He was Shinigami, the best fucking assassin in the universe. This wizard would be cold meat on the ground just as his letter promised if he did anything stupid, awesome magical powers be damned.

"I apologize for the misunderstanding," Quatre was saying. "However, I'd like to request that you refrain from making any gestures at my person and any excessive displays of magical force without first explaining its purpose."

The old man's pale face seemed chiseled from stone as he stared back at them. "I deeply regret that it had to be this way between us."

Duo narrowed his eyes, disgusted to think the old wizard thought it could be any other way.

"The Pensieve. How do we use it?" Quatre asked. He was just as ready as Duo for this all to be over.

Duo gripped his knives tighter as Dumbledore reached inside his suit jacket. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and laid it on the table next to a stone tea cup. The wizard's voice remained a monotone as he gave them instructions. "Read this phrase aloud and the basin will return to its natural size. Then place your face into the water to view the memories. When the memories finish playing, you will be released. The memories will stay within the water until magically removed, so they can be viewed multiple times. Please don't spill any of it." Dumbledore gave them a flat, hostile stare before standing. "If that is all, gentlemen, I will take my leave."

Quatre lifted a hand in a stay gesture. "Before we separate for today, I have one more thing I'd like to bring to your attention."

"Oh?" The old man didn't retake his seat. "What would that be?"

"The lawsuit," Duo drawled with a vicious grin. He just couldn't help speaking up. This man crawled under his skin like no one else! "You know, the one worth millions."

Quatre made a sharp gesture with his hand, and Duo settled back on his heels, pressing his lips tightly closed. The blond then spoke with a no-nonsense tone, clearly trying to calm the tensions building between them and the wizard. "As I said, Mr. Dumbledore, in return for not pursuing legal justice, my family decided to accept a monetary one. Unless you have changed your mind about that and would rather we presented our case to the Aurors…"

If looks could kill, they'd be dead. "What exactly do you want, Mr. Winner?" Dumbledore demanded.

"I was wondering if you were going to fight the charges." Winner flashed a smile. "I think it would be beneficial to see where an unbiased court would stand regarding this situation. If you were to win your case, I would be willing to let matters lie."

That made the old man pause. His poisonous expression shifted to something more neutral. "I was under the impression that you agreed with me about turning this situation into a public display."

"There are other things to consider," Cat said with a sly smile.

"Go on."

His friend picked up his cup and took a delicate sip of the still steaming tea as Dumbledore finally sat back down. Duo wanted to slap the drink out of his friend's hand, considering Dumbledore's magic had touched it, but he remained in place. He'd crossed Quatre once already, in a game Duo knew they couldn't afford to lose.

"I believe I have devised a way for us to perhaps ingratiate ourselves to the enemy. We will be hiring Lucius Malfoy to represent us."

Dumbledore looked honestly shocked by this statement. "That is a rather risky move."

Cat continued as if the old man hadn't said a word. "In exchange for moving this into a more public arena, I am willing to alter the charges from five counts of assault to three, and we will take away the kidnapping entirely. None of the pertinent details will be changed. I merely wish to erase the presence of Harry and his two primary guardians that night."

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Then why would I have sent my associates to meet you?"

"I do not know your motives, sir. I only know what happened," Cat returned with a smooth shrug. "Perhaps you had mistakenly thought we did have Harry Potter."

Dumbledore said nothing for a long minute. Duo stared back, face a mask, as those calculating eyes examined him. "I see. You do realize that I did not attack you that night, even by your own admittance. I can easily say I had no idea what the others were doing."

"You can say that, yes." Duo knew without looking that Cat's lips had curled into a minute smile.

"And if I win, you will not sue me at a later date for kidnapping?" Dumbledore pressed.

"We will not. I will be satisfied with the ruling of the court in the matter of your guilt."

This was the part of the plan that Duo hated. They were essentially forgiving Dumbledore for kidnapping Harry without retaliating. Of course, from what Duo understood, Dumbledore wasn't going to get off easily if Lucius Malfoy had any say. Pair the aristocratic Death Eater with Quatre, and Duo was absolutely certain the conniving old wizard wouldn't soon forget his attack on Harry.

"Very well. I understand."

Quatre inclined his head. "I will alert you to any new developments."

"I appreciate it," Dumbledore answered, a return of his cold anger tainting his voice. He got to his feet and gave them both a shallow bow. "Good day, gentlemen."

Duo tensed as Dumbledore delicately swished his wand around, but Quatre tapped his fingers on the table warningly, forcing Duo to hold still. When the old man was done, he gave them a final dark look before turning and leaving the restaurant. They remained silent until several minutes passed. Then Duo gave a loud huff and fell gracefully into the seat next to his friend.

