"In order to rise from its own ashes, a phoenix first must burn."

~ Octavia E. Butler, Parable of the Talents

Chapter 61 ~ Hope Amidst Ashes


ECOTS


"Look!"

Kally spun in a circle, eyes alight as she held the mirror up high, trying to give Harry the best angle of what she was looking at.

The morning sunlight had barely crested the horizon, throwing pinks and purples over the monastery and surrounding sea, and Kally could finally see the view…

Merlin the view!

"Harry, will you talk some sense into your woman!?" Fred bellowed, actually sounding semi-concerned.

Kally grinned, having had the best night's sleep she'd gotten in over a month, and quickly dashed out of Fred's reach over the monastic ruins. She supposed she could see Fred's point; she was standing forty feet up on one of the ancient walls, the churning sea foaming angry and white far below as the tide slowly rose. As it did the purple-blue waters licked at the large, granite blocks that thus far, had withstood the sea's salty assault and test of time.

She'd heard of Mont Saint Michel Abbey in Normandy before, but she had no idea that there were wizarding monasteries, let alone ones on the scale of Mont Saint Michel.

The second she'd looked outside and actually gotten a true, real look at where she'd woken up she'd nearly lost her mind. Scampering outside, mirror in hand, Fred had bolted after her. In his haste to catch her he'd still been tugging on one shoe, his head mistakenly shoved through his shirt sleeve rather than the neck hole, when he'd run headlong into one of the monks.

Fortunately the wizarding monk had a sense of humor, bidding them both adieus until breakfast, which would be served in the common hall in less than an hour.

Kally had barely had time to question why the monk had a Russian accent.

Instead she'd wasted no time in shouting into the mirror to wake up Harry. He'd jerked awake, impossible hair sticking up in every direction. The magical glasses Moody had given him hung askew, dislodged during the night, Harry blinking blearily at her with green eyes so expressive that they did all kinds of things to her stomach.

Staring out to sea from the edge of the island, Kally's eyes glinted with delight.

Sometimes, just sometimes, amidst a war torn world, she caught glimpses of why magic was so special.

"Harry, did you see it?" she breathed. She stood atop the retaining wall surrounding the island. Fred bellowed after her, something about 'insane Muggle women,' proceeding slightly more cautiously than she had.

She'd tugged the mirror down to eye level, looking at Harry with eyes alight. Harry just blinked several times, as if still half-asleep. "Kal….what was Fred-"

Her lips twitched. "Don't worry about Fred. Don't you see this?" She quickly turned the mirror back out to sea to show him, and judging from the intake of breath she heard through the glass he finally saw.

It was like something out of a dream.

Stretching out in every direction was a foaming, wave-filled sea. Salt-marsh meadows lingered at the periphery of it all, waving grasses sticking up from rippled-sands, shaped by the Atlantic's incoming waves, sheep grazing on the boundaries. The rising sun sent reflections of every color imaginable dancing across the ocean's surf, and quickly spinning on the wall Kally showed Harry the island she was actually on.

It was a tidal island, not far from shore, accessible by foot only at low tide or by magic.

The wizarding monastery rose up from the island's rocky surface like a bastion of safety. Completely surrounded by water on all sides, the thirteenth century citadel rose like a waking dragon that was literally on fire in the red light. The church's central spire reached high into the sky, as if trying to touch the gods of old. Pops of pure green, where enough soil had taken hold upon the rocks, were literally everywhere – trees, grasses, flowers - all blooming and growing together upon the island.

The monastery, like Mont Saint Michel, was set on a rocky island off the northwest coast of France. Like Mont Saint Michel it was accessible from land only at low tide, and only if one was willing to risk walking across the mile of sand from shore to it.

Unlike Mont Saint Michel it was not overrun with tourists. Wizarding monks had warded the island against Muggles centuries ago, and had been living and offering healing to wizarding kind ever since. They'd been using it as a research station, and it explained perfectly why Kally, Fred and Jake had been dispatched there to teach them how to brew the plague's cure.

It was too risky to risk writing the instructions down outside of Hogwarts. If Death Eaters or worse – Voldemort – got ahold of it…

They could alter the plague to make it resistant.

For now, tread of her shoes clinging to the old granite wall, Kally shoved all thoughts of the war, the plague, and potions out of her mind. They'd only just arrived the night prior. They hadn't even been shown where the potions would be brewed, and right now…

Right now she could freely talk to Harry, and the island was hers for exploring.

However short a time that lasted, she was going to enjoy it.

Kally stood on the retaining wall of the old ruins, the ledge dropping off sharply behind her as she spun the mirror back around to positively beam at Harry. At Beauxbatons she'd barely been able to speak with him, let alone look at him through the mirror. There had been too many potential witnesses, too many potential eyes. Here though, safe on an impenetrable, sparsely populated wizarding island where none of the monks could possibly be Death Eaters, she felt so much freer.

She'd missed him.

"Well?" she demanded, not at all sounding like an impatient child on Christmas waiting to unwrap gifts.

Harry was dragging a hand over his head, looking back as if he'd just been slapped with awe. "That's the monastery?"

She nodded, widening her eyes for emphasis. "Yes! I couldn't see it on the way in last night, but-"

Her boyfriend's expression suddenly changed, Harry now looking wide awake. His gaze had darted, as if looking at something behind her, his face paling. "Kal."

"I mean…just look at it!"

"Kally."

She shook her head, golden hair spilling messily around her face. "Seriously Harry, this might be the most beautiful place I've ever see-"

"Kaylens."

Kally stopped mid-sentence. "Yeah?"

He sounded half-strangled. "What's that behind you?"

She glanced over her shoulder, looking straight down to the rocks, waves crashing against them, before looking back at the mirror. "Nothing, why?"

Harry made another dying sound, Kally frowning. That was the truth. She was on the retaining wall, which meant she was on the edge of the island, with a sharp drop off, open air and nothingness behind her.

She'd never thought that Potter of all people would have an issue with heights though.

"Kally," he stated, sounding suddenly, fully awake, "how high up are you?"

She shrugged, tilting the mirror behind her so he could get the straight down view, nearly dropping it as Harry let out a loud shout. She tugged the mirror back immediately, the sea breeze kicking up and sending her hair flying around her face.

Harry was looking at her with barely controlled concern. "Er…any chance you could step away from that for me?" he asked, right as Fred caught up to them.

Instantly the Weasley twin snatched the mirror away, snaring her by the waist and throwing her over his shoulder with a grunt, stalking several steps away from the wall before bodily tossing her down into a patch of grass. She let out a shriek.

Harry instantly started shouting for her, clearly thinking she'd fallen, Fred spinning the mirror around to face him, practically seething. "Your chick," he heaved, sounding winded from the chase, "is mental, Harry. Absolutely mental."

From her spot in the soft grass she heard Harry swear something foul.

"I haven't had breakfast, Harry!" Fred continued. "I need-NO! I REQUIRE bacon before I have to start chasing girls around highly collapsible ruins!"

Now Harry actually shouted.

Apparently it occurred to Fred that Harry thought she was possibly dead. He groaned. "Cool your jets, Potter. Kally-kins is fine." He twisted the mirror so Harry could see her, uttering, "See?" Then Fred flopped down alongside her, tossing his legs immediately over hers and tersely ordering, "Stay."

Kally gaped at him.

Despite the situation and the fact that Fred was almost sitting on her, her lips parted in an out-of-place laugh.

She made a grab for the mirror, only Fred yanked it away, using his long arms to keep it just out of her reach. "Oh no you don't. Talking to Potter apparently gets you all worked up, then you take off and start playing tightrope walker on rocks that aren't stable." He was already glaring back at the mirror. "You know Harry I thought you had reckless issues, and coming from me that's saying something. She's worse."

Her mouth fell open, aghast. "I do not!"

Fred spun the mirror around so she could see how he and Harry had matching, skeptical looks.

She glared at them both. "I wanted to show Harry the monastery!"

"Did that actually require," Fred questioned, "prancing about and spinning on top of a wall fourteen meters up, with only a rocky death to cushion your fall?"

It took her a second to process that. "You thought I'd fall? But….don't you two play Quidditch? That's so much worse."

"We," Harry said steadily, "have brooms."

Fred nodded in adamant agreement.

She rolled her eyes. "Idiots. Fine, but isn't that what magic is for?"

Fred's blue eyes narrowed, almost matching the stormy sea. "You are not," he said bluntly, "a witch."

"Yeah but you're here. Isn't there some kind of arresto momentum spell you can do?" she said, smirking and successfully snaring the two-way mirror while he was distracted. "See? I was fine."

Fred's mouth flapped like a fish out of water, Kally returning her attention to Harry. "So? What did you think?"

Harry made another strangled sound, Kally frowning at two of the wizards in her life. Fred started sputtering something about what a bloody bad plan it was if she was counting on him saving her, while Harry growled about life expectancies.

