Disclaimer: I hereby declare this story…disclaimed!

A/N: Some chapters flow easily out of my fingers, like a spider spinning an elaborate web. Every word falls effortlessly into its proper place, and every phrase is robust and delightful. This was not one of those chapters. That's why it took so damn long to write.

Chapter 5: The Order of the Phoenix

Harry stood in front of the mirror, fiddling irritably his tie. No matter how much effort he put in, his new dress robes flatly refused to be both comfortable and attractive at the same time. Perhaps it was because Tonks, who had bought the robes, had insisted on getting them in a color called "shiny grey." Then again, maybe the robes looked worse than usual because of the environment surrounding him. He was standing in the middle of Moody's dilapidated, one-room hut, peering into a conjured mirror in the corner. The lighting was practically nonexistent, causing his reflection to look distinctly shabbier than he remembered. With a sigh, he took off his tie and started over.

He knew he had to hurry. Moody wanted to leave for Bill and Fleur's wedding in a couple of minutes, and as Harry had learned, Moody was not one to excuse tardiness. Every morning for the past two weeks, Moody had insisted that Harry be up and out of Privet Drive by six o'clock sharp. And if he splinched himself out of exhaustion (which had happened three times already), Moody would make him go back, pick up the pieces, and put them back together unaided. The training was brutal but effective. In just two weeks, Apparition had become second nature to Harry.

Harry was halfway through retying his tie when the door to the cottage burst open. Moody flew through the opening, wand at the ready, and immediately sent two stunners blasting towards Harry. Despite the suddenness of the attack, Harry was prepared. Before the splinters from the door had hit the ground, he had whirled and drawn his wand, all previous thoughts forgotten. He ducked under the spells, but instead of counterattacking, he waved his wand towards the side of the hut, creating a small hole in the wall. Moody sent a third hex streaming in Harry's direction, but Harry was already gone.

Harry ran as hard as he could toward the wall and dove through the hole he had created. But he was too slow. As he sailed through the hole, Moody connected with a blasting hex, forcing Harry to fly much further than he had intended. He landed awkwardly, and by the time he was back on his feet, Moody had knocked him out cold with a stunner.

The next thing Harry knew, Moody was bending over him, examining him thoroughly with his magical eye. After giving a satisfied grunt, Moody extended a hand, helping Harry up off the ground.

"Getting better, Potter," he said, "but still not good. First let's talk about what you did well. Your vigilance is improving. Your reaction time was passable, and you didn't get flustered. That was a clever idea, creating your own door. But think. What did you do wrong?"

Harry thought back on the short skirmish with a distinct feeling of déjà vu. Moody must have done this a hundred times over the two weeks that Harry had spent with him, and the old man would inevitably choose the most awkward moments to attack. Once he had even cursed Harry while he was in the loo. At first Harry's responses had been terrible, but his reactions had slowly built up, until he could give a good account of himself even when caught completely off guard. However, he still made plenty of mistakes, such as the one that caused him to lose the latest fight.

"I turned my back on you when I jumped out of the hut," replied Harry dully. Even though he knew he wasn't really a match for a seasoned Auror, he still felt terrible every time he lost.

"Correct," nodded Moody. "I've told you dozens of times, you NEVER turn your back on an opponent, even when you think he's disarmed. But as bad as that was, it wasn't your biggest mistake."

"Then what was, sir?"

"You made that hole in the wall too early, Potter," explained Moody. "Even the dumbest Death Eater could have figured out your plan in time to stop you. If you'd paid closer attention, you'd have noticed that my spells were placed in order to force you to run to that hole. Then, when you jumped through, you gave me my free shot."

"I thought you said that it was clever thinking, sir?" asked Harry. He understood the problem, but he wondered why the old Auror had complemented him on his mistake.

"It was. The idea was great; it was just your timing that was off. You should have waited until the last possible moment to create that hole. Preferably when you had already reached the wall. Now clean yourself up, and we'll get going."

Harry looked down at his shiny grey dress robes. They had been immaculate before the attack, but now they were torn and covered in mud and dry pine needles from his fall. He pointed his wand at one of the rips. Concentrating hard, he mentally said, Reparo. He felt a small burst of satisfaction as the rip sewed itself back together, leaving no trace of a seam. Moody gave an approving nod, and Harry quickly and silently cleaned the rest of his robes.

