By the time they had gathered themselves emotionally, the sun had set, blanketing the world below in darkness.

They retreated from the house to a tiny little spot at the end of Private Drive where the street split off in an intersection and where the lamps were off, reminding him of when Dumbledore would come to get him, and turned to him.

"You might want to hold your breath, Harry." She said, an apologetic look flashed over her face before she took hold of his arm and disapparated with nothing more than a pop.

Over the past few years, Harry had his fare share of uncomfortable journeys. He had gotten inside a dysfunctional flying car, used a portkey that threw him out like a tornado, and he had taken the Floo network, which threw him straight into Knocktrun Alley. So, he knew he had earned the right to say it when he said,

"That was the worst thing I have ever experienced."

And it was true. His head had felt as if it was being squished into an atom, his lungs felt like they were being ripped into by his ribcage and his ribcage itself felt as if it were turning into dust. It was a surprise that he was still alive, hell, it was a surprise this was a commonly used method of transport among wizards.

After he dropped to his knees trying to catch his breath and not vomit the very little nourishment that he had, he took in his surroundings.

They landed in a swamp, that much was clear. The water was mushy and looked like there was deep green snot that you got when you were sick floating on top of it. The grass around them shared the same color, albeit a little less nasty but more creepy now that it was night. They were as tall as Harry and the shadows made it look like there was something else deep in the grass.

Tonks laughed. "Come on, Harry."

She trudged her way over to him and waved her wand. Instantly, the nausea went away as if it had never been there. His stomach settled and his eyes cleared up from their burning.

"Useful spell," he commented, the color coming back to his pale face. He readjusted his glasses and looked at her.

"Learned it in Auror training, got to keep a few healing charms with you, never know when you might need one."

Harry nodded, vowing to learn a few.

"Why are we all the way over here? Wouldn't it have been easier to have just apparated into the Burrow?" He asked.

Tonks shook her head. She held out her hand.

"Dumbledore placed some protective wards around this place. He doesn't want anyone apparating into the house. That includes us."

Harry took her hand. Dumbledore really needed to know how to set up a point of apparition.

"Well, I don't suppose you know any drying charms, do you?" He asked, looking down at his swamp water drenched pants.

Tonks grimaced. "Yeah, let me help you out with that."

A look of concentration made its way onto her face as she muttered a spell. A flash of light illuminated the dark world around them before it disappeared, along with Harry's pants.

Yelps of embarrassment flooded the silent swamp. Harry cried out as he went to cover himself up, his face beat red like a tomato.

Tonks was flustered, her own face equally as red. She started spluttering spells here and there, trying to find the correct one to undo the one she just did. Before she could get another one out, she tripped up on her robes and fell backwards into the swamp water.

She closed her watering eyes and bit her lip as the mushy water seeped into her clothes, engulfing her skin in its cold disgusting temperature. How in the world did she trip? She swore her robes had been tailored specifically for her. Yet again, maybe that's what she got for hurrying the tailor up just because she was in a hurry. Nevertheless, she felt the familiar sting of self hatred rise in her like a burning flame.

'How do I expect to get friends if I can't even get anything right.'

Harry made his way over to her, the mud clinging to his feet. He stood over her, one hand covering himself and the other outstretched to her, a sheepish smile on his face.

She smiled back, although reluctant, and took his hand. Once she was up, and facing away from him, she dropped her smile. She was trying to hold back tears while searching for her wand in the murky water.

Harry, trying to make himself useful and just because he felt awkward standing around with only his crackers on, decided to help.

His hand rummaged through the water, making contact with rocks and more mud that stuck itself like gum to his fingers. As he was searching, he couldn't help but think back to Tonks.

Her hair had lost its color. When he was with her in his room, it was a deep purple. Now it looked as if it had been desaturated. Purple was now becoming black. Her skin was pale as well and her eyes... God, the eyes. When she wasn't looking, he would spare a glance at her. Her eyes were devoid of emotion when she wasn't looking at him, making her look like a real life mannequin, an unnerving sight to behold, he thought.