She tossed the two-way mirror off to the side, letting Harry snarl for a bit on his own. That was when a tired looking Jake staggered out, stretching his arms above his head as he looked around and gave a low whistle. "Nice view."

"He better," Harry growled from the grass, "be talking about the ocean."

Jake looked puzzled, shooting her a questioning look. She just shrugged helplessly, while Fred held up fingers and started to count. "Grimmauld – I have it on good authority you wrestled Avery. Dublin – playing dodgem with Muggle architecture. Also Dublin – taunting a Death Eater, spitting in his face, then wrestling with him. North Carolina – playing bait for a shark. Last night – using an umbrella to hit a zombie in the face-"

She snorted. "That was a perfect use of the umbrella, Fred. It controlled the blood splatter didn't it?"

The two way mirror appeared to be snarling.

Fred ignored Harry. "Dublin again-"

Fred continued listing the number of half-insane, suicidal things he knew she'd done. Jake just shook his head, inclining an eyebrow in her direction. "Rough morning?"

Kally looked between all three of them and couldn't help it: she started to laugh.

Then she flopped back into the grass, reaching out for the mirror to reclaim Harry, even though she was fairly certain he was going to start sputtering at her.

She was right; he did.

She'd never enjoyed hearing his indignation more, her lips curving more and more until he finally stopped.

"You're finding this funny, aren't you?" he questioned flatly.

She just grinned, Harry groaned, Fred flopped back in the grass, and Jake walked over to stand on the edge of the retaining wall, whistling. "Wow! Any of you see this view?"

Fred made a self-soothing sound, mumbling about Merlin help him because there were two of them.


ECOTS


Harry set the mirror down, the glossy surface rippling as Kaylens' visage disappeared from it. They'd talked, actually talked last night, and again this morning. Her sudden absence, even if not physically present, sent his chest squirming.

She'd been happy. Not happy to be away from him, not happy with the situation, but for a bit it'd looked like she'd been actually happy despite all of that.

Harry made a mental note to go see this abbey that had her so fascinated the first chance he got. He'd drag her with him, for now…

She'd had to go. Fred and Jake had quite literally drug her off to meet their new hosts – monks – for breakfast. After that they'd apparently be brewing.

It was all a part of the Order's plan; the more potions' masters that could memorize how to brew the antidote, the better. The original instructions list that Snape and Regulus had created had long since been burnt, orders to not write it down, ever, given to everyone. They couldn't riskVoldemort getting his hands on it. As it was…

Harry was again left in his bedroom at Number 4 Privet Drive, alone.

The rest of the day was uneventful.

Then the owl came.

It showed up just before dusk, his uncle having scowled his way through dinner, shoveling green beans into his mouth with irritated, jerking motions as if by stabbing them he were somehow stabbing Harry. It'd landed outside the kitchen window, screeching loud enough to send Dudley jumping and spilling his juice.

The presence of a horned owl screeching at his kitchen window had sent his uncle into a whole new type of apoplectic fit. Literally. He'd tried to throttle the owl.

The great horned owl had been less than pleased, and had attempted to remove one of his uncle's fingers. The man seemed to have that effect on owls. It was all Harry could do to snare the rather official looking letter and the small package attached from the talon, racing upstairs, before the man stroked out.

Slamming his door he could still hear Vernon bellowing something about, "I WILL NOT HAVE THIS SORT AT MY WINDOWS AND DOORS AT ALL HOURS OF THE DAY AND NIGHT, BOY! I AM NOT RUNNING A BED AND BREAKFAST FOR BIRDS! I WILL NOT HAVE IT!"

The first thing Harry did was check the mirror, but it wasn't glowing and all he saw was his own reflection. Kally was clearly still busy, Harry heaving a disappointed sigh even as he tossed the package down and scrutinized it.

He did not recognize the handwriting, but the letter had the official stamp of Gringotts on it.

Harry briefly wondered if it were possible for Voldemort to send a hex by mail. He knew the twins had been able to send itching powder by mail, and love-potion laced powder by mail, but hexes or poisons? He eyed the letter for another minute, trying to see if he could somehow sense Voldemort on it, but could not.

As far as he could tell it was just a letter. Eventually Harry decided screw it. He'd open it, and if it hexed him the Order would at least have a solid reason for getting him out of here early.

He tore into it and was almost disappointed when nothing attacked him.

Inside there was nothing terrible; it was just a letter with words, scrawled in a cursive so brutal that it looked almost like it belonged on a sign above a shop selling swords. The end of each word was pointed, like a dagger, the letters penned so thinly it was a marvel that there were quills even made with that sharp of an edge. It was elegant and ragged all at once.

It was exactly what he would have expected Goblin handwriting to look like.

Mister Harry James Potter,

Per the Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Gringotts Wizarding Bank has hereby been appointed, in the event of death or disappearance, as the executor of the aforementioned document. The blood agreement entered into between Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and the representative goblins of Gringotts Wizarding Bank is binding and can neither be negated nor interfered with by outside entities, including but not limited to the Wizengamut, the Supreme Mugwump, the Ministry of Magic, or any representative of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, without the individual suffering the most grievous of afflictions, the details of which shall not be named here. It is the responsibility of all parties with whom any item has been bequeathed to notify any individual or governmental or private body endeavoring to interfere of the existence of this blood curse, be it verbally or by writing.

Fortius Quo Fiedlius – Gringotts Wizarding Bank

At some point Harry had sat down on the bed, heavily.

In the event of death or disappearance

He nearly laughed out loud at the clever qualifier Dumbledore had thrown in. Now, more than ever, he was wholly convinced that Dumbledore was not dead. He'd known what he was doing and burst into a bright array of flames, just like a phoenix, before allegedly dying.

Only phoenixes didn't die, they were just reborn from the ashes.

Harry chanced a glance towards Fawkes, frowning subtly. If Dumbledore had been bonded to a phoenix and couldn't die, and he was now bonded to a phoenix, what did that mean for him?

He wasn't sure, but the letter in his hand was practically burning, Harry jerking his gaze back to it.

Read swiftly, Harry.

I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, being of competent and sound mind, do hereby declare this to be my last will and testament in the event of death or disappearance and do hereby revoke any and all wills and codicils heretofore made jointly or severally by me. I further declare that this Last Will and Testament reflects my personal wishes without any undue influence whatsoever, including but not limited to the imperious curse, love potions, and threat of fraternal-goat-farm revocation, and that the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamut have no say-so in the matter.

To Harry James Potter, I bequeath my most prized possession at the closing of June. The box may only be opened by Harry, through a pinprick of his blood on the Dumbledore Crest. Harry, I believe one hundred and eighty turns to be completed on July 30th ought to do the trick. Perhaps one eye, a changing set of hair, and some fiery feathers to accompany, in lieu of the usual cohorts, would be best. You can set you cohorts minds at ease, as you will be at Hogwarts the whole time.

See you soon, Harry.

~ Albus Dumbledore

Then, Harry swore to Merlin, the signature's ink began to swirl on the parchment until it formed into a single twinkling blue eye.

And then it winked at him.

The corner of the letter instantly ignited.

Harry yelped as he dropped it onto the bed, his index finger singed as the parchment curled up and in on itself, his single blanket attempting to ignite-

Harry snared a glass of water from the dresser and upended it before the letter had a chance to set off the smoke alarm. Then he bolted for the window, throwing it open, attempting to air it out as smoke wafted up towards the ceiling. Hedwig made an upset sound, Harry tossing an apology over his shoulder as he attempted to sort through his thoughts on the matter.

One hundred and eighty turns to be completed on July 30th ought to do the trick…

He stared at the box on the bed like it was a viper, already knowing exactly what it was. Dumbledore had once given him and Hermione those same instructions, only then there'd been no date involved and there'd been only three turns needed.

Somehow Dumbledore had known what was going to happen and had planned for it.

He wanted Harry to go back to a very specific day, but why?

The implications if he were right fired around in his head, the charred remains of the letter laying on his mattress, ashes scattering as a breeze blew in through the open window. All the timeturners had allegedly been destroyed or rendered useless when they'd broken into the Department of Mysteries the year prior. He remembered Hermione talking about it in the hospital wing while reading the Daily Prophet's report on the subject. So how…

Harry grabbed it and tugged at the twine, untangling it. Then, jaw set, he flipped the lid open, another box revealed.

A family crest stared up at him, a phoenix surrounded by flames and books revealed, the latin words velut unimur scrawled over the phoenix's spread out wings. Oddly, there also appeared to be a goat in the background.

Harry snorted, looking down at the crest of the House of Dumbledore. Harry had never before seen it, but he didn't have to ask to know that that was what it was; it was perfect.

He needed his blood to open the box though.

