Author's Note: Edited for better reading. Should hopefully be more enjoyable. No major changes though...
Harry stumbled up to the small gate into the Granger's yard, fumbling with the latch before staggering his way up to the front door. He did his best to straighten himself out before knocking but it was really a futile effort—he looked like a mess. It was a wonder he didn't have a mess of police officers after him trying to discern what crime or disaster he had been involved in. Thankfully the area surrounding Belsize park station was not so busy at this time of night that the average person had noticed his less than glamorous arrival by Portkey in the alley behind the place.
His slow journey from there to the Granger residence had not resulted in panicked cries or general panicked running about, so he counted himself lucky. Why didn't I just use my invisibility cloak? He wondered vaguely. Oh yeah, because I'm an idiot.
His knock was met with the sound of footsteps and scrabbling as someone worked the lock back into its housing, before the door opened and revealed Hermione. It took barely a moment for her to take in his disheveled appearance and sigh. She shook her head as she stood out of the way letting him through the door. "Oh Harry, what have you been up to this time?" she asked in exasperated concern.
He waved that off as he leaned against the wall just inside the door. "In a minute okay?" He indicated his side. "You wouldn't happen to have some burn ointment or some such would you?" he asked. It was funny, he could swear that the burn hadn't hurt this bad earlier. Was it possible for a wound to hurt worse over time? Oh, it must be the Adrenalin wearing off. Is that a good thing or a bad thing I wonder?
She nodded slowly. "Come on we'll get you settled on the couch, as to ointment I'll have to ask mum," she said helping him into the living room.
He was struck by the notion that he must have caught more debris during the fight than he had thought, because judging by how his leg felt he'd taken a hammer to his shin. Yet another thing which had surprisingly not bothered him until now.
There was the sound of feet and Emma paced into the room only to stop dead as she took in Harry's appearance. She took in the blood, scorch marks and generally haggard appearance of the young man before whirling to her daughter and pointing at him accusingly. "And you want to be a part of this?"
Hermione shot her mother a look which would have liquified iron. "Mum, so not the time," she growled firmly. "Do we have some burn ointment?"
Emma considered her for a moment her face set in a stubborn scowl, before finally giving a bit of ground. "We have an antiseptic paste with anesthetic in it."
Hermione nodded. "That'll do nicely, would you please fetch it for us?" she asked, studiously polite despite the tension between them. Harry felt guilty at upsetting the already tenuous peace between Hermione and her parents.
Emma nodded before bustling from the room, nearly colliding with Dan who had likely been drawn by the sound of discontented voices. Upon taking in Harry and his daughter his expression turned to a scowl. He threw himself into the chair across from them and watched them darkly with a closed expression. He looked to his daughter who had stepped between her father and Harry, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. "When we spoke this evening you said he didn't go looking for trouble…" he noted sourly.
Any response to that was cut off by Emma returning, nevertheless Hermione silenced her father with a quelling look, before turning back to her friend. "Harry, what happened out there?" she asked worriedly, all but wringing her hands. "I thought you were just going to have a talk with Madam Bones."
He nodded, shifting uncomfortably on the couch with a wince. "That was the plan." He agreed. "Turns out Voldemort was looking to add another name to his list of kills though. He showed up while I was there and attacked the house."
Hermione's mouth had dropped open in shock, but she promptly closed it with an audible click. "Oh God! What happened, how are you still—Pull up your shirt!" She instructed rapidly falling into a frenzied need to ensure her friend was alright.
Harry ignored that instruction for the moment, gently warding her off. "We managed to hold out until the Aurors and a certain Headmaster showed up. Madam Bones was kind enough to cover for me, but I think it was too little too late to keep it from Dumbledore," he noted with a grimace.
Hermione pointed to the melted fabric of his shirt, and the scorched flesh undoubtedly beneath it. "What kind of curse did this?"
Harry shifted, trying to find a comfortable position to lay in. "Cutting I think, this is just the wash though. I got out of the way of the worst of it obviously."
Emma raised a tentative hand to get the two teenager's attention. "What's going on here exactly? Who is Madam Bones?"
Hermione shook her head ruefully, remembering that her mother had no reason to know this already. "Madam Bones is the current head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which makes her roughly equivalent to the British Minister of Defence. Harry wanted to talk with her about removing the Trace so we could legally defend ourselves and went to her place in the hopes of meeting her."
Harry nodded, and hissed slightly as his shirt tugged at his wound. "Yeah, but Voldemort decided she has been too big a roadblock in his plans, so he came after her tonight with a pack of Death Eaters."
"How many?" Hermione asked, she had assumed the Death Eaters at the Ministry had been the bulk of Voldemort's followers.
Harry shrugged. "Just over a dozen I think?" He saw her unsettled look and explained. "It was me, Madam Bones, Emmaline Vance, Auror Daniels and Susan against the lot of them."
A look of comprehension lit her face. "Ah, hence your cover being blown. Vance is with the Order," she noted looking to his face for confirmation.
He nodded. "Yeah, she and Daniels were knocked out in the fight, they were both alive when I left though. The Death Eaters got the worse end of the bargain though. I think these were the dregs, I didn't see Wormtail or Bellatrix there. Susan and I were enough to handle them while Amelia and Vance held off Tom…"
"Tom?" This came from Dan. He'd just heard dark wizards referred to as WormTail and Bellatrix, somehow the name Tom just didn't measure up.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle, AKA Dark Lord of the British Isles Voldemort, AKA The Dark Tosser, Head Hypocrite or Lord Voldishorts…" Harry relayed tiredly.
Hermione noted his visibly waning strength. "Come on Harry let me put the salve on your wound," she chastised.
He shook his head firmly. "Not right now Hermione, just let me do it, we should be getting a move on, who knows how much time we have." She hesitated, so he explained a bit more. "I managed to wrangle some wards for your parents from Bones. Nothing that will stop Voldemort himself if he shows I'm afraid, but enough to protect them from his goons until help arrives. However they're not going in until tomorrow at the earliest, so it'd be best if we hit the road sooner rather than later."
Emma and Dan for their part shared a silent look, the kind of near telepathic communications that only people who had lived together for years managed. It was Emma who broke the silence. "Any chance we could come with you two for the night?" She didn't relish being in an unprotected home so soon after a battle with terrorists.
Harry saw Hermione's pleading look, but it wasn't necessary, he nodded readily. "No problem, it'd probably be a good idea just in case."
Dan pushed to his feet and jerked his head towards the door. "I'll just get the Cruiser ready…" he murmured before stalking out of the room.
Emma nodded, and smiled thinly at them, clearly more worried than angry now. "I'll pack the overnight bags."
Hermione grudgingly handed over the ointment when Harry held out his hand for it. He looked into her eyes seriously. "You're going to want to grab everything you want to bring 'Mione, we won't be coming back here."
She smirked and gave him a pointed look. "Mione?" she asked archly.