He didn't know what was bothering her. He thought that it was Sirius's death still on her mind, but now he knew that it had to be more than just that. There had to be more to her problems, he just didn't know what, and it made him feel terrible. He didn't like not being able to help his friends when they clearly needed someone to be there for them, and Tonks looked like she needed to talk to someone.

"Found it!" She said, a hint of joy slithering back into her voice.

She held up her wand and then pointed it at the drenched part of her robes. "Tonks, wait," said Harry.

She looked up, the wind blowing her black hair in her eyes. She pulled it behind her ear. "Yeah?"

"Don't you think maybe you shouldn't do it?" He asked. He hadn't known that she was smiling, although very little, almost imperceptible, but he found out when it fell.

His guts twisted.

"I mean, we don't want you running stark naked, right?" He tried to amend, with a small smile.

Tonks held no facial expression on her face as she trudged past Harry. "Sure." She whispered.

He sighed, but followed her.

Line Break

Harry guessed it had taken them twenty minutes to exit the swamp. But when they did, they were greeted by the sight of the Burrow, a tall mismatched building that leaned to one side a little too much for Harry's comfort. The lights on the upper windows were off while the ones of the bottom floor were still on.

They arrived at the front door and Tonks knocked a few times.

Shuffling could be heard from the other side of the wooden door. Most likely Mrs. Weasley setting down whatever pot or pan that she was washing.

A smile graced Harry's lips as he was waiting for the door to open. This rundown house was his home. People cared about him here, not back at the Dursleys where he suffered at their hands. But not anymore, he was in his safe haven that was the Burrow.

Several locks could be heard unlocking and before them stood Molly Weasley, a plump woman who always smelled of home cooked meals and wore a concerned expression that had become permanent after years of having to deal with so many troublemaking kids. Harry always thought of a mother bear when he looked at her.

"Harry, Tonks, oh my goodness gracious you are here!" She said as she pulled Harry in for a hug. Just as expected, she smelled like porridge and spices.

"We were expecting you a bit earlier based off of Dumbledore's letter and all."

She hugged Tonks, and then retreated hastily, mossy water dripping from her arms.

"Sorry Molly." Said Tonks, a defeated expression on her face as Molly wiped her hands dry on her apron.

"No worries dear, and... oh my!" Molly expressed as she looked at Harry's bottom half. Harry felt the redness return to his face.

Molly took out her wand from a little pocket she had in her apron and pointed it at Harry's bottom half. She muttered a spell, and to Harry's relief, his under crackers didn't disappear, but instead his pants reappeared, still wet.

"There we go. Now, come inside." She said as she looked over their shoulders into the dark and then turned and walked to the kitchen.

"Oh, and Tonks, dear. Could you dry yourself and Harry, please?" Tonks shook her head.

"Sorry Molly, that's the reason why Harry didn't have underpants, I cast the charm but it backfired on me."

Molly frowned, but nodded. She pointed her wand at Harry's pants and waved it. A stream of strong hot air assaulted his pants, drying them instantly. She did the same to Tonks, and both were as dry as before they landed in the water.

"Now," said Molly, putting away her wand. She made her way into the kitchen, where pots, plates, and pans were stacked so high up that they almost touched the ceiling. On the stove, there sat a black pot, steam rising from it.

"Are either of you hungry?" She asked.

Tonks shook her head, she backed up slightly towards the door, her hand fiddling with her robe. "Sorry Molly, but I've got to go."

Molly frowned, she grabbed two glass bowls from the dish rack and set them down at the table. "Come on, dear. Just eat. And you did promise me that tea."

Harry met with Tonks's eyes. "Please, stay."

Molly waved her hand over the bowls, and instantly they filled up with porridge. Tonks took one glance at Harry and at Molly, her lips pursed, but eventually, they went up in a small smile.

"Fine. I'll stay." Harry beamed at her. He went to the old run down table and pulled out a creaky chair and waved Tonks over.

She smiled at him, genuine this time, and took the seat. She picked up the silver spoon to her side and dug into the food, her mind far away in her thoughts. Harry kept his gaze on Tonks as he took the seat next to hers.