If Moody had been tough on Apparition, that was nothing compared to his stance on nonverbal magic. Two weeks ago, Harry had been hopeless at nonverbal magic. Moody had quickly realized this and decided to remedy the problem, Auror style. He promptly forbade any verbal magic, enforcing the rule with a complex silencing charm that literally glued Harry's mouth shut whenever he tried to cast a spell. Moody then refused to provide Harry with food and drink, making him conjure his own sustenance. After an entire day of training without food and water, Harry had been forced to either learn nonverbal magic or starve. Again, the harsh training methods accomplished in two days what a year of Hogwarts hadn't been able to do: teach Harry nonverbal magic. And after two weeks, while Harry still wasn't entirely comfortable with nonverbal magic, he was certainly competent enough to use it in his fights with Moody.

"You go ahead to the Apparition point, Potter," instructed Moody after Harry had finished patching up his robes. "I'll catch up to you a little later. I've got a couple of people I need to talk to about security for the wedding."

Harry nodded. "Yes sir," he said, before turning and jogging lightly down a beaten dirt path. The Apparition point, as Moody liked to refer to it, was the peak of a small hill two miles away. According to Moody, it was the only spot in a ten-mile radius from which Disapparition was possible. Normally Harry would have walked the distance, but since that first exhausting run at the beginning of the summer, Moody had insisted that he run almost everywhere. At first, Harry thought that the old Auror was trying to get him physically fit, but apparently that wasn't the case.

"We don't have time for physical training," Moody had growled in response to Harry's inquiries. "You're not going to beat the Dark Lord by benching two hundred pounds or running a four-minute mile. Once we get past the basics and into the real meat of your magical training, running is going to be your best tool for understanding your magic."

Moody had never elaborated. When Harry pressed him for details, he simply stated that Harry would find out when he was ready, and not a moment sooner.

When Harry wasn't running, Moody had him practicing spells and fighting every waking moment. Harry was learning at a rapid rate, but it wasn't fast enough to please Moody. He continually pushed Harry to train faster and harder, even when Harry was on the brink of collapsing from exhaustion. Moody claimed that he was training Harry to fight even when his energy was completely drained, but Harry was pretty sure that Moody felt some sadistic pleasure as well.

When Harry reached the Apparition point, Moody was still nowhere in sight. Harry cleaned the sweat off of his robes with a quick, nonverbal Scourgify, and then sat down to rest on a weathered tree stump. He was sitting near the center of a quiet, empty glade that was an island within the woods. It was the one place on Moody's property where the merciless summer sun could burn the back of Harry's neck. Naturally, Moody loved to make him train there.

To pass the time, Harry reached into a pocket of his robes and pulled out two unassuming blue books: the Auror Spellbook and Facebook. While Moody was often tight-lipped and curt, the two books he had given Harry proved to be a gold mine of information. The Spellbook was actually tiny, containing just ten pages. It was nothing more than a list of five hundred spells deemed essential for any Auror to know. Moody told him that to be accepted into Auror training, a recruit had to prove familiarity with fifty of the spells in the book, but to graduate an Auror needed to know all five hundred. The spells were organized into three categories: curses, shields, and healing. After two weeks, Harry knew nearly fifty new curses, five shields, and four new healing spells (all of which were necessary whenever he splinched himself). He hoped that by the end of the summer, he would know the entire Spellbook cover to cover. Moody was certainly determined to push him there.

However, as good as the Spellbook was, it was the Facebook that Harry really treasured. In contrast to the Spellbook, the Facebook contained two hundred and twenty-seven pages. On each page was printed a picture of one Death Eater and a couple of paragraphs explaining who the man or woman was, how they were related to Voldemort, and their preferred methods of operation. But the best part of the book was that the pages were arranged in order of how dangerous the Death Eaters were. Antonio Ramirez Sanchez, the man Moody had warned Harry about on the Hogwarts Express, peered haughtily out of page one. Pages two, three, and four contained Dieter Müller, Shen Zhang, and Ronnie O'Bannon. Harry found it worrying that he had never heard of any of the fifteen most dangerous Death Eaters in the Facebook until this summer.