He had the grace to look chagrined. "Sorry."
She shrugged. "It's fine. I know when you say it, you mean it as a term of endearment."
Harry cocked his head. "And Ron doesn't?"
She rolled her eyes in disgust. "No, he uses it when he's trying to wheedle something out of me — like my latest essay — or when he's too darn lazy to say my name properly," she grumbled irritably.
"Ah," Harry noted articulately.
She considered him for a moment. Looking to change the subject she said, "Do we have a plan? Did you at least manage to get the Trace removed in all this?" She looked hopeful.
Harry sighed and shook his head. "No plan beyond tonight really. I'll tell you about the Trace later okay. You should really…"
"Go get packed," She finished nodding agreement. "Okay see you in a few minutes."
She turned and left, but Harry waited a couple minutes before easing his shirt up and lathering the wound with some of the ointment. It was definitely not as good as a potion, or one of Madam Pomfrey's many and varied curatives, but at least it numbed things a bit which was more than he had hoped for from muggle medicine. It could be worse.
Hermione for her part had retreated to her room to begin packing. Unlike Harry who had packed only the bare necessities when he departed Privet Drive, Hermione had packed basically everything she could foresee them possibly needing. Which - considering Hermione's intelligence — the list included basically everything and the kitchen sink. Thankfully her school trunk had an expansion charm to allow for more storage space, currently mostly filled with books.
She paused part way through packing away a pair of books on Arithmancy, and glanced at Hedwig. She'd need to pack what they needed to bring their animals with them. She knew that in theory Harry and her would be better off without hauling their familiars with them. But there were potential benefits as well, if only to their peace of mind.
"Hedwig, do you think you can follow us to the hotel? It might be a ways..." The look she got back from the owl was what could only be described as scathing, prompting her to remind herself that this was a magically enhanced bird capable of flying from one end of Great Britain to the other without stopping. She paused to consider that, just how far could a post owl like Hedwig, with all the magical enhancements fly without needing to stop? After all, Sirius had once sent letters with various tropical birds typically zoned for the Caribbean and gulf states. That was a lot of open water to fly over…
Her train of thought was interrupted by a knock at the door. Her mother was waiting in the doorway expectantly holding the house's first aid kit. "Do you think I should bring the kit so we can treat his burns wherever we're going?" Emma asked uncertainly.
Hermione chuckled as she fought the Monster Book of Monsters into its muzzle before stuffing it in the trunk, she had less…volatile books on the topic, but sadly not many of them were as comprehensive. Hagrid swore all one needed to do was stroke the spine; well her copy had long ago decided that it would not be pacified by platitudes. She swore she heard it trying to plot her murder with the other more mundane books now and again. "It can't hurt. Not with the way Harry accumulates injuries. Knowing him, he'll get attacked by a rabid badger or a rogue bludger on his way into the hotel." Judging by her mother's expression Emma was uncertain whether or not to take that last bit seriously.
Her mother nodded and tucked the kit under her arm but did not move to leave. "Do you have a moment to talk?" Emma asked tentatively.
Hermione spared her mother an exasperated look. "Is now really the time for this?" she asked stuffing some packets of cat chow into a spare space along one side.
Emma matched her expression with one of her own. "When else are we going to have the chance… and seriously how do you expect to get a biting book through security if you leave the country?" she asked dubiously.
"The books have notice-me-not and muggle repelling charms all over them, they won't notice a thing." Hermione noted. "The only reason you two notice is because you're family of the owner."
Emma nodded and just waited for Hermione to get back on track. Eventually her daughter waved her permission with a sigh. Emma steeled herself to ask the question which had been eating at her all night. "Does he know how you feel about him?" Hermione froze, and Emma could see the gears ticking over as her daughter fought to compose a denial. She decided to cut her off at the pass. "Don't deny it, I've had years to learn to read other women, and you in particular. I'm not blind you know."
Hermione stiffened before sagging in defeat, shaking her head and staring at her hands where they rested on the edge of the trunk. "No mum, he doesn't," she murmured quietly.
Emma cocked her head. "Why not?"
Hermione pursed her lips and shot her mother a withering look. "Because I haven't told him, and I have no intention of changing that. Because he doesn't see me that way. And because I have no desire to put myself out there just to get my heart broken or risk losing my best friend." She shook her head sharply. "No, I've buried that dream. It was a nice one: the girl gets together with her best friend and they live happily ever after right? But no, it's not going to happen…" she said firmly, trying to convince herself as much as anything. It wasn't the only reason for her hesitation, but it was the only one she was going to give to her mother.
Emma considered her, a touch of a waiver had entered her daughter's voice, a touch of bitterness. "Are you sure about all that?"
Hermione nodded tightly. "As sure as I can be," she agreed.
Her mother smiled thinly. "I think you've misread the situation with him." This was met with another silence, as Hermione fought to stamp out the traitorous little spark of hope that threatened to glow in response to that notion. Her mother continued after a moment, "Have you considered that he may be no more certain of things than you are?"
Hermione's brow furrowed at that. "What do you mean?"
Emma rolled her eyes. "Correct me if I'm wrong but your friend doesn't strike me as a ladies man. Does he have lots of girlfriends, tawdry affairs and liaisons?"
Hermione could only snort in grudging amusement at her mother's cajoling tone. "No, he's certainly not that. He's only had a single date and it was a disaster." She said, recalling Harry's abortive outing with Cho. Despite herself she couldn't bring herself to feel sorry that it hadn't worked out. Not very kind, but there it was.
Emma nodded knowingly. "Then he, like most boys his age, is still at the phase in which he's clueless when it comes to the opposite sex. Honestly most young men are as thick as a brick sandwich when it comes to such things. I'm sure Harry is a little behind that curve considering he has to worry more about just staying alive…" She noted her daughters skeptical expression and pressed on. "My point is, he just might be as afraid to show his feelings on the matter as you are."
Hermione sighed rubbing the bridge of her nose wearily. "Mum, what is the point in all of this? You don't even want me having anything to do with him. I believe you made that abundantly clear when we discussed this whole problem earlier."
Her mother nodded. "For your safety, I still don't," she admitted. "But since you have made it abundantly clear that you fully intend to ignore me in that regard, that issue falls by the wayside for the moment. I do however want you to be happy, so I'll give you a piece of advice despite my better judgement." She explained patiently. "If you really do have feelings for him, and want to know if they could be reciprocated…" She opened her hands expectantly. "Tell him how you feel. Be plain about it, let him know, because I promise you if he's half as shy as I think he is, he's not going to figure it out all on his own. Not with someone as restrained and circumspect as you." She noted her daughters dubiously pensive expression, and nodded in satisfaction. "There, end of advice. Now, let's get everything packed into the truck."
Hermione had to shake her head to clear it of the ideas raised by her mother. She had to pack them away, because for now, she didn't really have time to consider that in depth. They needed to get moving.