Unfortunately his room was a bit devoid of things to readily cut himself on, at least…intentionally. His gaze flickered briefly to the dresser drawer where his mother's ring was hidden, but he quickly dismissed that thought. It'd cut him yesterday, but it'd also sent out a pulsing shockwave when it'd happened. Risking that twice and incurring his uncle's wrath a second time in less than twenty four hours wouldn't be a smart decision if he wanted to keep the peace.

Eventually he just stuck his fingers out to Hedwig. "Do me a solid?"

His familiar sent him a look that clearly said, "Really?"

Harry about groaned. "Yes."

Hedwigs feathers ruffled, the owl giving him a sharp but solid nip.

Harry had to literally bite down on his tongue to avoid shouting, Fawkes flat out snorting through his beak. Hedwig, on the other hand, merely looked pleased with herself.

The upside of being mocked by both his familiars was that if his uncle seriously wanted to risk pissing off Hedwig and losing a finger, he now no longer had any doubts that his bird was more than capable of rendering his uncle a few digits short.

He shot Hedwig a wounded look, dryly telling, "You could at least try to look like you didn't enjoy that," before pressing his bleeding fingers to the crest.

Harry waited, then waited some more. He braced himself for the shockwave, or…something.

Nothing happened.

It took a full minute before the crest started to move. Harry watched as his blood suddenly traced the outline of the crest, filling the details in like some sadistic type of red paint. The last line was filled, the image suddenly moving, the phoenix shivering as if awakening, before its wings curled in, its head turning to look straight up at him.

A spark, then actual flames licked around the crest-phoenix's wings. Actual flames erupted on them, the wooden box's lid starting to char around the crest, starting to burn.

Harry mentally cursed Dumbledore's hidden pyromania.

With another curse he grabbed the box and ran it towards the window, trying to waft the smoke out it rather than in. The last thing he needed was the smoke alarm set off. Then again, if it went off, the Dursley's might leave him in there alone to burn and he'd be able to open whatever this was in peace. Hell, his uncle might outright barricade his bedroom door to ensure it.

Eventually, after several minutes of a makeshift bonfire in his bedroom, the box's lid was burnt well and truly through. Harry tugged it back in through the window, soot on his nose, wondering what exactly was with Dumbledore and burning things.

Then he looked into the box and saw it.

It looked just like Hermione's: an hourglass sat in the center, two concentric circles surrounding it. The only difference was that the sands within the hourglass appeared blue in coloration, and the inscription was different.

Harry set the box down, extracting it and holding it up to the light, the elaborate script glinting in the room's overhead lighting.

I mark the days, every one, and I can outrun the sun. Tell me what you have to do, and unto there I will take you.

Harry grimaced, swallowing hard, suddenly understanding exactly what Dumbledore had wanted. Hermione had told him all about time-turners, at length, whether he'd wanted to hear about them or not after their little misadventure in third year. Hers had a different inscription, stating it marked the hours, not days, and that it couldn't outrun the sun.

This time-turner was different. This wasn't a matter of one hundred and eighty hours, it was a matter of one hundred and eighty days.

Dumbledore didn't want Harry to travel back in time just over a week; he wanted him to travel back six months.

Six months ago Dumbledore had been alive. Professor Gai had been alive. Bill, Mr. Weasley, Diggles, and Kingsley had all been fine.

Dark green eyes flew to the burnt remnants of Dumbledore's Last Will and Testament, or at least…the part that had been sent personally to him.

Then his eyes flew to Hedwig.

His aunt and uncle could go screw themselves. Harry instantly grabbed a pen and paper, starting to write quickly.

In less than a month, on July 30th, one day before his 17th birthday, Dumbledore wanted him to go back n time six months, and he wanted him to take one-eye, a changing set of hair, and fiery feathers with him.

Less than ten minutes later found Hedwig released, letters to Tonks and Mad Eye Moody on the way. Harry didn't know what the hell was going to happen, but he knew whatever it was, he had to follow through. The idea of going back six months though…

As far as he knew, time-turners were a one-way ticket. They didn't allow someone to go back and forth through time, only backwards, so if he went backwards...

He'd be stuck. For six months. Unsurprisingly he thought of Kaylens.

She'd be here still, without him. The Kaylens that would be back in the time line he'd be in was one still falling in love with him. She wasn't his Kaylens, not in every single way, not yet.

Harry sat down heavily on his mattress, staring at Fawkes, staring at the time-turner, staring at the drawer that held the ring.

"Bloody hell…"


ECOTS


Things moved quickly after that. He'd known that his aunt and uncle were planning to take Dudley out to the movies the next evening, so he'd asked both Mad Eye and Tonks to make it there then.

They didn't disappoint; in fact, they also brought Lupin.

Harry had them inside the living room, looking around quickly to make sure no neighbors had saw, before shutting the door. It took all of five minutes to explain it all, Harry showing them the time-turner to drive the truth that Dumbledore actually still had possession of one in.

Tonks was the first to snatch it, her eyes wide and blue today. "Blimey Harry, you can't just ever owl to say hi can you?" She glanced quickly between the time-turner and Lupin, clearly thinking along the same lines that he had where Kaylens was concerned.

Harry nodded stiffly, snagging it back and handing it to Mad Eye, who looked ready to hex Tonks over it at any second. The ex-Auror wasted no time in setting it down to begin a full-fledged inspection.

Lupin just stood there, a patient, unperturbed look on his face. "Dumbledore wants you to go back to February 1st." Moody snarled something that sounded suspiciously like, "Show me your secrets you dark scrap metal!" but Lupin didn't so much as bat an eye. "On February 1st," he continued thoughtfully, "a chunk of the Order was in quarantine in the hospital wing, having just gotten back from Dublin. You," his eyes turned towards Harry, "were staking out the hospital wing and sleeping on the floor, and you," he turned to Tonks, "were shacked up with me in my old Professor's quarters, taking care of young Miss Bothan."

Tonks inclined an eyebrow. "Shacked up? Why you hound, who knew you were such an old romantic." She batted her eyes exaggeratedly. "I would have called it 'systematically wearing you down.'"

Lupin groaned.

Moody stomped off into the kitchen and now appeared to be dunking the time-turner in and out of a water-filled glass, apparently trying to 'drown out any transfigured Death Eaters.'

"In other words," Harry said flatly, "we were all busy and preoccupied, so wouldn't notice a second set of us running around the castle visiting Dumbledore."

Tonks leaned bonelessly against his aunt's china cabinet. "Well shite."

"Exactly."

Moody had now begun to swing the time turner around his head, drops of water flinging out the kitchen door and into the hall where the rest of them still stood.

"Um…Moody," Harry tried, taking off his glasses and wiping the water off on his shirt, "if that was a Death Eater wouldn't they have tried to kill me last night? It's been here for a day now…"

Moody stopped, the chain dropping to hang flaccid from his hand. "That's what they want you to think, Potter."

"Uh huh," Tonks said skeptically, walking over towards him and speaking in an overly pacifying voice. "Come now, give me the very-expensive, easily breakable and possibly last time-turner Moody. Now there's a good Auror…"

Harry couldn't help but eye them oddly, before glancing towards Lupin. "Well," he said awkwardly, "they seem to be taking this well."

Lupin just eyed him shrewdly. "How are you taking it, Harry? You realize you'd be away from Kalliandra for quite some time?"

"Yeah," he acknowledged, voice sounding hoarser than he'd remembered, "believe it or not, that did occur to me."

Mooney's mouth turned in a knowing smile. "How long exactly after reading that, did it occur?"

"About three seconds."

The last remaining Maruader snorted. "Well, at least we know you have priorities."

The sounds of Tonks and Moody arguing over possession of the time-turner could be heard drifting in from the kitchen, but Harry and Lupin remained right where they were. Neither were particularly eager to get into the middle of that type of co-worker spat.

Harry's stomach was churning unpleasantly. "How am I supposed to tell her I'm leaving, Mooney? Once we're gone were stuck. For six months. That's half as long as I've known her." If Harry were honest, he was afraid.

He was afraid what he might come back to. She hadn't left him, she wouldn't leave him, yet he was irrationally afraid of that.

Lupin, however, just smirked at him. "In your…panic, Harry, has it occurred to you that for her, not even a day will pass? You could be gone and back without her ever knowing. What I would be more concerned about, is how you will handle it?"

"I can't just not tell her I'm leaving, Mooney," he said flatly.

Lupin's eyebrows both raised, the wizard's arms remaining casually crossed over his chest. "So, you are leaving then? You have decided?"

Harry's mouth opened, half-ready to say no, he hadn't, but then realized that'd be a brazen lie.

The second he'd read Dumbledore's request he'd already made the decision: he was going.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Yeah I'm…kind of have to, don't I?"