Her black hair was now a mousy brown, hanging in front of her eyes, yet she did nothing to move it out of the way. Her shoulders were slumped forwards and only came back up when she ate from her bowl. The concern in Harry only grew. Something was seriously wrong, and he wanted to help. But how could he help when he barely knew her? He had said that he was her friend yet he and her had rarely ever spoke to each other before. The only times they spoke was in Number 12, yet even then it was hard for them to interact with her job as an Auror and her assignments as a member of the Order keeping her away from the place most of the time. And when they did speak, it was mostly just her asking him how school was and if he was going to be an Auror when he graduated.

Harry pulled the bowl closer to himself and leaned into it, a small smile on his face. She was so happy back then. He remembered her joking around with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. Her hair was a beautiful bubble gum pink and her eyes were filled with so much mirth as she made them laugh, in turn making her laugh at Ron's ridiculous laugh that sounded like a dying house cat.

A warm feeling spread throughout his body, making him smile more.

What had happened to her?

"- Harry?" Said Mrs. Weasley, her hand on her hip and her gaze fixed on him. He looked to Tonks and noticed her smiling at his cluelessness.

"Um… I agree?" He said, more of a question than an answer. Luckily, it was enough for Mrs. Weasley, who turned back to washing her dishes as she continued talking.

"What was she talking about?" Whispered Harry.

Tonks smiled and leaned in. "She was just asking you whether you agreed with the Ministry's sanctions on Aurors from other countries."

Harry's brows furrowed, he pushed away his bowl and leaned in as well.

"Sanctions?"

"Yeah," she said, scraping her spoon against the inside of bowl.

"Apparently Scrimgeour doesn't like help coming in from other places, he thinks it makes him look weak." She said.

"Did he really say that?" Asked Harry.

"No, but I worked with him a few times, he doesn't like help," she said, but then frowned. "But when needed, he would always accept help, hell, he'd even ask for it. So it's weird that he isn't accepting any now."

Harry frowned. It was weird that he wasn't accepting help. Voldemort was back, they were going to need as much help as they could get. "Maybe he just really doesn't want to be seen as weak?" He offered.

Tonks shook her head, placing down her spoon. "People are starting to say things, Harry. Rumors about Death Eaters infiltrating the Ministry, and with things getting rougher each day? I wouldn't be surprised if it was."

Harry's eyes were wide. If the Ministry was infiltrated then all hope would be lost. Every person capable of fighting against Voldemort were the Aurors and the Order. And the Order wasn't nearly as big as it ought to be thanks to the fact that everyone is afraid of Voldemort.

"Harry." Said Mrs. Weasley, turning to him, a cloth and a cup in her hands.

"It's late now, go up to bed." She said, cleaning it.

Harry looked at Tonks, then at Mrs. Weasley. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay and talk to Tonks. He wanted to know why she was so down and help her through whatever she was going through. But one more look at Mrs. Weasley said that he wouldn't be having that talk with her now.

'Damn, and I don't even know when I'll see Tonks again. For all I know, I won't see her 'till next summer.'

"Well, when will I see you again, Tonks?" He asked, getting up from his chair, making a squeak as his weight lifted from it.

A flash of surprise crossed her face. 'He wants to see me again? Why?'

"Um, I don't know, Harry, whenever Dumbledore assigns me to look over you." She said, as she, too, stood up from her chair.

Something took over Harry as he went and hugged her.

"I just want you to know," he whispered, an assertive tone to his voice, "that I'm here for you. If you ever need anyone to talk to, I'll be here, no matter what time of the day or night. Goodbye, Tonks, take care of yourself."

Wide eyed, Tonks nodded, and bid Harry a goodnight before he made his way to the stairs. And from the shadows, where the light from the candles didn't reach, Harry observed Tonks, a new feeling arousing in him. He saw the sad look return upon her face as she took the cup of tea that Mrs. Weasley had offered her and sat back down, this time, Harry noted, in his chair. He took one last look and climbed the stairs.

Line Break

Harry didn't know why he even hoped of having a normal nightmare free night, he hadn't had one in a long time, and with Voldemort back, he was sure he wasn't going to have one while he was around. This time, though, his nightmare didn't consist of Voldemort torturing his loved ones. This one consisted of himself, just like last night.