Madam Bones spent the first couple hours at the Ministry digging through public records with her niece's help simply trying to corroborate as many of Harry's notations as she could while waiting for reports and autopsy results from the attack. This was, as much as anything else, a way for her to keep her niece occupied until the shock had passed.
Thus far her search had turned up nothing but confirmations of what Harry had implied had happened. Dumbledore had been chronically mismanaging countless facets of his responsibilities for decades now. The extent of the fumbling was difficult to determine, as was just how much of it may have been intentional. If even a quarter of it was by design, there was a very real possibility she might need to bring the man up on charges. She had, as Susan began to fade, returned herself and her niece to her office and begun collating what they had found.
It was well after midnight when there was a knock at the door. She nodded to Susan who shifted herself out of the line of fire, and placed her hand wand below the edge of the desk. She then cleared her throat and called out, "Come."
The door had opened and her secretary peered into the office nervously. "Uh—hello Director, an Auror Tonks is here to speak with you?" Considering the foul evening/night Amelia had experienced thus far, it was not surprising the administrative aide was so cautious.
Amelia nodded, and gestured her acquiescence. "Show her in."
The secretary ducked out and was almost immediately replaced by Tonks, who stepped tiredly into the office. Tonks had changed much over the last month or so, and not for the better. Nymphadora Tonks, a woman who would eviscerate you for daring to use said first name, was usually flamboyant, excitable and dogged in her duty. If a little bit lax in the uniform regulation area. Usually sporting clothing more suited for a muggle teenager with a short bubblegum pink, or purple haircut. Now she looked…aged, in a way clearly not healthy to the young woman's psyche. Her hair had faded to a dull mousy brown which hung limply to just above her shoulders. She had her uniform trench coat on at least, but the clothing under it, a dull greyish blouse and a dark pair of slacks were…boring.
Judging by Harry's revelations, Amelia believed she had the beginnings of a reason why this might be the case with the young Auror. But that was an issue for a bit later. Damn Dumbledore and his Order anyways. "Report Auror Tonks?" She gestured Susan out of the room and the girl scurried out - she had instructions not to wander far. It still wasn't safe as far as Amelia was concerned.
Tonks nodded, watching the teen leave before starting in. "Yes ma'am. As ordered I took a squad down to magical transportation's floo department. We began auditing and investigating the place as well as immediately quarantining the staff on duty at the time. The place is a bloody mess ma'am, I have no idea how they get anything done in there," she noted.
The Director just nodded thoughtfully, at least thus far Tonks was still thorough, who knew how long that would last though? "Any leads thus far?"
"One of the staff was missing on coffee break for an hour around the time in question, but he turned up having some late night nookie with one of the junior undersecretary's aides. Both have been issued with official warnings, but no, nothing that's indicative as yet ma'am."
Amelia shook her head, this could take a while if that office was as disorganized as Tonks suggested. "Very well."
Tonks stood expectantly for a minute before shifting impatiently. "If there's nothing else ma'am, I really had better return to…"
Amelia decided now was the time to air some issues out in the open. This problem with Dumbledore was clearly beginning to affect the efficiency of some of her best people and it needed to stop. She had just gotten her feet under her to work on bringing the Ministry up to war footing, she didn't need her best crippled. "Actually there is something we need to discuss Auror Tonks…"
"Yes ma'am?"
"Your conduct lately has been…irregular Tonks, and I think I know why," Amelia explained carefully.
Tonks rolled her eyes. "Contrary to what those gossips out in dispatch say ma'am, me and Dawlish haven't got any sort of illicit affair going. I don't know what they…"
Amelia stopped her with an uplifted hand. "No, that's not what I—Dawlish?" Tonks nodded sourly. "What are they stupid?"
Tonks smirked a bit before smiling a touch wanly. "That's what I've been asking ma'am."
Amelia shook that off. "No. I was not going to refer to any alleged illicit relationship between yourself and another staff member," she said pointedly. "I was referring to your membership in the illegal militia group known as the Order of the Phoenix." Tonks' eyes widened almost comically - Amelia was reasonably sure that it was not the effect of any of the woman's metamorphic abilities.
She pressed on. "I shouldn't need to remind you of this but I'll do it anyways as it is beginning to affect your duties. It is well outside the bounds of professional conduct for you to even consider taking part in operations with such a group. The only reason I'm willing to overlook your membership with them up to this point is simple: up until now the Auror Corps has not been actively engaged against the terrorist leader known as V-Voldemort, nor his organization the Death Eaters. Now that that has changed there is no room for division, no time for doubts or divided loyalties. I assume you joined out of a desire to protect people?" she asked, Tonks nodded mutely.
Amelia shook her head. "Regardless, the point is that you now find yourself at a crossroads Auror Tonks. The Auror Corps needs it's best — yes I am including you in that category — but you've become distracted by your service to the Order. You can either continue to serve the rightful and duly appointed law enforcement agencies of the Ministry, or you can hand in you badge and run off to play soldier for Dumbledore. Doing both is no longer an option, not in the current environment. Things are different now, we're finally being let off the leash to do what we signed up for." She cocked her head expectantly at the young woman. "Do I make myself clear?"
Tonks nodded stiffly coming to a semblance of attention. "Yes ma'am."
Amelia nodded slowly in return not taking her eyes from the Auror's. "Good. Oh, and by the way, when you next see Aurors Jones and Shacklebolt tell them to come meet me in my office I have the same ultimatum for them."
Tonks nodded jerkily, more than a little unnerved how casually the Director was dropping what were intended to be Order secrets. The Director clearly had more secrets to throw around, judging by her expression. "Yes ma'am I'll tell them..I'll—" She was cut off by her wand emitting a flash of light and a warbling note. Amelia laced her fingers together and leaned forward on the desk expectantly. Tonks gave her a panicky and embarrassed expression clearly revealing just who it was that was sending her a messenger spell. Tonks cleared her throat and stepped a pace back from her desk. "I'll uh—do you want me to head in right now and resign? Or—" She trailed off uncertainly.
"That would be appreciated. I'll divert Irons to handle the investigation until you return at the beginning of the next shift. And please, while you're there would you mind terribly telling Albus I don't appreciate him hijacking my people for his latest crusade? Next time I catch someone answering to him instead of the agency they swore an oath to, I'll have them in chains."
Tonks paled somewhat before her abilities brought it under control. "Yes ma'am. Sorry ma'am," she murmured hurriedly before backing from the room.
Amelia sighed, under better circumstances she might have been able to risk allowing the Order to continue its work unhindered. But sadly these were not ideal circumstances, she could hardly trust anyone not to be in league with the enemy. She didn't need those she did trust holding onto some senile old man's coat tales for guidance.
Harry sat, somewhat stiffly propped up against the door of the Granger's Land Cruiser. Why Dan Granger, a quintessential suburbanite felt the need to own a vehicle suited to traversing all but the harshest terrain was a mystery to his family, and possibly even to himself. However, on nights like tonight when a person needed to pack up a large amount of luggage and move it quickly from one point to another the vehicle came in handy.