"Well, that was exciting," he said sarcastically and poked suspiciously at the stone tea cup.

Quatre shot him a hot glare. "He is our ally, Duo. It's not proper to threaten or attack our ally, especially when we need his cooperation!"

"Says you." Duo got to his feet, holding the Pensieve in his hand carefully. "Let's get out of here."

xXxXxXx

For the second time upon returning to Grimmauld Place, Heero was greeted with the sounds of Harry's breathless laughter and running feet. He flashed Wufei an amused look and saw that the Chinese pilot had been similarly affected. Wufei's shoulders had lost their tension, and his face had relaxed into an honest smile. It was amazing how thumps and muffled shrieks could instantly wash away the stress of the day.

"Heero!" He looked up to see Harry, flushed and sweaty, standing at the top of the stairs. "Wufei!"

Grinning widely, the young teen ran forward. He jumped and straddled the banister. Harry quickly built up speed and flung his leg over so that he was sitting side-saddle, so to speak. Heero moved forward expectantly, muscles tightening in anticipation. Sure enough, a millisecond before Harry hit the bend and went flying into the wall, likely incurring injuries, he jumped down. Heero caught the teen easily, his lips lifting in a reluctant smile.

"Careful," he chided.

Harry brushed his cheek against Heero's affectionately before turning his attention to Wufei. "You're back!"

"I've been gone too long if you've picked up Duo's ridiculous habit of stating the obvious," the Chinese pilot said with a disappointed sniff.

Heero set the boy on his feet so that Harry could retaliate, and the boy instantly flung his arms around Wufei.

"Then maybe you shouldn't go away if you don't like the results."

Wufei's expression softened as he hugged their boy. "Maybe you are right. Already I see a return of your intelligence."

Heero turned his attention to Trowa and Sirius as the two men approached. Trowa was coming down the stairs, while the wizard entered from the kitchen, the smells of dinner wafting out after him. Heero frowned as he took in Trowa's carefully blank expression and Black's nervous countenance. He flashed a look toward Harry, checking for signs of injury. Now that he was looking more carefully, he noticed the bruised hand. From the size of the bruise and the amount of swelling, something large had to have put significant pressure on the whole of Harry's hand. Such would have been painful, and it could have even broken all the delicate bones found in the delicate limb.

Frown turning into a decided scowl, he looked back to Trowa. "Report." Harry and Wufei fell silent at his sharp command. Heero ignored them for the moment, eyes pinned to his brother-pilot.

Trowa continued down the stairs and came to attention, his hands resting at the small of his back, his gaze locked straight-ahead. "Harry was abducted for twenty-seven minutes on the way back from retrieving his wand."

Wufei visibly tensed before he crouched in a smooth movement to begin checking the boy over. Satisfied that Harry was being seen to, Heero stepped closer to his friend, fury burning in his chest. "Explain."

"Harry was recognized on Diagon Alley," Trowa answered, voice low, tone factual. "A mob formed. We retreated through the pub. Harry fell and received the injury on his hand. Duo fired his weapon. While exiting, Harry fell once more. Black, in dog form, bit Harry's leg. They both disappeared. Quatre and I secured the premises and questioned the suspects, but no one knew who had taken Harry. We secured the street outside and guarded the teleportation point Black favored. He returned there twenty-seven minutes and forty-four seconds after they disappeared, reporting that he had returned Harry here to Grimmauld Place. We returned and found Harry in the sitting room. Upon questioning, Harry fled upstairs. Quatre and Duo left for the meeting with Dumbledore. I remained, and we eventually began a game of Monkey Tag."

"I'm okay, Heero," Harry voiced softly.

Heero looked at his boy and saw the worry and stress etched beside bright green eyes that the flushed checks had hidden. He waved his hand in a small, sharp gesture. Wufei instantly stood and towed Harry out of the foyer and toward the kitchen. His voice murmured quietly about needing to watch dinner and for them to let Heero discuss things with the others for a minute. Harry allowed himself to be led but not without looking back worriedly at Heero.

Once the kitchen door shut behind his boy, Heero practically stalked up to the wizard. The beginnings of a dangerous glare darkened his features as he stared up into the wizard's wide blue-grey eyes.

"Look, Yuy, I had no idea that would happen," Black spoke quickly in defense. He literally moved backward away from Heero's angry look. "I mean, I know things are pretty intense with Voldemort's return, and I knew Harry could maybe be recognized by his scar, I just didn't expect that kind of reaction, or that anyone would see Harry's scar considering his thick bangs and glasses. I didn't think he'd get that close to anyone with you guys around!"