However, the Death Eater on page sixteen was all too familiar; Severus Snape's fierce black eyes glared out of the page. Harry hated looking at that page, hated reading about how Snape had betrayed the Order of the Phoenix, and especially hated seeing Snape's many skills listed under his despicable picture. However, every time he opened the Facebook, he found his eyes inexorably drawn to page sixteen. With a grimace, he wrenched his eyes away from Snape's page and thumbed through the rest of the book.

Page 57 contained Fenrir Greyback. Harry was astonished to find out that Greyback was actually a Muggle who had been bitten by a werewolf as a teenager. His sudden and terrible exposure to the magical world had warped his brain beyond all recognition, leaving behind a barbaric killing machine. However, while he was incapable of magic, his upbringing meant that he had a knack for disappearing into the Muggle world, leaving magical authorities incapable of tracking him down. Harry was torn by Greyback's story; on the one hand, Greyback had been afflicted by a terrible tragedy, but despite that, he had to be killed for the safety of others.

Lucius Malfoy graced page 98. Rodolphus Lestrange was opposite him on page 99, sixty-one places below his wife Bellatrix. Narcissa Malfoy was number 175, across from her cousin Regulus. On a whim, Harry read the short biography of Sirius's brother.

"Regulus Arcturus Black (1961-1979?), son of Orion and Walburga Black, younger brother of Sirius Orion Black. Educated at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (1972-1978). Joined the Dark Lord in 1978. Rumored to be murdered by the Dark Lord in 1979, but no body was found. Black's probable motive for joining the Death Eaters is pureblood supremacy.

"There are few details surrounding his time with the Death Eaters. Black was low-ranked, unimportant, and overlooked. He is believed to have taken part in the murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett. Black was a mediocre wizard in school, and by all accounts was weak and cowardly. It is believed that Lord Voldemort murdered him because of this same cowardice."

Harry glanced back at Regulus's picture. Although he looked spookily similar to Sirius, his entire face appeared slightly weaker, and his eyes did not show the same strength of character that Sirius's had. All in all, he was quite an unremarkable man. And yet, something was tickling the back of Harry's mind. For reasons he couldn't understand, his eyes were drawn back to the bland, uninformative biography. He pored over it, trying to find something odd or out of place. However, no matter how much he studied the page, the tickling sensation refused to fade.

His concentration was broken by the sounds of Moody trudging up the path towards the Apparition point. He snapped the book shut with a sigh, placed both books back in his pocket, and straightened up. Moody nodded in greeting as he entered the glade.

"Change of plans, Potter," he grunted. "I've got to go to an Order meeting, so we'll go to Grimmauld Place first. We'll head to the wedding along with the other Order members."

"What's the Order meeting going to be about, sir?" inquired Harry. "Security for the wedding?"

"Among other things," said Moody blandly. "But it's none of your business, really, because you're not an Order member."

Harry was momentarily taken aback by Moody's rebuff, but then he rejoined, "Don't you think it's high time I got inducted into the Order, sir? Haven't I proved myself by now?"

Moody grimaced. "No lad, just forget the Order. You already have your purpose. You don't need the Order to give you one."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry confusedly.

"You want to fight Lord Voldemort, right?" said Moody. Without waiting for a reply, he continued on. "Good on you. But don't think that you have to join the Order of the Phoenix to do it. The Order was never meant to fight Voldemort the way you want to."

"What are you talking about, sir? I thought the purpose of the Order is to combat Voldemort?"

"Not quite," clarified Moody. "The purpose of the Order was to help Albus Dumbledore fight Lord Voldemort. Quite a different matter. And now that Albus is dead, the Order doesn't really serve much of a purpose at all."

"That's not true," argued Harry. "Losing Professor Dumbledore was terrible, but we can continue on without him. We have to!"

"Aye, we do. But not through the Order of the Phoenix. Go it alone, Potter. You're better off that way. Think of it like this: do you think the Order's going to let you go about this secret project of Dumbledore's all by yourself? Of course not. They're going to try to force you to tell them what you're doing and where you're going. And if you refuse, they can make life difficult for you. Trust me, it'll be much better to let them think that you're going to head quietly off to another year of Hogwarts, take your N.E.W.T.s, and check yourself into Auror training."

"You're probably right," said Harry, "but that still doesn't mean the Order serves no purpose. They can still fight Voldemort without me."