They had traveled for quite a while in relative silence before Hermione remembered there was a topic she wished to cover with him before he was too tired to discuss it. "So Harry, what was it you were going to tell me about the Trace? You said you were going to tell me a bit later…"
Harry had to jog his somewhat drowsy mind to remember just what it was she was talking about. "Oh, yeah, that…" He shrugged. "Well that comes tinged with a bit of irony really. It turns out I needn't have gone to Madam Bones today in the first place." He admitted.
She crinkled her brow in confusion. "Why? Did she end up refusing to help you?"
He shook his head. "No no, she was more than willing to help me. It's just that she ended up informing me that the Trace is basically a myth. Because of 'budget cuts'." He said this last with air quotes.
Hermione's eyes widened. "What?" she demanded.
Harry nodded, bouncing his head a bit against the window of the door. "The Trace tracks locations, nowadays, because somebody was looking to cut costs. At least that's the official line the Ministry touts on it. I got the impression the purebloods pushed for it."
"But—that makes no sense!" she protested.
Harry gave her a lopsided grin. "Since when has that stopped the Ministry from doing something?" Hermione made a face at that so he continued. "The way it was explained to me, is that the Trace is only put in place on non-magical households nowadays. Or in the case of Privet Drive which lacked any other Magicals for miles, the household and the general area surrounding it. This means the Trace is in effect only placed on the homes of muggleborns and muggle raised kids like you and me."
The gears were turning furiously in Hermione's head and she didn't like the conclusions they were churning out. "But not on Magical Homes…"
Harry shook his head. "Nope, near as I can tell it turns out they won't pay the costs associated with differentiating between adults and kids at such places so they leave it to the parents to police the use of magic in their homes." He held up a hand to forestall her protests. "Yes, that basically means that pukes like Malfoy can practice magic all summer long without consequence. Yeah it sucks." He noted with exasperation the raw irrationality of the way the British Ministry handled many of its affairs.
"But that's so…biased! And totally unfair!" She protested.
Harry just hummed his agreement, before nodding. "Yeah, me and you could both use magic right this minute and nobody would say anything about it."
She raked her hand through her hair irritably. "That's infuriating!"
Harry snorted. "Yeah, tell me about it. Take it from someone who's been tagged twice by the ministry for underage magic right?"
She blushed, realizing that he had more reason to be upset than she did and yet remained calm. "Sorry, Harry, I know, it's just so…frustrating how much is broken in magical Britain." She noted as the Land Cruiser pulled into a hotel parking lot. It was quiet at this time of night, only the occasional shuttle bus from the nearby airport stopped through at this time of night.
Hermione ended up having to help Harry's now thoroughly stiff and gibbled up self out of the vehicle before helping him make his way inside.
For the first time in her memory Tonks approached the Burrow with apprehension. The usually homely and welcoming…house, was generally a sight for sore eyes after a hard day's work. The Weasley family stronghold, if such a ramshackle estate could be called such.
In the time since the Order had abandoned Grimmauld place, as it was no longer secure following Sirius' death, the Burrow had become a sort of de facto headquarters. Which meant it was the dead last place she wanted to be following Amelia's ultimatum. However, in keeping with said ultimatum, it was exactly the place she needed to be.
It was this nervous attitude which caused Tonks to practically hit the roof when her friend grabbed her by the shoulder. "Whoa, everything alright Tonks?" Hestia Jones asked startled by her friend's over reaction. "Holy hell, you're jumpy tonight! What's with you?"
Tonks shrugged and smiled ruefully at her friend and coworker. "I'll-uh. I'll tell you about it a bit later yeah?"
Hestia just shrugged before moving around the table of the Burrow's large kitchen, sitting herself down and helping herself to a cup of coffee Molly had supplied for the emergency meeting.
It took awhile for the majority of the Order to arrive and the meeting only started after Dumbledore showed up with McGonagall in tow. "Greeting everyone. We call this meeting of the Order of the Phoenix to order," he said solemnly, eyes twinkling a thousand miles per hour and a small smile on his weathered face. "In case there are those among you who were as yet unaware, the residence of Amelia Bones was attacked earlier tonight by Voldemort himself along with a band of Death Eaters." Many of the more expressive members of the order such as their host Molly Weasley offered stifled screams at hearing the Dark Lord's name. The muttering which followed was grim.
"It is therefore my profound pleasure and relief to report that Voldemort was forced to retreat when his allies were defeated and Auror reinforcements arrived on site." He tilted his head deferentially to Tonks and the other Aurors. A show of support which now failed to comfort Tonks, instead making her uncomfortable, itching to leave her seat at the table.
Molly voiced the question clearly percolating through the group. "She managed to hold them off that long, alone?" she asked sounding both skeptical and impressed.
Dumbledore shook his head. "Ah, no. She did in fact have assistance, Emmeline Vance who was scheduled to begin her patrol routine there, also lent aid during the battle, as well as an Auror and Amelia's own niece Susan."
Remus perked up, "Emmeline was there was she? Is she okay?"
Tonks couldn't help but feel a touch bitter at the interest in his voice, even if it was totally platonic. She'd been attempting to catch the wolf's attention for months now, and his rejection had hurt a great deal.
Dumbledore nodded. "She is currently in intensive care at Saint Mungo's. I have stationed Alastor to watch over her while she heals." He noted a touch sombrely.
Arthur snorted, before offering a thin smile. "Still, it's impressive. I wonder if any of us could manage the same?"
Hestia cocked her head to the side and considered, she'd seen the level of destruction in that house first hand. "Do we know how she managed it?" She asked curiously. That was one thing that you could always count on with Hestia, she was always eager to learn a new trick, a new maneuver for a fight.
The aged headmaster shook his head. "No—sadly not at this time, she has agreed to meet with me at a later date however. Perhaps that shall offer some illumination?" he speculated.
"Speaking of illumination, I believe I may be able to shed some light on this." Drawled an unfortunately familiar voice as Snape, the Hogwarts Potion Master and double agent against Voldemort, swept in cloak billowing behind him. Tonks had to credit the man with his ability to make a stylish entrance though. She wondered how he got that cloak to billow like that.
He paused briefly as he came to a halt at the table edge. "It seems that Amelia had additional assistance in her defence that we were not aware of. She was aided by one who is singularly infuriating to the Dark Lord."
Dumbledore appeared intrigued and the rest waited in anticipation for the identity of the mystery defender. "Who Severus?"
Snape smirked somewhat. "Harry Potter of course."
This was met with an outcry as shock and disbelief gripped the table. "What!?" shrieked Molly. Tonks rolled her eyes, for a woman who insisted Order business should be kept from her family Molly was a master of raising the decibel level of these meetings.
Albus was suddenly urgent, all remnants of the grandfatherly persona he favoured gone from his visage. "Severus are you certain?"