Lupin nodded towards the stairwell. "No time like the present, Harry. Besides," he tilted his head towards the other two, "it might be awhile before those two settle." Something crashed, sounding suspiciously like dishes breaking, even Mooney wincing.

Abruptly he shoved himself off the hallway's wall, nodding encouragingly at him. "Go ahead, Harry. Go talk to her. I'll handle…Moody and my future wife." He looked slightly terrified at the prospect.

Harry couldn't help but grin slightly at the greenish color Lupin turned, as if realizing he'd not only agreed to marry that bundle of bedlam, but had been the one to suggest it, before bolting up the stairs.

Lupin was right; he needed to tell Kaylens, even if he wasn't leaving for a few more weeks. He had to tell her, and…he needed her to be okay with it.

His stomach wrenched just thinking about it. She'd made him promise not to leave her, and here he was, about to two-way mirror her to tell her he was doing exactly that.

Harry sat down on his mattress, nerves twisting his stomach, hoping he wasn't interrupting anything there and that she could actually answer. "Kally," he stated clearly, the mirror's reflection morphing, changing, candlelight from several candelabras hanging down from a stone ceiling suddenly visible. Her mirror must be laying face up on something.

In the background he could hear something bubbling, simmering, like the sound of a cauldron.

Crap, he was interrupting.

There was nothing for it. He hadn't gotten to talk to her for long last night. By the time she'd called him, she'd looked half-exhausted, already clearly laying in bed, her eyes dropping shut within minutes. As much as he'd wanted to talk to her, to tell her then, he hadn't been able to.

Now though…he had to. "Kaylens," he said nervously, "you there?"

Abruptly the sound of moving items in the background stopped, Harry feeling like his heart was in his throat.

His girlfriend appeared in the mirror a moment later, hair messily pinned up with what looked like a dull-edged letter opener, soot smeared artfully across her cheek, a bit of blue powder on the tip of her nose. "Harry." Her lips curved into a smile, his gut wrenching at the sight. How in the hell was he supposed to handle not seeing this for six months? "Trying to get me in bed early?"

The teasing quality wasn't lost on him, Harry sucking in a breath, hard. "Um…not exactly…"

Instantly the playful glint in her eyes disappeared, Kally wetting her lips, sensing his mood even across the channel. "Okay…?"

How in the hell was he supposed to do this? "Um…" he repeated glibly. "Are you alone?"

She shook her head, instantly glancing to the side. "No. No, Jake and Valentin are down here. Do I need to-"

"Yeah," he croaked. "If you can."

For a second, possibly the longest second of the summer her incredibly golden irises glittered through the mirror.

Then she nodded, a lock of hair slipping out of its messy bun to fall in front of her eyes. "Yeah, just…give me a second."

The mirror moved. Harry heard her speaking to someone, a Russian accent prevalent, before he was afforded an excellent view of the floor and her boots. Kaylens had on what looked like black combat boots, Harry having all kinds of questions about where and why and when exactly she'd picked those up, and why was there something suspiciously like blood on the toe of the left one, but he didn't get to ask.

Harry was afforded a quick view of a very long corridor lined with torches, thick tapestries depicting what looked like old battles hanging from the walls, before it flipped back around to her. Naked concern flickered in her eyes, his non-witch gnawing on her lower lip. "Harry, what is it?"

His stomach flipped. There was no way around it. "I have to leave."

Her lip slipped out from between her teeth, her breath hitching. "What do you mean leave?"

So he told her.

Every last detail, which, given that they had so few, didn't take long.

His gaze raked across hers, desperately searching for a reaction, concern, something.

Kally had gone impossibly still, eyes wide enough that he could visibly see the darker brown ring around her golden irises and the torchlight flickering within them. "So you'd be…" she trailed off.

"Yeah," he acknowledged.

"For six months."

Again, he managed a grimace. "Yes."

Even through the mirror he could see her breathing growing unsteady. "I'll go with you." Her eyes darted to the side. "I just need to-"

His chest absurdly wrenched, like a knife had been lodged within it. "I don't think that's a good idea, Kal."

Her eyes darted back to him, not understanding. "What? Why?"

Every line of his face had grown drawn, strained. "It won't seem like I'm gone long for you. Maybe a day, two at most."

"Yeah, but for you it will be-"

"I know," he interjected hoarsely. "Believe me, I don't like this any better than you do. But…" mouth dry, he forced, "Dumbledore was pretty clear on who needed to go, and who shouldn't. I think…I think he knew I'd want you, Ron and Hermione to go with me."

It looked like she'd been slapped. "So you don't want me to-"

"No," he uttered. "I do. But I don't know what I'm walking into and Dumbledore…" His brow creased, Harry forcing, "Dumbledore doesn't make requests idly, Kaylens. You and I both know that. Whatever it is, there's got to be a reason, a good one, even if I don't like it, for why he asked for Moody and Tonks and no one else." His lips twitched in an out of place smirk. "Hell, he even mentioned that it couldn't be my usual cohorts. Wizard knew where my thoughts would go."

Kally was no longer looking at him. She was looking down, breaths shaky.

He'd have given anything, in that damn instant, to be able to physically touch her.

It was like trying to talk to her through that quarantine barrier all over again.

"Kally…" he muttered. "Please…"

"Six months," she said brokenly, "is a long time, Potter."

His heart wrenched. "I know. Believe me, I know."

Her eyes flickered up, something unreadable within them. "Harry, what if you come back and don't-" she stopped herself, Harry frowning. "What if something happens to you while you're gone?"

He shook his head, instantly. "It won't, Kaylens. Look, I've thought it through…we already know that in the last six months nothing other than the dementors attacked Hogwarts. I'll be at Hogwarts, presumably the whole time, so I'll be safe. More the point, whatever it is Dumbledore needs us to do, I know you'll be safe because you are safe." The words were convoluted, time travel muddying things. "And the heart thing," he continued, anticipating her next possible argument, "I'm still going to be near you because we'll both be at Hogwarts, even if you don't know I'm at Hogwarts."

He took a deep breath, aware that none of this wasn't helping ease her concern and hating it. "I just…I needed to tell you. I couldn't just go, even if you wouldn't have known I'd even left, without talking to you, I-" His voice died, Harry tugging at his hair.

Then he looked into the mirror, voice and gaze serious. "I promised you I wouldn't leave, Kaylens. Get you meant a different kind of leaving but…this is still leaving." Green locked onto gold, his expression grim. "I need to know you're okay with this. That you'll be here when I get back." His thoughts turned to the ring, hidden in his dresser, stomach twisting. "I need to know that I'm not going to lose you if I do this."

Harry hated this. He hated it even more seeing her broken expression.

Kally sucked in a shaky breath, looking down again. "I don't think it's me we have to worry about," she said quietly, so quietly he barely heard her. Harry frowned, opening his mouth to ask what she meant, only for her eyes to turn back up to his. "Six months is a long time, Harry. What if you get back and don't want-"

She stopped.

She hadn't needed to finish; Harry suddenly understood where she was going with this.

She was scared that after six months he might not want her anymore, and despite himself, despite the situation, despite the fact that he was facing the six loneliest months of his life without her, Ron or Hermione, despite the fact that she was upset, an out-of-place laugh escaped.

Her brow instantly creased, but Harry couldn't help it. Here he'd been, worried about her, when she'd been worried about him. "Kaylens," he murmured, "I love you. That's not changing, ever." Voice rough, serious, he forced, "When I told you that before I meant it. Pretty sure you could rip my spleen out easier than get me to stop."

In the mirror her lips parted, no words coming out. The non-witch he was smitten with had slid down the wall, clearly sitting on the ground now, her hair having all-but fallen out of the letter-opener's confines.

Harry forced a strained smile. "Kaylens, for me, it's going to suck. For you, you won't even notice." His brow creased. "I just…need to know that you're okay with me doing this. That if I leave, that you'll still be here waiting for me when I get back, or I can't." Forcing a grim smile, he told, "We're a team, right? So…group decision." After the blow up, months back, over his thoughts on her going to the island with the rest of them, he knew damn well that if he wanted this thing with her to work, to last, if he wanted to eventually marry her they had to start making decisions together.

Harry held the two-way mirror in his hand, feeling like he was on a sodding metaphorical ledge as he waited for her response. He realized how idiotic asking this was; it'd be a day or two at most for her, but he felt like he was breaking a promise, and that…

He didn't know how she'd react.

Kally's eyes closed. "Merlin…" she breathed. "Potter you are such a git."

He smiled strainedly. "Never claimed not to be."

She cracked her gaze in a tired, upset glare. "I can't believe you even have to ask that."

He studied her seriously. "I have it on good authority," he dryly told, Fawkes stirring behind him, "that I'm a bit dense when it comes to chicks."

Across the channel, through a piece of glass, the non-witch he was in love with let out a broken laugh.

