A Stranger in an Unholy Land

by serpant-sorcerer

PART I: Days before his 6th year, Harry Potter is sucked into another universe by forces not of this world. Dazed and confused, Harry finds himself in a world where his parents are alive, where Voldemort has never fallen and he is Voldemort's key enforcer

10. A Hero Shall Rise

It is not everyday that the Prime Minister of Great Britain calls an emergency meeting with the Minister of Magic and Headmaster of Hogwarts, but that is what has happened. Within hours of that meeting, the Order of the Phoenix convenes to discuss a new threat, the likes of which has never happened on British soil before. Voldemort has gotten his hands on a weapon that could cripple the Light in a single attack. Dumbledore and Harry both know that Voldemort is making his final move. The beginning of the end has begun.

---

Chapter X
From the Ashes of Despair, A Hero Shall Rise

"It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here, but we are.
It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo; the ones that really mattered.
Full of darkness and danger they were,
And sometimes you didn't want to know the end,
Because how could the end be happy?
How could the world go back to the way it was,
When so much bad had happened?
But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow.
Even darkness must pass.
A new day will come,
And when the sun shines through, it will shine out the clearer.
Those were the stories that stayed with you, that meant something,
Even if you were too small to understand why.
But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand, I know now.
Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn't.
They kept going, because they were holding on to something."

"What are we holding on to, Sam?"

"That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo,
And it's worth fighting for."

Samwise Gamgee (Sean Astin) Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers

Harry rose slowly to his feet. It seemed that every eye in the room was glued to him. It was time to face the music. Everything that the other Harry had done would be laid on his shoulders; every ounce of anger he had caused would be directed at Harry. Slowly, he raised two blood-covered hands, drops dripping to the floor in the process. Harry Potter had returned to Hogwarts.

With a deep sigh, Harry lowered his hood.

A sickening blend of gasps, screams and curses rang out around the hall as Harry lowered his hood. His picture had been plastered over the Daily Prophet and not a single soul in the room failed to recognize him. Harry felt what was left of the blood rushing in his veins flowing to his head. His eyes darted from student to student as they surveyed him. He was struggling to remain conscious, but as he was covered in blood and half-naked he was still an intimidating figure. In his current state, he looked like a figment of a nightmare thankfully forgotten in the morning. He ached all over and was beginning to feel light-headed presumably through blood-loss. He hoped he didn't pass out. His head was starting to pound.

Everyone seemed to back away from him, pressing back against the tables. Those at the back craned to see while those at the front pushed to get away. Did they honestly think we would start throwing curses left and right? These were his friends. He knew he should expect this, but it hurt none-the-less. He was standing in the middle of a circle within the crowd, in which the clearing had doubled in size since he had lowered his hood. No one seemed to be able to find the words. Some reached for their wands, some tried to hide behind the person in front. Harry's eyes fell on Hermione, who stood perfectly still not six feet away. While others backed away, she stood perfectly still watching him, her expression of concern, though Harry could not tell is it was for him or about him. Was she frozen in fear or had he really won her over? He wasn't sure. Not too far away was Ron. Harry looked on in sadness as Ron looked at him with a mixture of terror and anger. He was tall enough to be visible but he was clearly not keen on coming any closer. Seeing his best friend like this was a serious blow to Harry. Ron had always been there for Harry in hard times, except during the first task, of course, but they were still friends. With Ron against him, Harry felt more alone than ever.

Rose and Ginny stood together to Harry's right. Rose's eyes were darting around taking in the same sights that Harry was, probably thinking along the same lines. They both reached the same conclusion. There was as much hatred today as there was two months ago before he arrived.

"MURDERER!" screamed a voice. Harry turned slowly, his muscles aching with every movement. At the front of the circle stood Hannah Abbot, her eyes blazing with anger; tears streaming down her cheeks. Her wand was drawn and levelled at Harry's bare chest. Harry felt the desire to grab the wand, to defend himself, but he had not the energy nor the will to do so. He would not strike a friend. Hannah stood just three feet away, her wand extended at Harry.

"Drop your wand!" snapped Rose. In less than a second Hannah had two wands aimed at her as Rose and Ginny came to Harry's rescue. Harry glanced at Rose, appreciative of her help, but he did not want the situation to escalate. The more people who had their wands out, the more chance there was of violence breaking out. However, the situation was indeed escalating faster than anyone could stop it.

"Hey!" shouted Justin Finch-Fletchley coming to the aid of his housemate and friend, by aiming his wand at Ginny.

"That's my sister!" shouted Ron quickly, pulling out his own wand and aiming it at Justin. Harry knew that Ron was impulsive and was quite likely so set it all off. However, even he hesitated when Ernie Macmillan pressed his wand into the back on Ron's neck. Seamus' Irish fire sprang to life, and soon there were twenty wands aimed at each other. In less than ten seconds, the conflict between Harry and Hannah had spread to twenty others, bringing two Houses, normally friends, into chaos.

"Well here's an irony," mused Harry, turning to face Hannah. "Not a single Slytherin involved." He was more concerned for the safety of Rose than he was his own. If someone got off a spell, it would erupt into a full-blown battle. He glanced over at Malfoy, who seemed to be highly entertained by the proceedings. The blond was staring at him, a smile on his lips. It wasn't a smirk, but there was something about it that told Harry the Slytherin was up to something. Harry glanced at his mother who was moving towards him. The last thing he needed was to give the image that he was being protected by a bureaucracy; that only made him seem more guilty. Hannah's wand was six inches from his nose and his mother was at least ten feet away.

He raised a hand, gesturing for her to stop. She glanced at him and then at Rose, Hannah and then back to Harry. She clearly wasn't happy with the situation. Her wand was in her hands. Dumbledore also had his in his hand, but was making no move. He was looking at Harry with an unreadable expression on his face. He clearly wanted Harry to resolve this on his own. For once he and Harry were in complete agreement. He repeated the gesture to his mother. Lily took another step forward before Dumbledore held out an arm to block her. Harry knew his mother was reputed to have a fiery temper that had all too often been directed at her husband in his youth. He hoped she would not snap at Dumbledore and cause a problem here. Harry was relieved to see her glance at Dumbledore. The old man shook his head and luckily, she backed down. It went against every maternal instinct to leave her son and daughter in a situation like this, but she managed it.

Harry turned to Rose and Ginny. They were standing amongst a spider's web of wands. Half the fifth, sixth and seventh years present had their wands aimed at someone, while the younger students tried to get out of the way of a possible firefight. Rose's safety was his first concern, with Ginny's a close second. He had to deescalate the situation as quickly as possible, even if it meant exposing himself to more danger. His wand was in his pocket and his sword in the cupboard in the entrance hall. He was as good as unarmed and had no intention of resorting to violence. He had never really been friends with Hannah, but he certainly did not wish to hurt her.

"Rose," said Harry calmly, looking straight at his sister. "Put your wand away." Rose glanced from Hannah to Harry and then back, but made no move to lower her wand. "It's okay, Rose, just put your wand away. You too, Ginny." The girls looked at each other for a second before lowering their wands. Harry was grateful that everyone was doing as he said, otherwise this could all go pear-shaped. "Justin," he said addressing the man with his wand to the back of his sister's head. He knew a threat would do no good as he was trying to show that he had changed. Politeness seemed to be the way forward. Just like Dumbledore, he needed to appear clam and at ease with the situation, no matter how dangerous. "Are you planning on hexing an unarmed girl?" Harry stared calmly into the eyes of the Hufflepuff who held his wand to Rose's head. He thought for a second before lowering his wand. Over the next ten seconds almost everyone lowered their wands, even Ron under the fiery gaze of Ginny. The only exception was Hannah.

"That's better," said Harry. "Let's not forget you're all friends, here. This is just a misunderstanding and violence is not going to solve that. So, let's all remain calm. Now that it's just you and me, Hannah, what are you planning to do?"

"You…" was all she managed to get out. She was seething with anger. "My mother was innocent. My Aunt and baby cousin were innocent and you killed them like they were nothing."

"Hannah," said Harry holding up his hands slowing that he was unarmed. "I have no memory of ever meeting your mother, let alone hurting her."

"But you did!"

She was livid and emotional. It would be all too easy for her to do something very stupid in this state. Harry himself had done it many times. She could snap at any moment. It was only now that Harry realised how precarious his situation was. While he doubted that she could manage an Unforgivable, she could still hurt him and in his current condition a less severe curse could do serious damage. He hoped Dumbledore could block a curse if she did decide to strike, but he didn't want to count on it. He needed to talk her down. He knew he wasn't the most sensitive person, and girls utterly baffled him, but he had to try.

"It seems I did," said Harry softly. He considered an outright apology, but she would just think that he was patronising her. No Reparo charm could mend this situation. "By all accounts I am guilty. I'd like to say I'm sorry for your loss but we both know that you would never believe me. There are many in this room that have suffered on account of who I used to be. Many who would dearly like to see me dead, but is that justice, Hannah?" It wasn't Shakespeare, but he hoped it would make its point. If he continued to call her by her first name, it seemed more intimate and would hopefully prevent her hexing a friend.

"Revenge and justice are two very different things, Hannah," he continued, taking a step closer until the tip of her wand almost touched his nose. He stared not at her wand but at her eyes. "Two wrongs do not make a right. This will not help you. Killing me will not help you. Let us assume you are indeed capable of the Killing Curse. You kill me, but what happens next? Do you think it will make things easier? It will not give you your mother back. All it gives you is guilt." Harry knew the truth of his words. He remembered how he felt after he had used the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix. It ate away at him. Not only was he trying to save his life here, but he also wanted to spare Hannah the feeling he had felt after he had done an Unforgivable thing. "Trust me, I know," he continued. If he kept this emotional he might get through to her. "I lost someone close to me once. I took action against his killer; I used an Unforgivable. The pain doesn't go away, it grows, and you have guilt to make it even worse. You will live on, knowing that you are no better than I am. You are the same as me. But now you have used an Unforgivable and you feel no better. You will not be satisfied with just me. You will want revenge on every Death Eater in the country. You will seek them out and kill them one after another until one day you look in the mirror and you realise that you are no better than the Dark Lord himself. You have become the monster you tried to destroy, and it all started with one curse you made here, today. So, Hannah, what are you going to do?"

"You deserve to die," said Hannah, her arm shaking. Harry could see that she was thinking. His words had had some effect. She was questioning herself. She still wanted to hurt him, to avenge her mother, but rationality was beginning to calm her.

"I do," said Harry softly. "And worse. But what gives you the right to be my judge, jury and executioner? Do you want to end up in Azkaban, with a Dementor as a guardian? It doesn't have to end like this, Hannah."

Slowly, shakily, Hannah glanced from her wand to Harry. Tears streamed down her cheeks, now streaked with mascara. She sighed deeply, her eyes closing and her bottom lip shaking. At last, she lowered her wand, allowing her arm to hang limp at her side. Harry sighed a breath of relief. He wasn't sure his speech had worked. He felt a little bad for putting her through a psychological assault, but it had worked out in the end and he had given her a lot to think about. She dropped her wand to the floor with a clatter that echoed around the room. She turned to face Justin who was standing right behind her, burying her face in his chest and crying into him. Harry saw Justin shoot him an appraising glance before wrapping his arms protectively around Hannah and whispering into her ear.

Suddenly Harry felt something rising in his throat. He doubled up in pain, coughing painfully. His throat felt like it was full of razor blades as his mouth filled with blood. He spat out a mouthful, falling to his knees. His mother was at his side in an instant. He felt her cool hand on his sweaty back, concern etched all over her face.

"Headmaster," came a familiar drawl. Harry glanced up as Snape entered the room with Professor Grubbly-Plank beside him. Snape's hair looked ruffled, as if he had been in a fight, which he probably had, for between them they held the bound form of the last vampire. He was young, not looking more than sixteen. He was as straight as a plank, presumable under a Full-Body Bind from both professors and bound with rope in addition. His mouth was moving, but no words came out. Harry assumed his was under a Silencing Charm.

The professors threw the vampire roughly to the floor in front of the Headmaster. Harry got to his feet with the help of his mother. He had one arm around her shoulders as she supported his weight. He could see his blood staining her robes as she held him up.

"Take him to the Ministry as soon as the outer barriers are down," said Dumbledore, as calm as ever addressing Snape. "Well done, Severus. Gringott's curse breakers are on the way and should arrive momentarily. Please inform me when the barriers have been broken." As Snape dragged the Vampire away, Dumbledore turned to address the rest of the school. " Morning lessons are officially cancelled," he announced. He was greeted by cheers from around the hall. "Lunch will be served as normal, until then, your time is your own. Afternoon lessons will continue as scheduled." As the groan died down, he turned to face Harry. He spoke in a voice just as loud so everyone could hear. "We are indeed grateful of your efforts today. I believe that several young Gryffindors owe you their lives. I would like to personally thank you." He extended a hand towards Harry. He knew Dumbledore was doing it all for show, but he couldn't not accept it. Harry raised a blood covered hand and shook the Headmaster's. Dumbledore clenched his fist afterward and muttered a few words. When he opened it, all traces of blood were gone. He turned back to Harry, and said kindly, "And now, I believe we should get you to the Hospital Wing."

If Harry had any blood left in his veins he would have been blushing furiously as he was helped from the Great Hall through the hole he had made a few minutes earlier.

----

Draco Malfoy was in a rather good mood this morning. He was sitting on one of the long leather sofas in front of the fire in the Slytherin common room with his feet on the table and a drink of ice water in his hand. There was a small smile on his face as he stared into the flames, his mind a million miles away. The flickering flames reflecting off his eyes gave him a chilling appearance with his narrow features and dazzling white teeth. It was almost ten o'clock and the common room was full of students, though none dared to come near him. Lessons had been cancelled and everyone was enjoying some time off, except for Draco, whose mind was still working furiously.

On the whole, it had not been a bad day. He had had a good night's sleep and breakfast had been better than usual. Then came the minor inconvenience of being incarcerated in the Great Hall. Not that it worried him. If it was the Dark Lord's assassins, which he had been positive it was and had been proved right, then they would not dare to harm a Malfoy. His only worry had been that they might ruin his plans of aiding Harry Potter. He needn't have worried; the former Gryffindor was one of the most lethal men on the planet. The more Draco thought about it, the more he believed he had been right about Potter's reasons for being here.

If the Dark Lord wanted to have him killed he could have sent an army. Dumbledore wasn't strong enough to defeat him anymore. A few decades ago he might have been, but age had taken its toll on his strength and his sanity. Father always said that Dumbledore was the worst thing that had happened to this school. No, Draco was sure Dumbledore was no longer a match for the Dark Lord. If he had wanted to, the Dark Lord could have entered Hogwarts, killed Potter, killed Dumbledore and taken over, but he had only sent five vampires to do the job. Five vampires versus Harry Potter - Draco would put his money on Potter every time. It was not a challenge for Potter. The Dark Lord was giving the appearance of trying to kill him, but not actually tried. Potter must be a spy for the Dark Lord. Draco smiled as he reached his conclusion. Also by telling the Abbott girl that he had lost someone close to him once, and that he used an Unforgivable proved he had not totally lost his memory. It was a trick - the Dark Lord still wanted Harry in place, but he gave the appearance of trying to kill him after he received the message from Pansy's father. If Pansy's father was out of the loop and Draco's own father, yet Draco himself knew, that put him on the playing field, so to speak.

Naturally, he could not openly speak to Potter in the Great Hall; that would compromise him as well as mark Draco out as trying to befriend him. No, he needed to be subtle, stealthy and otherwise Slytherin about it. His time would come – patience was the right course. Soon, he would get to speak to Potter and then his father would finally realise his potential when he emerged on the right hand of the Dark Knight, able to order his father to do his every bidding. His smile widened at the thought.

Draco knew he had to wait until this attack blew over. At present all sorts of rumours would surround Potter and he would be watched. He needed to be alone with him, but to rush into things might ruin everything. Pansy had nearly ruined it, but the Dark Lord and Potter had been prepared for that. One stupid girl would not ruin it for them. Draco was also concerned of how to approach him. If Potter thought he was compromised and that Draco might give the game away, he would not hesitate to kill him. He had to tread carefully.

Suddenly two hands landed on his shoulders and began to gently massage his shoulders.

Speak of the devil, thought Draco bitterly. He sighed and allowed his head to fall backward onto the back of the sofa. Sure enough his eyes fell on the pug-like face of Pansy Parkinson who was standing behind him massaging his shoulders. She was giving him that loving look he despised, but she also looked quite pleased with herself. Draco kept his face neutral but inside he was screaming. Did she not see how stupid she had been? She was spiteful but stupid and that was a bad combination at the best of times.

"What are you thinking about, Draco," she cooed softly in his ears.

"How some people are too stupid to live," said Draco absently, staring back into the fire.

"Anyone I know?" asked Pansy. Draco shot an irritated glance at the fire before replying. He considered telling her to piss off, but then decided that her predictable stupidity could come in useful later. He decided to appease her for now, within reason.

"Now that would be telling," said Draco, a false smile spreading over his face as he stared back up at her. Draco sighed inwardly and braced himself for the inconvenience to come, as Pansy lowered her lips down to his. His mind was trying to think of an excuse – it was too bad that men could not get away with 'I'm washing my hair', or I have a 'head-ache'. Women had it easy.

----

The door opened with a creak as a figure in black robes and a white mask entered the room. The figure immediately dropped to his knees, crawling the last ten feet on all fours before kissing the hem of the Dark Lord's robes. Voldemort stared down at the man, anger burning in his eyes. This man's stupidity could have ruined everything, but as luck would have it, he had trained Potter better than that. Voldemort was well aware of the backstabbing that went on among his ranks. He normally turned a blind eye as long as they remained useful to him, but this man's little stunt could have caused a major problem, and now he would suffer for it.

"Rise, Parkinson," he said softly, his voice lined with anger. His hand seemed to itch with the desire to use his wand. He could feel the anticipation building in his body, the desire to feel the rush of power that came with the Cruciatus Curse. He kept his anger in check with icy precision and stood motionless as the man stood and removed his mask.

"You sent for me, my Lord," said the man, bowing. Voldemort didn't need to be a Legilimens to see the fear on the man in front of him. He suppressed a smirk as the ease at which he could scare a man. Fear, respect and power all marched hand in hand.

"I did," said Voldemort softly. "Tell me, Parkinson, do you believe that you could run my army of Death Eaters better than I could?"

"M…Master?" stammered Parkinson, his eyes wide in terror. He had broken into a cold sweat. He knew Voldemort knew all about him. Voldemort did not say it outright, preferring to allow him to wallow in fear. He watched in satisfaction as the man squirmed in front of him.

"Do you believe your orders supersede mine?" asked Voldemort, advancing on the snivelling Death Eater.

"I...I would n…never betray…" The man was so scared he could not string a sentence together. Voldemort still found it amazing that such a cowardly, moronic fool could be useful. But useful he was, and as such he would not be killed, not today.

"Silence," hissed Voldemort, ending the stammering. His voice was no more than a whisper, but carried such venom that no man would question him. The anger in his voice was more effective than a shout, and could reduce a grown man to tears, a stage that Parkinson was drawing closer and closer to, and Voldemort had not even touched his wand yet.

"When news first reached me that Potter had defected," said Voldemort. "I gave the order that he was to be found, but no one was to make any move of any kind without my express approval. Do you know why, Parkinson?" Voldemort watched in satisfaction as Parkinson gaped. He knew he had absolute power over him. He could dictate if he ever left this room. He could control his every move through fear or the Imperious Curse. This was utter power.