"Look, Potter," sighed Moody, "it's like this. During the first war, the Aurors were hard pressed trying to stop the Death Eaters from wreaking havoc across Britain. Everyone agreed that something had to be done, but disagreed on what that something was. A lot of young kids ended up getting themselves killed trying to take the fight into their own hands. Even worse, they would often get in the way of the Aurors by ruining stake-outs and destroying evidence, letting the Death Eaters get away scot-free. Again, something had to be done.

"Albus stepped up and created the Order of the Phoenix. It was supposed to constructively channel the energy of those reckless young men and women, and keep them out of the way of the Aurors. Albus found ways to recruit the kids and give them important tasks that Aurors weren't already working on. Early on, those tasks usually involved helping Albus in his personal struggle against Lord Voldemort. Later, after Dumbledore heard the Prophecy, he put the Order to work protecting your parents and the Longbottoms. Didn't end up doing a load of good, but there you are."

Harry could spot a clear hole in that logic. "But sir, if the Order was really meant to keep people from dying, why were you and Kingsley members?"

Moody let out a bitter bark of a laugh. "Oh, the Order didn't manage to keep those kids from dying. Some of the best and bravest young men and women I've ever known were slaughtered during the first war. But someone had to make sure the Order really was keeping out of the Aurors' way, and that was my job. As for Kingsley, he was one of those crazy kids. He only became an Auror after meeting me through the Order."

"Okay," said Harry. "I'm sure you're right about the last war. But there really aren't any kids in the Order this time, and the Order definitely hasn't been keeping out of the Aurors' way. What's the Order for this time around?"

"I already told you, Potter, it was to help Dumbledore fight Voldemort. The Order doesn't really have the manpower or the experience to fight the Death Eaters alone. Twice now you've seen the Order fail: once in the Department of Mysteries, and once on top of Hogwarts three weeks ago. In the Ministry, we were losing until Dumbledore showed up, and you know how badly they were beaten at Hogwarts. Without Dumbledore, the Order's pretty much powerless."

Harry knew all too well how badly they had been beaten at Hogwarts. But what right did Moody have to talk about it? He wasn't even there! "Where were you during the battle at Hogwarts, sir? I didn't see you there."

"None of your business, Potter," said Moody grimly. "Now, enough questions. We've really got to go. Apparate to Grimmauld Place on my mark. Three, two, one…now!"

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Two hours later, Harry was about ready to leave Moody holed up in Grimmauld Place and just head to the wedding alone. Predictably, after the usual warm welcome, the Order had immediately shut Harry out of the kitchen and went to work. Harry could only practice new spells for so long before he became bored, and there was remarkably little for a bored teenager to do in Grimmauld Place. He ultimately settled in an armchair and went back to reading Regulus Black's page in the Auror Facebook.

For some reason, Harry couldn't stop thinking about the man. He felt that the answer was on the tip of his tongue, but his brain simply couldn't make the last connection. The weird thing was, there were no interesting facts on Black's page. There were no tidbits of information that could have possibly made such a sharp impression on Harry's mind. But nevertheless, Harry found himself irresistibly drawn to Black's profile. He was sure there was something there. All he needed was that tiniest flash of insight…

"Harry!" said Remus Lupin jovially, jerking Harry abruptly out of his thoughts. The Order members were finally starting to file out of the kitchen, each of them looking bored beyond belief. "Sorry we took so long. Old Elphias drones on worse than Professor Binns, and no one could think of a polite way to shut him up." he added in a whisper, causing Harry to chuckle.

"It's no problem," replied Harry. "I managed to keep busy."

"I'll bet you did," said Remus, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the book in Harry's hand. "Isn't that the Auror Facebook? Where in the world did you find that?"

Uh oh, thought Harry. Think quickly. "Well, Moody thought that I might like to see it, so he, er…gave it to me as a gift at the beginning of the summer."

"Really?" said Remus, still a little suspicious. Turning around, he asked Moody, "Don't you think giving Harry the Facebook was a bit of a morbid way to start his summer?"

Moody's mouth was already set in an extremely thin line. He clearly hadn't enjoyed sitting through a two-hour meeting. "No," he said brusquely. Remus seemed to be waiting for him to continue, but Moody didn't offer up any more information. After an awkward pause, Remus turned back around to face Harry.

"Harry, do you think we can talk for a minute?" he asked.