His expression grew drawn, severe. "Don't believe in breaking promises, Kaylens," he whispered. "Especially not to you. So…" eyes flickering over hers, he ground, "Can I get a bit of a pass, on the being worried part?"

She was wetting her lips. "Maybe…" Something flashed in her eyes, sudden comprehension, her lips parting. "You didn't even have to tell me, Potter. So why'd you-"

"Because I don't," he grated, "want to lie to you. Ever. And call me dumb, but an omission's a lie."

Her lips parted soundlessly, Harry watching them as she said nothing, her mouth closing for a long, long moment. For a long, long time they both remained silent, neither saying a word, finally…

"I'll be here," she whispered. "I'll always be here. I just…" She wet her lips. "I'm just scared, Harry."

Harry met her eyes, honestly, bluntly telling, "Me too."

The reality of being at war had once again settled in, Harry's heart pounding in his chest, it only alive, beating thanks to the girl he was speaking to.

He was in love with her.

They remained like that, quietly speaking, until Lupin came to get him.

Moody and Tonks had been otherwise detained, and the Dursleys would be getting home soon.

They had planning to do.


ECOTS


The next weeks passed in a blur. Harry spent every waking second he could talking to Kaylens through the two-way mirror, even when it meant her leaving the connection open while brewing potions and whilst he read.

Every day Fawkes feathers grew in thicker, fuller.

One thought grounded him: Kaylens would be waiting for him. It made his heart swell, but the idea of being without her for so long, with a version of her so near that he couldn't touch

The night before he left, two nights before his seventeenth birthday, Harry lay there in bed, talking to her until the sun actually rose. It took that long for either of them to actually fall asleep.

Tonks was the one to finally wake him, having snuck into his room. The connection through the two-way mirror was still active, Harry gently waking Kaylens up, telling her he loved her, her doing the same one last time.

Tonks had rolled her eyes, muttering about dramatic teenagers. He'd shot her a withering glare, kindly pointing out that none of them ever knew what was going to happen.

The metamorphamagus had cheekily pointed out that was typically true, except this time, when they completely and totally did know, and she guaranteed the reunion sex for her with Remus was going to be flat out spectacular so Harry probably also had that to be looking forward to.

Harry had flatly told her if he ever looked forward to reunion sex with Remus, that he was going to send Voldemort a personally handcrafted invitation to come over for dinner Saturday night to hex him dead.

That, at least, had gotten a laugh out of Kaylens.

He'd said goodbye, Moody coming in and announcing the perimeter was safe from all things 'Dursley' – the Order had apparently sent them a gift certificate to some breakfast buffet that they'd apparently 'won.' Regulus had shown, taking a brief 'break' from wherever he'd been off at, scowling and muttering about 'idiot wards and their hapless cardiac injurie, casting several spells over him before finally frowning and deeming him 'seaworthy.'

Apparently he was still damaged, but 'it would do.'

So much for his mother's lingering blood and love fixing him.

Then, to Harry's surprise, he'd adopted a Sirius-like expression, told him to 'be careful,' and stalked out the door before disapparating just outside his front yard.

Without a word Harry, Moody and Tonks had huddled closely, awkwardly together, with the time-turner draped around all three of their necks, Fawkes on Harry's shoulder, and an expandable bag of supplies Harry thought he might need, including the books on Voldemort's school years and his invisibility cloak, on his other shoulder.

They'd already decided that it would be easier to move from Number 4 Privet Drive to Hogwarts in the past, when Death Eaters weren't expecting them to be on the move. That's how Harry found himself time travelling in his childhood bedroom.

Counting the turns would have been a hell of a lot easier had Tonks not made up a song about counting shots of firewhiskey to go along with it.

Eventually, despite Tonks' best efforts to screw with the time-space continuum, Harry was done turning it.

Around him everything shifted. Briefly he saw himself, moving around in high speed, on reverse, but once those two months passed the only changes in the room were the shifting rays of night and day and seasons. No one, not even the Dursleys, came into his room while he was away.

It stopped, leaving he, Moody, Tonks and Fawkes standing in a dark, unlit room, alone.

"Well," Tonks voiced aloud, "that was anticlimactic."

"Petunia, dear, did you say something?"

The voice of his Uncle Vernon had come from the hall, Tonks' eyes lighting up and grinning deviantly. "Why yes dear!" she called in a high pitched and overly exaggerated imitation of his aunt. "I was just thinking a good spanking was in ord-"

Moody hexed her silent, growling, snaring both he and her by the arms and apparating them out of there just in time.

It wasn't until they were in Hogsmeade, ducking behind the Hogs Head, that Harry realized how shockingly cold it was. "I almost forgot what February was like," he muttered darkly, Moody concurring.

Tonks just shook her head, her hair growing out into a bushy, curly mesh that resembled a lion's mane, while suddenly growing facial hair everywhere.

Harry and Moody both gaped at her. She simply stroked her new beard. "What?" she said innocently. "Don't like my new look? I call it 'instant scarf.' It's au-natural, if you get my meaning." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively over her mannish face, Harry permanently scarred for life.

Moody growled, but Tonks just rolled her eyes. "Oh you're just jealous you big brute."

Harry cut them both off, muttering, "We have to get to the shrieking shack."

Before either could ask why he'd darted in that direction, breaking in through a window, leading them to the tunnel belowground. It wasn't until they were there, safely out of ear shot of anyone within Hogsmeade, that he told, "Have to get onto the Hogwarts grounds unseen somehow." The last thing he needed was for himself to try to kill himself, and he knew himself. He was a paranoid bastard.

For a frightening moment he wondered if this line of thinking made him, in any way, like Moody.

Tonks just followed them through the tunnel, whistling as if impressed. "You know, Remus told me about this, but he made it sound horrid. I think he undersold it. All it needs is a light dusting…" She was fingering her wand lovingly, as if contemplating something, only for Moody to snatch it away.

In response to Harry's look the old Auror shrugged. "Her housekeeping skills are more terrifying than Grindelwald."

Harry's mouth parted in a silent 'o' of understanding, while Tonks grumbled savage things about 'men who thought they knew everything about housekeeping,' and 'if they thought they knew so much then they should start cleaning up after themselves.'

As it was, sneaking into the castle was fairly uneventful. Moody and Tonks had disillusioned themselves, Harry having to use the invisibility cloak to cover him and Fawkes. For some reason the spell didn't work on phoenixes.

They reached Dumbledore's office, but before any of them could question how the hell they were supposed to get in without the password, Fawkes opened his beak and let out a strange sounding trill.

The gargoyle hopped aside, even if it did give Harry a once over.

Harry, remembering his last encounter with the gargoyle, shifted nervously.

That was how, Harry James Potter, found himself standing in front of a dead man. The door to the office swung behind all of them, Harry tearing the invisibility cloak off, whilst the Headmaster of Hogwarts, a dead man, calmly summoned some cups and china, hot water steaming out of his wand.

"Tea and biscuits, anyone?" he asked pleasantly, eyes sparkling, whilst the original Fawkes trilled at the new arrival.

With a sudden pop Dobby appeared, large green eyes beaming and ears flopping over.

Harry suddenly felt like he'd stepped into an alternate reality.

For all he knew, he probably had.


ECOTS


Dumbledore inclined his hand towards the empty seats, stating pleasantly, "Please, if you intend to stay awhile." His eyes twinkled as if engaged in a private joke.

Given they were stuck there for the next six months, it actually was a private joke.

Tonks took the queue and flopped into the nearest chaise, snagging a biscuit that had just levitated out of thin air and chomping on it loudly. "Don't think I've quite forgiven you for that stunt you and Reggie pulled, Albus," she said around the tasty morsel. "Locking me in here to make an unbreakable vow. Rotten trick that was."

Harry had remained standing, staring at Dumbledore like he'd seen a ghost. Tonks cast a concerned look back at the wizard. "Psst, kid," she hissed, "you planning to stand for the next six months or joining us?"

That got his attention, earning her a sharp look. "I'm not," he stated sullenly, "a kid." Still, he stalked over and took a seat, looking as if he were half thinking better of it.

She beamed around another biscuit. "For two," she held up two fingers, "count 'em, two more days you're kind of sort of an almost teenager. So buck up boyo, but I'm keeping the moniker till the clock strikes seventeen." Not that Harry had ever exactly been a normal teenager, but she was going to hang onto that just to harangue him as long as possible.

Mad Eye glared at the man with open hostility, circling the room like a hawk. "Name three things only Albus would know old man."

Oh, this ought to be good. Tonks took the liberty of propping her feet up on Harry's legs, earning her a sharp look and a swat, which she steadfastly ignored. Instead she conjured some popcorn for Harry to watch the show.

Dumbledore chuckled politely. "Ah, Alastor, are you certain you want these two discovering Bermilda had cajoled you into wearing flowers for your marriage ceremony?"