"Unacceptable!" He snapped, but the man did have a point. He spun to face Trowa. "Why was he allowed out of reach?"

"Harry received distressing news at the wand shop. He ran from us back to the pub. He was recognized just as Duo caught up with him."

Heero stood perfectly still. He was angry and frustrated as hell, but he prided himself on his perfect control of himself. "Explain," he asked carefully, keeping the anger tightly reeled in.

"The wand he bonded to is the young twin to Voldemort's wand," Trowa answered quickly.

Mind racing, liking none of the possibilities that presented themselves, Heero tried to absorb that information. He could see why it would send Harry into a fit of panic, but it still didn't excuse Harry running away from protection in an unfamiliar and hostile environment. That would have to be addressed. Later.

Growling, Heero turned his attention back to the wizard. "Why was it necessary for you to bite him?"

Black swallowed heavily under his gaze, clearly afraid of his temper. "I saw the portkey." He raised his hands defensively as Heero's glare grew darker. "It was already almost touching Harry! There was no way I could have stopped it."

Heero's hands curled into fists. If Black had time to bite Harry, he certainly had time to do other things, like pull him away or throw his body in front of whatever this portkey was.

Trowa spoke, drawing his attention. "A portkey is any tangible item with a spell cast on it. Its function is to forcibly teleport the target, and anyone touching the target, to a preordained destination."

Another thing they'd need to guard Harry against. Heero filed the information away.

Black spoke quietly. "This time it was a silver coin. I saw it, but it was too late to try and block it. Someone had thrown it hard at Harry after tripping him. I was in my dog form. All I could do was go with him."

Heero studied the wizard's expression, noting no dishonesty. He backed up a step to give Black more room. "Where did it take Harry?"

"The Longbottom estate," Black answered promptly. His hands dropped to his sides and he visibly relaxed. "She knocked me out, and when I came to, I followed Harry's scent to a bedroom. Harry was just exiting. He looked upset, but I didn't smell any blood or injuries. He took my scruff and told me we should go. So I led him outside and Apparated home. Then I went to find Duo and the others."

Heero dismissed the wizard. He was a civilian and had done all he could. He hadn't operated optimally in the situation, but he had managed to stay with Harry and bring him home. He'd failed to prevent the kidnapping and he had let himself be neutralized once they landed in hostile territory, but it wasn't his job to protect Harry. He looked toward Trowa. The brunet clearly already blamed himself and waited for Heero to do the same.

Heero moved over and stood directly in front of his friend, forcing that single green eye to meet his own. "We all failed. I did not stop this, either."

Trowa's brows lowered in disagreement.

Heero glared at him hotly. "I should have been there, and I was not."

Trowa's expression went neutral again, knowing he wouldn't win this battle.

"You will begin training Black," Heero continued. "We need him to perform better. We also need a more thorough understanding of the weapons of this world. We consistently fail because we are not able to predict what form of attack will come at us. This will not happen again."

Trowa nodded his head once in acceptance. A wealth of emotion was in his expression for anyone who knew him well to see. He was surprised at Heero's display of trust. Instead of gathering this vital information himself, he was allowing Trowa to do it. Heero clasped his shoulder and turned back to Black. The wizard eyed him warily.

"You will train with one of us for at least two hours a day, sometimes more if we can arrange it."

Black nodded and held Heero's gaze. "All right. I'd like that."

"Good."

Heero left them both as he strode into the kitchen. He found Wufei tending to Harry. His hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and he wore his glasses. Still in his pristine white Preventer uniform, he cast a strange picture kneeling before a small thirteen-year-old boy. Said boy was sitting in a chair and had his arms crossed. Harry looked up at him in frustration.

"I'm really okay, Heero. I promise. She just wanted me to meet her grandson, Neville. He's my age and was hurt last year by Voldemort. She wanted me to know how serious the situation was."

"I've heard Trowa's report," Heero informed him. He crossed the distance between them and pulled out a chair. He sat facing his charge. "If that is all that occurred, why did you hide up in the bedroom once you returned?"

Harry looked down at the table, tilting his face so that his bangs concealed his expression. He said nothing. Wufei looked up at Heero, worry in his dark eyes. Heero reached forward and gently touched a fingertip to Harry's cheek.

"You do not trust us now?" Heero asked quietly, needing to know if they had damaged Harry's belief in them.

"No!" Harry's head whipped around as he looked up in distress. "I do! Of course I do! I just…"

"What, Harry?" Wufei asked calmly. "Why don't you talk to us?"