Snape nodded calmly. "Yes, the Dark Lord was quite vexed and took it out on one of my fellows before coming to the conclusion it was merely an…intriguing coincidence rather than any cunning or reckless design by the boy," he noted dryly.
"Is there any indication that this was why he attacked Madam Bones last night?" Albus asked his eyes focused on the potions master's sallow face.
Snape merely shook his head. "No, he truly had intended to kill her. A fact he had concealed from the rest of us...perhaps desiring to keep the kill for himself? Regardless, it appears that Potter was merely there by…chance and intervened, to the Dark Lord's detriment."
Suddenly some things clicked in Tonks' mind and she sighed explosively. "If that's true it might explain some things," she noted.
Dumbledore's eyes were on her now. "Such as?"
"Such as why Dung has not reported any activity at all from him today or yesterday…" she grumbled. "Such as Amelia calling me into her office tonight and giving me an ultimatum: resign from the Order or turn in my badge. Which brings me to my next order of business." She grumbled irritably as she pushed to her feet. She herself was unaware that for the first time in days her hair had shifted colour, albeit briefly before returning to mousy brown. "I'm sorry Dumbledore, but I'm afraid I have to turn in my resignation; I can no longer be with the Order."
Molly puffed herself up. "I can not believe that Harry would tell Amelia that…" she protested. Tonks shrugged, it made little difference to her.
"Regardless me, Hestia and Shack are all facing the same choice: the Order or our jobs." She looked apologetically to those gathered. "Sorry guys, I'm out."
Hestia looked stricken and Shacklebolt looked worried. Dumbledore meanwhile had adopted a friendly cajoling attitude. "Nymphadora…"
Tonks stiffened, she was not in the mood for more of Dumbledore's typical behaviour in regards to her. "Dumbledore, I believe I've made my position quite clear when it comes to my name?" she growled, glaring at the old man, who was blocking her exit.
The man nodded readily, appearing contrite. "Yes, and you have my apologies. But surely Tonks you see the—"
She cut him off before he could get his feet under him. "No, Dumbledore, stop right there. I joined up to fight bad guys and protect people. The Ministry now fills that role too and I'll lose the job I have pursued for years up until now if I don't resign. I'd better say goodnight to you now and hit the road. Good luck you lot," she noted bowing her head slightly.
She heard a chair scrape and Hestia stood. "I'm afraid I'm gonna have to do the same Headmaster, I'm sorry." She hurried to catch up with Tonks.
Dumbledore turned pleadingly to Kingsley. Shacklebolt held up a hand to forestall him. "I'll need to think on some things and speak with Amelia first, Albus. I'll let you know."
Hestia caught up with Tonks as she was exiting through the front door, struggling to pull on a boot before leaving the premises. Hopefully not for the last time - regardless of affiliation with the Order she was fond of the Weasleys. "Just how bad is it Tonks?" Hestia asked in a hush. "How mad is Bones?"
"About the attack tonight or us being with the Order?" Tonks asked, then let out an oof as she fell on her backside while struggling with the boot. Hestia was kind enough to ignore it without snickering.
"Either, both?" Hestia suggested uncertainly.
Tonks rolled her shoulders as she got to her feet again. "In regards to the attack I think Bones is so far beyond pissed she's gone through it all the way into that dangerous calm on the other side. Or maybe she's just too tired to shout; it's not always easy to tell," she admitted quirking a weak smile. "Who can blame her right? Having to throw down against You-Know-Who? As to the Order things?" She shrugged. "She was perfectly reasonable with me but left me with no doubt as to what choices I faced. She was right to call me on it."
Hestia blew out a breath as they began walking down the drive towards the edge of the wards. "Guess she was lucky Harry was there eh?"
Tonks considered that, "You know, I can't decide whether or not to blessing or cursing Harry right now," she admitted.
Hestia glanced at her. "You think he really sold us out to Bones?"
It was Tonks' turn to blow out an uncertain breath kicking at the gravel beneath her feet. "I don't know."
Jones appeared to consider that then shrugged philosophically. "It could be worse I suppose," she allowed.
Tonks' raised a skeptical eyebrow at her friend. "How so?"
"Well, of all the people he could have risked telling, Bones is perhaps the only one I could stomach. Can you imagine if he'd blabbed to Fudge?" She mocked shivered.
Tonks reluctantly conceded the point. "True enough I suppose," she agreed.
"Do you think she's right? Telling us we need to support the DMLE over the Order?" Hestia asked eventually. They were past the ward line now, but they needed to talk.
"Probably. Doesn't mean it doesn't sting a bit to realize what a mistake we made. We're the line between order and chaos, we're not supposed to run around with secret societies," Tonks noted grumpily, irritated with herself more than anything.
"Do you think we were doing the right thing when we joined up?" Hestia ventured.
Tonks sighed and rubbed her face. "I think—I think we were doing the only thing we could do under the circumstances back then. Now though? I don't know, now the Ministries finally involved…" She didn't need to finish that statement, the meaning was clear enough on it's own. "The Old Man means well I'm sure, of that I have no doubt, but…"
They walked in silence for a time just enjoying the cool predawn air. Clearly the issue was still bothering Hestia though. "Do you think Harry told her?"
Tonks eventually nodded her head. "Yeah, I kinda think he did."
"Why would he do that?" the other witch wondered aloud.
Tonks shrugged. "Don't know, could be a whole boatload of reasons for it," she argued.
Hestia looked worried. "Do you think he blames us for Sirius?" she wondered.
Tonks scrunched up her face, she missed that old mutt. "It's possible."
"Do you think he'll show at the will?"
Tonks grimaced. "Doubt it. Assuming he even knows about it, which frankly knowing Dumbledore, I doubt. He'd have to be eight different kinds of crazy to try and visit with Dumbledore there."
The silence fell again and they walked perhaps half a kilometre together before Hestia spoke again. "Are you feeling alright Tonks? It's just—you've not been yourself lately…" her friend ventured delicately.
Tonks fought the urge to roll her eyes in exasperation, she hated talking about feelings. They were too…girly. "My abilities are tied to my emotions. Needless to say the last few weeks have really sucked."
Hestia nodded rapidly. "Amen to that." She glanced at Tonks. "You bummed about Sirius? or is it the other thing we talked about?" she asked.
Tonks winced. She'd confided her interest in Remus to Hestia—she'd therefore witnessed the big old ball of suck that was the aftermath of his rejection. "Probably both" Tonks admitted sourly.
Hestia snorted, and resorted to an age old truth. "It never rains but it pours right?" Tonks nodded agreement. Things never seemed to go wrong in isolation from each other, they always went wrong all at once. She cocked her head as she pondered something. "You know it was really odd wasn't it?"
"What was?"
Hestia looked at her seriously. "Snape, when he showed up."
"How so?" Tonks asked furrowing her brow.