The first thing that Harry noticed about the room was that it was small and dank. A thin sheet of water fell from the jagged gray walls of the room, creating a sort of water fall sound as it hit the floor. Harry could hardly see anything in front of him except the wall next to him and an old fancy chair.

He made his way towards the chair, his bare feet splatting on the cold stone floor. The chair was old and tall. It looked like a throne except it was run down. The wood was splintered in several places and one armrest was completely missing, its brother's paint scraped off. When he got there, a laugh echoed through the room, alerting Harry. His hand went to his side, searching for his wand, only to be disappointed with its disappearance. He grimaced.

"Well, hello Harry. Nice of you to join me again. I was feeling... lonely inside here." The voice said, and instantly, Harry recognized it.

It was him. It was his other self. The darker one. Harry's eyebrows furrowed. He looked around the room, the darkness making it impossible to look at the room. Harry walked around, still trying to make it out, though.

"What do you want?" He asked, keeping the fear out of his voice.

The voice laughed, and it suddenly came from behind him. Harry spun in place, meeting with the tip of the wand to his chin.

"Tell me, Potter," he sneered. He jabbed the wand painfully to his throat.

"Have thou feelings for thy vixen?" He finished.

Harry frowned. That sounded familiar, but with the fogginess of the dream, and the panicking of his insides, he couldn't remember.

"Oh, really?" The other him scoffed. He lowered his wand.

"You can't remember?" He turned away from Harry. "Of course you wouldn't, you can't do the important things right."

The other Harry sat himself down in the chair, gazing at Harry with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He flicked his wand and another chair, similar to his own, appeared behind Harry. "Take a seat," the other him said, a dark glint entering his eye.

"No," Harry said. The other looked at him, a sneer growing on his face before settling back down. "Fine, but you don't get to sit anymore. No second chances." And with another wave of his wand, the chair disappeared.

"So, what do you want?" Asked Harry, warily. The other him laughed while putting away his wand in the inside of his jacket. "You know what I want."

Harry's eyes shot up in confusion. "Please, don't act like an idiot." The other him said. "Although you don't need to act." He muttered, leaning forward.

"You and I want all of this," he said, waving his arms around, "to go away. You and I don't want to worry about the next person that Voldemort might kill." He got up.

"You and I," he started, his eyes growing darker each second. "Want to end it. End him. Kill him and all of his little cronies. Because you and I don't want him to kill the people we love." He said, his hair turning pink and his eyes turning dark purple.

"So," he leaned in, whispering in Harry's ear. "You need to do things my way, or else you might lose people just like you lost your mummy and daddy. Like you lost Sirius. Like you'll lose Ron, Hermione... Tonks."

Harry pulled away. Kill? He hadn't killed anyone, at least not intentionally. Those people at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries died not because he wanted to, but because they were in the wrong place when Ginny cast her spell. Yet, he knew that it would come to that, him killing Voldemort. Either he killed Voldemort, or he killed all of Harry's loved ones. And deep down, he knew it wasn't an option. Deep down, he knew he would have to gather the courage to take a life. For the greater good.

"Yes. Now you're seeing it." Said the other, striding around Harry, hands in his black denim jeans, a confident smirk on his face. Suddenly, his smirk dropped, being replaced by a frown. "But I'm in trouble." He started. "I think I'm falling in love."

Harry turned to him, a frown on his own face. "But I don't want to kill anyone else, that would make me like him."

"Blimey, tell you something important and you ignore it." The other Harry said, eyes closed in disbelief

"If I kill just because, I would be dishonoring Sirius's memory." The other Harry scoffed.

"No, you wouldn't. Why?" He asked, starting circling him again. "Because you wouldn't be killing innocent people, you'd be killing Death Eaters, people who deserve to die. That wouldn't be dishonoring him, it would be avenging him." He stopped in front of Harry, who now had a look of realization across his face.

"Yes, now you're getting it." He said smiling. "Now, as much as I enjoy making you see what I'm trying to tell you, it's time for you to rise. So, wake up."