"Er, sure," replied Harry hesitantly. Remus grabbed him by the arm and led him into the adjacent parlor. Harry glanced briefly over his shoulder and saw Moody mouth the words, 'Say nothing.' Harry gave the tiniest of nods to show that he understood. Even though he trusted Remus completely, he knew that Moody's training had transformed him in just two short weeks. He desperately needed to learn everything he could to go after the Horcruxes, and if Moody demanded that he keep his training secret, Harry had to obey.

As they entered the parlor, Remus shut the door and turned to face Harry, giving him a piercing look. "Harry, what have you been doing this summer?"

"How do you mean?" asked Harry, frantically stalling for time. He needed to think up some logical things he could have done over the summer, but his mind was drawing a complete blank.

"I mean…it's just…I'm worried about you, Harry," said Remus awkwardly. "I know Dumbledore's death hit all of us hard, but you especially. I mean, you watched him die, right?" Remus gave a bitter, humorless laugh. "It's just not fair, Harry. You've seen so much death, so many horrible things so early in your life. And yet you bear it so stoically. I guess I'm just worried about how you've been coping with Dumbldore's death."

"I'm fine, Remus," said Harry. Remus raised an eyebrow, so Harry continued on. "I mean, it still hurts. Every time anyone mentions his name, I feel awful, as though a part of me has been ripped out. But I'm coping. I'll be all right."

Remus heaved a deep sigh. "I hope so, Harry, I really do. But like I said, I'm worried about you. I walk out of a two-hour meeting and see you reading the Auror Facebook to pass the time. What kind of sixteen-year-old kid reads about criminals for fun? Seriously. I know you've never been exactly normal, but I should have come out and seen you reading a novel, or taking a nap, or playing Exploding Snap, or anything fun! If you spend all of your time reading about Death Eaters and spells and Aurors, you'll end up…well, a bit like Mad-Eye Moody, really."

Harry nodded. "If it helps, I wasn't reading it for fun. I was reading it because I have to. Whether I like it or not, I'm a part of this war, and I'd rather face it with my head held high than be dragged into it unwillingly."

Remus seemed slightly taken aback. "That's pretty deep, Harry."

"It's something I learned from Dumbledore."

"I see," said Remus. "But Harry, you never did answer my question. What have you been doing this summer?"

"Oh, a little of this and a little of that," said Harry vaguely. "Some gardening and reading, but nothing exciting. Nothing exciting ever happens when I'm with the Dursleys."

"Right," said Remus unhappily, but he didn't press for any further details. He started to walk out of the parlor, but suddenly he stopped and turned back around to face Harry.

"Incidentally, who were you reading about in the Facebook?" he said curiously.

"Regulus Black," answered Harry truthfully. "I was just curious about Sirius's brother. But there's not really any information about him in there."

Remus gave a sad smile. "I'm just glad it wasn't Severus Snape." And on that note, he left the parlor, leaving a nonplussed Harry in his wake.

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Harry gathered with the rest of the Order members as they prepared to travel to the wedding. The Delacours were hosting the wedding at their seaside villa in southern France. They would be traveling by Portkey, and unusually for Harry, the Portkey would be completely legal. Still, travelling by Portkey was one of Harry's least favorite methods of transportation, and he wasn't looking forward to the journey.

"Ten, nine, eight…." Professor McGonagall counted down to the departure.

As she reached five, Moody turned to Harry and muttered, "Land on your feet, boy. I don't want to see you sprawled all over the ground like the rest of them."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but before he could get any sound out, he felt the familiar jerk behind his navel and was pulled violently into a rush of wind. He could feel his shoulders banging together against Moody on his left and Tonks on his right. As he felt the sensation ending, he bent his knees slightly, ready to absorb the shock of the landing. Even though he was prepared, the landing still caught him a little off guard. He staggered slightly before finding his footing and straightening up. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Moody had somehow drawn his wand even before hitting the ground.

On his other side, Tonks was not quite so graceful. As she hit the ground, she stumbled and fell hard to the side, bowling over Remus in the process. This set off a chain reaction that resulted in most of the Order of the Phoenix tangled together on the ground. Other than Harry and Moody, only Professor McGonagall and Hestia Jones managed to remain standing.

"You are friends of zee groom, yes?" inquired a disinterested valet in a slight French accent, looking disdainfully down at the Order members scattered across the ground. When they nodded, he continued, "Very well. You will follow me."