"Well, normally anything happens with Harry and he's slagging the boy off. This time he didn't. He just reported what he knew and left the rest of us to figure it out. I mean knowing the greasy old bat you'd think he'd be muttering about Harry doing it all for the attention or some such nonsense. You figure something finally changed his mind about Harry?"
Tonks just about laughed at the absurdity of that comment. "I doubt it. Whatever it is between those two, they hate each other's guts with an unholy passion."
Hestia grumbled good-naturedly. "I don't know if that's comforting or not."
Harry settled himself heavily on the edge of the bed in the room Dan and Emma had rented for him. The thing about pain was that it didn't merely dull your mind and impede movement, it sapped your strength. Harry was downright exhausted, and it wasn't just from lack of sleep. Hermione didn't wait long before starting in again. "Honestly Harry, you've been favouring your side ever since you got back. The salve clearly hasn't worked so lets see it, and I'll grab what we need to fix you up."
"It's alright Hermione, burns just hurt more than most wounds," Harry argued.
She was losing patience with his stalling and evasion. "Harry, just—just show me the wound alright?" she said, clearly biting back on her exasperation. Her patience was clearly fraying rapidly, and he saw no purpose in continuing to be stubborn about this.
He sighed explosively. "Fine, hang on." He reached across delicately and pulled up the edge of his thoroughly ruined shirt.
Hermione hunkered down on her haunches to examine it more closely, before leaning over and pulling a sterile wipe from the first aid kit. He hissed when it began to irritate the edges of the wound as she wiped away some of the dried blood. She bit her lip as she considered the wound as dispassionately as she could. "I'm surprised this didn't burn through your shirt…or melt it to you skin."
Harry shrugged as much as his wound would allow. "Well it was a cutting spell right? I call it a burn, but it's more like a wake from the spell then a fire," he noted.
She bobbled her head noncommittally. "Plenty of things can cause burns Harry, not just fire you know." She noted his quizzical expression. "Liquid nitrogen can burn you even though it's absurdly cold. But in this case what we're dealing with is more akin to a radiation burn from the spells wake, think of it like a sunburn. The raw energy bleed off from the cutting spell."
Harry grimaced. "Radiation, great…"
She smirked. "It's not like nuclear or solar radiation, but it's still enough to scorch you." She noted gripping his side carefully and peering more closely at the wound. "I think we'll need to prepare a poultice for this one, then we'll secure it to your side with a wrap," she decided, she pushed to her feet and crossed to the door between the two rooms and knocked. It was only a moment or two before her mother opened it. "Hey, Mum, can you help me apply a poultice to Harry's burn?"
Emma nodded shortly. "Sure, just a moment." She ducked into her own room for a minute before returning and rifling through the first aid kit. It was larger and more well stocked than most he had seen. It took a few minutes to prepare the poultice from the supplies in the kit. Hermione explained and named each of the materials they planned on using while they worked. Eventually it was time to actually apply it.
"Harry, you're going to need to take off your shirt so we can secure this to your side properly.
Harry hesitated. "Is that really necessary? Where'd you learn all this anyways?"
She rolled her eyes. "I took some training over the summers, and paid attention when Madam Pomfrey was talking after your…accidents. And yes, it is necessary," she argued firmly.
Harry grinned nervously. "What? You don't think your parents have been shocked enough as it is?" He teased weakly, this only seemed to confuse her.
It was Emma who spoke up, "I assure you Harry I've seen just about everything a person can see over the years. I may specialize in teeth, but I'm a medical professional remember?"
Harry sighed in defeat, before grabbing the edge of his shirt and pulling it over his head. Sure enough he heard the hiss of indrawn breath from Hermione and Emma. What they were seeing was in short: scars. Many, many scars of varying sizes and shapes all across his torso and back. "How did you get all these Harry?" Hermione breathed, her eyes skating about his form as she took it in.
Harry pointed to a selection of them in turn. "Dragon, Basilisk, various vicious creatures, duels with Death Eaters, my relatives and my aunt's damn dog Ripper who just loved chewing on me."
Hermione felt physically ill. "Your relatives did this to you?" He shrugged, seemingly nonchalant about what were in essence the signs of extensive, repeated and methodical abuse. She shook her head. "Harry…this is really bad."
"I know, but I'm away from them now right? No sense dwelling," he argued stoically.
Hermione couldn't believe he could be so blasé about it, but for the time being conceded the point. She handed him the poultice. "Here, hold this to the wound and we'll get you bound up." Harry nodded amicably and complied, holding the somewhat soggy mess to his wound as Hermione and Emma worked to wrap him in gauze and pressor strips.
Harry chuckled to himself. "I'll say this for Madam Pomfrey and her horrendous potions, they're quick. Even if they taste like battery acid," he noted sardonically.
Hermione sniffed. "Yes, well it's not like we have access to a lot of potions right now is it?" She noted, uncertain whether or not this was a comment on the skill of her ministrations.
Harry shrugged. "Still, it's impressive what non-magical folks manage without magic and such to help them along," he noted speculatively. "Remember when they tried stitching Mr. Weasley's wound last year? Molly looked like they'd grown another head for even suggesting it," he noted laughing to himself at the memory.
Hermione nodded. "I'm pretty sure that the stitching came apart like that because they didn't use the right kind of threading or sterilization. It basically rotted off."
"Doesn't matter now I guess. Molly won't tolerate them trying anything muggle on her family ever again…" Harry pointed out. "Sometimes—I swear, magicals in general are the most biased, bigoted group on the face of the planet."
Hermione nodded seriously. "You won't get any argument from me."
Emma had been listening to this with interest as she secured the last bandage. "Magicals have a problem with muggles?" she asked.
Harry nodded, "Well, let me put it like this. Regardless of the fact that Hermione has the best grades of anyone I know, she will be forced to fight tooth and nail for the good jobs just because she wasn't born a pureblood." He noted her sour expression, "Most Purebloods look on anyone who isn't one of them as lesser beings. Even the good ones like the Weasleys look down on them a bit. Mr. Weasley approaches studying muggles as a sort of eccentric hobby, and his job in the Ministry is as a 'muggle expert'."
Emma looked at her daughter dubiously. "And you put up with that year round?"
Hermione shrugged, it was a reality she was largely becoming used to at this point. "I hope to change things one day. Besides, magic isn't without it's perks, even when it comes with its costs too," she noted as she helped Harry pull his shirt back on.
"So what do you intend to do now?" Emma asked.
"You mean besides get a good night's sleep?" Harry joked, then sobered when he saw she was clearly not in the mood for joking. "I was planning on discussing that with Hermione in the morning, but I suppose talking about it now won't hurt. Let it percolate over night. I was thinking we need to hole up somewhere and study, maybe take the opportunity to just enjoy ourselves now and then when we're not up to our eyeballs in spell work." He shrugged. "Keep an eye on how things develop and then decide on a new course of action from there. Way I reckon, one way or another there's going to be enough studying to make even Hermione desperate for a break soon enough."