"Because y…you wish t…to have the p…pleasure of killing him y…yourself?" stammered Parkinson, his lips shaking with every move. It was partially true, but there was another reason, one that took priority over his desire for revenge. He was not stupid enough to tell Parkinson of his plan, but he would make an example of him. No one was to overstep the mark again. Lord Voldemort demanded absolute obedience from his followers.

"One reason, Parkinson, yes," said Voldemort icily. "Yet in the Prophet there was an article this morning detailing an attack on Hogwarts by five vampires, the Tyr Brothers to be precise. Would you know anything about this, Parkinson?" Voldemort fixed him with an unblinking stare. His red eyes burned with venom as he glared at the snivelling man. Voldemort knew he was responsible. Would he be brave enough to admit to it, in which case Voldemort let him off, or would he be a coward and lie? It was a documented fact that it was impossible to lie to Lord Voldemort. Would Parkinson try, knowing the price if he was discovered? Voldemort enjoyed toying with a man's emotions, enjoyed the sight of a man utterly crushed by his own guilt and fears

"Master…I," began Parkinson.

"Yes or no, Parkinson?" repeated Voldemort. Parkinson glanced around the room once before bowing his head and muttering a single word.

"I didn't hear you, Parkinson," said Voldemort icily.

"It was me, Master," said Parkinson, staring at his feet. Voldemort was mildly surprised at the answer. He had been expecting and indeed hoping for a lie and a protest that he was loyal. That was how it usually went with Death Eaters, and he had been looking forward to punishing the man before him. "I sent the Bounty Hunters after Potter," continued Parkinson. "I thought if I could deliver him to you…" he trailed off. Voldemort felt his anger growing. He glared at the man before him. He had been willing to let him go earlier, but the desire to feel the rush; the need for power was too much. Hand tingling, Voldemort drew his wand and pointed it at Parkinson.

"CRUCIO!" he hissed. A smile spread over his face as the adrenalin surged through his veins. His body was alive with magic as anger penetrated every corner of his mind. Parkinson's screams filled his ears like a symphony. Voldemort embraced the feeling, revelling in the rush. Reluctantly, he removed the curse after twenty seconds. Parkinson was no good if he was insane or too badly shaken.

"I gave orders that the boy was not to be touched," said Voldemort. "Do my orders not apply to you?"

"Master, please," begged Parkinson, as he tried to struggle back to his feet. Voldemort knew a pathetic excuse was coming, he managed to hold his anger long enough to listen. If he lied again, he would be punished again. "He had betrayed you. I only served to please. I wanted to bring him to your justice."

"The boy will get justice," said Voldemort. The fool had no idea what was happening around him. "But not yet. For the time being he remains useful. You are fortunate that your assassins failed, Parkinson. In future, you will be more loyal, will you not?

"Yes, Master," said Parkinson, who had made it up onto his knees. He was shaking as he knelt before Voldemort. The Dark Lord glared down at his disciple. He debated whether or not to torture him again. Reluctantly he decided against it; he had work to do.

"Get out of my sight," said Voldemort. "Tell no one of what you have done, nor what happened today. I will know if you do, Parkinson."

"Yes, Master," said the man as he hurried towards the door. Voldemort watch the door closed. Part of him wished he had called him back and subjected him to more pain, but the rational part of him knew he had work to do. With luck, Potter would have proved his worth. He would hopefully burrow right into Dumbledore's little gang. He would gain their trust and go where they go. That would come in useful when Voldemort paid a visit to the Ministry. Potter didn't know it, but he was just as useful today as he ever was.

But that was all in the future. Firstly he had to blind the Aurors. His plan was all falling into place. His newly acquired toy would aid them greatly. No one expected it from him. To be honest, he felt dirty using it, as if he were dishonouring himself in using such a Muggle weapon, but the time for half measures was over. Thanks to one unknowing Unspeakable, who stumbled upon a well-guarded secret in the depths of the government, Voldemort knew that the Muggles were not as oblivious to the Wizarding World as the Ministry believed. It angered him that he had been so close to this little operation all those months ago when he had lost Harry, and had never realised it. Lucius' research into Devon had been more useful than even he realised. But it had moved now, and where to was still a mystery. But there was still time to find it. The Muggles were indeed clever; they were stronger and had more knowledge than he had suspected. That served him well, for the success of his Halloween plan would plunge the Muggle and Magical worlds ever closer to the brink of war. Once he held the power, he would lead the Magical world in a rebellion and take its rightful place as the dominant species on the planet. The defection of Harry Potter had caused his plans to accelerate. Parkinson's idiocy with the vampires did have one unforeseen benefit. One strike team of Aurors had been sent to Hogwarts, not Plymouth, which had made the battle easier, and given his new friend more time to complete his theft. It had acted as a distraction, and had in fact aided his plan, not that Parkinson would ever find out.

It was time to check on Lane's progress. He must have it ready by Halloween.

----

"Look into my eyes, Harry," Professor Flamel's soft soothing voice filled the room. Harry stared unblinkingly into the old man's pale blue eyes, trying desperately to keep his face neutral and his mind closed. He could feel the subtle tickle of Legilimency as his tutor entered his mind. Harry managed to fight every instinct that told him to look away, to break the connection and stayed perfectly still. He could feel Flamel gently probing his memories, and made no effort to block him. The object of the exercise was to hide certain memories while allowing him to view others. Harry's Occlumency training was progressing but very slowly.

Six days had passed since the vampire clan had attacked Hogwarts. It was now the twelfth of October and the air outside was beginning to turn cold. His wounds had all healed, but Harry was still spending most of his time in the Room of Requirement or his mother's quarters. Every time he left to get a potion from his mother or to get some fresh air, he ended up receiving dark glances from everyone he met. Logic told him that hiding was not the answer, but it was by far the easiest solution and so Harry stuck with it. The only people he had really seen were his family and Ginny. Apparently, Hermione had asked how he was and asked Rose to pass on her thanks, but that was about it. Not that Harry minded, on the contrary, as much as he wanted to see his friends, he also did not want further attachment. Still plaguing his mind was the thought that he would have to eventually walk away from this world and all who dwell in it. Harry stared into Flamel's eyes, trying to force these horrid thoughts from his mind.

Since he was not connected to the Voldemort of this world, there was no back door into his mind. Harry continued with his Occlumency, but now he was not being bombarded every night as well as being battered by Snape every day, he was beginning to make progress. He could just about force Flamel from his mind when he used the actual spell and overtly forced his way into his mind. The subtler methods were much harder and Harry was completely baffled, but Flamel was ever so patient. It occurred to Harry that he was effectively being taught to lie properly. Should he succeed, he would be able to allow someone to probe his mind, hide memories without even appearing to do so. He would be able to lie to a professional Legilimens and get away with it. Not something one generally teaches to schoolchildren. But would Flamel teach him everything? Only fool gave out a code he himself was unable to break. Flamel would not teach him everything. He needed Harry to be able to lie to Voldemort, but still be able to tell if Harry was lying himself. Such was the way of the world.

As Flamel tried to access a thought that Harry was trying to block, Harry instinctively shut his mind, forcing Flamel out with a tremendous push. He broke the eye contact and looked away.

"You are progressing," said Flamel kindly, as Harry turned back to face him. "But you must try to be less heavy handed. In forcing me out, you are showing that you have something to hide. Subtlety is the key, Harry. Against me that does not matter, but against Voldemort, you would have told him that you know something important, and he would extract it one way or another.

"I'm sorry," muttered Harry. He knew that was true and exactly what methods Flamel was referring to. He was getting frustrated that he was so inept at Occlumency. Thoughts kept coming into his mind as he tried to clear it. He would concentrate on sound of the waves to relax and clear his mind, but then thoughts came surfing in.

"No need to apologise," said the old man. "You have made excellent progress. The subtler forms of Legilimency are not supposed to be easy. I am astonished that you have done so well under your stressful circumstances." Harry smiled slightly. He had never received a compliment from Snape. He needed small compliments along the way. Sometimes, defiance alone was not enough. Coercing him was not usually effective, as Dumbledore had found last year. Flamel's methods worked much better. He had taught Dumbledore in the old days; now he was teaching Harry. Flamel had contributed a lot over the years.

"I have a lot of motivation," muttered Harry, not wanted to sound arrogant. As much as he like the occasional praise for what he had actually done himself, he was not very good at dealing with it.

"As you did last year with Severus," said Flamel. "But something has changed, not about the lessons, but about you."

"This time I actually want to learn," said Harry. He knew it was true and as much as he wanted to blame Snape and in some ways still did. He had to admit it was his lack of practice that had caused him to fail. Even Hermione had seen it.

"And that is partly why you are succeeding," said Flamel. "Coercion would never work with something as subtle as Legilimency. It requires peace of mind, not one full of resentment and emotion." Harry knew this to be true. From what Flamel had told him, his hatred of Snape had filled his mind even when he tried to clear it and that was how Snape had managed to break in. "Now, when you are ready, we shall try lying once more. Remember - distance yourself from emotion. It does you credit, but it is ever so easy to spot."

Harry took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. He concentrated on the waves, trying to put aside all feelings of love, hate and fear. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath before opening them. He stared directly into Flamel's eyes.

"Are you a Gryffindor?" asked Flamel staring straight into his eyes. Harry concentrated hard on the waves, relaxing. Throwing aside all emotion, Harry answered.

"No," lied Harry, maintaining the eye contact. He tried to calm his heart, tried to relax.

"Do you speak French?" Be calm! Relax! Clear your mind! No emotion!

"Fluently," said Harry, trying to keep his mind absolutely clear and his face blank.

"Do you have a sister?" What? I…Rose…an image of her face filled his mind and then an image of Dudley. Emotion washed over him and his mind went to pot.

"I…" Harry began to stammer, he broke the eye contact and blinked a few times. "I don't know."

Flamel blinked and leaned back in his chair sighing deeply. Harry was sure he was no longer Legilimising him. He didn't know of Flamel was disappointed, angry, or what. Harry couldn't get the image out of his mind.

"You were doing much better," said Flamel slowly. He seemed rather thoughtful. He paused for a few seconds before continuing. "But the personal question stumped you, didn't it? The question about your house was near perfect. Had I not known you were lying, I would not have been able to tell. When it came to speaking French, you strayed from a yes or no answer and I could see that you were lying. At this stage, stay to simple yes and no answers. If you have to extend the answer, you mind is doing more work and it is harder to conceal. Yes and no are short and simpler to conceal. The personal question really did unseat you. You had a strong emotional reaction to the question, which again causes the mind to do work and hence I could see you were flustered. Occlumency will keep that at bay, and allow you to lie."

"I wasn't just trying to lie," said Harry, gazing into space. "I honestly don't know the answer. Up until September I didn't and now I do, but she's not my real sister, but she is real and I do care about her, but I don't know…I'm rambling." His mind was awash with emotion. He had to leave, he knew that, but he was beginning to enjoy life here. He was beginning to see Lily and James as his real parents.

"Do you love her?" asked Flamel frankly. Harry glanced up, caught of guard by the questioned. He was not used to being asked such personal questions. He was very touchy about his feelings, and did not feel comfortable telling Flamel about them.

"Why do you ask?" he managed to get out.

"Why do you not answer?" replied Flamel with infuriating calm. "An adopted child is still part of the family, as they all love each other. If you love her, and accept it, then yes you are part of their family."

"But I have to leave eventually. I know that it will hurt her when I do…"

"But you are scared to love her in case you get hurt as well?" asked Flamel. Harry was taken back. Was he so transparent? Yes he didn't want to get hurt; he didn't want her to get hurt either. He didn't know how to feel, how to react. His mind was a mess of emotion.

"All this from Legillimency?" asked Harry, raising an eyebrow. "I thought it wasn't about reading minds."

"That conclusion was based on simple observation," said Flamel with a smile. "I have seen the way you look at her, talk about her. I can see how guarded you are. The signs are there for all to see. You are feeling a connection to them, Harry. It is only natural. I have seen inside your mind, I know that they are what you have always dreamed of. You are scared of allowing yourself to love them in case they reject you. Do you not see that they are real and willing to accept you? This blockage is all in your mind."

"But I feel like an intruder, trying to steal her from the other me. He could be out there somewhere. He is her real brother, and I still feel like an outsider looking in."

"You are more real to them than the face in the papers. They will love you," said Flamel softly. "If you let them."

"But then they'd be in danger," said Harry. "It's always the way."

"They already are," said Flamel. "It is not something we would wish for, but they are already targets. Your mother is a Hogwarts professor, your father an Auror, both are publicly known to support Dumbledore. Your parents had escaped Tom's wrath three times before you were even born."

"Have thrice defied him," muttered Harry. If Flamel heard it, he ignored it.

"Facing the truth is always like this," said Flamel. "First you have to accept that your argument is not real and all in your mind, it is nothing but your fears. Then you say you are doing it for others. Lastly you find someone to blame. Anger is always the last hiding place, before acceptance."

"And who am I supposed to be angry at?"

"Myself, Albus, Tom, the other Harry, take your pick," said Flamel. "It is an irrational anger. It always is. Anger is the final hiding place, and for those of is who can see beyond it, can accept who we are." Harry had no idea what Flamel was trying to get at. He distrusted all psychology. He did not believe that the mind could be explained in words or in a book. Flamel was an expert, thought Harry, but there was much he did not know. No two minds were the same.

"Distancing yourself from them doesn't make them any safer," continued the professor. "It will only make you more vulnerable. You have been spending a lot of time with them recently, have you not?" Yes he had been, but that didn't mean that Flamel's psychoanalysis was right.

"I had no say in the matter," said Harry. "I couldn't leave." Hang on! Why was he protesting? He had enjoyed his time with them and he was beginning to accept them. He did want a family, so why was he arguing with Flamel? He agreed with him, so why did he protest? Suddenly, Harry realised that he was indeed following Flamel's theory. The argument was all in his mind. He did agree and he did want to be part of their family. But he couldn't. Rose was in danger. She was too young and he had no right to bring danger onto her. Step two: he was doing it for others. Flamel was right. Harry felt a touch of annoyance that he was so easy to psychoanalyse. He didn't like the idea that he was simple minded.

"But you did not hide from them," said Flamel. "You opened up, ever so slightly and it is happening more and more isn't it? Every second you spend with them helps."

"How?"

"Your mind," said Flamel. "You are calming down, opening up, accepting the changes that are happening around you. When we first met, you were angry, vengeful, grieving and rather hostile. Now, you are calm, you are beginning to accept that they are your family. Being with them, having a home has done wonders for your mind, your magic and your humanity. Along with this, your power is growing. You can feel it, can't you? I can feel it when I enter your mind." Harry couldn't tell if that was a compliment. There was a truth to his words, Harry knew that much, but he felt so confused. He didn't understand the mind as Flamel did. His feelings seemed so complicated.

"I still have to leave at the end of this," said Harry in a small voice. "It will only hurt more in the end. Sometimes I feel that the pain is not worth it." There I go again. Why the hell am I arguing when I agree?

"Not worth it? If you honestly believed that then you would not be as close as you are," said Flamel. That was certainly true. "If you honestly did not want to know them, you would have kept your distance. No, Harry, you want a family so badly that you are accepting them, despite what you know to be true. Love and emotion overrule logic and common sense. You are having an emotional reaction."

"But I am not their real son," said Harry. "He is still out there somewhere. I can pretend to be a reformed him in the public eye, but not to them. I can't replace their son."

"You are their son," interrupted Flamel, "Harry Potter as he should have been. Every time they read your name they wished that you had never left, that none of that had happened. To you, that never happened; you are the embodiment of what they wished for. Just as they are your dream, you are theirs. You are not a second choice or anything like that. You must stop projecting your own fears of inadequacy onto them. They will accept you. The sooner you accept this, the better it will be for everyone."

"The sooner I finish off Tom, the better it will be for everyone," said Harry, bringing a sharp end to the topic. He was beginning to feel more and more frustrated by Flamel's theories.

"And that is what we are trying to do now," said the professor. Finally, we are moving on, thought Harry bitterly. Step three.

"Do you honestly believe I can do it?" asked Harry, staring his teacher directly in his eyes. He didn't know how to tell if he was lying, and if he couldn't perform Occlumency then Legillimency was out of the question, but he wanted to know.

"You are not the only one who can kill this Voldemort," said Flamel without blinking.

"You are a master Occlumens," said Harry staring out his tutor. He had no idea if he was lying or now, but that was not the big problem with his answer. "And you didn't answer the question."

"True," said Flamel, raising an eyebrow. "I believe you can do it. I believe that you and Albus alone have the power to face him. One can see irony in the fact that he gave you all this power, all this tutelage and now it is coming back to haunt him." The old man chuckled slightly. This only served to anger Harry further.

"Well I'm glad you find it so amusing," said Harry coldly. "This tutelage as you call it is driving me insane. I don't know who I am anymore. I would never kill in the old days, but a few weeks back I left an Auror to die a painful death without a second thought. I killed four vampires a few days ago and I feel no guilt. I am sort of sick hybrid of the two of us, an ugly compromise." He put his head in his hands. At the moment he hated himself almost as much as Riddle. He wished he could go back to Marge's farm and stop himself from being transported here. But then he would never have met his parents or Rose. He didn't know what to think. He just hoped Flamel wasn't going to go on about projections of feelings of inadequacy.

"Your skills are just that, Harry: skills," said Flamel. "You can use them to do good or evil and it is in that that you differ so greatly from the Harry that we knew. As for your morality, you are changing, growing up. You were kept out of the Order last year, and your sister and friends are still so. Do you think we do this to protect you from a firefight, or to keep you safe? If only it were that simple. No, Harry, we keep you out to protect you from the harsh reality of war. Albus and I have to make decisions, harsh decisions, and the regret that follows is no place for a child. Not a month before you arrived, Albus and I made the decision to sacrifice an entire family, children and all, one of which was due to start Hogwarts next year, for the greater good. Before you scold me, I can promise you I took no pride nor pleasure in it. My only saving grace was that we saved many more than six lives. We as good as killed them, and it is not the first time that such decisions have been made. We have sent Order members on missions we did not expect any to return from. That is no place for a child; war is no place for a child. That is why we protect you, yet you all think you know so much and want to join." There was no anger or disappointment in his voice, only regret. "My point, Harry, is that war is a vile business. You are, unfortunately, caught up in the middle of it. You have killed to protect and though you might not feel pity, you take no pleasure in taking life. You are better than our Harry. We discussed your family a few moments ago. Your whole perspective on life is changing. It is part of growing up. Your strict moral sense does you credit and it is in that that Tom Riddle met his downfall."

"And the other me," said Harry, shaking his head. He knew that Flamel was right. It seemed to calm him somewhat. He sighed deeply before continuing. "You are right. But what really shook me up last week was the fact that during the vampire attack, I had to rely on his skills, his power to save me. I was too weak to do it myself. I would have died and Hermione would have died if it were not for him. I don't want to be in his debt, but I feel that way. I feel like nothing I do is my own any more."

"It goes to show that out of pure evil, must come something good," said Flamel smiling slightly.