Tonks promptly started choking, Harry having to pound her on the back to help her resume normal, vital functions: like breathing.

The renowned Auror growled. "It was one flower, on my lapel. A boutonnière, if I recall the name correctly." He cast a look towards Harry, who was smirking a bit. "Would wipe that smirk off your face, Potter. Muggle tradition. Yours might try the same."

Harry's smirk instantly disappeared.

Dumbledore merely smiled, continuing, "The first time we met, you demanded to know how I could prove that I wasn't a dark wizard trying to transfigure you all into potted plants, so your parents would never know what had become of you."

Tonks again started choking. This time Harry took no pity on her, Dobby having to do it.

"As for the third," Dumbledore continued, "I can perhaps, do you one better, as I do believe…" He lifted a finger, his desk drawer opening to levitate a wizarding photograph, Tonks yanking her feet off Harry's legs so quickly that she was sure she took out a kneecap – Harry's shout indicated as much – to lean forward and get a better look.

Dumbledore had twisted the photo around mid-air far too quickly for her to actually see much other than what looked suspiciously like a bare ass.

"I believe, perhaps, you might recall this part of your bachelor party?"

Moody took one look at the picture and snatched it, stuffing it into his trousers into an unmentionable place that no sane woman would ever venture.

The leader of the Order of the Phoenix, the Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock, defeater of Grindelwald, Order of Merlin first class, calmly smiled. "Do I pass the scrutiny?"

Mad Eye grunted, thumping over with his peg leg and taking a seat in front of the desk. "Taking out contraband like that in front of my trainees," he growled. "Hardly fair, Albus."

To Tonks surprise, Dumbledore waggled his eyebrows behind his half-moon spectacles.

Tonks quietly began plotting on how to first disinfect and second get her hands on that picture.

"I'm not," Harry interjected, "a trainee." Everyone, including the original Fawkes, turned to look at him. He shifted in his chair so nervously it was downright adorable. "Time travelling…thought I should clear that up."

"Hell you aren't, Potter," Moody growled, "had my eye on you since you were twelve and took out that bastard snake slithering around in the plumbing here."

"Which brings me," Dumbledore stated, "to the purpose of having called the three of you here." His kindly blue eyes turned upon Harry, looking at him directly. "My dear, dear boy. You are no longer a boy, and I fear that time and circumstance has limited what I have been able to teach you."

Tonks grinned. "If by circumstance you mean Harry getting all googly eyed at a certain bird, that would do it." Spotting the looks both Fawkes shot them she rolled her eyes, "Oh not you two. You lot lack the plumage Harry's got the hots for, if you know what I mea-"

"Tonks!" Harry sounded half strangled.

She cackled, giving her tea a lady-like sip as if entirely innocent.

Dumbledore merely observed the exchange with kindly eyes. "I always did appreciate your ability to inject levity into any situation, Nymphadora," Tonks growled a little, "as laughter is needed perhaps the most, in the darkest of times."

Before she could cuss the most powerful wizard of his time out, his eyes darted back to Harry. "I can only presume your presence here means I am either dead or missing after one of our horcrux hunts," he stated far more seriously. "That means my time to teach you, Harry, has grown extremely limited. I trust that you can perhaps, forgive an old man the limits of time and space, but there is much more you have to learn if we are to be successful in defeating Voldemort, and I thought it perhaps…best, to do so in an environment where you would be free of distractions."

"He means," Moody stated, catching on, "of the voluptuous kind."

Tonks raised both eyebrows. Kalliandra was hardly voluptuous. Fit definitely, but curvy? "I think Harry goes more for that willowy look, Mad Eye."

"Mmm, and fiery."

Harry looked like he rather wanted to sink into the office chair. But he didn't. Instead he fixed Dumbledore with an almost icy look. "You think Kally's a distraction." He said it flatly, it not a question.

Dumbledore merely offered a kindly smile. "Kalliandra," he agreed, "and all of your friends and family, Remus, Ms. Granger, and the Weasleys included. After all Harry, family can be the family we choose. It is not always, necessarily, by blood." Waving a hand and summoning one of the biscuits to him directly, he continued kindly, "I have always intended to do this if our time ran out, Harry, which it apparently must have given that you are here. I thought if you came back to this time, to now, that it would set your mind at ease to know that your friends and loved ones were safe, so that you could focus on your training in an environment that was completely safe for that same duration."

Harry stared at Dumbledore for the longest time. "Then clearly," he stated, "you don't know about the dementor attack that's going to hit, or the fact that you disappear."

"A date, perhaps, Harry would be helpful, so we can strengthen our anti-dementor fortifications."

"Oh don't worry," he said bluntly, "they breach the towers while students are sleeping."

Dumbledore's blue eyes flashed dangerously, before returning to something calm. "Then all the more reason. Though I caution all three of you," with this his eyes turned upon she and Moody as well, "to not reveal any particulars to me regarding deaths, or my own. Every man, woman and child should be a master of their own fate, without interference, including the knowledge of their own demise. Whilst you are here, I have prepared a training area for you to work within, undetected by the rest of the castle's remaining occupants." He paused, adding, "I have also alerted Minerva, given I neither know the particulars or time line regarding my own…fate. I apologize, but that was necessary to ensure that there was someone else within Hogwarts' walls aware of your presence in the even that it is sooner, rather than later."

Mad Eye had begun cracking his knuckles. "So that's it then. You had Nymphadora-"

"Hey!" she snarled.

"-and I accompany the boy-"

Harry growled, "I'm not a child."

"-to ensure that his training could be completed."

Dumbledore shifted his half-moon spectacles lower on his nose, studying Moody seriously. "Yes."

Harry seemed to slump in his seat. "How am I supposed to complete anything in only-"

Dumbledore lifted up a hand. "No dates or timelines, Harry. Your presence here can only mean one thing, and it is best if I do not know in advance, lest I attempt to change my own fate at the given hour and change everything." The aged wizard smiled, wisely, and upon seeing Tonks' mouth opening to fire off more questions, he calmly continued, "I had picked particular dates, like today, in advance, Nymphadora, as the days on which you three may show up within my office. I figured it would be best to do so to avoid being taken off guard."

Tonks tilted her head, her long pink hair cascading around her face. "But how'd you pick these dates? Or why?"

At this the Headmaster seemed to be brighten. "Arbitrarily. There were quite a few that I selected throughout the school year in this manner. Then, if I felt the time might come for my own - shall we call it demise? – I could look amongst the dates and the date at which I felt my demise would occur, and consider the events in between. So, if I choose this date then it can be ascertained that between now and the time that you came from that no one that Harry truly cared for, and would be distracted by, suffered an ill fate-"

"Other," Harry muttered beneath his breath, "than you."

"-before my own occurred, and that I could ensure his concentrations could remain firmly fixed upon his training."

Tonks cast a mildly concerned look at Harry, pausing her gorging of biscuits and – were those new things levitating miniature treacle tarts?! – to eye him. She could practically see the wheels in Dumbledore's head moving along.

Dumbledore might have done his best to make that statement true, but Mr. Weasley had died, as had Bill and Professor Gai. A lot of people had died.

There would have been no way for Dumbedore to have written a will and taken into account those that died on the island.

Tonks sucked in a breath and realized she was going to have to play mom for a bit. Responsibility was not a good look on her. Abruptly she sat up straighter, smacking crumbs off herself. Mad Eye remained in the background, looking suspicious. "So, training…you brought us back for Harry to be trained then, yeah?" She gave a quick gesture between her and Mad Eye. "So why were we…." She let the question linger, raising her eyebrows in pointed question.

Albus flashed her a tired smile. "Who better to train Harry to go up against the darkest wizard of our century than two Aurors, Nymphadora?"

She scowled at the name, only for Dumbledore to hold up a hand. "You must allow an old man his small humors, Tonks. I so do enjoy seeing the results of Andromeda and Ted's drunken night out."

Her mouth fell open, gaping. "Drunken night what?!"

Moody finally snickered. "How exactly did you think you got landed with that foul name?"

She found herself sputtering incoherently, incapable of forming speech, while Harry – damn him! – actually snorted. "It's not," she finally growled, "funny."

Harry shot her a bemused grin. "Course not."

She bared her teeth in what she hoped was a threatening growl, only for Dumbledore to intervene. "There was, perhaps, another reason I requested you, specifically, Nymphadora." Looking between her and Harry, he folded his aged hands on his desk, as if considering his next words. Finally…

"Harry, my boy, can you tell me…what, perhaps, was your first sign of true magic as a child?"

Tonks' brow instantly creased uncertain where Dumbledore was going with this. She glanced at Moody to see if he had the foggiest, but the grizzled wizard just grunted in the negative.

Harry, however, had leaned back in his chair, as if thinking hard. "I let a snake out of its enclosure, while on a trip to the zoo," he finally said.