Emma seemed perplexed. "So this is going to be, what, a holiday?"
Harry snorted derisively, "No, like I said, mostly we'll be studying, just somewhere out of the way. I don't see the point of burning Hermione and myself out right away either though, so taking the occasional break now and then couldn't hurt, even if it's just to see the sights wherever we end up."
Hermione was thinking that over. "Do you have any ideas about where we could go?"
Harry's eyes flicked to Emma apologetically. "No offence to your mum, but I don't want Dumbledore rummaging through her thoughts to see this conversation. Eventually they'll figure out you went missing at the same time as I did and check with your family."
Emma was justifiably unnerved by that. "He'd do that?"
Harry grimaced. "He does it all the time with school children, I believe, so…yeah, he definitely would if it suited him," he agreed then turned to Hermione. "Short of it is yes, I have a couple ideas of where we could go."
Emma understood his position in this instance. "Then I'll leave you two to it and let you figure out your next move," she said dusting off her knees and getting to her feet. She picked up the bag and packed it before making her way to the other room and closing the door behind her.
Hermione sat on the bed next to him. "So what are we going to be waiting for precisely?"
"Madam Bones mentioned that she might be willing to give me Ministry support assuming she gets elected to replace Fudge. If that's the case we might be returning soon enough and shouldn't get bogged down in whatever else we're doing out there," Harry noted easily.
"Where were you thinking we could go?" She asked, casting about for something else to talk about.
"I've got a couple family properties which have apparently been going unused. According to Gringotts the lot of them are Unplottable. I've discounted the locations in the British Isles; way I reckon it Dumbledore is far too likely to know where those are and look there first," he noted. "But that just leaves two others - apparently my parents inherited them from my Grandparents. A small house in the Sandwich Islands, wherever that is, and a small cabin in Canada somewhere."
"The Sandwich Islands is just another name for the Hawaiian Island Chain," Hermione noted absently, considering those options.
"Do we know if there's any Magicals in those areas? I mean specifically - I know Canada has Witches and Wizards…" Harry noted, thinking of a couple international Quidditch teams he knew about.
Hermione waved her hand airily. "Of course there are Harry, you'll find Magicals just about everywhere you find muggles. There's bound to be major magical sites in most large cities. It's just a matter of finding them."
"Guess I should have made a point to look them up while I was in Diagon," Harry noted a touch ruefully.
"No need, I have a book or two detailing Wizarding tourist destinations around the world," she noted pointing in the general direction of her trunk in the other room.
Harry chuckled fondly. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me."
Hermione had spaced out a bit during the conversation. "Do you think this is the right thing to do? Finding somewhere to hole up I mean? Would it be better to keep moving instead?" she wondered aloud. "I suppose it's our personal habits more than anything which will determine whether or not Dumbledore or anyone else can find us," she speculated. Harry lay back while she sat in silence thinking. She eventually shook herself out of it a few minutes later.
Seeing she had returned to the land of the awake and aware, Harry returned to the topic at hand. "So which one do you want to hit up?"
She considered for a few minutes frowning, drumming her finger on her leg. "I think…" she began hesitantly. "I think this plan needs a bit more work," she offered apologetically.
Harry watched her for a moment before nodding agreeably. He had after all always known the plan thus far was short term at best. "I can agree with that. What were you thinking?" he asked.
She chewed her lip idly. "We can't just run off into the sunset hoping we'll find someone to teach us what we need to know," she asserted. "We need someone to teach us, or this is all pointless."
He rocked his head tiredly back and forth on his shoulders. "I agree I guess, but who could we really ask?" he pointed out. "I mean, the few people I trust besides you to not try and kill us would tell Dumbledore where we were in a heartbeat. Anyone else…" he trailed off.
She wagged her finger at him. "Just because someone has not sided with Dumbledore doesn't mean they are inherently untrustworthy. Take a look at me and you, or Madam Bones? We could ask her couldn't we? Maybe she can find someone?" She suggested hopefully, nodding her head as she warmed to the idea. "And then there are plenty of people who work for places like Gringotts, whose loyalty isn't to the Ministry or anyone except the bank," she noted.
She gave a start when Harry gave a wry chuckle. "Yes, and if there's one thing you can say about Goblins, they would never willingly do something to help Voldemort," he noted. He paused mulling that over. "Yes…we could talk with them in the morning perhaps?" He then smiled at her a touch ruefully. "I still think we should get out of town for a while. Where do you want to go?"
Hermione chuckled, likely understanding why Harry had to wait before voicing that question. "Well I think we really need to know more, but I hear Canada is nice, and I've always wanted to visit Hawaii," she said, smiling a touch cheekily.
"I wonder how hard it will be to get a plane ticket on short notice?" Harry wondered aloud, it wasn't like he'd traveled a lot in the past. "A shame we don't have the flying car or something…well…if the car came with a washroom that is…"
Hermione smiled fondly in recollection. "Do you even have a passport?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah—I know shocked me too," Harry noted laughing a bit at Hermione's surprise. "The Dursleys took me in to get it. I assumed it was probably because they just wanted to make sure they had a bag boy wherever they went…." He shrugged. "Not that they ever intended to leave Great Britain as far as I can tell. Can't be with those other countries having them heathen foreigners after all," he said sarcastically. "You should have seen the looks they got when discussing the French."
Hermione shook her head in mild disgust with his relatives. "Not fans I take it?"
"I think they might be the only group they hated as much as Wizards," he noted. "Imagine if I'd had to go to Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts?" He mused, it was rare he considered himself lucky when it came to the Dursleys.
Hermione tried to inject some levity into the conversation, "Knowing you, you and Fleur would have somehow ended up together and have had a bundle of French Veela babies in no time."
"Hermione, the one time I dated—" he protested.
She waved that off. "I know Harry, I was joking," she said pointedly.
They sat in silence a while longer, until Harry heaved a sigh drawing her attention again. "I'm sorry you know?" Her expression clearly stated she couldn't tell what he was on about. "For dragging you into this I mean. It would have been smarter to just…"
She growled in aggravation. "Honestly, Harry, I've told you before, I want to be a part of this. Do you understand?" she demanded. "I've chosen this."
He nodded almost in resignation. "I understand."
She shook her head and pushed to her feet before pacing to the door. Clearly exhaustion was getting to her friend, they were starting to go around in circles. "Harry, get some sleep. Things will look better in the morning.
Emma returned to the bedroom, trying not to think about a school Headmaster who liked to take a dip into his students thoughts whenever the mood struck him. It wasn't that which caused her to become visibly disquieted when her husband looked up at her from his book. "What's wrong Emma? You look like you've seen a ghost," he noted, concerned.
"I was just helping Hermione bandage up Harry," she murmured making her way to the bed and shaking her head.
Dan grimaced and gave her a knowing look. "That bad is it?"