"Not that simple," said Harry. Things never were simple when it came to his choices. "When I was falling I just…did it. I didn't even think - I just sort of…did it." Harry realised that he was not being clear. He took a deep breath, willing the right words to find their way to his lips. "I had never heard of the spell and then suddenly I had used it. I would have died without it. I had no idea about dynamite, but then I could remember reading about it. Words seemed to come to me. I could visualise a printed sheet of paper with instructions on. Then again when Hermione was about to be bitten. I had to let the darkness take me."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I can feel the anger bubbling in the pit of my stomach," said Harry. "I can feel this…dark cloud over me. When I get angry, I can feel it bubbling. It is like…when Voldemort was sending me dreams down the link last summer, there was a time when I passed by Dumbledore and I felt this sudden urge to just lash out and hurt him. I could feel this…snake inside me. Then it sometimes seems to just take control, like when I was falling, it saved my life. But with Hermione, I willingly let it take me; I let Harry's power overcome me. I relied on it to save her because I was too weak. It did work, but it was only her that brought me back. I remember doing it, and than I remembered her and me in my world, where we were friends, and I felt the darkness fade away. What really annoys me is that I know I need his power and his skill to win. I need him and hate him."

"Interesting," said the old man looking thoughtful. Her sat still for a few seconds; his only movement was the tapping of his fingers on his chin. Suddenly, his eyebrows rose into his hairline. "Dreams," he said simply.

Harry shrugged, clearly showing he had no clue as to what Flamel meant. He did not usually speak in riddles as Dumbledore did, and this was definitely not the right time to start. Luckily Flamel elaborated.

"You mentioned dreams, and then you said you were falling and then you relaxed, is that correct?" asked Flamel, his eyes alight with understanding.

"So?"

"Your mind shut down," he explained. "You were asleep when you had the dreams. Then later you were falling. You thought you were going to die and you panicked. When you panic your conscious mind again shuts down. Your conscious mind keeps this inner darkness at bay. When you are asleep, it comes to the surface in the form of dreams."

"So why does my conscious mind fight it without me knowing it?" asked Harry.

"You mentioned that it receded when you saw Miss Granger," said Flamel thoughtfully. "You thought about your friendship. I believe this love is what has helped you. It not only keeps you sane, knowing who you are, but it also strengthens your mind." Harry was absolutely clueless. He understood the part about thinking of love and causing the darkness to withdraw, forcing it out with love, as it were, much as he had driven Voldemort out of his mind in the Ministry last year, but as far as the conscious and sub-conscious minds were concerned, he didn't have the foggiest.

"I don't understand," said Harry brushing his hair back and resting his head on his hands. "What is this darkness? Why do I have these visions, this power?"

"I have nothing to base these ideas on," said Flamel. "With the mind there are no rules. Every case is different, every mind unique." Oh, great, so this entire conversation has been in vain! Harry was about to voice his opinion when Flamel continued. My interpretation is that when his mind was ripped from his body, parts were left behind."

"So part of him is in here with me?"

"No," said Flamel. "What I mean is that you are experiencing Memory Echoes; echoes left behind when his mind or soul was ripped from his body. Your dreams are just echoes of what he did. Your skills are practically muscle memory. You can find your way home in the dark; this is little different from that. The darkness you spoke of, I believe is more of a mental block than anything physical. I believe that he associated those skills with anger. Anger would have fuelled his fighting, hatred his curses. He associated them so strongly that you to are doing so as well, following the same mental pathways as he did."

"With a slight detour through my conscience," said Harry beginning to understand. Flamel smiled, and nodded his head.

"As your mind touches these abilities," continued Flamel. "You follow the same mental pathways. You can feel the anger and hatred that he felt when he used them. You feel the fuel of Dark Magic and I think it scares you."

"It reminds me of when I tried to use the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix," said Harry. A shiver ran down his spine at the memory. "It even gives me a headache at times."

"Perhaps, just as Voldemort cannot bear to experience pure love, you find pure hate unbearable. That explains the pain that you felt from your scar in your world. You said that whenever he gets angry your scar hurts. I believe the Killing Curse to be truly beyond you."

"So in essence, I have these powers inside me, but I cannot use them?" said Harry, suddenly feeling exasperated. "They have saved me and I kind of need them."

"Occlumency teaches us to hide memories and suppress emotions," said Flamel. "Obviously we are exploring many lines of Occlumency, but one in particular will help; suppressing emotion. The more proficient you become with Occlumency, you will be able to put aside the hatred that comes with the abilities to forge new pathways to these abilities. One day you will have full mastery over the dark powers that lie within you. You let yourself succumb to them to save Hermione and the hatred overpowered you and your conscious mind shut down enough for it to take control. I mean that only the most primitive, the most animal part of your mind was working and that used the anger to attack. In time, you will control it, rather than allow it to control you. In the mean time, the more time you spend with your family, the more you open up to them, the better it will be for all involved. You remember that your love for Hermione…"

"We're not…" began Harry cutting off his tutor.

"I did not mean anything by that," smiled Flamel. "What I mean is that your love caused you to calm down and take control. If you open up to your family, and I mean voluntarily for your own good, not because I told you to, it will have much the same effect. Remember what I said Harry, you have to let them."

"Sounds promising," said Harry. "But it all hinges on me being able to learn Occlumency."

"Well let us get started then."

For the next hour, Harry found it intensely hard to concentrate. One sentence was flowing over and over in his mind,

They will love you, if you let them.

----

Harry Potter; his face filled Albus Dumbledore's mind as he drummed his fingers on the desk in his office. Fawkes sat on his perch to his left, head under wing and fast asleep. Around him the former Headmasters snoozed in their portraits. The smoking machine on the shelf was happily puffing away. The study was cool, peaceful and serene, a complete contrast to the Headmaster's mind frame.

It had been some time since Harry Potter had told Albus of his life in another universe. He had often thought about it, even going as far as to place his memory in a Pensieve so he could review it in its entirety later. It wasn't that he didn't trust the boy; it was just…he had this feeling about him. As detailed as the boy's story had been, it was also very ambiguous. There was very little useful information in his story. He had put more emphasis on the personal feelings rather than the details that would make the information useful. Over the last few days Albus had managed to extract more detail but it was a chore. Albus could appreciate that living through what the boy had, it was painful for Harry to relive it, but he was not cooperating fully. It was almost as if he was attempting a form of emotional blackmail. Up until then he had seemed utterly resentful off all sympathy. He didn't want pity, or anything like that, but then the story seemed to be entirely focused on emotion and pain. Either he wanted something or his mind had just snapped; after being tortured for three days, his mind was bound to be a little fragile. Maybe Albus was being too harsh. Maybe he wasn't up to anything, but the thought that Albus pondered most was the idea that in Harry's position, emotional blackmail was precisely what Albus would try to do.

But then there was the vampire attack. The Dark Lord had sent a group of Bounty Hunters after Harry, but only five of them. It was disturbing how easily they had penetrated Hogwarts and how easily they had locked the hall. There were artefacts in existence that could do it again. He had erected extra wards to prevent this. All magic artefacts over a certain power that were brought into the castle would raise an alarm. He just hoped Fred and George Weasley's contraptions didn't set them off. The added security was yet another reminder of the troubled times. He was brought out of his thoughts by a knock at the door.

"Come in," said Albus, leaning back in his chair. The door to his office opened and Nicolas Flamel stepped into the room. He looked a little concerned and his movements were slow. His eyebrows were furrowed in thought.

"Ah, Nicolas," said Albus, indicating a chair. "Please join me. How go your lessons with Harry?" Nicolas slid into a chair and settled himself before replying. He seemed to be trying to reach a decision. Albus had enough respect for his teacher not to probe him with Legilimency, that and he knew Nicolas would know instantly if he did and could easily hide things from him. As Nicolas hesitated, Albus could see a certain amount of concern on his mentor's face. He remembered the look from the days when Flamel had taught him in his far off Hogwarts days. Little Albus Dumbledore had been a bit of a troublemaker, a secret he had no wish to make known. People already thought of him as eccentric; that he could cope with but a troublemaker was not constructive. There were very few people left who remembered Albus when he was at school.

"As far as Occlumency goes," said Nicolas carefully, looking into Albus' eyes. "He is coming along slowly. There is still a lot of work to do. He can repel an attack from his mind. He still has trouble hiding memories, controlling emotion, but he can lie convincingly under Legilimency as long as the question is not personal. Do not get me wrong, Albus, he has made progress, but it does not come naturally to him as it did to Severus."

"I see," said Albus. He was impressed that Harry had made such progress. This form of magic was not usually taught to people so young. Also he was a little relieved that if the need arose he could still Legilimise Harry. Only a fool gave out a code he himself could not break. The idea was for Harry to be able to hide from everyone else but him. "I get the feeling there is something else, Nicolas," pressed Albus.

The elder man leaned forward placing his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands. After a second he looked up at Albus with a sigh. "Albus, I am worried about the boy," said Flamel. "Obviously he doesn't know I am here, so please do not tell him. He already has a deep mistrust of you, or rather your counterpart in his world. If he found out that I am here, he may retreat into himself again. When we first began he was highly concerned about what I got from his mind becoming public knowledge." Albus nodded to his friend. He would keep this information to himself, unless it really was of vital importance and could endanger someone.

"I have just come from a lesson with Harry," began Nicolas. "He mentioned that he could feel a great mass of hatred inside him. His words were 'the darkness boiling inside me'. He mentioned that he still dreams of the other Harry's attacks. He said that during the vampire attack, he had to rely on the other Harry's abilities to survive. Now my interpretation of this was that when his conscious mind shuts down, for example when he sleeps and when he panics, the abilities come to him. The subconscious and most animal part of the brain functions and he will defend himself by using the muscle memory and instincts that other Harry left behind. I refer to them as Memory Echoes. Once his conscious mind takes over, he is fine." Albus experienced a sinking feeling in his stomach. If there was still an 'echo' of the other Harry in Harry it may be possible for him to revert to darkness. This was a worrying development.

"Is he dangerous, Nicolas?" asked Albus, gravely, "Is he going to have a Jekyll and Hyde experience?"

"I do not believe so," said Nicolas. "I shall now put extra emphasis on suppressing emotional reactions and hiding them with Occlumency. My hope is to allow him to access these abilities without having to relax and let this anger take over. He finds it disorientating and even painful."

"But it is not only that, Albus," continued Nicolas. "I am worried about the boy's sanity. I have seen enough of the boy's mind to see what he has lived through. He has experienced as much pain and suffering as any of us. But there is something else now - his family. He knows he has to leave this world, but he is also beginning to love them. His mind is changing. This is the ultimate mind-screw, Albus. Your strongest Confundus Charm would seem trivial compared to what his mind is going through. Everything he has ever known has been turned on its head. The more time he spends around the Potters, the more control he seems to have over his mind, but he becomes less sure of himself. The best time for Occlumency is just after he has spent some time with them. His magic is also increasing quite drastically. He is more powerful than we give him credit for, Albus. And the powers he got from our Harry, they give him strength but he hates the fact he got them from him. He hates himself for needing them. He believes or rather believed that his only purpose was to fight. Even now, he is at his best when the pressure is on, in a combat situation his mind thinks clearly. He is in his element when fighting. He knows this and it scares him because he thinks people will think that his only reason for living is to fight. Without that reason, people would just dessert him."

"Once again, the most important question is 'is he dangerous?'" repeated Albus.

"He is going through a very trying transition," replied Nicolas. "Everything he has come to believe is being thrown into question. He has been alone for so many years without an adult caring for him, being utterly emotionally independent. Now he has a family and he has no idea how to feel and how to behave. Part of him misses the independence; part of him relishes the security. There are subtler aspects to this than being overlooked. He has never really had to answer to anyone before. He has never had to worry about taking a detention slip home to a guardian or a bad report card. He has never had to answer to anyone he actually loves. If Lily were to reprimand him I do not know how he would react. The Dursleys were always oppressive, teachers were just that: teachers, and Molly was always good to him. If someone he thinks he loves like Lily were to shout at him, I couldn't say how he would react. It might hurt him and he may distance himself from them. He could rebel, not being used to anyone controlling him, Merlin knows, he resented you for trying to control him. If he feels threatened…"

"He could snap at Lily?" asked Albus, raising an eyebrow.

"That is a worst case scenario, and highly unlikely," said Nicolas. "It is a point though. I recommended he spend time with them to calm himself, and to try and open up. He spent over two days as Voldemort's prisoner and gave up next to nothing. He has always kept to himself, and now we are asking him to bare his soul. That is part of why Severus' attempts to teach him Occlumency failed. He hated Snape for invading his private thoughts, and that anger, that emotion filled his mind so he couldn't clear it. I am worried that if we push him he will just retreat inside himself."

"What do you suggest, Nicolas?" asked Albus.

"Caution," said Nicolas. "We need to give him time. He has to find his place within a family he has never known. Not only that, the other Harry is taking his toll on this Harry's mind. Since he has been here, Harry has killed people, and the fact that it doesn't bother him is clawing at his conscience. The comparisons to the other Harry are driving him crazy. He hates him, but he knows he got his strength from him. Those skills have saved his life and Miss Granger's and he resents them and himself for it. He believes he was too weak to do it alone. I have tried to talk him out of it, but I daren't push him. His mind is changing and it is quite vulnerable to impression at this time. He is beginning to stop feeling like an outsider looking in. The world is changing all around him, and he is changing. I have looked into his mind. Up until a few months ago, he was very closed to the world. He didn't let anything show. Any form of pain and misery he kept firmly inside. You saw him after he returned from Voldemort. He gave you a brief account of his life. He made no effort to hide embarrassing moments. He was utterly open for the first time in his life about his feelings."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I expect having Lily there helped," mused Nicolas. "It could have been an attempt to be honest with his mother. One minute he is closed and the next he is open. He had been tortured and his mental state was fragile. I think he was so scared that he wanted a metaphoric shoulder to cry on, some emotional support, but he didn't know how to ask for it, having spent so long alone. His sanity is cracking. He is lost Albus, and he needs time." Time was the one thing they did not have.

"We do not have time," said Albus slowly. He removed his half-moon spectacles and began to polish them on his robes. It was his nervous habit again. "Is he insane?"

"It's not that he is or isn't, it's just that…"

"Yes or no, Nicolas?" asked Albus. He knew Nicolas was uncomfortable about breaking Harry's confidence. He was a good man and Albus did not want to put him in this position, but he had to know. "I must know if he is dangerous."

"He is not dangerous," said Nicolas after a little deliberation. "Just vulnerable." That did not answer the question, Albus noted. Nicolas was reluctant to answer, probably unsure of what Albus' response would be. He wanted to protect Harry, just as he had done with Albus over a century ago. Reading between the lines, Albus knew that Harry was insane, that he didn't know it and that he had the potential to be dangerous. Leaving him with his family was a risk. Albus was caught between Harry's well-being and the Potters' safety. He trusted Nicolas' judgement. After a few seconds thought, Albus decided to go with his old teacher's idea.

"Is there anything we can do for the boy?"

"At present, just give him space," said Nicolas. "He needs to find his feet. Let him bond with his family, let him for once in his life feel what a family really is."

Albus nodded. He was ever more aware that they did not have much time, but he needed Harry and under Nicolas's advice, he would endeavour to give Harry the space he needed, but if push came to shove, he would call on Harry.

"As I requested earlier," said Nicolas. "Harry must not find out about this conversation. It does not leave this room. I came to you in my capacity in the Order, but I still feel guilty about betraying him. If he found out I have betrayed his trust, he could retreat inside himself or snap at us. Remember he does not know his sanity is cracking, to him he thinks he coping. He must not know what I have told you. I can Occlude my mind to prevent he finding out, but you must too Albus, not that I expect him to become a Legilimens any time soon, but we must be prepared."

"Very well," said Albus. "Harry will never find out about this conversation."

----

Two weeks later, on All Hallow's Eve, and still none the wiser to Flamel's conversation with Dumbledore, Harry skewered a piece of chicken with his fork, deposited it in his mouth and began to chew. The food was up to its usual standard. The House-Elves had really excelled themselves. Harry also knew that tonight would be very busy as they had to put up all the Halloween decorations around the castle and particularly the Hall, as well as get breakfast ready, the rooms cleaned and cater for any curfew breakers on a bakery run. The venison terrine starter had been exquisite, and the Coc au Vin was just as nice. After the hostilities of recent days, it was nice to have some time to be with his family.

They will love you, if you let them.

Two weeks had passed since he had first heard them, and they still had not left him mind. He had spent many restless nights thinking about them, about his family and about his friends back at home. He was going to have leave someone, who was it to be? The place he really belonged or the place he wanted to be?

With Flamel's words at the front of his mind, Harry was sitting around a table in his mother's living quarters. For once, the topic of conversation was not the war, or how to hide Harry. He was free now. Everyone knew and from what Rose had told him, there was still a deep mistrust, but no one seemed to be after his blood. Hannah had apologised to Rose, not that Harry felt she needed to. Harry glanced down at his hands. Madam Pomfrey had managed to heal nearly all of his injuries almost without trace. Only the large gash on his left palm where a piece of glass had been embedded had left a scar. He no longer needed to wear the wrist support as Madam Pomfrey had pronounced his wrist fully healed, though she had taken the time to reiterate yet again how dangerous it was to go out sword-fighting with a wrist that had been completely shattered two weeks before.

Today was one of the rare occasions when Harry's father was not working for either the Order or the Aurors. Dumbledore had been kind enough to give him the night off. Part of Harry wished Sirius could have had the evening off as well. Harry had yet to properly speak to him. He had seen him in Dumbledore's office once, but he really wanted to sit down and chat. Sirius knew the truth about him, but not what had happened in his world. Harry longed for the chance to speak to his Godfather.

"So how is your Animagus training going?" asked Lily, half way through the main course. Harry was awakened from his thoughts with a start and Lily had to repeat the question.

"I've apparently gone as far as I can until I find my form," Harry informed them. "I don't even know what I am looking for. Apparently 'I'll know when it appears'. Don't know how I'll know."

"Oh, you'll know," said his father with a grin. "You'll know," he repeated with a wink. He obviously found something amusing, and Harry didn't like not knowing what it was, though he didn't push it. His father was playful, but he would never put Harry in danger. It couldn't be too bad.

"How much duelling has Snape covered in Defence lessons?" asked Harry, changing the subject. He was beginning to think about trying to set up the DA again, or something along those lines. The thought had occurred to him as he read an article about an attack on some Muggles in Aberystwyth. The war was much further along in this world than in his own. Forty years of fighting had left the combatants wounded and with little morale. Voldemort had spies in every corner of every room. Half of the school were being groomed to become Death Eaters, and not just the Slytherins. The more Voldemort made the headlines, the more families aligned themselves with him. As such, Draco Malfoy's influence was growing. Rose had kept Harry abreast of what was happening during his time in the Room of Requirement. Neutrality was a luxury those in the upper years no longer had. They could side with Dumbledore, or with Voldemort. More and more were going to Voldemort. The need to be able to defend oneself was paramount. Harry had been thinking that if he could inspire a little hope in them, then perhaps, just perhaps, a few people might side with them. The Order were being backed into a corner. Crouch's control was failing and they could all see it. Something had to be done.

"Above the required standards for OWL and NEWT," said Lily, taking a sip of her wine. "He refuses to acknowledge anyone to have any talent aside from his own house, but he has taught them enough."

"It is Defence Against the Dark Arts and not just plain Dark Arts, isn't it?" asked Harry. He had to make sure. He would never trust Severus Snape, let alone a Severus Snape he didn't know.

"Dumbledore trusts him," said Lily placing her glass down and giving him a quizzical look. She was probably wondering if he hated Snape for a good reason or just because his father and Sirius had.