Albus gave a kind, knowing smile. "I'm thinking, perhaps, a bit earlier than that Harry. Something that Severus saw during your legilemency trainings that was far, far more subtle."

Tonks had to admit it, despite being stuck in the past, having tea, treacle, and biscuits with their dead leader, with a long, looming drought in her sex life for the next six months, she couldn't help but be intrigued. She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees eagerly as Harry looked so deep in thought it was a marvel he didn't have a stroke then and there.

"Something," Dumbledore prodded kindly, "to do with grooming."

Harry's eyes instantly widened, clearly getting something that her and Moody had not. "No."

The Headmaster merely smiled. "I'm afraid so, Harry. In fact, I rather think the reason it expressed itself in precisely that way was due to your desire to always look the same and blend in," tilting his glasses far down his long nose, he added with some humor, "even to the point of it refusing to be cut."

It took Tonks a second.

Then she got it.

Most importantly, she got it before Mad Eye.

She jumped to her feet, her dish and biscuits clattering to the floor and sending both phoenixes launching up in a flurry of startled feathers. "NO!" she exclaimed, looking between Harry and the Headmaster. Harry couldn't be. If he was, that would be too much like receiving an early Christmas present, or a little brother. She'd always wanted one of those; like a pet of her very own to teach and train and scold and-

"I believe," Albus stated, sounding far more calm then she, "that it would have expressed itself more prominently had Harry grown up in an environment where differences were embraced, rather than punished." His expression saddened. "The fault for that, my boy, is entirely my own. I only hope that you can come to forgive an old man's mistakes. We did not find out about the cupboard until the Hogwarts letter was sent out, you see."

Tonks' head jerked back and forth between where Harry sat, jaw set in angered memory, and Dumbledore. "What cupboard?" she asked with a typical lack of tact.

"The one," Harry ground numbly, "that was my bedroom until someone from the Order threatened the Dursleys to stop caging me." His bright green eyes locked onto the Headmaster's. "I assume that was you? I never could figure out why I suddenly had a room of my own when I got back from school that year."

The Headmaster smiled sadly. "Indeed, Harry, it was."

Harry just nodded, grimacing. "Appreciated that. Was nice to have some leg room."

Tonks was rapidly getting a picture of just what they were talking about in her head, and she didn't like it at all. She'd known those Muggles had been bad, the absolute worst sort, but- "They locked you in a cupboard?"

Harry and Albus both looked at her, one a bit bemused the other sad. "Yeah," Harry responded, like that level of abuse and entrapment was a totally normal thing for him. "But hey, could have been worse."

Tonks sputtered.

Harry ignored her, turning back to Dumbledore with a fierce frown. "So you think my hair staying the same length and always growing whenever they cut it…"

"Indeed." A bit of life had come back into the Headmaster's gaze, his brilliant blue eyes turning back to her. "Metamorphmagi are rare, and given we had one that was not only an Auror but the most talented one in several centuries at our disposal, she seemed the perfect match as a tutor, don't you think?"

Harry leaned back in the chaise, looking like he was rather overwhelmed. His hand had strayed to the top of his unruly black hair, skeptically muttering, "Uh huh…"

Had Tonks not been contemplating the many, many ways in which she was going to murder the Dursley family in their sleep, she would have been more excited.

Moody, however, was far more focused than she. "Grand skill you've inherited there, Potter," he boomed. "Once you get trained up, it'll do you wonders with stealth and concealment when you're an Auror."

Dumbledore's eyes darted up towards Moody, the wizard plucking a pudding out of mid-air and holding it up to his lips, pausing. "Indeed, Alastor, which brings me to why I requested your presence." The Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock, and Order of Merlin First Class consumed the tasty morsel, eyes closing as he appeared to savor every bit, before stating, "I want you to train Harry as an Auror. I understand we have something of a time crunch, so at the very least…the primary training of a Hit Wizard ought to do the trick. I rather suspect he could do without those six months spent on the finer points of evidence collecting to ensure it's admissible in front of the wizengamut, of the two months spent on negotiating the press."

Tonks had begun to animatedly pace, chewing on her nails. She didn't do it often, but when she did her mind was on overdrive. Harry simply looked overwhelmed, as if he hadn't already before. "You spend that amount of time on that?" he questioned, clearly surprised.

Moody grunted affirmation. "Aye, Potter. Being an Auror isn't all hunting and tracking and killing dark wizard scum. There is a fair amount of paperwork."

Tonks stopped mid-step and snorted. "Like you ever did any paperwork." She distinctly remembered him forcing all of his off on her.

Moody scowled. "You get a trainee after years of none being accepted, and I'd like to see you not reap the rewards of a protégée."

Tonks turned her nose into a pig snout, glaring at him over it in pointed protest.

Harry had turned his attention back to Dumbledore, having moved to acceptance that this was his lot in life rather quickly. "How long will it take?"

"Auror training takes three years, Potter," Moody answered for them, thunking his leg thoughtfully on the floor. "Though…those recruits lack the war experience you've had. We can shave off close to a year of the unnecessarily frivolous stuff, and with you I won't have to spend a month tricking you into thinking your best friend was killed due to your screw up just to see how you respond under duress, now will I?"

Laser green eyes shifted to her, Harry staring at Tonks. "He actually did that?"

"Oh yeah," she confirmed, shooting Mad Eye a sour look. "And it was not appreciated. Had me thinking my best mate was gutted all because I'd tripped over an umbrella stand…"

Harry inclined an eyebrow. "Not the best with those are you?"

Now she shot him a sour look.

Dumbledore had merely leaned back, watching the proceedings with a gleam of satisfaction in his eye.

Moody had begun pacing like a man possessed, both versions of Fawkes having taken a perch on one of Dumbledore's many bookshelves to give him a wide berth. "No weekends off for six months…that's another twelve weeks of training right there," he was grumbling, as if to himself. "So an additional three months on top of the six is nine months. We have to cram two years of training into that…."

Tonks had stopped pacing herself, one of her nails snapping off loudly between her teeth. It instantly regrew and turned a bright shade of neon pink to match her hair. "That's still more than a Hit Wizard gets, but less than an Auror," she pointed out.

Moody scowled. "It's not enough. He has to take on Voldemort. We'll need-"

"It is all the time," Albus interrupted steadily, "that we could apparently afford." His eyes turned to Harry. "I also would like to take some time, if Harry does not harbor objection, to work with him on his phoenix bond, and to have Minerva work on the animagus transformation."

Tonks hair shortened several inches. "Raving Ravenclaw." Her eyes darted to Harry, telling bluntly, "Hope you weren't attached to sleep, Harry. Looks like it's off your agenda."

Whatever he was thinking he didn't show it; his face remained an unreadable mask. "

Then Harry stiffly nodded, glancing between the six of them, Dobby having taken up a perch next to the two phoenixes. "Okay," he said gravely, "where do we start?"

Tonks frowned, always an advocate for him but still concerned at what he was about to take on. Wasn't Voldemort enough on his daily agenda? "Harry are you sure?" she asked.

Harry turned to look at her, tension rippling across his form. "Not like I have much else to do for the next six months anyway. Besides, busier you keep me, the less likely I am to try to find Kaylens and pretend to be me for an hour." His mouth twitched, betraying the slight jest, but still…

Tonks knew very well he wasn't kidding. "Oh no you don't," she muttered, pointing between him and her. "If I'm stuck being celibate for six months then you're stuck being celibate for six months."

Dobby, for some strange reason, bounced on the shelf and actually clapped, as if approving of something.

Moody just guffawed loudly, holding out a hand to Dumbledore. "I told you the two were shagging, Albus. Now pay up. I don't care if you haven't already made the bet."

Tonks snorted through her pig nose, having forgotten she'd changed its shape, while Harry paled considerably.

It was so fun to watch the young squirm.


ECOTS


Dumbledore had asked to talk to him: alone.

Harry had ascended a twisting, spiral set of stairs prone to suddenly moving on its own with the Headmaster, and now stood in what could only be described as a wizard's loft. Various odds and ends hung, whirring from the ceiling, while random sketches hung haphazardly at angles so odd they did not appear to completely exist in the three dimensions of acknowledged space and time.

As if to further emphasize this, a paper airplane shaped suspiciously like a hummingbird fluttered past, disappearing in front of Harry's nose and reappearing seamlessly on the opposite side of his head.

"I rather thought you might have questions," the Headmaster stated, waving his wand and sending a shimmering veil appearing between the first and second floors of his office. "Given the circumstances and that I am somewhat…ignorant in the timeline of my own demise and now, I thought it perhaps…best to entertain them sooner rather than later."

The wizened wizard proferred a smile, extending his wand's end for the paper hummingbird to land on.

Harry stared somewhat dumbly. "Um…"

Dumbledore's bemused smile grew. "Ah yes, the world renowned um. Time travel so does tend to have that effect upon its participants."