"I don't know what to say!" Harry cried. He banged his fist on the table, tears glittering in his eyes. "It's a lot to take in, and I just… I just needed to think about it for a while!"

Heero stood and scooped Harry into a hug. "Take the time you need. We also need time. We are not handling things well. The Wizarding world is a foreign place, and we are not dealing with it as carefully as we should. That changes now. This is serious, but if we act responsibly, it is something we can overcome."

Harry nodded against his chest. "I won't run away." He pulled away to look up at Heero, and Heero was taken aback by the hard determination in his charge's face. "I want to be a part of any planning. This is my war, too, now. I want to fight."

"This is not your fight," Wufei exclaimed, rising to his feet and giving Harry a stern look.

Harry yanked away from Heero, a glare darkening his face, but whatever he was going to say was interrupted when they heard the front door open.

"Cat! Duo!" Harry ran to greet them, and he no doubt planned to insinuate himself into a position where he would be able to hear anything important.

Wufei cursed in Chinese and stalked after their charge. Heero followed, but he was still thinking about the look in Harry's eyes. Heero frowned. He'd seen Harry angry before, even at them, but this time felt different. As he drew closer, he noticed Quatre's tense body language. That didn't bode well for their meeting with Dumbledore.

"How did it go?" the blond asked quickly, clearly trying to stall reporting on his own meeting.

"As expected. Both governments have agreed to work together for now," Wufei answered, deliberately vague as he stared pointedly at their charge.

Harry stared back defiantly, clinging to Duo's arm. Heero watched him thoughtfully. It was obvious he had no intention of moving or allowing himself to be sidelined.

"Duo can fill you in on our meeting and the item he possesses." Quatre cast a cool glance toward the braided pilot. Duo huffed, but Heero noticed the tell-tale avoidance of eye-contact that meant Duo was aware that he'd done something wrong.

"Understood." Heero caught Quatre's eyes. "And we will discuss how to prevent further abductions, like the one today."

The blond looked away, feeling some guilt of his own. "Yes," was all he said. Trowa returned downstairs, outfitted in his bodyguard attire. Still avoiding Heero's eyes, Quatre told them their destination. "We're going to meet Malfoy now. I'm sure we'll return before too long."

"I'm coming." Sirius stepped forward and transformed into a dog. He obviously didn't want any argument.

"Be careful," Harry asked, all his defiance gone as if it had never been.

Quatre softened as he pulled Harry away from Duo and into a hug. "I love you."

"Love you," Harry answered softly.

Heero noticed that Quatre was the one to pull away from the embrace. As the blond left with his bodyguard and the wizard, Heero was actually pleased that Black had insisted on attending the meeting. Twice now they had needed Black to extract them from trouble with the Wizarding world. It would be best if he were present during all their dealings with magic until they had a better grasp on the situation.

"What happened with Dumbledore?" Harry asked, looking up at Duo.

Duo sighed dramatically. "Come on. Might as well be comfortable."

Harry stuck to Duo like glue, undeterred by Wufei's disapproving glare, as the braided pilot led them into the sitting room. Duo and Harry perched on the sofa while Wufei sat catty-corner in a cushioned chair. Heero chose to sit directly across from the two on the loveseat. Duo was oblivious to Wufei's mood, of course, and launched into a colorful recounting of the afternoon. By the time he came to a close, Heero understood Duo's frustration. Dumbledore couldn't be trusted and magic was proving to be exceedingly dangerous, but at the same time he knew Quatre's anger was justified. Duo had gone to the meeting intending to pick a fight. Something they couldn't afford, and Duo knew it.

"I want to see the memories."

All eyes turned toward Harry.

Harry stared back, that glint of steel from earlier reappearing. "Voldemort killed my parents. He marked me." His fingers skimmed his forehead, reminding them of the mark that had them all anxious. "I don't know if it's fate like they say, but… People like Neville are being hurt. They need someone to protect them. Voldemort and Dumbledore, they chose me." Heero stared hard at his charge and saw no doubt in those solemn green eyes. "This is my fight, and I want to fight it with you."

"You bear no responsibility…" Wufei began, voice strident.

"No way! I'm not letting you…" Duo said just as angry.

That angry, frustrated look returned to Harry's face.

"Quiet!" Heero snapped. All three of them looked at him in surprise. More quietly, he asked Harry, "Are you certain of your choice?"

Harry looked at him, and Heero knew Harry understood what he was asking. Once Harry took this step, took on this responsibility, it would change him. It would be a weight that would never lift once he allowed it to settle on his shoulders. Pale but brave, Harry lifted his chin and answered with a firm, "Yes. I'm sure."