"Dumbledore believes in second chances," said Harry frostily. "I don't, especially in this case. Do you think Snape would mind me sitting in on a practical lesson?" Lily looked doubtful, while James snorted in laughter. Rose seemed to be suppressing a smirk.

"I wouldn't think he'd like that," said Lily, shooting an exasperated look at her husband. "Severus doesn't take well to people criticizing his teaching methods."

"In my world," began Harry, increasingly aware of how much he used that particular phrase. "We had a teacher who didn't let us do the practical work. We started a secret club to teach ourselves practical defence and duelling. I was thinking of trying to encourage it here."

"Severus would interpret that as a means of undermining him," said James.

"Insecure people are always paranoid," said Harry.

"You'd be turning the students into an army," said James. "Reading between the lines, here. You would want them to be ready to march to the defence of Hogwarts?" That was fast. It was not Harry's intention. He had no desire to put his friends in the line of fire. He just wanted them to be able to defend themselves. Though now that he mentioned it. It would be beneficial.

"Not as such," said Harry. "I want them to be able to defend themselves. Writing two-foot essays on Werewolves is not the way to teach at this point in time. All lessons should be on practical duelling. If not, they need practice. We had everyone doing Stunners, disarming, and shields within a week. By the end of the first term, some of us were on to Patroni."

"In their fifth year?" asked Rose sceptically.

"I learned mine in my third," said Harry, receiving a raised eyebrow from Rose and James. "And yes, though not everyone managed it."

"Granger?" asked Rose, with a smirk.

"Don't mock her," said Harry fixing his sister with a piercing stare. The sentence came out a little more aggressively than he meant it to. She seemed a little shocked at his response, and he quickly softened his voice. He didn't want her to fear him. He hadn't been trying to scare her. "She just needs a push in the right direction," he elaborated softly. "She's a highly intelligent and capable witch. If you knew her as I did…she's put her life on the line countless times to help me. I wouldn't trade her for fifty Aurors. But yes, she did succeed with a Patronus."

"You still want to teach students to fight though?" asked Lily.

"Teamwork," said Harry. "To show them that there are others who are willing to stand up and fight for what is right. To try and inspire a little hope in all the evil that's going on around us. But that is all in the future. For now, I just want to sit in on one of Snape's lessons. You never know, I may feel his is doing an adequate job, though I wouldn't put money on it."

"He'll love another Potter in his class," said Rose darkly. "Honestly, Mum, can't you speak to Dumbledore about the way he treats Gryffindors?"

Harry tuned out from the conversation. His mind was full of memories of the DA. He could remember the very first session, the feeling of accomplishment as he saw how much they had improved as the weeks had gone by. He could see Hermione and Cho conjuring their Patroni and the room full of flying hexes and shields. Dumbledore's Army; the name had only been a joke…hadn't it? Had he expected them to fight from day one? No, of course not. He had not wanted them to come with him to the Ministry. He didn't want them following him into danger. He hadn't wanted Sirius to follow him into danger.

Harry took a sip of Sangria from his glass, before returning to his thoughts. Sirius was alive here. Harry felt an overwhelming desire to see him, to tell him he was sorry. Sorry for getting him killed, sorry for…everything. He had given up blaming Snape, and had finally accepted that it was his fault, and his alone.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Lily, bringing Harry back from his thoughts.

"Sirius," said Harry plainly. "Sirius and Snape." He couldn't keep the smile from creeping onto his lips.

"Some things never change," replied Lily, shooting a wry glance at her husband.

"All in good fun," said James lightly.

"Unless you take it too far," said Harry accusingly.

"Well said, Harry," nodded Lily approvingly.

"What are implying?" said James, clearly fighting back a playful grin. "Should we outlaw fun? Should we all be as boring as…something really boring?" Harry daren't think what he had been about to say. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Snape was one thing Harry had been meaning to speak to his father about, but had never found the time. Lupin had said that they had all been idiots back then, but he wanted to hear it from his father. He had never thought he would get a chance to understand why he had done it. He hoped his father would come out with an exonerating excuse that Snape had not known about, but knew it was a slim chance. But Harry had to know why. Had his father really been nothing but a common bully?

"But when is it right to dangle Snape in mid-air with his underwear hanging out in front of half the school?" asked Harry, fixing his father with a McGonagall-esque glare.

James raised an eyebrow, shooting an apprising glance at his wife, "Who told you about that?"

"Snape," answered Harry plainly, his face a mask of neutrality. "As in my Snape; he put the memory in a Pensieve to protect it from me when teaching me Occlumency, or rather trying to. I may have…sort of… taken a little peek," said Harry. Suddenly he did feel guilty about looking in the Pensieve. He daren't imagine if something like that had happened to him, what he would feel like. He hadn't been sorry in front of Snape, but now confessing it to his mother, he did feel a little guilty. It was an invasion of privacy after all.

"So old Snivellus is as bitter and twisted wherever you go," concluded James, smiling to himself.

"Are you proud of yourself?" asked Harry accusingly. James' smile melted from his face.

"Not especially," replied James soberly. "He was an ars…git and he got what he deserved. He called your mother…names."

"After you had hung him upside down," corrected Harry. "She tried to help him. Please be honest with me, why did you do it? You said the only reason was that he existed. There has to be more to it than that. You can't be a mindless thug." That sobered James up. The smile vanished and a glimmer of guilt crossed him face. Harry could feel tears building behind his eyes. His father couldn't be the spiteful imbecile Snape had always said. He was a hero, something to aspire to; he just had to be.

"In my world," continued Harry, staring unseeingly at his plate and chasing a potato around the plate with a fork. There was that phrase again. "You died when I was one. I saw your name on a Quidditch trophy. Hagrid sung your praises when I first met him. All my life I was told how perfect you both were. I always thought Snape was just jealous. He hated me from day one, and I never understood why. I always thought he was just twisted, but then I saw the Pensieve. 'It's more that he exists, it you know what I mean', Jesus Christ, Dad, why? I'd thought you were something to aspire to, but to see you as a common bully…it was like my whole idea about my parents came crashing down around me, as if everything I had ever been told about you was a lie. For the first time in my life, I wasn't proud to be your son. Snape's ultimate revenge worked. I even scolded Sirius and Remus about it…that was…that was the last time I spoke to Sirius. My parting words to him were ones of anger." Harry put his head on his hands. He sighed deeply, not daring to look his father in the eye, partially because his own were starting to fill with tears. He wiped his eyes and looked up at his father. "I never thought I'd get a chance to speak to you about it. Please tell me why."

"You would judge me on one event?" asked his father softly. Harry noticed that both the ladies were motionless, watching the exchange.

"No," said Harry shaking his head. "But it was all I had. I had never known you; I had a few pictures and the word of mouth. I just wanted to be proud of you, and then I saw that. You weren't as perfect as I had always believed."

"We all do things we aren't proud of," said James levelly. "Your mother wouldn't even give me the time of day until halfway through our seventh year. Looking back, I'm not proud of who I was. Your mother was absolutely right to keep her distance until I had calmed down. As for Snape, well, you know how Slytherins are. Surely, in your year you have Lucius Malfoy's son, what's his name…Darius or something like that. Snape's parents were as deep in the Dark Arts as Lucius Malfoy. It was inter-house rivalry taken to an extreme and yes it did get out of hand. But we are past that now; we work together for the Order. Remus was right, we were idiots and it was the moment we realised that we were idiots, that we grew up. Does that answer your question?"

"I guess," said Harry. "Having said it, I feel like I am being really pithy, and a little hypocritical. After all, I have hit Draco Malfoy on occasions, I've done things I am not proud of."

"We all have," said Lily. "That is how we grow up. We learn from our mistakes. As Nicolas always says, if we do not study history we are doomed to repeat the mistakes of he past."

"He also told me that history is the propaganda of the victor," said Harry. "How will they look back on us in future generations? As the wizards who flushed our world down the toilet, or as those heroes who rose to the challenge in our hour of need? If Voldemort wins, in years to come, assuming he doesn't destroy the world in the process of taking over, we will be depicted as rebels threatening their glorious way of life, and our names will have no more significance than Binn's infernal goblin rebellions."

"I thought opinion didn't concern you," said Rose.

"I was speaking generally, hypothetically," said Harry. "I was just thinking about how lessons would be taught if Voldemort wrote the textbooks. A world, where blood is all that matters, and anyone who resists is crushed. That is what would happen if we fail."

"In his textbooks, we would be portrayed as the enemy," said James "We would be seen as the terrorists, much as we see the Death Eaters now."

"People would never believe it," said Rose. "They couldn't. Not after all the accounts of what Voldemort had done."

"Harry believed I was bad after seeing one incident that portrayed me in a bad light, despite all he had been told by many more witnesses," said James. Good point, thought Harry feeling ashamed of himself. It was one incident seen through the eyes of one witness with a serious grudge. It was stupid to have believed he was a thug. "And on that note, Harry, before you feel sorry for Severus Snape. Think about this: a pensive holds copies of thoughts, not the real thing. Imagine if it spilled, you would literally lose your mind. No, a Pensieve allows others to view memories without Occlumency. It would not protect his memories from you. It was there to tempt you."

"It was a trick?" asked Harry. Everything snapped into place. Of course! It had all been a trap. Snape had set it all up, the bastard! He had been so stupid. Yes it may have happened, but it had all been a trick. He had fallen for Snape's plot. God damn it!

"To get you to look, to make you hate me; to get the very reaction you had," said James, shaking his head.

"He was so angry," said Harry more to himself than anyone else. He could see that his father was right.

"An act," said James. "He must have been jumping with joy that you looked in the Pensieve. It was clever - I have to give him that."

"Let's have some dessert," said Lily quickly, changing the subject.

With a series of pops a group of House Elves appeared out of thin air and began to clear the plates. Harry sat, deep in thought, as a piece of Passion Fruit Iced Parfait was places in front of him by an elf. They retreated with a series of pops and the Potters were alone again. Harry was just about to start when the fireplace burst into emerald green flames. As the flames disappeared, a letter fluttered to the floor.

Lily was the closest and rose to fetch the letter. From a distance, Harry could make out the curvy green writing he knew all too well. The letter was from Dumbledore but who was it for? It must have been for Lily, for she immediately opened it and began to read. Her face was hard to read, but she finished reading quickly and turned to her family.

"Albus has been called to an Emergency meeting with Crouch, Dawlish and the Muggle Prime Minister," Lily informed them. "It was called at the Prime Minister's request, and that isn't supposed to happen so it is safe to assume something is wrong. There is an Order meeting tomorrow at eight o'clock. Harry, your presence is requested." Harry felt a chill run down his spine. The Muggle Prime Minister? This must be bad. And why was it not supposed to happen? He remembered a conversation with Flamel in which he had asked whether Crouch reported to the PM. Apparently, it was a live and let live policy and they only made contact if something was wrong. This didn't bode well.

"And me?" asked Rose.

"NO!" said Harry and his parents at once. He was not going to let her run in danger, not after the Department of Mysteries and the train.

Rose glared at Harry, before shooting a sulky look at her parents. "Why?" she demanded.

"You're too young," said Lily plainly.

"Harry isn't of age," she replied icily.

"Value your anonymity," said Harry. "Once you're on his list, you only come off when you are dead."

"I'm not afraid," said Rose stubbornly.

"Then you're either crazy or stupid," said Harry quickly. Couldn't she understand how dangerous it was? War was no place for her. He had to keep her safe. Christ, I sound like Dumbledore, realised Harry with a shock. For once, they saw eye to eye.

"Are you admitting you're scared?" snapped Rose, glaring at Harry.

"Yes," said Harry plainly. "Anyone around me could be hit. I have enough death on my conscious without getting my friends, let alone my sister, killed. I can't let you or them come with me."

"That's not your choice to make," snapped Rose. "We are not afraid to die." Harry rolled his eyes. She had no idea what she was saying.

"You don't know what death is," said Harry, turning away. "You may think it sounds heroic to say that, but nothing could be further from the truth. I've seen death, Rose, even before I came here. I've lost friends and colleagues because they got too close to me. There is nothing glorious or heroic about dying. You are gone in an instant, bang, and that is all there is to it. You are nothing to him, and that is how it must stay. It's not your job to fight."

"And you?" she pressed.

"It's too late for me."

"And you think it sounds heroic to say that?" shot back Rose in his own words. "The lonesome hero who works alone?" her voice dripped with sarcasm. When she spoke again her voice was hard. "Wake up, Harry. You can't do this alone. You fear him; you need help. You can't do this alone. You can't stop me from fighting."

"I can," said Harry plainly, looking straight into her eyes. "And don't try to intimidate me. Two people scare me, and neither of them is you."

"Who is the other person you fear?" asked Rose softening slightly. Harry realised the answer was quite odd, but he was not going to lie. He had to be honest with this family.

"Molly Weasley," said Harry, with a sad smile. Rose's eyes narrowed.

"Be serious. Harry," said Rose icily. She must have thought he was being sarcastic.

"I am," replied Harry in an equally icy tone. "My sense of fear is all messed up. I have faced down things you've only seen in your nightmares, but show me a girl or a date and I'll run a mile. And as for Mrs Weasley, well, before I came here, she was the closest thing to a mother I had. She counted me as one of her own, looked after me; I was a Weasley for all intents and purposes. The Burrow was home to me and the idea her being angry or disappointed with me, and losing her…it scared me, all right? I am not as cold as you think, I do feel pain; I do hurt."

"But now you have a real family," said Rose.

Now I have a real family!

They will accept you, if you let them.

Harry felt a wave of emotion wash over him. His mouth was open, ready to argue, but words escaped him.

I have a family!

"But that doesn't mean I should turn my back on my past," said Harry at last, remembering what he had been about to say. "I am who I am because of what has happened to me. Besides, have you ever seen her scream at Fred and George? Better them than me." He smiled slightly to himself.

Rose gave a small smile, breaking the icy look in her face. Harry realised that she really did take after her mother.

Our mother, he corrected himself.

"Rose, I can appreciate that you want to help," said Harry genuinely. "I went through the same thing last year, but it is better to let the adults take care of things. I interfered and Sirius was killed in front of me. I have spent a fortnight in hospital because I thought I was capable of helping. I know this is not what you want to hear, but please stay out of this; you're too young."

"Voldemort won't care," said Rose defiantly. "He'll kill me just the same."

"ROSE-MARIE!" shouted Lily suddenly. "You are not coming, and that is final! And Harry, make no mistake, if it were not for Albus' specific request, you too would find yourself barred from the meeting. End of discussion!"

"But…" began Rose instantly, but was cut off, by a 'listen to your mother' from James.

Harry felt a flush of anger. Who was she to shout at him? He was old enough to take care of himself. It was his destiny to fight. She could not bar him from a meeting.

"You can't…" he began, rising to his feet. Suddenly the anger left him as quickly as it had come. He found himself standing at the table. Had he really been about to lash out at Lily? What had come over him?

"I'm your mother, Harry," said Lily. "I assure you I can." Harry opened his mouth to argue. She had no right to control him. Ah, but she does, said a voice in his mind.

"Sorry," muttered Harry sitting back down. He still felt a little scared by the fact that he had been willing to lash out at her. He sat swaying in his chair for a few seconds.

This was part of family life. This was what normal people and normal mothers did. They argue. I've had my first family row, thought Harry, suddenly feeling oddly pleased with himself. He found himself grinning stupidly at his reflection in his wine glass. His lopsided grin seemed to infuriate Rose who shot him another glare. She presumably thought he was gloating.

Being shouted at by his mother was a novel experience for Harry. He had never really known anything like it. There was Uncle Vernon, who shouted repeatedly, and Snape who could always be relied up on to insult him, but never before had someone so close to him shouted at him. Dumbledore had given him the disappointed look, and that had hurt. Lupin had told him that if he shouldn't repay his parents' sacrifice by putting his life needlessly on the line and that had stung more. Molly had always been a mother hen to him. She had taken him in, but often looked past some of his more volatile personality traits. But now he had a real mother, and she had shouted. Harry wasn't sure how he was supposed to be feeling. His stomach was a mash of emotion. He felt a flash of anger, resentment, but at the same time fear. It was a novel experience; he felt a touch of excitement. Another thing he had noted was her words, 'you too would be barred from the meeting'. He had almost retorted 'what right do you have to bar me?'. He had never had a proper guardian before. There was no one to fear taking bad report cards home to, no one to tell him what to do. The school had rules which had to be met, or bent slightly, the Dursleys had to be endured, but for the last five years, Harry had been a free spirit, doing anything he wanted within reason. He hadn't got a note signed to visit Hogsmeade but had gone anyway. Now he had parents, people who did have authority over him. Although it was one minor downside of having a family, the pros far outweighed the cons. It was something else he was going to have to get used to. 'Get used to'? Am I planning on staying then?

"Anyway, Rosie," continued the Auror. "You have your hearing to get ready for."

"Hearing?" asked Harry instantly. He had heard nothing about this. "What hearing?"

"Lucius Malfoy has filed assault charges against Rose for what happened on the train," said Lily, almost spitting the Death Eater's name. She put her glass down a little more forcefully than usual and splattered a few drops of the red liquid over the white tablecloth.

"But wouldn't that admit that he was actually there and in the fight?" asked Harry. "He'd be arrested, wouldn't he? Anyway, he escaped with the others, didn't he? He is a wanted criminal." Surely Crouch wasn't as blind as Fudge, not with his hatred of the Dark Arts. It would go on record that Malfoy was there and that Rose had attacked him in self-defence. Surely that implied he was a Death Eater, didn't it?

"We are not that lucky," said James angrily. "Lucius Malfoy was definitely present on the train. He was definitely stunned on the train, sent to Azkaban without a trial and then escaped. However, Lucius Malfoy is a very shrewd operator and a cunning opponent. Less than a day after he had escaped, he turned himself into the Aurors."

"He what?" said Harry bewildered. What could he possibly have to gain by that?

"He claimed that he had been bewitched on the train and that when Voldemort attacked Azkaban, he was forced to come with them. He told the Aurors that he was going to be tortured and killed, but he escaped. He told them that he had overheard conversations. He gave a few pointless facts that we already knew, but it was enough. Gold switched hands and he was cleared, hailed as a hero who escaped the clutches of death and may even be in line for an OM."

"If Lucius Malfoy gets the Order of Merlin, I'm emigrating," said Rose flatly. "You can now see why Draco Malfoy has been even further up his own…even more arrogant," she altered her phraseology under her mother's glare, "than he usually is."

Harry felt a flush of anger at Lucius. He was threatening his sister. He was trying to get her expelled, incarcerated or whatever. He could attack Harry all he wanted, but he should not come at him through Rose. Harry felt a sudden desire to hurt Malfoy.

You have to want to cause pain, Potter, you have to enjoy it!

Bellatrix's words came into his mind stinging him like a scorpion. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He was not as bad as they were!

"No one likes the situation," said James. "But it is the way it is and we can't change it. Now, back to the trial, yes Malfoy is a free citizen again, however, the medical report performed after his arrest showed that he had been hit with a hard, blunt object."

"Scabbard," said Harry, realising what had happened. It had been him.

"Well, the subsequent Stunner shut down most of his body's functions, including healing ones. As a result, the concussion spread and he had to undergo a complex and expensive procedure to relieve pressure on his brain. At St Mungo's he was unfortunate enough to cross a Daily Prophet photographer who managed to find out why he was there. His pride was damaged with the story and he is not best pleased."

"And since Dumbledore altered his memory so that he doesn't remember me attacking him," Harry took over the story telling. "He blames Rose."