The Order got up laughing off the ground and followed the valet, casual banter flowing back and forth. As they did so, Moody dropped to the back of the pack, signaling for Harry to follow him. As they let the Order get slightly ahead, Moody muttered, "Do you notice anything unusual about the valet?"

Harry turned his gaze to the man. He seemed to blend completely into the background of the party. Normally, he would have never given the man a second glance, but Moody seemed to think that there was something worth seeing. Harry looked the valet up and down, searching for anything out of place. His black hair seemed to have too much grease in it, but Harry doubted that was what Moody meant. He was wearing black slacks and a white button-down shirt under a red velvet vest. The man would have looked at home at a Muggle cocktail party. However, almost by accident, Harry noticed that the cuff of his left sleeve was unbuttoned. And underneath…

"He's wearing a wrist holster under that shirt," said Harry. "And it looks Auror-issue too. At least, it looks the same as the one you got for me."

"Excellent," said Moody. "Well-spotted." Harry looked over in surprise. Moody rarely used words like "excellent" when evaluating Harry's performance. Usually the highest compliment he got from the man was "not bad."

"So he's an Auror?" asked Harry quietly.

"Essentially yes," said Moody. "To be more exact, he's Jacques Foucan, the only Frenchman on S.N.O.W. I persuaded Commander Robards to send him to help provide security for the wedding."

"What's snow?" asked Harry curiously.

"You don't know?" said Moody. When Harry shook his head, he continued, "I'll tell you later. It's not the kind of thing you'd normally discuss at a wedding."

They were forced to end their conversation in any case, because Jacques had led them to their table. They were standing on a marble balcony with a perfect view overlooking the Med. For the first time in his life, Harry saw the azure water of the sea lapping lightly at a sandy beach. He paused a moment in appreciation of its beauty, before turning his gaze to the balcony. The tables were decked in pure white cloth, and there were sleek chairs at every place. The Order members took their places at the table, and Jacques turned to go. However, before he could leave, Moody reached out a hand and stopped him.

"Excuse me, sir," he said politely. "I was hoping to meet a friend of mine here, Gavin Smith. I was wondering if you have seen him?"

Jacques paused in thought. "Gavin Smith, you say? I have not seen him, no. But I zink zis friend of yours is here. I remember hearing his name once or twice."

For some reason, this news didn't seem to make Moody very happy. He nodded once and said, "Thank you. If you do find him, please let me know."

"Of course," said Jacques in a bored tone, before turning on his heel and drifting off to another table.

"Who's Gavin Smith, Mad-Eye?" asked Remus blithely. He had his arm snugly around Tonks's waist and looked as relaxed as Harry had ever seen him. "Is he an Auror pal of yours?"

It wasn't Moody who answered, but Tonks. Like Moody, she also looked troubled. "Gavin Smith is an old Auror code name. It means a stranger, someone who isn't supposed to be here."

Moody nodded. "Jacques is a French Auror. He and I both sense that there's something wrong here. But he hasn't been able to pinpoint who the spy is. All of you be on your guard."

That effectively killed the mood. All of the Order members quieted down and sat straighter in their seats. The talk turned to more serious subjects, such as the war effort and the Ministry's latest actions in fighting Lord Voldemort. However, Harry was soon distracted by the arrival of his two favorite people.

"Harry!" said Hermione Granger excitedly, practically running up to the table to hug him. "How's it going? How's your summer been?" she added, with a glance at Moody.

Harry was aware that the conversation of the Order had ceased, and they were all awaiting his answer. "Better than it usually is with the Dursleys. We don't really see very much of each other, which is actually a huge improvement."

"Mate," grinned Ron. "You're lucky you missed the wedding ceremony. The priest droned on and on, and all the girls were crying and getting all touchy-feely. It was like being the only bloke at a Gilderoy Lockhart poetry festival."

Harry found himself laughing out loud for the first time since Dumbledore's death. "Man, it must have been rough. I'm surprised to see you still standing."

"Don't I know it," grumbled Ron good-naturedly. "But come on, Harry, all us kids have got a table a little closer to the shore. We've been waiting for you. Ginny's there," he added, and looked at Harry as though gauging his reaction.

Harry realized with a start that over the past two weeks, he hadn't once thought about Ginny Weasley. The idea made him uncomfortable. He wondered whether he should feel guilty for forgetting about his ex-girlfriend, or glad that he had been able to keep his promise to himself and avoid putting her in danger. "Right," he said neutrally. "Let's go."