She struggled to find words for what she had seen. "It's not just the burn, it's the scarring. He's got them everywhere," she said mournfully. Dan was plenty sharp enough to know what that implied and sighed. "He told us about some of them you know? Mentioned Dragons and Basilisks like they were nothing. The ones that seemed to bother him the most came from his relatives."
"So they were abusing him them," Dan muttered, more a statement than a question. Emma answered him regardless.
"Yes, quite extensively…I can't believe some of the things that boy has been through."
Dan groaned and rubbed his face. "And I practically accused him of going out and looking for trouble," he noted, chagrined, thinking of the conversation back at the house. "Turns out he was saving someone's life…"
Emma nodded, then jerked her head in denial. "I just can't fathom it, it's like…How does a war go by entirely unnoticed by us?" she asked, clearly perplexed by the notion. Wars were loud messy things.
Dan misunderstood. "Well in fairness, it's not like Hermione's been entirely—"
Emma cut him off. "Not what I meant. I mean—how are we not seeing it in the news?"
Dan considered that and what he knew of magic. "Maybe it is in the news, think of all the bizarre stuff that's been going on lately, collapsing bridges, random fires, freak tornados…" he pointed out, thinking of some of the stuff that had been happening in the news lately.
"You think that's their war?" Emma asked worriedly.
Dan shrugged. "Maybe? How would we know?" he asked.
Emma's expression soured. "I don't like the sounds of the way these people handle things. I mean, do they really think so poorly of us muggles they won't tell our leaders when—"
It was Dan's turn to cut his spouse off. "Who's to say they don't?"
Emma had to concede that she didn't know for a fact that they didn't. But she felt the need to beleaguer the point somewhat. "From what I can tell most of them really don't think much of muggles…" she noted. "Have I mentioned how much I hate that word. I swear it sounds like a slur," she complained.
Dan was nodding. "I don't know why Hermione would put up with it. Why would she want to stay in that sort of atmosphere of prejudice?" he wondered aloud.
Emma smiled sadly. "I don't think she would, were it not for Harry. Remember how sad those first few letters from her were in first year? Before she became friends with him?" Dan nodded grimly.
"It's that bad with her is it?" he asked after mulling that over.
She shrugged. "I'm not sure bad is precisely the word for it, but yes, I think so. Though she's half convinced herself to see him as a brother instead," she shook her head.
Dan just continued to frown. "I had a…similar conversation with him," he admitted.
"Oh?" Emma asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.
"Yeah, he said whatever he felt was irrelevant as she didn't see him that way," he agreed nodding idly.
She giggled a bit to herself at that. "I can't decide whether that's funny or whether I should be cringing in horror at how thick teenagers are sometimes," Dan was starting to get a bit melancholy at it all. He hated even thinking about the concept of a love life for his daughter. At least in the near future. "What are the chances that they'll come home from all this married with children?" Emma asked.
Dan uttered a heartfelt curse. "I don't want to even think about that…" He cringed visibly. "Uh—do you know if Hermione's…er, you know?"
"Sexually active?" Emma asked bluntly, then shrugged. "I get the impression she's never even been on a real date."
"So—no then?" Dan asked hopefully.
She grinned indulgently. "That's a no, dear. I think she's been holding out in hopes of landing the right one," she explained.
Dan groaned again. "Great and the one she considers the right one is the one she'll be basically rooming with for god knows how long."
Emma smiled at him and patted him on the cheek. "Dan, I love you, you know I do, so I hate to tell you this but—if you have two available and sexually mature adults rooming together for any serious length of time it's somewhat inevitable they're going to be in bed together eventually. Well barring exceptional circumstances of course."
"Doesn't mean I have to like it," he said petulantly.
She elbowed him playfully. "It's not like we were much older than they are…"
"You know, there's a saying, that girls are god's revenge on males for being men. That forcing them to live in fear that their daughters will run into a male like them is some sort of karmic justice."
"Then should I be asking you what you did to piss off the almighty?"
"Har-effing-har!" he griped.
Dumbledore had just been subject to the worst roller coaster of a day he had endured in years. The usual humdrum of daily life at Hogwarts during the off season had given way late the previous evening to the sheer unmitigated panic of the reports detailing an attack on the Bones residence in London. This had in turn rapidly shifted to relief upon arriving there to find her and the other defenders still among the living.
Sadly, in keeping with his luck lately, that relief had once again been replaced with confusion and panic upon hearing of Harry's participation in the battle. The implications stirred up by Amelia's ultimatum to the Aurors in the Order's ranks had merely muddied the waters further.
He had with all due haste rushed to Privet Drive, in the vain hope of finding the boy safe and sound at his relative's house. Instead he found the boy's room vacated, what few of his belongings remained were placed in storage in a cupboard under the stairs and his exceedingly self-satisfied relatives were gloating about finally being rid of their nephew. The boy had left, apparently claiming he never intended to return.
He had proceeded to search all the most likely destinations, and had come up empty. He was not present at any of his friends domiciles, nor was he obviously present at Diagon Alley or Grimmauld Place. The boy, his ace in the hole against Voldemort, had seemingly dropped off the face of the earth and out of his hand in the struggle against Voldemort.
He had of course contacted Amelia Bones, both to see if she could provide clues to Harry's location and to attempt to cajole her into withdrawing her ultimatum but had been met with a stony silence from the ranks of the Auror Corps messages office.
This was not all to say that there were not a myriad of ways he could attempt to track the lad. However none of them were particularly viable if Harry had no desire to be found. It wasn't like he could just hitch a tracking spell to an owl and send it to him. Tracking magic did exist but not of the sort you could hitch onto an object.
It was somewhat ironic to note that had Dumbledore attempted to track Harry or Hermione's movements the muggle way, he would have had much greater success than his own attempts had afforded him.
Adding to this sense of utter vexation was the attitude of one Severus Snape. Where usually the man would be more than happy to cast doubt upon Harry's character, and imply various negative things about his parentage, he had instead opted to stay silent.
Indeed when queried about it, he had merely indicated he was uncertain to what it was that Dumbledore was referring. The only question which he had answered in a satisfactory manner was that which related to the Dark Lord's own endeavours to hunt down Harry himself.
It was cold comfort that the Dark Lord had, at least as yet, entirely failed to find any trace of the lad either. How long that could last though with Harry running amok was another question entirely. He was quite frankly ruining all of Dumbledore's plans!
Author's Note: Once again thank you to Bearmauls and Temporal Knight who beta/psuedo co-authored these first few chapters! Without them this story wouldn't be nearly as good as it is.
Recommendation(s): Going off the beaten path a little here and recommending a couple of Mass Effect/Various crossovers. First up is "The Mission Stays The Same." by Broken Trident, which is a very good Mass Effect/Warhammer crossover something which you wouldn't think would work, but does and is technically ongoing though it changes author around chapter 21... And second up for today is Psi Effect, which is a fantastic Mass Effect/X-com crossover.