"That's about it," said James.

"Can't they check her wand for the Stunner?"

"Not after nearly two months of classes," said James. "In waiting this long there will be no real strong physical evidence in either way. It seems irrational. He must know that we can supply eye-witnesses that will support Rose."

"He could go after families to encourage people to stay silent," said Harry.

"We are watching the Weasleys, Grangers and the other Prefect's families."

"He could get the Slytherins to testify against her."

"They weren't present and it would reveal their allegiance to Voldemort, and that he doesn't want. He needs people to spread his influence amongst the upcoming generation."

"So what ace does he have up his sleeve?" asked Harry thoughtfully. Lucius Malfoy wouldn't be this rash. He was planning something, surely. But what was it? He knew from experience that Ministry justice was questionable at best, having sat through two trials of his own, in both of which he had innocent of the allegations. Harry did not want to see Rose sent to Azkaban.

"That's the big question," said James. "But I know one thing for sure. Rose will be wearing armour under her robes tomorrow and I am not leaving her side. Something stinks here, and I'm not leaving her until I know she is safe."

They finished their desserts in silence, none of them in the mood for talking. Harry's mind was reeling over Lucius Malfoy. What did he possibly have to gain over Rose? Harry had just been telling Rose to stay out of the conflict. It looked like it was already too late for that. She would go to trial tomorrow. It wasn't until they were just about finished when a frightening thought occurred to Harry.

"Frank Longbottom is going to be at the meeting tomorrow, isn't he?" said Harry soberly.

"Yes," said James. "Why?"

"In this world I killed his son," said Harry. "In mine, he is my friend. I read my case-file. I know what I did to him. I can't look him in the eye." Images of Neville filled his mind. He remembered when Neville dressed the Boggart Snape in the vulture hat and dress, and seeing him face down Bellatrix in the Ministry last year. He shivered at the idea of meeting his father.

"Just keep your distance," said Lily. "Albus can control him."

"He shouldn't have to," said Harry. "Forcing us apart makes me look more guilty." An idea slowly formed in his mind.

Harry didn't meet anyone on his way back to the Room of Requirement that night. He stopped off at Dumbledore's office to borrow something and for a quick tutorial in its use. Harry thought it would make a fitting tribute to a friend whose sanity he had so unfairly taken.

----

At ten to eight on Halloween morning, just as the earliest of the students were entering the Great Hall for breakfast and taking in the fantastic decorations so delectably arranged by the House Elves, Harry pushed open the door of Dumbledore's office. He was tired, having been up most of the previous night putting together his little present for Frank. The other Harry had taken everything from him, and it was a debt that could never be repaid. To ignore him made him look guilty. Harry wasn't really sure how he was going to react. In his eyes, what he was doing was no different to the photo album that Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year. It was just in a different medium, that's all. Still, he was not looking forward to meeting him. Harry placed it on a gap in a shelf, to save him from having to carry it.

Inside the room, thirty chairs had been laid out in a circle. The room must have been magically enlarged, for it was significantly bigger than the last time he had been here. There were pumpkins on two of the shelves and one on the desk. Bats flew around the ceiling descending perhaps two feet, but no lower. They were utterly silent, but still looked very real. There were cobwebs over the books and windows to add to the effect. Dumbledore really was a child at heart. The room was empty except for Fawkes the phoenix, who sat on his perch, eyes closed and presumably asleep. Harry took a sweet from the bowl on the desk and threw it up into the air, catching it easily in his mouth and beginning to chew. Mmmm, orange flavour. The fire crackled quietly in the fireplace, and a thin column of steam rose from the kettle, which hovered unaided above the flames. The rows and rows of instruments, some of which Harry recognised from having destroyed them last summer, looked freshly polished, and glistened in the morning sun. It had been raining last night, so from the window he could see the dew covered grass, twinkling in the sunlight.

Suddenly the door flew open and in walked a familiar face, topped by bubble-gum pink hair. Harry had expecting a 'wotcher', rather than a wand in his face, but that was what he got. Harry managed to stop his hand flying to his wand. He knew that the young Auror would not hesitate to hex him if she felt he posed a threat. He was not wearing his body armour at present, just the combats and black jumper. Any spell she fired would definitely do damage.

"Good morning, Tonks," said Harry calmly, raising the palms of his hands to show he was not armed. "Can you lower the wand, please?"

"Let's get something straight," said Tonks. "Albus may trust you, but I still have my doubts. Understood?" Harry was somewhat taken aback by the Auror's response. She was usually so warm and friendly. Harry had often wondered how someone so pleasant could be an Auror. Now he knew; there was steel behind the smile.

"Oh, I understand," said Harry. "But let's not forget, Tonks, that I saved your life at the attack on the train." She was about to retort when someone else entered the room.

"Ah, Nymphadora," said a calm voice as Albus Dumbledore emerged from his living quarters. "I see you've met Mr Potter. Please, do have a seat." He gestured to a chair. Tonks glanced at Dumbledore and then back at Harry before reluctantly lowering her wand. She gave him one last appraising look before taking a seat. Harry remained by the window glancing out over the grounds. With Dumbledore here, he was sure he would not be hexed but he wanted to avoid any conversation with the Order. A tense silence filled the room, a fact that did not escape Dumbledore. "Would anyone care for a Sherbet Lemon?" he asked, breaking the silence and helping himself to one. Harry smiled to himself, some things never changed.

Over the next ten minutes, Harry stood at the window as the other members of the Order arrived. He felt privately glad that Dumbledore was here; otherwise he felt that every single one of them would have had the exchange that Tonks had had and Harry would have been driven up the wall. Dumbledore's presence did not protect him from the stares and hostile glances that he received, nor from the fact that everyone seemed to have their wand either in their hand or poking out of their sleeve. The Order were no different than the students. Even those who knew the full truth looked a little wary. It was almost five to eight when Lily and James Potter entered the study, immediately taking seats with one space between them, presumably intended for Harry. Lily beckoned him over, but Harry waved them away with a small gesture of his hand. He wanted to keep his distance for the time being, or rather until a certain Auror was present. Harry turned and glanced back out of the window. A few of the fitter sixth years were going for an early morning run. The chilly October morning, although sunny, was cold enough for their breath to hang on the air as they set off up the hill. His reception by the students had been far from positive, and he had a feeling that the Order were going to be just as welcoming. To keep a low profile was the best plan he could come up with.

"Good to have you back, Harry," said a soft voice behind him. It sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

"Thanks," said Harry turning to face the speaker. As he turned, his heart leapt into his throat. Harry felt a surge of anger and before he could stop himself, his wand leapt from his pocket. Harry's hand clamped over Peter Pettigrew's neck, slamming him back against the bookcase, dislodging a few tomes from the upper shelves. The Order members were on their feet in an instant, twenty wands aimed at Harry, who stood motionlessly, crushing the air out of Wormtail, his wand levelled at the man's bulging eyes.

"Harry, release him," barked Dumbledore rising to his feet. Was that fear he detected in Dumbledore's voice, or even concern? It was the first time Harry had ever heard him raise his voice in anger.

"He's a traitor," said Harry icily. He felt no trace of compassion for the man who had denied him a future. Living here, now, he realised exactly what Wormtail had taken from him. He could have had a life, a home, a family. Rose didn't exist in his world. She would have, had he not betrayed them. Wormtail had killed Rose.

"He's on our side," said Dumbledore, signalling for the others to lower their wands. Harry didn't take his eyes off Wormtail, but out of the corner of his eye he could see the others lowering their wands.

"He'll betray you," snapped Harry. "Just like he betrayed me. They'd still be alive today if he hadn't sold them out."

"Who?" Peter managed to cough over Harry's grip.

"Shut up!" hissed Harry dangerously, gripping his throat tighter. Wormtail was going red; he was suffocating.

"Harry," said his mother softly. He felt a hand touch his shoulder lightly. He was so tense, every muscle contracted in anger, and her touch was so light. It seemed to calm him. Harry felt his anger receding. "Whatever he has done to you in your past, this is not the same man." She didn't understand! He had killed her. She had never had to live in his world. Wormtail was a slimy little rat and he would betray the Order in a second if he thought it would protect him.

"He took everything from me," said Harry, glaring into Wormtail's bulging eyes. "It's his fault, all his fault."

"Let him go, Harry," said Lily softly. "He hasn't done anything." Just as he had not done all the things the other Harry had done. They were two different people.

With a last growl of frustration, Harry released his grip and Wormtail slid to the floor, gasping for air and clutching his throat, which was marked with a red handprint.

Harry glanced around at the others in the room, before stepping away from Wormtail.

"Stay away from me, Wormtail," snarled Harry. "And if you were harbouring any thoughts about defecting, let that be a lesson to you. If he doesn't kill you, I will." He pocketed his wand, and under the watch of all the other members, he slowly sank into the empty seat between his parents.

"What was all that about?" whispered a voice behind them. Harry's heart skipped a beat as he came face to face with Sirius Black. He was grinning from ear to ear, and had the familiar glint in his eyes, but with none of the dullness twelve years in Azkaban had given the other Sirius. Harry was speechless. He sat gaping like a fish, unable to get a word out. Sirius gave him a lopsided grin. Harry really wanted to tell him everything, but he couldn't. This was not the time. He managed to calm himself long enough to form a sentence.

"He betrayed us all," said Harry sadly, glaring as Tonks helped Wormtail to his feet and into a chair. "My parents died and you spent twelve years in Azkaban, because he betrayed you. It was the Fidelius Charm. He was the Secret Keeper; we should have been safe. Trust him all you like, but I know him well enough to know, that he'll side with whoever can protect him best, and at the moment that looks like Voldemort."

Neither of his parents seemed to find a response and so backed down. Harry was ever more aware of all the eyes on him. That had not been the best way to gain their trust, attacking one of their own. He was glad that Frank had not seen it for two reasons, one, Frank would not hesitate to hex him into oblivion and secondly, he wanted Frank to accept his little present. He glanced over at it on the shelf just to make sure it was still there.

Harry's eyes were fixed on the door waiting for a certain Auror to arrive. He only had to wait a minute or so before the door opened and in stepped Frank Longbottom. He was tall and well built. His Auror robes billowed out behind him in the draft. His hair look windswept but his sharp eyes were already taking in every detail of the room, and one of its occupants. As the Aurors eyes fell on Harry, his jaw clenched. A look of utter loathing appeared on the Auror's features. His eyes bored into Harry's and he had to fight the temptation to look away. He dared not smile or glare at him, so restricted himself a neutral expression. He suddenly realised that he was sweating beneath his clothes. He suddenly felt rather flustered.

Absolute silence filled the room as the two stared at each other. Everyone knew of their history, but only a handful knew that Harry was literally a different person now. Frank knew it, but it was not easy for him to let go of his hatred, Harry knew this, but he didn't like it.

"Frank," said Dumbledore softly. "Please join us." He pointed to a chair. With one final glare at Harry, Frank took a seat. Harry noticed this his hand was centimetres from his wand. He was ready to hex Harry from here to Timbuktu. Luckily he had not been present when Wormtail had made his appearance. The Auror's eye stayed on Harry, not blinking, not moving, just staring. Harry fought the urge to squirm in his seat. He was grateful to McGonagall who was sitting next to Frank, as she tried to engage him in conversation.

Over the next few minutes, the rest of the Order arrived. In total there were around thirty people in addition to the inner-circle as Harry called it. He recognised a few faces, but not many. Eyes constantly flicked to him, and hands and wands were kept in close proximity.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," began the Headmaster, rising to his feet. He stood behind his desk, towering over those sat around him. He definitely could command respect when he needed to. "As you may know, last night I received a letter from the Minister of Magic. It was a request to attend an emergency meeting with John Major, the Muggle Prime Minister. These meetings are very rare and as such I hastened to Downing Street. What I am about to tell you is not to leave this room, less we may start a panic. Nearly three weeks ago, while Hogwarts was under attack by vampires, there was an attack at the Devonport Naval Base in Plymouth. As I understand it, the clear-up is still underway with taking statements and modifying memories. However, what was not disclosed to us at the time was that during the attack, a…" Dumbledore picked up a piece of parchment to read… "Nuclear warhead disappeared."

"Jesus Christ," said Harry softly. He knew what a nuclear bomb, having briefly covered World War Two in primary school, and from general knowledge. He knew that two had been used on Japan and that they had destroyed entire cities. He remembered watching the news in 1991 before he had gone off to Hogwarts before his second year, about the war in Iraq, where American missiles had, by and large missed their targets, but still caused a lot of devastation. He remembered seeing cities on fire, char-grilled bodies, but that had been a conventional attack. It was nothing compare to a nuclear one. Images of mushroom clouds filled his mind.

"I take it from Mr Potter's reaction he knows what one is," said Dumbledore. Harry glanced around the room. Many of the Order were looking baffled, and obviously had no idea what this meant. "For those of you who do not, I will elaborate, but first I have a few points to clear up. Normally this kind of theft would not warrant our involvement, us being the Magical community as a whole, but this is a special case. Up until now the Muggle policy has basically been that Voldemort is our problem and we have to deal with him. There has been much anger over the years that we have not brought him to justice. Now he has attacked a Muggle establishment, and stolen a Muggle weapon, they are involved. Minister Crouch is taking a beating from Downing Street. We are under enormous political pressure to bring him in, especially now he has the power to destroy a city. We need to resolve this quickly. If such a device were detonated on British soil, we could find ourselves in a confrontation with the Muggle government. Memory charms are only effective if we have a small number of witnesses, but if this spreads through Downing Street to the Ministry of Defence, we could be looking at a major diplomatic and possibly military confrontation. The attack on Devonport was a sign to the Muggles. They believe that we, (he does not distinguish between us and Voldemort), are threatening Britain's defences."

"But it's only You-Know-Who and his crew," said Hestia Jones. "Why hold us all responsible?"

"We raised, taught and then failed to stop him," said Snape. "Besides, the desire for revenge will outweigh logic in the minds of those in power. We have a power over them and it will scare them. It is in their nature to fear what they do not understand. And let us not forget that it is becoming more and more difficult to tell who is with us and who is with the Dark Lord."

"Indeed, Severus," said Dumbledore. "Downing Street are still angry that we failed to stop the bomb that destroyed Paddington Station in September. Over one hundred lives were lost and the whole Tube Network came to a standstill. It was an embarrassment to him and he needed someone to blame. But this is not the time to debate politics. Our first priority is to retrieve this weapon. Our reasons are twofold, firstly to prevent loss of life and secondly to avoid a confrontation with the Muggle authorities. Now, I have some details for you. The Nuclear Attack Submarine, HMS Vanguard of the new Vanguard Class had just come in to be…refitted – that is the word they use, I do not know what they mean, but I assume it means maintenance. While this was happening, Death Eaters attacked the dockyard, leaving seven Aurors, twenty-one Commandos, and twelve Death Eaters dead. During the battle, Voldemort stole a nuclear warhead and according to the Navy, he had everything he needs to detonate it. Muggle attempts to recover the warhead have failed and now they would like our help. Minister Crouch has put Aurors on it already, but we are going to aid in the search, off the record."

Harry's stomach seemed to have shrunk to half its size. His chest was tight, and a chill was shuttle-running up and down his spine. Nuclear bombs? Never in a million years would Harry have guessed it would come to the Wizarding World. And the Muggles, what were they thinking? Surely they would not blame the crimes of a few on the entire population. It was so…racist. Harry resented the idea that he was anything like Voldemort. If it were not for the Aurors, more Royal Marines would have died and Voldemort could have stolen more. They owed the Magical Community. Did they have any idea the lengths that the Aurors went to, to prevent attacks on Muggles? He felt suddenly betrayed by the British government. Uncle Vernon had said that it was no wonder the country was going to the dogs with 'his kind' in government, but Harry thought that Crouch could probably do a better job than that Major. There was an election next year, Harry dared not think of who might be elected. Some utter moron, no doubt.

"Surely You-Know-Who would consider the use of a Muggle weapon below him," said someone to Harry's right.

Good point, thought Harry. Surely he was not stupid enough to actually use a bomb. It was just such an un-Voldemort thing to do. Destroying a city did as much harm to him as it did to everyone else. Harry was no expert but he knew a little about radiation, enough to know it caused cancer and killed. But Voldemort was not an expert in Muggle science, he would not know about radiation, would he?

"That was once true," acknowledged Dumbledore, gravely. "But Tom may have changed his tactic. In the last of a Samurai wars in Japan, the Samurai refused to use firearms, matching swords against cannons, as they believed it dishonoured them to use guns. I do not believe Tom values honour in the same way. If he once did, or if he once believed Muggle weapons to be below him, after decades of war, he could now be willing to use any means necessary to get the job done. There is no Magical device or spell that has the potential for destruction like what he has now acquired. We must also consider that he took this weapon for more reasons that just mass destruction. Look at the political impact it has already has."

"Are you suggesting he is trying to start a war?" asked McGonagall. War? Their type of war was one thing, but a full-scale battle was a different kettle of fish. The occasional attack on Muggles, some arrests, an intelligence war, a guerrilla war was already in full swing, but an outright conflict between Muggles who they were trying to protect was unthinkable. Harry had never been in a full-scale battle. He didn't want to imagine the destruction, the loss of life. They were trying to protect Muggles; if they turned against the Aurors, they would be caught between Voldemort and the Muggles. Once they were gone, the Muggles would have no protection from Voldemort. It was a terrifying thought. Then there was the politics of it. If the Muggles attacked the Magical Community, or were seen to, Voldemort's numbers would quadruple. If news of a Muggle built weapon being used against Wizards (as was now happening) got out, people would flock to Voldemort in droves, eager to avenge themselves on the Muggles who had apparently attacked them. This was a delicate situation.

"He has had it for three weeks," growled Moody. "And the Muggles only tell us now?"

"The Prime Minister felt it was a Muggle problem and they should clear it up," said Dumbledore, gravely. "He believed they were proficient enough to be able to recover the bomb. I believe that was a mistake and he now agrees with me, but we cannot change what has happened, so let us move on. I believe the most pressing questions are why has he not used it yet, what is he waiting for, what is he going to do with it and when."

"Perhaps to spread dissent," suggested McGonagall. "Just knowing a weapon so destructive is out there causes fear. Look at the chaos it has already caused. Muggles often use the phrase Nuclear Deterrent when referring to these devices. They are so destructive that they act as a warning to other nations, not to use them. One could argue that they are not actually meant to be used. You-Know-Who may only have acquired one for this purpose." That seemed more likely to Harry, but was it just wishful thinking?

"I do not fear the man who wants five hundred nuclear weapons," said Flamel softly. "I'm terrified of the man who just wants one." Is he really going to start speaking in riddles all the time, wondered Harry. Dumbledore doing it was annoying enough.

"What is that supposed to mean?" sneered Snape impatiently. Was Harry misreading this, or did Snape look genuinely worried?

"It means that five hundred is a deterrent," explained Flamel calmly. "The USSR have thousands of bombs, but would never use them, as the retaliation would destroy them; they are simply there to show off, to intimidate. However, one bomb has a purpose, and is meant to be used."

"I thought the USSR collapsed in 1991," whispered Harry. "It's just Russia now."

"Perhaps in your world," replied Lily. "Not here." This world really was different. That was a massive change. The Cold War was still going and the international climate was probably why the Prime Minister was so paranoid. This really was a 'gas-leak' of a situation. One spark and then entire world could be plunged into war.