He left the Order's table with Ron and Hermione, but Moody insisted on accompanying him as his bodyguard. Harry felt himself relaxing for the first time in weeks as he talked to his two best friends. They filled him in on their summers so far, and Harry talked a little bit about his training, with Moody continually admonishing him to speak softer. Harry could tell that Ron in particular was itching to talk about the Horcruxes, but with Moody hovering around them like a terrier, they couldn't speak freely. Harry could see the rest of the Weasleys sitting at a table in the distance, and he knew that they were approaching their destination.

"Good afternoon, Alastor, Mr. Potter," said a vaguely familiar voice from behind Harry. "I'd like a word with the two of you, please." Harry turned and saw the familiar, wrinkled old face of the bartender at the Hog's Head. Harry had been so caught up in talking to Ron and Hermione that he had entirely overlooked the man. He glanced confusedly over at Moody. What in the world did a barman want with the two of them?

"You aren't on the guest list, Aberforth," growled Moody suspiciously. "How did you get here?"

Aberforth. Harry was shocked. The only man he knew of named Aberforth was Professor Dumbledore's brother. Could the bartender of a dingy, disreputable pub really be the brother of one of the greatest sorcerers the world had ever seen?

Aberforth simply grinned at Moody's inquiry. "I see that the years have not only made you uglier, but ruder as well." Moody's scowl deepened, and his hand twitched toward his wand, so Aberforth quickly added, "If you must know, I simply evaded your man, Foucan. And your enchantments were only designed to keep out people who mean harm. I do not intend any such thing, ergo I was able to pass your wards with relative ease."

Moody didn't look happy at this revelation, but the elder Dumbledore wasn't about to let him get started. "Like I said, Alastor, I'd like a word with you and Mr. Potter. It's about the will."

Moody's face softened slightly. "Right, the will. Well, come on then, Potter, let's get this over with."

Harry stayed where he was. "What will are you talking about?"

"My brother's," said Aberforth simply. "The will reading was last week, but Alastor was unavailable to come. I volunteered to deliver his effects."

"Why wasn't I invited to the will reading?" asked Harry.

"Because you weren't mentioned in the will," Aberforth clarified. Noting the slightly crestfallen look on Harry's face, he said sympathetically, "Never fear, young Harry, my dear brother did not forget about you. Walk with me a moment and I will explain everything."

With that, Aberforth turned off the beaten path and headed out onto the sandy beach. His dingy wizard's robes looked remarkably out of place on the crystalline sands, but he did not seem unduly bothered. Moody immediately fell in behind him, and after a shared look, the trio followed suit. Neither Aberforth nor Moody objected to Ron and Hermione's presence, even though Aberforth had not mentioned either of them. When they were well out of earshot of the other guests at the wedding, Aberforth resumed talking.

"First, I must deliver Alastor his parting gift from Albus," explained Aberforth, reaching into the pocket of his dirty robes. The man's clothes smelled strongly of alcohol and were starkly at odds with his polite speech. After fumbling for a moment in his pocket, he pulled out a small, clear vial. Moody looked at it blankly, so Aberforth explained.

"They're eye drops," he said with a chuckle. "Apparently Albus thought they might come in handy."

"Funny," said Moody, not laughing at all. "Real funny. Did Albus have any jokes for Potter, too?"

That sobered Aberforth up. "No, I'm afraid there was no joke for Harry. His parting gift was rather more serious. Shall I tell you what you received, Harry?"

"Er, sure," said Harry. To tell the truth, Harry didn't particularly care what material possessions he got from Professor Dumbledore. As far as he was concerned, nothing could replace the man he had come to love like a grandfather.

"Unfortunately, I cannot," said Aberforth seriously. "Albus cared deeply that the items I am to deliver to you remain completely secret. Officially, you received nothing. You are not mentioned in his last will and testament, and the objects that I am to deliver to you are not listed among his possessions. However, I received strict instructions from Albus that if he were to pass on to the next great adventure, I was to make sure they made their way to you, and nobody else."

"Where are they?" asked Harry curiously.

"I have them stored safely in my pub at the moment," answered Aberforth. "You may stop by and pick them up whenever you wish. In fact—whoops, here comes trouble! It appears that your friend Foucan has discovered my presence," he added almost happily, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun and staring over Harry's shoulder.