Heero flashed back to being thirteen and being introduced to his Gundam for the first time. He'd answered Dr. J in the exact same way. He looked at Duo and at Wufei. They weren't happy, but he could see the same memory reflected in their eyes, as well. They had also said yes to the great responsibility Harry was now accepting. How could they not support Harry when they had made the same choice?

Heero stood and went down on his knees in front of his charge, putting them at eye level. He braced himself on the sofa by placing a hand on either side of Harry's legs. "I will not stop you, but you must agree to three conditions." He leaned forward, trying to impress on the youth how serious he was.

"What?" Harry asked, chin still raised.

"You will promise me that you will never act alone. You will always keep us informed of any concerns or plans you are making. You will never hide anything from us because you think we will disapprove. In return, I will promise that we will not forbid you from taking action unless we have solid logistical reasons."

Harry nodded. "Okay. I promise. I'll tell you guys what I'm thinking, and I won't act alone."

"Second condition. You will never allow yourself to believe sacrificing your life is the only answer." Heero ignored the pointed looks coming from his brother pilots. He had twice sacrificed himself in the war, and it had been only by the barest of margins that he'd survived. "There is always a better way."

Harry nodded, biting his lip. He was also remembering the quietly recounted stories of Heero's suicide runs and near-death experiences. "Death is never the answer. I know that."

"Good." Heero stared hard into his green eyes. "The third condition is that you promise to come to us when it gets to be too much. You will never be weak in our eyes, Harry. We are here to help you. You must never run away from us like you did today. You put yourself in danger."

"I won't do it again," Harry promised, ducking his head. "I wasn't thinking."

"If you want to be a part of this war, then you will have to think. All the time." Heero leaned forward, trying to impress upon the teen how important this was. "It will be hard and unfair, but you have to be mature if you choose this path."

Harry nodded and threw his arms around Heero's neck in a quick hug before pulling away again. "I will. I promise. I'll be more careful and think about the consequence of my actions."

Heero smiled. "Good. Then we agree."

"I've got one!" Duo interrupted. "Remember that if you get hurt, Harry, I'm going to be pissed as hell and looking for revenge!"

Heero couldn't stop a small smile as Harry rolled his eyes, though everyone in the room knew the braided pilot was dead serious.

Duo wrapped his arms around Harry, practically pulling the boy into his lap. "I'm proud of you, kid," he said with warm affection. "When'd you start growing up, huh? I don't think that should be allowed."

Wufei ran a hand through his hair, tugging out the rubber band. The ink black strands fell around his face in a perfectly straight sheet as he stood. "We shall wait for the others to return before viewing the memories. For now, we should see to dinner."

Harry wiggled out of Duo's hold and bowed respectfully to his teacher.

Wufei pressed his hands together and bowed back, offering respect in return. When he straightened, he offered his hand. "Come, pupil. Let's check to make sure Black's soup is edible."

Harry accepted the hand happily. "Okay."

Heero watched them go before turning his attention to his lover. Duo's smile fell from his face as his carefully constructed mask crumbled. His lavender eyes filled with angry tears as his fist clenched around his long braid. Heero moved to sit next to him and pulled the brunet into his arms.

"I hate this so much," Duo rasped. He pressed his face against Heero's chest, his whole body shaking with repressed anger. "The world was supposed to be peaceful. That's what we sacrificed so much for. So why does Harry have to go through this? What was the point of our fighting if we can't even keep Harry safe? I can't watch him die again!"

"No." Heero grasped Duo's chin and forced his face up. "Harry will not die, and he will not be us. He will never have to fall as far as we did because he is not alone. We will always stand beside him. We fought our war and we won, Duo. We won, and we will win again."

Duo's hand slid into Heero's wild, thick hair and pulled his head down hard in a brutal kiss. Heero growled in the back of his throat and sucked at his lover's mouth, giving him the reassurance he needed. They were alive, and they weren't helpless. Hearths thumping, body temperature rising, they kissed and bit at each other's lips, tongues battling, for several long minutes until they were both gasping for air.

"I can't lose Harry," Duo whispered, forehead resting against Heero's sternum.

"You won't," Heero promised once again.

Duo nodded and they lapsed into silence.

Chapter end.

A/N: This story hasn't been abandoned, but any ideas or thoughts as to the future of this fic would be appreciated to help feed the muse. What scenes are you looking forward to most? What kind of scenes would you like to see more of? Please let me know, and thanks so much for reading! I'll try to get the next chapter out faster.