"The Muggle Prime Minister is under enormous political pressure from home and abroad," continued Dumbledore. "Hence he has asked us to help."

"Which he should have done as soon as it went missing," said Moody. "Not three weeks later."

"It's in the past Alastor, and cannot be changed," said Dumbledore. "Our first priority is to retrieve this weapon. For the benefit of those who are unfamiliar with such technologies, I will endeavour to explain. First, though, here is the Prime Minister's report. It details exactly what has happened." He passed a pile of paper to Flamel who sat on his right. Flamel took one and passed the pile on.

Harry knew fairly well the horrors of a nuclear bomb, and so when the report came around, he immediately opened it and began to flick through. His mind was beginning to panic. Voldemort with a nuclear bomb! He could take out London with one attack and the radiation that followed would kill thousands. But that would contaminate the country, make it uninhabitable. He wanted to rule the country, not to destroy it. This didn't make sense. As Harry skimmed through the paper, his heart descended further into his stomach.

During the attack, a Trident MK5 Missile had been disassembled and a fifty kilo-tonne warhead had been stolen. Harry had no idea what a kilo-tonne was, but he understood what a warhead was and it was not something Voldemort should have. The tracking devices on the bomb were removed and left at the scene of the crime. On the back page was a list of people who knew about this. There were several military offices, and several scientists who were part of the Nuclear Program, and were experts in this field. Voldemort must have found another expert to help steal the bomb. Something like this was huge: how long had he been planning it?

"…the subsequent explosion could have a diameter of up to 12 miles depending on the device's yield and the topography of the land," Dumbledore was saying to the rest of the group.

"He's arming himself," concluded Moody. "One attack could take out an entire city. Combine that with the escapes from Azkaban and the lack of smaller raids, then he is calling all his forces to him. He is amassing an army. I think we could be looking at the beginning of his final assault. He's just waiting for enough people to join him before he marches on Hogwarts and the Ministry."

Moody's statement hung in the air. A chill went down Harry's spine. The words Nuclear and Bomb were echoing through his head. Voldemort had the power to destroy a city; it was a terrifying thought. In his world, he had known Voldemort was evil, he had known he wanted to take over, but he had always expected small attacks, on towns, a spot of Muggle killing here and there. He had never really thought about any final battle. A war-zone had never even entered his mind. The gravity of the situation caused a sickening feeling to brew in his stomach. Voldemort had the deadliest weapon on Earth; he outnumbered the Order fifty-to-one. The Aurors were good, but a large majority were probably Death Eaters. Spies were everywhere. This really was the beginning of the end. Part of him wanted to find a way home, to escape from this horrible nightmare. But this was no nightmare, this was no dream; Rose-Marie and his parents were real. He could not leave them to this fate.

"But if it is as complicated as Albus is saying," interrupted Hestia Jones, breaking the silence. "Then You-Know-Who himself could not arm it. He hates all things Muggle. His followers are mainly pureblood. Most Wizards can't spell electricity, let alone disassemble a complex circuit. He would have needed an expert."

"And don't they need arming codes and that kind of thing?" asked a young man to Harry's right. He looked a few years older than Harry and he must have been a Muggle-Born, for he worn jeans and a Chelsea shirt. "It can't be this simple to hijack a bomb."

"If you read the report," replied Dumbledore gravely. "The missile was opened, the security and anti-tamper devices bypassed, the tracking device disabled, and the war-head removed. Whoever did this has a keen knowledge of the internal workings of such a device."

"So we can start right there," said Dawlish. "Black, after this meeting head straight back to the Division. You and Rachel go through every specialist there is. Every Nuclear Engineer, the Navy has, past and present, every University lecturer in Nuclear Physics, especially with military experience, and anyone else who would have the knowledge. Check for magical ties to the family, disappearances, anything out of the ordinary." Sirius nodded and started flicking through the report.

"Potter, I know I promised you the day off, but I need you back on call," said continued Dawlish. Harry was about to ask when Dawlish had promised him the day off, then he realised who Dawlish meant. He was glad he had kept his mouth shut otherwise he would have looked very stupid. Harry saw his father nod out of the corner of his eye. "You, Tonks and Shacklebolt can pull any Death Eater we are following and grill them for information. If this thing can destroy a city, the gloves are off. Moody and I will try to put together a plan for if this thing does go off."

"Run like mad," muttered a familiar voice to Harry's left. Mundungus Fletcher was his usual helpful self. Harry gave a small snort, luckily no one heard.

"Thank you Mundungus," said Dumbledore with an impatient sigh. "If you cannot be helpful, please do not hinder. Now, do we have any idea where he might attack or when?" asked Dumbledore.

"We can't know when," said someone else. "It could be ready to go off now. It could be anywhere. It could be in the castle right now."

"I'll have guards posted all over Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, the Ministry and other hotspots around the country," said Dawlish, making a note a scrap of parchment.

"He'll want it to be public, a big show of his power," said Wormtail. "But we don't know when. I reckon he'll do it somewhere with a lot of people, like Diagon Alley, but I can't guess when.

"Today," said Harry, turning the page of his report. "But it won't be Diagon Alley."

Silence filled the room, the arguments died down in an instant, as he spoke. All eyes turned to him. It was the first time he had spoken in the meeting, and everyone seemed to be watching him.

"And how would you know that?" sneered Frank. Harry saw Dumbledore begin to get up, but replied before the old man could interrupt.

"Because he loves Halloween," said Harry evenly. "Today is Halloween and there is always an attack on Halloween. As for the location, I don't know where, but I don't think it will be Diagon Alley. If Wormtail is right and he wants to make it a public show of power, and for the record I don't think he does, he will want witnesses. Diagon Alley is so small that no one would survive to tell the tale. Also I don't think he will use it anywhere like Diagon, Hogsmeade or Hogwarts, places he would want to rebuild and use once he takes over. Voldemort's motto is 'there is no good and evil, only power and those too weak to seek it'. That means he wants to rule, not to destroy. If he explodes a nuclear bomb in Diagon Alley, not only does he destroy half of London, but he also irradiates the area. Diagon Alley would be inaccessible for ten thousand years. Anyone who enters would receive a fatal dose of radiation poisoning and be dead in a week. Once we are all dead and he is in charge, he would not be able to rebuild it. The radiation would be spread by the wind, contaminating London and making it uninhabitable for years. If he has an expert like you say, he will know this. But he won't make Diagon Alley inaccessible for the next ten millennia. That's not his aim." He managed to keep his voice level and even look Frank in the eye.

"This is pure conjecture," sneered Frank.

"This is the harsh reality," said Harry, turning back to the report he was reading. "Destroying a city does not help him."

"I think Harry has a point," said Dumbledore. "If we look to the past, Voldemort has indeed made a significant attack on Halloween every year. Even if the bomb is not detonated today, we can expect an attack. Dawlish, can you increase security in public places, make out presence felt?"

"Sure," said Dawlish. "But we can't just sit back and wait for this thing to blow up."

"If we pull everyone we know," interrupted Moody. "We lose all the intelligence we have. He will know exactly who is being followed. We would lose every source we have. For a week his numbers will do down, but in the long-run, he would benefit from this."

"That may well be his plan," said Snape. "The bomb could be a bluff, but we can ill afford to take that risk."

"I agree with Severus," said Tonks. "Whatever his political aims, whatever this costs us, we can't let this bomb go off."

"Is there any way of tracking these things?" asked someone.

"No spell will work and the trackers were removed when the device was stolen," said Dumbledore.

"What about the place where they took Potter?" asked Moody. Harry shivered at the memory of lying on that cold wet floor, pain filling his mind, his body feeling as if it were on fire. He had no desire to go back. He hoped Dumbledore didn't ask him too.

"It was protected by the Fidelus Charm," said Flamel. "We cannot enter."

"Potter was told where he was," said Moody. "He could go in." Harry gulped. He was desperate not to go back. His whole body tensed.

"If Voldemort has an expert present," said the Chelsea fan. "He will know about radiation and will not keep a bomb where he is living."

As they argued, Harry came to realise that they knew next to nothing about this bomb. They were not experts, and the full extent of the destruction was a mystery. He understood one in three words of the report, and one in five acronyms. This was utter conjecture. They needed someone who knew what they were taking about. He flipped to the back page of the report, where the government experts were listed. Harry skimmed through the list looking for a title that was not military. Any officer would not talk to him, would rant on about the Official Secrets Act and so forth. He needed a civilian. He selected the first civilian name he came to. Doctor Chris Gaynes was, up until two months ago, part of the team of scientists who were disassembling bombs in accordance with some new peace treaty with the Soviet Union, and now worked at Cambridge University. This Dr Chris Gaynes was an expert at dismantling warheads; she could definitely help them.

Harry rose to his feet, and stepped towards the door.

"And where do you think you are going?" snapped a voice instantly. Harry turned back to see Frank glaring at him. All thoughts of his present were gone. Harry had more important things to do. Again he noticed that everyone was watching him like a hawk.

"You can argue for as long as you like," said Harry impatiently. "But none of you know anything about these bombs. I'm going to the Cambridge University to speak to someone who does, to one of the experts in the report, Doctor Chris Gaynes. He might be able to defuse the bomb if we find it. He may know how to track them, and if not, he will be able to help us with a contingency plan for if it all goes pear-shaped. Dawlish has the right attitude, pull every source, kick over every stone, raid every house, and come up with a plan for if this goes south. Add security everywhere. Aside from this fireplace here, shut down Hogwarts. Nothing comes in or goes out until we find this bomb."

"You are not an Auror," said Frank. He fixed Harry with a glare. He was being irrational, putting his anger with Harry above the best interests of the Order and the country.

"True," conceded Harry. He stared back at Frank unblinkingly. "But the bomb is ticking and we don't know when it is set for. I am going to find someone to defuse it. Any objections?"

"Harry," said Dumbledore, suddenly. For a second Harry thought he was going to be told to stay here and let someone else go, or that it was a stupid idea, but Dumbledore merely withdrew something from the drawer of his desk. "Take this." He handed Harry a small piece of card. Harry took it, turned it over in his hand and immediately recognised what it was. It was a Chocolate Frog Card, more specifically an Albus Dumbledore card.

"What am I going to do with this?" he asked. He immediately felt very silly as judging from the look around him, it was glaringly obvious. The entire room seemed to be smirking at him. Even Dumbledore smiled to himself.

"This, Harry, is how we communicate," said Dumbledore. "Simply say my name or any other Order members name into the card and we can speak. Only you will be able to hear what is said." Harry's eyes widened in understanding. This is what Snape had meant about a better means of communication than a fireplace. It seemed so obvious now. Last year, Dumbledore had even said that Fudge could take all his titles but not take him off the Chocolate Frog Cards. These things enabled Dumbledore to see people across the country, or to disguise the Orders means of communication. It was so simple yet so clever. No one questioned their presence. They could get through any security check. It was…genius.

"Potter," said Dawlish. "Bring Doctor Gaynes to the Auror Division. From there we can work on a plan of attack."

"A Muggle in the Ministry," said Harry melodramatically, walking towards the door. "Whatever next."

"We can arrange for it," said Dawlish. "Security will be told to let you pass and give you all the assistance you need."

Harry nodded. He pocketed the card and then slipped out of the room. He quickly broke into a run, heading straight back to the Room of Requirement. He removed his cloak and threw it over into the hammock; He quickly changed into a pair of black trousers, and then pulled a navy blue woollen jumper on over the top of his armour to cover it. He tucked his wand up his right sleeve, and then pocketed the Frog-Card. Satisfied that he looked more or less like a Muggle; he left the Room and headed down towards the Entrance Hall. He would go to Hogsmeade, where he could Floo to Cambridge.

He hadn't even got half way back to the entrance, when he ran into trouble. It was five too nine and queues were forming outside room, where students waited for teachers to arrive. Harry swore to himself, before setting off at a jog through the crowd of students.

"Excuse me," he shouted about the din. "Coming through, watch out, please." He had to gently push a few people out the way to begin with, but as he ran, he was ever more aware of a path being cleared for him as students recoiled in fear. He didn't have time to worry about appearances now, and kept on running.

He reached the staircase at the end of the passage and to save time, jumped over the banister, landing on the stairs one floor below them, narrowly missing a third year Ravenclaw girl who screamed in surprise. Harry quickly muttered an apology and set off at a run towards the office. He had only gone fifty feet when he heard a familiar voice.

"BUGGER OFF MALFOY!"

Harry skidded to a halt as he recognised Ron's voice. He still had not talked to his best friend since he had been here. Rose and Ginny had mentioned that Ron remained suspicious and this hurt Harry a lot. Part of Harry wanted to see Ron and the other wanted to hurry to Cambridge. Harry approached the scene of the argument. Ginny, Rose and Ron stood opposite Malfoy and his two loyal goons. Seamus and Dean were a step back, presumably ready to prevent Ron diving on Malfoy.

"Calm down, Weasel," came Malfoy's bored voice. "Think of your blood pressure."

Malfoy's calm seemed to infuriate Ron even further. His face was almost as red as his hair.

"Leave him, Ron, he isn't worth it," Lavender tried to intervene. "He's just jealous."

"Excuse me, Mudblood," said Malfoy politely. "This is a private conversation. And what, pray tell, am I jealous of? Do you really this I have any desire to have more brothers than Knuts, a girlfriend who bears a striking resemblance to Blast-Ended Skrewt and a mother who's so fat that…" he never finished the sentence, as Ron broke from Seamus and Dean's grip and dived at Malfoy. Ron lifted Malfoy up in a rugby tackle and thrust him against a wall. All magic was forgotten as Crabbe and Goyle each grabbed one of his arms and tore him off Malfoy, throwing him roughly to the ground. Malfoy was back up on his feet, seething with rage.

Seamus moved to help Ron, but Goyle blocked him with a meaty fist. Rose and Ginny who had stood by until now, decided to intervene. Ginny shot a Bat-Bogey Hex straight at Goyle. The spell found its mark and Goyle was knocked to the floor, suffering the effects of the spell. Rose unleashed a curse Harry didn't recognise at Malfoy who sidestepped easily. Malfoy grabbed her outstretched arm and pulled hard, spinning as he did so. Rose was thrown into the wall, while Malfoy spun out of the way of the curse, withdrawing his wand as he did. Quickly, he sent a Boils Curse at Rose, who dived out of the way.

Harry had seen enough. That was his sister in danger. He had thought that Ron was overprotective over the years, but now he understood why. Harry ran forward, just as Rose and Malfoy levelled their wands at each other. Simultaneously they shouted a spell. Harry didn't hear what either of them were, but he reached them just in time to interfere. He grabbed Rose's wrist, forcing it upwards. Whatever spell she had used shot into the ceiling, cracking the stone and causing a shower of dust to rain down on the fallen Goyle. In the same movement, Harry pivoted on his left foot, driving his right into Goyle's chest, knocking the boy off his feet. With his own wand in his left hand, Harry conjured a shield, which enveloped himself and Rose. Malfoy's curse bounced off the shield with a clang and hit the wall to Harry's left. With a flick of his wand, the floor beneath Crabbe exploded in a flash of white light, sending the Slytherin four feet into the air. The boy hit the ground hard. Harry had his wand aimed at Malfoy's throat before Crabbe even hit the ground.

There was a gasp as those around them recognised Harry. It seemed that the entire corridor had frozen. Malfoy's wand was levelled at Harry's throat, but he was sure the Slytherin would never dare to attack him. Harry stared straight into Malfoy's eyes for a few seconds, before looking away. He turned to his sister, whose wand arm he still held. She looked thoroughly angry, and Harry wasn't sure if it was at Malfoy or at him for interfering. Harry released his grip on his sister's wrist.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly.

"Yes," she sighed, controlling her anger.

"Good," said Harry. "Now go to class" She hesitated but then disappeared with Ginny in tow. Harry waited until they were gone before turning back to Malfoy who still had his wand out. He seemed to be fighting the urge to turn and run.

"Malfoy," said Harry in an exasperated tone. "Get out of my sight."

He didn't have time for anymore and he didn't want to give Dumbledore any more reason to mistrust him. There was something in the Headmaster's voice when he had ordered him to release Pettigrew that worried Harry. Finished with Malfoy, Harry turned and made to leave. He found that they were surrounded by fearful looking students. They seemed to be encircled, with Crabbe and Goyle lying in the clearing and Malfoy and Ron standing. Had the others gathered in hope of seeing a duel? Idiots. They didn't know what a real duel was. Harry glancing around and then walked to the edge of the circle.

"Move," he said simply. The crowd instantly parted allowing him to leave. He walked swiftly from the room and disappeared through the main door. He set off at a jog in the direction of the Three Broomsticks.

----

Harry emerged from the fireplace into a small room with chairs laid out in rows. At the front of the room was the fireplace with lit candelabras on the mantelpiece. In front of him were two tables topped with gold cloths, and again, candelabras on top of each. There were then many rows of chairs, with an aisle down the middle with a red carpet. White rose petals were sprinkled over the carpet and on the chairs were small white pieces of paper. Harry picked one up and read the first few lines.

He smirked to himself as he realised that he had arrived in the middle of an atheist wedding. It would have been far worse had he emerged in the middle of a ceremony and covered the bride's dress in soot. He put the note back on the chair and walked quickly to the back of the room. He did not want to get caught. Just as he reached the door, it was thrown open and a man walked in wearing a suit and carrying a folder. Harry froze; he had been caught and he had no real reason for being here. Harry judged from the man's clothes that he was not a guest. He guessed he was the registrar.

"Who are you?" asked the man instantly, fixing Harry with a piercing stare. Harry considered just running, but chose to simply lie instead, to practice what Flamel had taught him.

"I'm the best man," said Harry quickly, smiling broadly. The effect on the man's face was instant, his suspicious gaze turned into a wide-eyed look of surprise.

"Oh, I do apologise, sir," said the registrar quickly. "Is everything to your liking?" Harry glanced around the room, falling into the part of the best man.

"Pretty much," said Harry, surveying the room. "Just straighten the front few rows and I think we are about there, thanks."

"As you wish, sir," said the man, though Harry could see he was a little hurt by the answer. Harry watched him disappear into the room, before running down the stairs. He had to make a quick exit before the real best man showed up. Harry found himself in a magnificent entrance hall. The walls were covered in wood and the floor was polished stone. The red carpet was laid out and the ornaments freshly polished. He slipped out of the chapel, thankful that the bride had not arrived yet.

Thankfully, Cambridge University was well sign-posted. He followed the signs to the science department and from there on to Physics and then up the stairs to Nuclear and Particle Physics. He found himself at the end of a long corridor. The floor was covered in black and white stone tiles and the walls painted white. There were posters explaining complex theories along the wall and the occasional cabinet filled with antique measuring equipment. There was a clean clinical smell to the building. The doors all held a number and the name of the occupant. Harry was sure that he was in the right place. He walked swiftly along the corridor looking for the name on the report Dumbledore had given him.

He had passed seven doors before he found on that read,

NPP.1.08

Dr C. GAYNES

Harry knocked and shortly afterwards there was a call from within.

"Come in," said a sharp voice on the other side of the door. Harry took a deep breath. He had been preparing his story since he left Malfoy. He pushed the door open and stepped into the office. The room was small and at the far end was a desk with a computer and behind that sat a tall woman dressed smartly in a dark blue suit, with short blond hair down to her neck and small glasses. She looked up as he came in and gave him an appraising look. Harry groaned inwardly. He didn't have time to chat to secretaries. Where was the doctor?