Harry turned and saw that, indeed, Foucan was running towards them. He glanced over at Moody, wondering whether they should be alarmed or not. However, the old man didn't seem particularly worried, so Harry took his cue and relaxed. In moments, Foucan was at their side.

"I believe I have found your Gavin," he told Moody in a rush, all trace of his French accent gone. He didn't even spare a glance towards the other four. "It is imperative that we act quickly, sir, before he chooses to make his move."

Moody's face immediately became grave. "Come," he commanded, before setting off at a loping run back towards the party. Foucan followed Moody for a few yards. But suddenly, the man drew his wand and whirled around to face Harry.

Even before Harry's mind registered the fact that Foucan was a threat, his body had already acted. He managed to draw his wand, but before he could cast a shield spell, he was struck by Foucan's Full Body Bind curse. Powerless, he slowly toppled forwards. He could hear Ron shouting and Hermione screaming, but he couldn't react. Just before he hit the ground, he felt Foucan's powerful grip close over his neck, and he was pulled forcibly into the crushing blackness of Apparition.

ooooo

A/N:

Uh oh!!! This can't be good.

First, thanks to my reviewers: Suiadan, 10dedfish, anthropomorphizer, Theboss996, schmanski, Willow-Bee the Cat, saladin23, Shadow Lighthawk, japanese-jew, Brooklynight, Lord Grindelwald, Estel A Duath, valandil, and my only multiple reviewer thus far, Lord Purity. Thanks for the compliments, and you guys/girls rock.

I read each review (some of them several times), and I want to say that I have seriously considered everything you have to say. If you left me plot advice/requests, know that I did read it. However, this story isn't proceeding unplanned. I have a good idea of where it's going to go and how it's going to get there, so don't feel snubbed if what you asked for/suggested doesn't happen.

That said, there's a couple of things I'd like to clear up. The first is Moody's character. Don't think that Moody is a replacement Dumbledore, or Dumbledore-lite, because he isn't. He is an extremely different person than Albus Dumbledore, and that could conceivably cause some tension between him and Harry later in the story, if I decide to go there. Moody is not omniscient, and when he speaks, he is not necessarily putting the author's opinion onto the paper, the way Dumbledore was. If Albus Dumbledore said something was true, then JKR was pretty much saying that's true. But if Moody says something is true, I don't necessarily agree with that statement. Moody says it because it's the kind of thing that I believe Moody would think is true.

Also, Moody really is paranoid. For every real threat he sees, his mind invents ten other fake ones. However, he does see that real threat, and in Moody's mind, the tradeoff is worth it. He'd rather be wrong ten times and right once than wrong zero times and right zero times. Even if it makes him look like a laughing stock.

Finally, remember that Moody doesn't know the prophecy. He's guessed the contents based on what Dumbledore has and hasn't said. Moody is not aware of a "Power the dark lord knows not." As far as Moody's concerned, Harry's going to have to win on skill alone.

Oh yeah. Moody's car is a BMW M5. The clue is that Moody calls his car the "ultimate driving machine." That's BMW's slogan. I think Moody would buy an M5, because it looks almost exactly like a normal 5 series, but drives more like a Ferrari. He'd like the discreet, hidden power type thing. He'd also probably scrape off the M5 badge and replace it with one that says 535i. Moody likes being discreet.

Now, a lot of you have pointed out that Harry is too clueless and unskilled. I assure you that will change. In fact, you can see the start of the transformation in this chapter. In my opinion, the Harry that came out of Half Blood Prince, is still immature and unskilled. I needed to change that as quickly as possible so that we can read about a competent, but still not omnipotent hero. That's why I enlisted Moody. But even at the end of the story, Harry will be no Albus Dumbledore. It's just too unrealistic that he could make that kind of progress in a year.

I have never read "Make a Wish"

NOW, ONE LAST IMPORTANT NOTE:

If you skimmed the rest of this overly long A/N, I hope you read this. Discerning readers will be wondering where Moody was during the battle at Hogwarts, since he refused to share. I will tell you that I will be astonished if you can guess the answer. But if you do, you will know a huge key to a lot of little mysteries and some major plot points.

It is possible to figure it out without having ever read this story. All you need to do is read books four, five, and six of canon.

Signing off,

Alastor Robards