That got his attention, Harry ducking under a flock of paper pigeons. "You mean you've done this before?"

"Why of course not Harry," the Headmaster stated with an air of nonchalance, "that would be illegal." Behind his half-moon spectacles his eyes twinkled.

"Uh huh," Harry uttered dubiously.

From below came a bit of a ruckus, Harry glancing over the loft's rail to see what it was. He could still see Tonks and Moody, the former sneakily levitating quills to tickle the latter when the old Auror wasn't looking.

The result was a smoking, gaping hole in one of Dumbledore's bookshelves.

Ergo, the ruckus.

Even Tonks looked startled as Moody stood over the ruined remains of the tragopan quill she'd been using to stealth attack him with, wearing a battle-worthy grin.

"Ah yes," Dumbledore stated, having come up alongside him, "I do think despite his age, that Alastor will prove quite useful in your training given his…exuberance."

Harry probably should have been concerned for his own well-being at that point. "So long as I don't end up a hole in the wall…" He glanced at the Headmaster. "He took out your bookshelf."

Dumbledore merely waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing I haven't read a hundred times before. Though…I do say Poppy will be rather put out. I had a borrowed romance novel from her. Eclipse of the Moon. Perhaps you've heard of it?"

Harry stared, unsure he'd heart right.

The most powerful wizard of his time shrugged. "Alas, you should really delve into those, Harry. They are quite the guilty pleasure, though I do suppose that Kalliandra would find some of the lines to be quite cheesy." With that Dumbledore winked, motioning for Harry to follow him to a sitting area.

The sputtering sound appeared to be coming from himself.

Harry wasn't sure what he was the most disturbed by: the fact that Dumbledore was standing there, alive, talking to him; the fact that the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared had a Muggle romance book exchange going on with Madame Pomfrey; the fact that the aforementioned wizard had just commented on his love life and had a bet on it with Moody; or the fact that he'd gone back in time to complete Auror, animagus and metamorphmagus training, when he'd been completely unaware he even was a metamorphmagus.

As it was, Harry felt quite accomplished when he succeeded in slumping down into an overly large chaise without having some type of breakdown. He stared blankly at the Headmaster, rather like someone who had recently undergone a lobotomy.

The Headmaster chuckled. "It is a lot to take in, isn't it my boy?"

Harry nodded numbly.

For the longest time Dumbledore studied him, sounds drifting up from below as Mad Eye and Tonks bickered rather like a well-affectioned parent and child. Not that Harry had much basis for comparison beyond the Weasleys, but if the Weasleys had been prone to hexing rather than pranking one another, he imagined they would have sounded like that.

"I confess, Harry, I suppose I did have an ulterior motive for speaking with you alone."

Harry continued to stare blankly, not having quite remembered how to form coherent sentences as he stared at the man who had disappeared in a burst of flame under the sea.

"You see, Harry, I know that you and I…we are not on the best of terms in my current timeline. However, I must beg you to entertain an old man's curiosity…since you have not been burning holes through my robes with your glares since arriving, I can only suspect that we perhaps patch things up before…" He quirked a brow and thankfully left the untimely death or disappearance component unsaid.

Harry, uncertain about how much he was actually able to tell Dumbledore about the future, merely nodded.

Seeing that seemed to please the Headmaster. "Your capacity for forgiveness, Harry, was always remarkable."

Harry swallowed stiffly, not sure the man would be saying that if he knew they'd only patched things up the day before his death."

The Headmaster clapped his hands. "Excellent, now that we have gotten that awkwardness out of the way…"

There was a small coffee table between them, and in a burst of flame Fawkes appeared on it. The phoenix ruffled its feathers, fixing Harry with a dark eyed, contemplative look.

Dumbledore reached out and picked up a cup of tea, lifting and smelling before drinking. The wizard appeared to be savoring the flavor, before telling, "I could not help but notice, Harry, that Fawkes seemed to be somewhat….concerned for you upon your arrival." Smacking his lips, he said, as if to himself, "A bit more sugar…" With a twitch of his fingers a sugar cube appeared directly above the cup up tea and fell in with a resounding plop, slowly dissolving as Dumbledore resumed, "I can only take this to mean that you sustained some sort of injury?"

Harry winced. "Understatement…" he muttered, suddenly craving tea and snagging his cup.

The Fawkes on the coffee table walked over to the kettle, knocking off the lid before plunging his head fully into the hot, steaming water. The bird messily lapped the up water into his beak, Harry having to jerk his leg out of the way to avoid a scalding.

Dumbledore just observed the mess calmly. "I'm afraid of all the things I have accomplished in life, Harry, that teaching table manners to a phoenix was not one of them." He took another long sip of his tea, nodding encouragingly.

Harry finally tasted it, the honeyed, lemon tang lingering pleasantly on his tongue. The scent was even better, Harry closing his eyes for a second to breathe it in.

One thing he had forgotten about was how well Dumbledore conjured tea.

Fawkes jerked his head out of the now unusable kettle, his feathers and beak steaming. The phoenix had fixed him with a peculiar look, Harry glancing at Dumbledore a bit worriedly. "Doesn't that hurt him?" Then again, phoenixes liked fire.

"Doubtful," the Headmaster stated, reading his thoughts, "but given the circumstances it seemed necessary."

Fawkes – the original Fawkes – was still eyeing him a bit strangely, Harry suddenly feeling tired. "What circumstances?" The phoenix had now taken several steps across the coffee table towards him, steam curling off his beak.

Dumbledore let out a long sigh, slowly removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Or at least Harry thought it was the bridge of his nose, as everything had just gotten fuzzy. Harry squinted, almost forgetting that he no longer needed glasses, a strange, sleepy feeling fogging his mind.

"You see, Harry, the thing about phoenix tears is they do not work quite the way everyone expects them to." The Headmaster looked at him from across the table in the little loft area, baubles buzzing on the shelves. "If you could try to stay with me for another moment, Harry. Do you recall the basilisk's venom, and how Fawkes' tears were able to save you then?"

Suddenly Harry's heart thudded in his chest, a nervous sweep of panic stirring. "Yeah…" He felt like the word was slurred.

"Well, it was only able to save you because the venom was in your blood stream, and Fawkes dripped his tears directly into the wound. Tears, you see, work miracles when in direct contact with the ailment, but are somewhat…diluted when they are not."

It definitely wasn't his imagination. Dumbledore had gone completely blurry. The panic instantly turned into terror, Harry looking between the fuzzy outline of the cup in his hand and where the Headmaster sat.

It hit him like a brick thrown through a Muggle windshield.

The tea cup dropped, shattering loudly. "Phat did phou do to phe?" he demanded unclearly, suddenly realizing…

Harry tried to get to his feet, staggering back, unaware that he'd even dropped the cup. His legs felt like jello, Harry's back smacking against something – a shelf.

He could hear Dumbledore sighing loudly. "I do apologize my dear boy, but the moment you arrived your Fawkes communicated your ailment to mine. It appears you've healed as far as you can and…regrettably for your tasks to come it is not enough. I would recommend, my dear boy, avoiding dying again, if you can."

There was a halo around everything, creeping in at the edges of his blurred vision. The Headmaster's voice was starting to sound distant, bleary. Fawkes had leapt from the coffee table to the chair he'd been sitting in, stalking like a velociraptor.

Harry hit his knees, having grabbed for his wand and shouted for Moody and Tonks, only he wasn't sure if he'd ever actually shouted or gotten ahold of his wand. The sudden panic he'd felt was curiously gone, replaced by an overwhelming numbness.

Harry didn't see the Headmaster rise, polishing his spectacles on his purple robes, looking apologetic. "The thing is Harry, the only way to ensure your heart actually heals properly, is to get phoenix tears directly on it now."

Harry Potter's body hit the floor of the Headmaster of Hogwarts' loft, his head spinning and everything darkening as he tried to process those words. Phoenix tears…heart…directly on it…

"I rather thought," Dumbledore continued, "it would be best if you were not awake for that process."

Harry had just enough coherency left to realize that Fawkes had leapt onto his chest, one of the bird's incredibly sharp talons heating up, burning a bright gold that could have blinded him.

The claw swung viciously down….

Curiously, Harry didn't feel the terror he should have. He had little way of knowing that in addition to the surgical sleeping drought he'd been slipped, that he'd also been slipped a calming one.

It explained why he failed to scream in time.

The phoenix tore into Harry's chest cavity with a single, deadly slash, tearing it open in that one violent act. The ribs cracked, muscle torn and oozing more blood than ought to be possible from one person, it exposing the still beating, but damaged heart of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Fawkes plunged his recently scalded and heat-decontaminated head low into the chest cavity, crying tears that dripped down onto the writhing, shaking, weakened muscle.

Harry didn't remember the rest.