"Can I help you?" she asked politely, though Harry had the feeling he had interrupted something. He managed a small courteous smile before replying.

"I'm looking for Doctor Chris Gaynes," said Harry politely.

"You've found her," said the woman. Harry had been expecting her to say that he had gone to lunch. He didn't say anything and managed to hide his surprise - sexist comments would not be helpful. "A little young for an undergraduate, aren't you?" she asked.

"I'm not a student," said Harry quickly. He had expected she would think he was a student. He knew he was nowhere near intelligent enough to get into Cambridge, even if he had had a normal education. Stonewall Comprehensive would not have given him any chance. "I represent a department of the government." The best lies have elements of truth in them. Even so, that sounded even less likely than him trying to pass himself off as a student. She raised an eyebrow and stared at him for a second before sighing and leaning forward. She gave him a tired look, through which Harry could see irritation.

"Son," she said gravely. "I am very busy and I do not have time for these games." Harry should have realised how unconvincing he sounded. He decided that a more aggressive approach was necessary. The truth was a dangerous thing, but Dawlish wanted her brought to the Ministry, so the Statute of Secrecy no longer applied to him. He took a deep breath.

"Three weeks ago you were asked to advise on the theft of a warhead during the attack on Devonport Naval Base," said Harry quickly. His voice was level but firm. That got her attention. Her eyebrows narrowed and her head shot up to face him, failing to hide her surprise. Her jaw dropped but she quickly closed it. Harry held up the report that was still in his hands. Her eyes flew to the report and then back to Harry. Harry was sure she believed him, or at least would hear him out. She leaned back in her chair and interlocked her fingers in her lap.

"My…department has been called in to help track down the…em…" he trailed off.

"Bomb," finished the doctor. Harry nodded.

"Look," she said leaning forward again. "I told the Prime Minister everything I know, which is more than I should have done." Harry could hear bitterness in her voice. He had not been expecting her to sound angry. Surely she should want to stop the bomb.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I have spent the last five years of my life trying to stop the production of those damn things," said Dr Gaynes. "My original field of expertise was Nuclear Fusion and producing energy for the Third World. Later I became involved with environmentalists and I joined a team responsible for disassembling some of our arsenal in accordance with the latest Arms Reduction Treaty. I am shrugged off for years and now they have lost one, which I kept warning them was a distinct probability, they suddenly expect me to drop everything and help."

"So you'd be the ideal person to talk to about disarming one then?" asked Harry. She nodded. "Look, Doctor, I'm sorry about your past, but I need you to put all that behind you. We need your help to stop this bomb." Harry closed the door behind him.

"Stop it?" she asked. "I thought you said find it." She was clever; Harry had to admit. He had slipped and she had picked up on it. He gave her a small smile.

"I don't know how much you were told by the Ministry of Defence," he began taking a seat in front of her desk. "But here is the situation as it stands. Three weeks ago a fifty kilo-tonne nuclear warhead was stolen from Devonport Naval Base. We have reason to believe it is under the control of a maniac who has the technology and expertise to use it, and we are positive that it will be used today." He paused letting his words sink in. Harry watched the colour drain from her face. Now he said it out loud he realised exactly how hopeless it seemed that they would catch this device. Another image of a mushroom cloud filled his mind. What if the target was Hogwarts? he wondered. He dared not imagine all his friends dying. Doctor Gaynes sat gaping at him for a minute before finding the words to reply.

"This isn't a joke, is it?" she asked shakily. Harry couldn't blame her. He did not want believe it, but it was true.

"I wish it was," said Harry. "I truly do. The trouble is we don't know exactly what this would cause. We need help. My department is not very…technologically minded and we need someone to explain, in simple terms, what a detonation would cause. We need an expert who can help us disarm it if we find it fast enough, track it if at all possible, or help us draw up a plan, if this thing does go off."

"If we find it fast enough?" she echoed. Harry bowed his head. He did not want to admit out loud that there was a chance this thing could actually go off. She seemed very pale and shaky. He had to be very reserved with the bad news.

"There is a lot of country to cover and the terrorist who has it, is very good at hiding," said Harry. "What I need is for you to accompany me back to an underground facility in London. From there we will fill you in on precisely what is happening. From there we need help to track it and stop it." He deliberately left out 'clear up after it'.

"London is ninety minutes away in good traffic," said the scientist, looking worried. "Do we know what time it is set for?" 'We'? Was she going to help them? Harry smiled as she rose from her seat and pulled a long black coat off of a peg on the wall.

"Doctor Gaynes," said Harry slowly, trying to decide how to tell a scientist that breaking all her laws of physics was child's play.

"Call me Christine," she said quickly pocketing a mobile phone and shutting down the computer.

"As you wish," said Harry. "Christine, we have ways of transportation you could never imagine." She shot him a sceptical glance. It was time to take the plunge. "Tell me, doctor, do you believe in magic?"

"No," she said simply. She seemed not only sceptical, but also impatient. Harry hoped she didn't decide he was a crackpot who had found the report. "I don't believe in God, fairies, elves, Santa Claus, ghosts, aliens or witches."

"How very narrow-minded of you," said Harry matter-of-factly. Then again, he had not before Hagrid had knocked on the door, or rather knocked the door off its hinges. It was time for a demonstration. He reached out with a hand, pointing towards the mouse that was connected to her computer. Fortunately it was a wireless one, otherwise his transfiguration would look a tad silly wired to a computer. He concentrated hard on it and before the startled eyes of the PhD-holding Cambridge graduate, the mouse flew into the air and stopped three inches above Harry's outstretched hand. Harry stopped the spell and the mouse fell gently into his hand. He glanced up at her with a small smile. Her eyes were wide and her jaw low. Harry suppressed a laugh. He closed his other hand over the top of the mouse. Concentrating hard, he muttered a few well-chosen Latin words under his breath. When he removed his upper hand, the mouse had changed into a real mouse. It was about half the size of the plastic namesake with white fur, red eyes and a cute pink nose. Harry was quite proud of himself, as he had made a rather adorable mouse, rather than a tatty sewer rat.

Christine gasped in surprise. Her hand covered her mouth as she stared wide-eyed at the small creature. Harry held the tiny rodent out towards her. It sat calmly on the palm of his hand, cleaning its whiskers with its front paws. He stroked its back with the back of his finger. He could feel it trembling on his hands.

"Its perfectly real," he assured her, before adding, "It doesn't have any diseases. You can touch it if you want." It occurred to him after he had said this that many people were terrified of mice and rats. Not everyone had been around Scabbers for four years. Most rodents were very clean, it was only sewer rats that were dirty and carry disease. Christine, it turned out, was not afraid of rodents; she slowly and cautiously reached out with her hand and gently prodded the mouse. It stopped cleaning its whiskers and lowered itself onto all fours. As Christine held out her hand, the mouse cautiously climbed off Harry's hand and onto hers, testing the air with its whiskers. It sat on her hand for nearly a minute, while her mouth opened and closed but words had utterly failed her. Harry couldn't blame her. Everything she had come to believe had just been turned on its head, much like when Harry arrived in this world. He just hoped she still agreed to come with him, and that she didn't faint.

Harry smiled to himself, remembering the first time he had seen a spell. Hagrid had lit a fire with an umbrella in the lighthouse. Harry pulled his wand out of his waistband and gently tapped the mouse on the head. After a second, the mouse reverted back to its original form. Christine turned it over in her hands, unable to speak.

"Magic is as real as any of your laws of Physics," said Harry gently. She sat still on the desk, staring down at the mouse unable to speak or move. "It is a wizard who has stolen this bomb, Christine, a very nasty one. We need your help." He laid a hand on the back of hers, bringing her out of her shock.

"I…," began Christine, staring at him and looking very pale. "Are there others like you?"

"There is a whole world of us," said Harry gently. "We live amongst you in secret."

"Why in secret?" she asked.

"It's…complicated," he replied. "Man fears what he doesn't understand, and there are..." Harry trailed off. He didn't have time for this. "Christine, I will be happy to tell you everything when we find this bomb, but for now we don't have time. I must take you to the Ministry of Magic. It is from there that you can help us."

"Ministry…as in you have a government?" she asked.

"A secret wing of your own," he replied. "We still report to John Major, though he is being a bit of an idiot at present."

Harry Potter

Harry stopped talking immediately. He could feel something vibrating in his pocket, and quickly fished it out. It was the Frog-Card that Dumbledore had given him. It was no longer blank. Dumbledore's face filled the face of the card. Harry glanced t Christine, but then realised that since he was going to tell her everything, or Dawlish would wipe her memory, it couldn't hurt to let her see more. He couldn't really send her out of the room or stun her. Dumbledore had said that only he would be able to hear the card.

"Harry," said Dumbledore quickly. From the look on Christine's face, Harry was sure she could not hear a word that was said. "A man was just brought into one of London's hospitals diagnosed with radiation poisoning. He has been fatally exposed. His name was Michael Lane, a former Air-Force officer and part of Britain's Nuclear Program. He was on the list of mysterious disappearances that your father has put together. He has been tortured with the Cruciatus Curse until his mind broke, and is barely alive. It seems that after he outlived his purpose, he was tortured and then left to die but Muggles found him. The Doctors say he was exposed to a lethal dose of highly radioactive material. From the dosage, they believe it was weapons-grade material." Harry couldn't tell if this was good news or bad. Mr Lane must have come into contact with the bomb – he probably built it. But if his mind was fried, they couldn't get any information, could they?

"I take it we can't get any information from him," said Harry irritably.

"I have used Legilimency to probe what is left of his mind after excessive exposure to the Cruciatus Curse and nuclear material. I can't find a location, but I have seen part of what he did to the device. Is your scientist nearby?" Did this mean there was hope? Harry felt a tingling of hope in his stomach.

"She's right here," he replied quickly.

"She?" asked Dumbledore.

"She is a she, not a he," said Harry. "And it's a good thing she can't hear us." He smiled to himself, before glancing at Christine. She looked curious, but Harry was sure she had managed to put two and two together.

"Harry I need you to relay to her what I am saying," said Dumbledore. Harry nodded and then turned to the scientist.

"Christine," said Harry quickly. "I need you to listen carefully."

"Are you talking to that?" she asked. "I can see your lips move, but I can't hear anything."

"Yes," said Harry, grateful that she had made the connection, otherwise he might have had to explain. "A man has been taken to hospital with radiation poisoning. We have been able to extract an image of the device. I need you to listen and tell me what you think. Okay, sir, go ahead," he said into the card. Dumbledore paused for a second, and then began to speak, once sentence at a time, so Harry could relay it to Christine.

"He removed the casing, only using a small part of the bomb. It is cylindrical and about ten centimetres in diameter and a total of fifty in length. There are metal rods down the outside of the cylinder. Halfway down the cylinder, it narrows and then expands into a black sphere with wires coming out that disappear into the cylinder on both ends. There is flat metal plate with a hole filled with golden sticks on the middle of it."

Harry relayed the information to Christine word for word. She looked thoughtful for a minute before speaking.

"Is the black sphere warm to the touch?" she asked. Harry had no idea what this meant, but she obviously did. Harry was sure Legilimency didn't work like that, but he relayed the question to Dumbledore anyway.

"I cannot tell from his memory," said Dumbledore, confirming Harry's suspicions. "It does not work like that. I do sense a lot of fear of the sphere in particular. I feel as though he did not want to touch it, yet he was forced to under the Imperius Curse." Harry shuddered as he imagined being forced to do work that you knew would kill you under the Imperious Curse. He turned back to Christine, trying to keep his voice level.

"We don't know," said Harry to Chris. "His mind was badly damaged. We managed to extract some of his feelings and emotions. We know that he was scared of this sphere. We believe he was forced to work on it."

"Mind damaged?" she asked. "What…"

"Christine," said Harry. "I know this is awful, he was held by terrorists and forced to do work that as good as killed him. I know it is horrible, but I need you to concentrate." She nodded, closing her eyes. She took a deep breath, and then opened them again. Harry felt sorry for her, knowing that her first experience of his world depicted it as a band of lawless barbarians and terrorists. This was not the real Wizarding World at all.

"It sounds to me like the Primary Trigger," said Christine thoughtfully. "It is pure plutonium and unprotected." The trigger of a gun was useless without bullets. Did that mean they were safe?

"So if it was just the trigger, does that mean he can't use the bomb?" asked Harry hopefully.

"Sadly, no," said Christine, shaking her head and sighing. "He could allow the Plutonium to be detonated by the primer. It wouldn't go to maximum yield but it would irradiate the surrounding environment."

"In English, please," said Harry.

"Sorry," she said rolling her eyes. "It wouldn't detonate and destroy everything in sight. It would blow up like a conventional bomb, but the surrounding area would be heavily contaminated. It would be uninhabitable for years, the winds would spread radiation, causing cancer and death."

"No city-wide destruction?" asked Harry. He wasn't sure if things had gotten better. They had a bit, but cancer and radiation were still a major risk. The death toll would be in the hundreds, not thousands, but that was still far too many, and the long-term affects of cancer were horrid.

"No, but it will still unleash fatal radiation into the air and depending on winds it could still wipe out a city and then some," said Christine. "It's what we call a dirty bomb. The initial blast heats the Plutonium up to a volatile temperature and then it spreads dangerously fast, contaminating anything in its path. It will penetrate cars, buildings, the air around it, water and everything that drinks it. "

"Jesus," muttered Harry exasperatedly.

"Oh I think we need him today," said Christine.

"I thought you didn't believe," sad Harry.

"That was before a boy turned a mouse into a mouse in front of me," she said. "Now I don't know what to believe. I wouldn't be surprised if you flew on broomsticks." Harry was unable to keep a guilty smile from him face.

"You're kidding," said Christine.

"Um, back to the bomb," said Harry.

"Yes," said Christine. "This is still a weapon capable of mass destruction. The long-term affects are catastrophic and the environmental affects are worse. But, on the plus side, now you can track it."

"How?"

"The outer casing of the bomb is lined with lead to keep the radiation in. If the primary is out of the casing, it is giving of radiation. That is what poisoned the man you found. It is not strong enough to irradiate a location, or cause cancer in the short term – this man must have received long-term exposure. However it is enough to track. Geiger-Muller Tubes can detect radiation if the source is close."

"Do you have any tubes?" asked Harry hopefully. If they could post guard with these tubes around the Ministry, Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, and other public locations, they may intercept the bomb.

"One here, more in the labs at the other end of campus," said Christine.

"We don't have time," said Harry.

"If you don't have them, photographic film will do. It turns the black film white." That sounded more like it. It was easy to come by; the Prophet could ship it in. If everyone had some, it would be so much simpler.

"Professor," said Harry into the card. "Doctor Gaynes says that it's a dirty bomb. It won't blow up a city but it will contaminate the area around it including the water supply and the air around it. Do you know where it is going?" It was all well and good being able to trace it in ten feet, but where was it heading?

"I could not get the information," said Dumbledore. Harry sighed. "But the use of this device would now seem to be to contaminate rather than to destroy."

"Agreed," said Harry. "No one will be able to enter the target for years. I don't think we are looking at a city."

"It would be more tactical than that," said Dumbledore. "Tom is not rash."

"I agree," said Harry. "He wants to rule, not to destroy."

"I believe this is only part of his plan," said Dumbledore. "Think of it like a game of chess. First you prepare an army, which it would see he has done. From there is it like a game of chess. Next you place key pieces in key places, then you blind your opponent or deceive him and then you strike."

"This is too big to be a bluff," said Harry. "We've even seen the scientist's memory."

"So if he is not going to deceive us, he is going to blind us," said Dumbledore.

"The Ministry," said Harry quickly. It all made sense. He was going to blind the only people who could stop him – the Aurors. With them blind he had free reign to amass an army, take out strategic targets and move on. Dark Magic could not be detected, panic buttons not answered, illegal Apparation not monitored. "He's going for the Auror Division. I'm heading there now - perhaps Doctor Gaynes can defuse it. Call ahead, tell Dawlish to expect me, and to search the building. Give everyone photographic film. Get as much as you can from the Prophet. If it turns white it means the bomb is near. They should evacuate the building."

"If we evacuate, we could scare him off," said Dumbledore coolly. Harry's heart had been racing, but he suddenly came down to earth with a bump. He felt a chill run down his spine at the words and tone of voice. Surely Albus Dumbledore could not be thinking what Harry thought he was thinking.

"If we don't evacuate, hundreds of people could die," said Harry. Loss of life was unacceptable in his eyes.

"He'll have a backup target," said Dumbledore. "If we scare him off, he will go somewhere where we are unprepared and the death toll will be higher. In the Ministry it will be contained underground, with no access to water or air that gets to the surface." Harry could not believe what he was hearing. What if it went off before he got there and hundreds of people died when they could have evacuated? It wasn't fair on them. It was cold, barbaric.

"We can't just leave all those people to their deaths," insisted Harry. He felt a surge of anger directed at the old man. "They are patriots. They are keeping this country together. Everything from transport to the Wizengamot is controlled through that building. It's too much to lose!"

"Are you suggesting we sacrifice a second, perhaps more public location for this one?" said Dumbledore.

"You don't know that!" shouted Harry, glad that Christine could not hear them. The Wizarding World already looked dangerous; this would have made it seem barbaric.

"Yes I do," said Dumbledore gravely. "Harry, believe me, I take no joy in this decision, but we both know that Tom is highly intelligent and will always have a back-up plan. Here is can be contained, Diagon Alley it cannot and that is open air so it will spread to Muggle London, as well as everywhere a contaminated item is taken." Harry didn't want anyone to die, but he realised now more than ever that it was a growing possibility. Dumbledore was right, but it just seemed so cold, so heartless. Harry didn't want more death on his conscience.

"I'm heading to the Ministry," said Harry firmly. "Get the Prophet to send every bit of film they have to the Ministry. Let's hope we can catch this bomb in time." Dumbledore nodded and his face disappeared from the card. Harry took a second to compose himself. He had a deep desire to throw the card across the room in frustration. He could not believe he was leaving all these people in danger. Flamel's words about the ugly business of war came back to him. Flamel had been right – this sure as hell was ugly. He sighed deeply before turning to face Chris.

"Okay listen," said Harry. "We have a good idea what the target is. We need to head there now. Do you have any photographic film handy?"

"No," she said. "We use these new digital cameras now. I've got a Geiger counter, though. She picked up a black padded case from on one of the shelves. She slung it over her shoulder to it hung at her hip. It was about twenty centimetres long and ten high and wide.

"How are we getting to London?" asked Christine.

"This way," said Harry taking her hand and moving towards the door. He was surprised she was so eager to help, given the danger. It just goes to show, it's amazing what a person can do when the pressure is on, thought Harry. They walked swiftly down the stairs and out of the Physics Department, before breaking into a run and heading back towards the chapel. It had been twenty-five minutes since Harry had pretended to be the best man. He hoped they didn't walk straight through the middle of the wedding. He was dressed in black combats with a navy-blue woolly top. She wore a suit, but they were still not fit for a wedding, not to mention the fact that they'd have to use the Floo system right in front of Muggles.

They reached the chapel in just over five minutes having run the considerable distance from the Science department. As they reached the chapel, they charged in and up the stairs. Harry was panting and Christine was looking very red. He was impressed that she was fit enough to run all the way, especially in heels and a suit. The entrance hall on the ground floor was empty and so were the stairs. As the came up onto the first floor, Harry could see through the glass that the bride and groom were kissing, having finished the ceremony. He could see the fire behind the altar, where he had to get to. He cursed under his breath and checked his watch. 'Come on,' he muttered.

"Where are we going?" asked Christine, recovering her breath.

"Fireplace in there," said Harry pointing to the wedding. He needed to get them out of the room. How long would this ceremony take? Suddenly he spotted a red box on the wall next to Christine. An idea formed in his head. He stepped closer to her and was about to hit the box when she realised what he was going to do and grabbed his wrist. Harry glanced up at her with an irritated expression.

"You can't do that!" she hissed, apparently outraged. "It's their wedding. You can't interrupt the happiest day of their lives with a fire-alarm!" Harry knew it was a nasty thing to do, but they had to hurry. What if the bomb was already there? What if it came with the morning rush? It was nearly twenty past nine; the Ministry would just be getting busy.

"It could be a radiation warning if we don't hurry," said Harry angrily. "I know this is harsh, but we could be saving their lives or their children from cancer!" Christine did not release his wrist, and continued glaring. Harry considered taking his wrist back by force, but he didn't want to hurt her and he needed her help.

"Are there no other fires in Cambridge?" she hissed.

"Plenty, but none connected to the Floo network in the immediate area," said Harry.

"Floo? Oh, never mind, they're coming out now anyway," said Christine, releasing his wrist. Sure enough, as she finished speaking the door opened behind them and the Master of Ceremonies emerged followed by the bride and groom. The groom's eyes fell on Harry as he passed. Harry could see the confusion in his eyes. He had no idea who the strangers at his wedding were. Harry hoped they didn't call security or anything. He was about to run into the room pushing past people, when Christine did something that Harry thought was utterly stupid.

"Congratulations," said Christine shaking the groom's hand, in front of a speechless Harry. She smiled warmly and the suspicion vanished from the face of the groom. Harry glanced at the groom and then Christine who stood with a smug expression on her face.

"Manners get you a long way," said Christine vaguely, as the procession continued up the stairs to where Harry assumed the reception was to be held. For a moment Christine reminded Harry of Luna Lovegood. He shook the idea from his mind and as soon as the last guest had left, Harry entered the room. Only one man remained and he was packing away from the registry on the front table. Thinking on his feet, Harry called out to her.

"There's a telephone call for you downstairs," he said politely.

The man looked up. His eyes quickly narrowed. Harry realised with an inward groan that this was the same man who he had told he was the best man earlier.

"Aren't you…" began the man, standing upright.

"Telephone call for you," repeated Harry. The man continued to eye him suspiciously.

"Who are you?" he asked. "And what are you doing here?" Harry decided he didn't have time for this. He pulled out his wand and with a flick of it shut the door behind him. He turned back to face the registrar.

"Stupefy!" he hissed. A jet of red light shot out of his wand and hit the man in the chest. He went stiff as a board and then keeled over. Christine gasped as he hit the floor. She glanced at Harry at the man and then at the door.

"Don't worry about him," Harry kindly reassured her. "He will wake up in half an hour and think he fainted. I did not want to do that, but we have to leave now." She stared open-mouthed at him. What he had just done had not helped her opinion of the Wizarding World.

Harry checked the man was okay, before walking over to the fireplace. He took the small bag of Floo powder out of his pocket and beckoned Chris to join him. Shakily she did, obviously deciding that he was safe and that a nuclear bomb was enough incentive to trust him.

"This is going to feel very strange," said Harry. "Hold on to me, and don't let go. Oh, and please don't scream either, it's really irritating." She gave him a nervous glance. Harry smiled reassuringly. He put his arms around her, and from behind her back he threw a pinch of the powder into the fireplace.

"Ministry of Magic!" he shouted before pushing himself and Christine into the flames.

True to her word, she did not scream. They emerged a second later in the Ministry of Magic's entrance hall. Since they were locked together, they instantly fell over, Harry landing embarrassingly on top of her. He quickly rolled off her and stood up, trying not to blush. Still sitting down, her head was moving frantically as she glanced around at all the witches and wizards and wizards appearing from fireplaces and from thin air. The Fountain of Magical Brethren was gleaming in the light and the queues were stretched back by nearly thirty metres from the security desk. There were two lines, employees and guests. Both were bustling with people and guards looked over worked. The pictures on the wall were glaring down at the hustle and bustle of the morning rush. This was the Ministry at its most busy.

"Come on," said Harry pulling Christine to her feet. She mouth was hanging limp as she stared around.

He took her by the hand and began to push his way through the crowd. It seemed like a jungle of bodies in his way as more and more people emerged from the fireplaces.

"Excuse me," said Harry pushing past the nearest people. "Excuse me!" The England Rugby team would have trouble getting through, thought Harry to himself. His manners disappeared with his impatience, and after five metres, he changed to "MOVE! COMING THROUGH!" as he charged through the crowd with Christine in tow. He pushed people violently out of the way spilling coffee, tea and all sorts of food over the floor and robes and he surged through the crowd. After a minute he had gotten maybe ten metres further at most. This was getting him nowhere! He pulled his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at the ceiling.

BANG!

Harry fired three loud cracks from the end of his wand. Instantly everyone in the room ducked to their knees at the sound of bangs. All eyes turned to see him and the strangely dressed Muggle next to him.

"MOVE!" he shouted pushing past the kneeling figures in front of him.

"GUARD!" he called addressing the man at the gate. "DAWLISH IS EXPECTING ME."

"Yes, sir," said the man timidly. Harry pushed his way right to the front of the queue. "We are supposed to do whatever you say."

"Christine," said Harry. "Give him the Geiger counter and show him how to use it." Chris took the machine out of her bag. It was a small black box about ten centimetres cubed with a curly wire coming out and a small tube the size of the card inner tube of a toilet roll on the end.

"Point this at the person," said Christine, handing him the tube. "It should start clicking. A few clicks is alright, it's background levels, but if it starts clicking a lot and really fast then it's a positive reading." That sounded simple enough.

"If that happens," said Harry to the guard. "You stun that person instantly and call the Aurors. Can you manage that?"

"Yes," said the man. Harry wasn't sure he could, but he didn't have time. He would send an extra Auror up to help him out. He knew Dumbledore would not evacuate the Ministry. All these lives he passed were at risk, but the idea that it might go off somewhere more public where it cannot be stopped was too frightening. He was caught between a rock and a hard-place.

"Come on," he said to Christine, taking her hand and guiding her to the lift. From the gauge at the top of the door, he saw that the car was two floors down, so Harry quickly moved to the stairs. Pushing past people they made a break for the staircase. As they neared the door, they were flung open by two Aurors. Both were dressed in the customary scarlet robes, and each held the hand of another man who was thrashing against the grip. He looked a little rodent like with dirty blond hair and a long thin nose.

"You can't do this to me!" he cried as he thrashed in their arms. "I work here!"

"Not any more, Redgrave!" sneered the Auror on the right. "You are not an Unspeakable anymore. If we catch you trespassing again, you'll end up in Azkaban."

"You don't understand!" protested the man as they moved past Harry. "The Muggles know! They know about us. They're prepared for…." His voice trailed off as the Aurors disappeared into the crowd. Harry had half a mind to go and ask him what he meant, but there was no time. Together, he and Chris ran down three flights of steps and out into the Auror division. The main floor was huge with lines of desk stretching out across the room. He could see the huge form of Kingsley standing around a table with Sirius, Dawlish and a woman he did not recognise.

"DAWLISH!" he shouted running forward into the room. Every eye turned to face him as he ran through the room. Many of those in the room had spent a year hunting him; many had lost friends because of him. Harry knew there was a good chance of getting hexed on his way through. As he approached the desk, he could see that they had been looking over a map of a city, probably London.

"It's here," he panted as he reached the desk. "They broke it down to something more deadly. It's going to go off here!"

"Are you sure?" asked Kingsley, his eyes wide.

"Not certain," said Harry. "He had it modified. It will not blow up a whole city anymore, but it will contaminate everything it touches. Voldemort is trying to blind us, or rather you so he can build his army, not destroy a city. Files can be salvaged, monitoring stations rebuilt, but not if everything in sight cannot be entered of touched."

"But you're not one hundred percent sure?" asked Dawlish. Harry felt so exasperated. Why couldn't they believe him? They had to search the building. He knew he couldn't give them the answer they wanted, but he needed them to trust him.

"No, but there are hundreds of people in the building," said Harry. "We can't afford to ignore this. We can even track it now."

"How?" asked Kingsley instantly.

"Chris?" asked Harry.

"The casing was removed and it is leaking radiation," she explained. "Not enough to kill unless you are exposed for a long time, but enough to track. We left the guard on the gate with a Geiger counter. He will find it if anyone tries to get in carrying it."

"He needs backup," said Harry taking over. "Send at least two Aurors to accompany him. This check will not help the queues."

"Do we know when it will go off?" asked Dawlish.

"No," said Harry. "I was told that we should not evacuate either, in case we scare him off and he goes somewhere more public. If it goes off at Diagon Alley or somewhere like that it will be harder to contain. I don't like it, but that what was decided." Dawlish nodded. He sent two Aurors up to the Entrance Hall.

It was then that Harry spotted Sirius. It reminded him of something else.

"Where's Dad?" he asked.

"With Rose," said Sirius. "Her trial starts in ten minutes." Her trial, of course! That was why Malfoy wanted her there. He was never going to turn up. She was definitely a target now. It all made sense.

"That was why Lucius wanted her here!" said Harry quickly. "He knew he could never win, but if he could get her here when the bomb goes off, she'd die. It is an attempt to throw me off balance. Sirius, find dad, get him and Rose out of here. It could go off at any moment."

"Rachel, where's James?" asked Sirius.

"With his daughter and Arthur down the hall," replied the woman standing with them.

"Tell them to leave now," said Sirius. The women, Rachel, set off at a jog towards the door. Harry could see her right leg was not quite running in the same way as her left. There was a trace of a limp there. Harry watched her go and as he did, he noticed that no one was working. Everyone was listening to the conversation. He, Dawlish, Kingsley and Sirius were the centre of attention. He might as well take control of the situation.

"LISTEN UP," shouted Harry taking the initiative. "THERE COULD BE A BOMB IN THE BUILDING. THE GUARD IN THE LOBBY HAS A MACHINE THAT CAN DETECT IT. THE REST OF YOU NEED TO SPREAD OUT THROUGH THE BUILDING. TAKE PHOTOGRAPHIC FILM WITH YOU. IF IT STARTS TO TURN WHITE YOU ARE CLOSE TO THE BOMB. Chris is there any way we can contain the radiation?"

"Lead and concrete will stop all gamma rays."

"ALSO WE NEED A TEAM TO GO THROUGH EVERY LEVEL OF THE BUILDING. TRANSFIGURE EVERY INCH OF FLOOR, AND CEILINGS INTO LEAD, IT WILL HELP CONTAIN THE RADIATION IF THINGS GO SOUR. THEN WE CAN CONFINE IT TO ONE FLOOR."

"How thick will it be?" asked Chris.

"As thick as the tiles, about a centimetres on both sides of the floor," said Kingsley. The floors themselves are two feet of stone.

"Good enough," said Chris. "That should withstand the explosion of the bomb itself." Harry felt a little bit relieved. If they could isolate the radiation to one floor, then many lives could be saved and the Ministry would not totally fall.

"Dawlish," said Harry. "We need to find as much concrete as possible and transfigure as much lead. If we can isolate it to a floor…"

"YOU'RE TOO LATE, POTTER!" screeched a horribly familiar voice.

Harry spun around to see Dolores Umbridge standing at the entrance to the room. Her cardigan was hanging open and he could see the silver cylinder strapped to her chest. A manic smile was etched into her toad-like face. Her eyes were glazed over and vacant.

She must be under the Imperius Curse! Harry realised.

She was no longer useful so she had been assigned as a suicide bomber. This was where the path of all Death Eaters ended. Either killed by the Aurors or killed by Voldemort when no longer useful. Why did people join him? Did they think they wouldn't get hurt or killed? Did they think they mean something to Voldemort? How naive were people these days? Did the term Dark Lord not main anything to them. 'Dark' as in 'evil' as in 'should not be done'? How could people fail to see this? Harry felt so frustrated with the stupidity of the public.

Harry could see a button in her right hand, presumably the detonator.

"STUPEFY!" yelled about one hundred voices at once. Umbridge was launched up and off her feet. She flew through the air and into the wall, bouncing off and landing on her face on the floor. She was dead before she hit the wall from the force of all those stunners.

Harry ran forward, kneeling over the fallen Umbridge. He rolled her over and found himself staring into her hollow eyes. As expected, she was dead. He closed her eyes more for his own well-being than respect. Dead eyes were creepy. Christine arrived next to him kneeling beside the body.

"It's on a timer," she said, sliding a panel back on the end of the cylinder revealing a small clock with red numbers. It read 03:02 and it was counting down. Presumably, Voldemort did not trust her to do it so he had a timer installed.

"They've removed the keypad," she said. Her face was white and looked terrified. "All these wires shouldn't be here. It's wired so I can't take it off."

"What does that mean?" asked Harry urgently. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"They removed the keypad that allows me to disarm it and they installed all these wires as an anti-tamper device," she said.

"As in you can't disarm it?" said Harry.

"I can try," she said. That didn't sound good. Harry wanted to run to get out of the building, as far away as possible. It never really hit him until now. He assumed they would be able to stop, but now it looked like they would fail. "Give me a minute to sort these wires out," said Christine.

"You have just under three," said Harry. He stood and glanced around looking for a red box on the wall. It was definitely time to evacuate. He found one behind him.

"GET EVERYONE OFF THE FLOOR!" he shouted. "THE ONES ABOVE AND BELOW AS WELL. DON'T LET ANYONE COME DOWN HERE. TRANSFIGURE ALL CEILINGS, FLOORS, WALLS AND DOORS INTO LEAD. QUICKLY, MAKE SURE THERE IS NO ONE ON THE FLOOR." Harry smashed his elbow into the fire alarm.

Instantly the lights in the room went red. A siren went off all around them, piercing all their ears. All around them Aurors stared move for the exits, some casting spells on the floor. Harry could see them turning the carpet, floors, ceiling tiles and everything else in sight into lead. The building was made of stone so beneath the lead was stone which should offer a little protection. Harry did not know the Lead spell to be able to help.

"Lumos!" he shouted holding the white light up for Christine to see. She was inspecting the wires inside the cylinder, Suddenly they were covered in water as deep grey rain-clouds formed on the ceiling and began to rain down upon them. It was the magical equivalent of a sprinkler. Harry was soaked through in seconds and water droplets were running all over the cylinder. He heard Christine swear as she tried to find the right wire.

"Harry!" shouted Dawlish above the alarm. "We have to go!" he was standing over them. Harry could see that all the floor and ceiling was covered in a dull grey metal. It was time for them to leave. It was contained and there was no time to dismantle the weapon. They had lost, but they could limit the damage. He nodded to Dawlish.

"Christine, let's go!" bellowed Harry above the din.

"I can't stop it!" she said panicking. "You have to get it out of here!"

"Where would we send it?" shouted Harry. "Where could it go that it would not contaminate something and with the wind it could spread to a city or town? Here it is contained and there is no loss of life, except Umbridge. We've got to get out of here, now."

"Just a little longer," she insisted, turning back to the bomb. Harry was scared; he felt the desire to drag her kicking and screaming from the bomb.

"In an alarm, all chairs become Portkeys to the assembly point," said Dawlish. "I've got to get to the assembly point. Take one and activate it when you leave." The assembly point was no good. He needed to get to Dumbledore. He would know what to do.

"I need to get to Dumbledore's office," shouted Harry in Dawlish's ear. The Auror shot him a frustrated glare.

"You can Floo out," he pointed to the fireplace. There is powder in the red pot above the fire. Harry nodded to the Auror.

"Seal the door and turn it to lead as you leave," said Harry. "Make sure you do the stairs and lift as well."

Dawlish nodded towards the door. Harry hoped he could get everyone out in time. He glanced over her shoulder at the clock. 01:03

"Are we in danger from the radiation?" he asked.

"Yes, but not fatally," she said. We'll be out of here in one minute." Harry was sure she was going to add 'one way or another' but had decided against it. Harry glanced at the clock; it read 00:57. He was sweating despite being drenched in icy water. He had never been so scared in his life. He wanted to run. Couldn't the stupid woman see it was hopeless?

For ten seconds Harry watched her fiddling with wires. After that she picked took a deep breath and pulled one wire out. Harry was absolutely terrified. Every instinct told him to run and hide, but he couldn't leave Christine. She was fiddling with wires again. Harry glanced at the clock: 00:17.

"Christine, we've got to go!" he insisted, grabbing her arm.

"But…"

"No buts," he insisted pulling her roughly to her feet. "We're going now, or we all die!" She didn't protest any longer. Harry sprinted across the room, hoping they had time to Floo.

She glanced at him and then the bomb before nodding. She joined him at the fireplace Dawlish had pointed too. Harry quickly grabbed the pot of Floo.

"Hogwarts Headmaster's Office!" he shouted, throwing the powder into the fire. He just hoped the fireplace could hear him above the alarm. The flames in the grate burst into a brilliant emerald green. Harry wrapped his arms around Chris, and pushed himself into the fireplace, just as an almighty bang went off behind him. He felt the heat on the back of his neck as he stepped into the flames and then…nothing.

----

Albus Dumbledore

The headmaster pulled his chocolate Frog-Card out of the drawer and looked into it. Dawlish's face was starring back at him.

"Albus, Potter was right. The bomb is in the Ministry. We have evacuated and Potter is trying to defuse it now. It will go off any second." Albus looked up, James had arrived with Rose not three minutes before. Lily had arrived shortly after.

"Was that about Harry?" she asked instantly.

"He's trying to defuse the…"

Suddenly the flames in the grate exploded into colour. Wisps of green flames surged up the chimney as two figures fell out of the grate. A tall woman in a suit came out backwards, holding onto Harry. They fell to the floor, Harry landing on top of the woman. To Albus' horror, a jet of orange flames shot out of the fire over the heads of the new arrivals, and causing Fawkes to take flight as his perch was licked by the flames.

Albus raised a hand to shield his eyes. The flames were gone as quickly as they had come. Harry and the woman who Albus assumed was Dr Gaynes lay on the floor. The woman coughed once as she tried to sit up, but with Harry on top of her, it was easier said than done. Lily immediately knelt next to the pair, rolling Harry off of her. Everyone in the room gasped at what they saw. Harry had a serious burn on his right cheek, and some of his clothes had been burned away.

Albus quickly sank to his kneed next to Harry's body. He managed not to gag at the smell of charred hair and flesh. Lily was kneeling next to him, her hands over her mouth and tears streaming down her cheeks. Harry didn't deserve this, and Lily didn't deserve to have to live through it either. Cautiously Albus extended two fingers to the side of Harry's neck. A chill ran down Albus' spine.

He could not feel a pulse.

---

Thanks for reading. The next chapter, WHAT DOESN'T KILL YOU MAKES YOU STRONGER is already online at my Yahoo!Group. Please join. The address is Stranger Trilogy.

In Chapter Eleven...

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is heavily contaminated and no one can enter it for the next thousand years. With the Aurors incapable of monitoring illegal magic or Apparation, the country plunges into chaos. The limited number of loyal Aurors are overrun by the hordes of Death Eaters. With the Order of the Phoenix both deaf and blind and with Harry Potter apparently dead, the Dark Lord marches on towards victory. But fear not, for from the ashes of despair, a hero has risen and Voldemort is going to wish he had killed Harry when he had the chance.