A/N Okay do this chapter is a bit longer than usual. There will be some HarryXTonks action in this chapter, but I won't reveal whether that will actually be a pairing or not. Not trying to be mysterious, I just don't want to give away plot elements.
Harry jumped out of his bed as if scalded. The bedsprings gave an obnoxious CREEK! of protest, but his heart was pounding too loudly in his chest for him to really hear it. Slowly, it settled down as Harry realized that it was just another nightmare. As always, his memory of the dream began to slip away, but he could not forget what it was about. Sirius. It seemed like the dreams were getting worse and worse, and he had no illusions about who he was getting them from. Voldemort probably got some sort of sick satisfaction in making him relive his godfather's death over and over again, every night, in new and creative ways.
Harry had been successfully practicing with Tonks for two weeks now, and according to her, his progress was 'astounding.' Harry personally thought that she was just trying to keep him optimistic, but accepted the compliment nevertheless. He had managed to beat her dozens of times versus the scores and scores of times she had beaten him, but progress was progress.
Still, Harry could not shake his unease over his dreams. They worked better than any alarm clock ever could, but such things couldn't be good for his mental health. He contemplated writing a letter to Dumbledore, but rejected that idea immediately. Dumbledore had other things to worry about besides his nightmares.
He then thought about his friends Ron and Hermione, who so far hadn't sent him any letters. He could easily imagine both of their reactions, since him having nightmares wasn't exactly 'news' anymore. Hermione would tell him to make more of an effort to close his mind, and Ron would not have anything to add at all, having exhausted all of his advice when Harry approached them with the same problem last year. Harry tried not to feel bitter, but he doubted that either of them could truly understand what it felt like to have Voldemort terrorizing your mind every night. Sure, it wasn't anything new, but that didn't make it any less disturbing.
Harry got up and pulled on some clothes, not even needing to look at the clock to know what time it was. Hedwig's cage was empty, because as Harry had suspected, both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had gotten tired of her noise and smell and had allowed him to let her out a few days ago.
Harry tried to ignore the main fixation of his thoughts, but his attempts were rather unsuccessful. His mind couldn't help but supply the knowledge of exactly who he would normally go to with these sorts of troubles. Sirius.
He brutally squashed the lump that threatened to form in his throat, having become quite efficient at it over the past few days. He instead refocused his train of thought to his friends, and how he ought to write to them, even if he decided not to mention his reoccurring nightmares.
His mind decided, Harry pulled out some paper and a pen from the second-hand desk the Dursleys had seen fit to grace his room with. The paper was a little old and crumbly, but it would serve its purpose well enough. Harry sat down in his bed and began to write.
Ron,
How are your holidays going so far? Have Fred and George started up their joke shop yet? My relatives have been more pleasant than usual, I think the Order scared them into playing nice. I've been getting out of the house more, which is a good thing for everybody.
I hope you guys are doing well. I just renewed by Daily Prophet subscription, against my better judgment. I suppose that some news is better than no news. Other than that, not much has been going on with me. I'll send this with Hedwig as soon as she gets back. I'm already counting down the days until I get back to Hogwarts. Only 53 more days!
See ya soon!
Harry Potter
Harry read over the letter, and briefly debated once more whether or not he should mention his dreams. He ultimately decided against it, and began penning a near-identical letter to Hermione.
Hermione,
How have your holidays been? I wish I could travel around Europe, but the Dursleys almost never take vacations, and wouldn't invite me along anyway. But, they've been nicer this summer, probably because of what the Order said to them. I'm certainly not complaining, and it's been much nicer being able to leave the house more often.
I hope you're doing well! I haven't started my homework yet, but I'm sure I'll get around to it (eventually). I haven't gotten the Daily Prophet recently, and so I'm not quite up to date on what's been happening. Not that it ever prints anything but rubbish anyway. But I renewed my subscription, so I'll at least be reading a little bit this summer, even if it's not my textbooks (kidding!). I can't wait to get back to Hogwarts – only 53 more days!
Hoping you are well,
Harry Potter
Glancing over both letters, Harry nodded in satisfaction. Hopefully they'd get the hint about his lack of news and would fill him in on what's been happening. He resolved to send them with Hedwig when she got back.
Harry checked the clock and saw that it was 5:50. He and Tonks ran every day at 6, so he didn't have much time to eat breakfast. He quickly padded downstairs, his movements practically silent from a week of navigating the same route down the steps. Harry grabbed a glass and chugged down some nauseating fruit and vegetable juice mixture that Aunt Petunia was fond of before washing the glass off in the sink. His stomach would be grumbling later, but it wasn't like he was a stranger to hunger.
He slipped outside, and peered intensely around the yard.
It had become somewhat of a game to see if Harry could spot Tonks before she could sneak up on him, one he was determined to win…eventually.
Harry saw in his periphery vision the slight rustling of one of Aunt Petunia's rose bushes near the side of the house. It was probably the wind, but Harry went to investigate anyway. As he reached out to feel around the bush, a hand curled around his mouth, muffling his surprised gasp.
"Wotcher!" laughed Tonks. Harry spun around and out of her grasp, scowling, but she just snickered.
From her current mannerisms, Harry assumed that she was going to be in one of her good moods today. Over the last two weeks, Harry had seen Tonks yoyo from what he liked to think of as 'normal' Tonks to what he considered 'manic-depressive' Tonks. He knew something was really bothering her, but she had been tight lipped whenever he tried to ask her about it.
"Urgh, one of these days Tonks…" Harry muttered, but the effect was ruined when Tonks simply kept smiling and reached out to ruffle his hair, an action that Harry barely managed to dodge.
"Awww, is poor Harry sad he couldn't find the big bad auror?" she joked. Harry merely laughed in return. He had gotten used to her sense of humor by now, and didn't really take offense.
"It'd be easier if she wasn't playing hard to get," he teased back. Tonks merely snorted in response, and began stuffing her invisibility cloak into her pocket. Her hair was still a lackluster brown, but her eyes and face were cheerful today. Harry's eyes began to creep a little lower than her face, and noticed that for once she was wearing a V-neck instead of her usual T-shirt. He couldn't help but admire the way it stretched across her well-endowed chest. Realizing he was ogling her, Harry quickly snapped his gaze back up, and was relieved to find that she hadn't noticed anything amiss.
"Alright, let's get going. It's been an absolute mess at the Ministry, and I need to go in as soon as possible. Have you gotten your first Daily Prophet yet?" she asked as they began jogging in tandem down the sidewalk. Harry preferring a faster pace, but he knew that Tonks liked to have some time to warm-up.
"Not yet, I'll probably get it tomorrow. Thanks for helping me renew my subscription by the way," Harry said while unobtrusively quickening the pace. It was agreed upon that while Tonks set the pace for the practicing, Harry set the pace for the running.
"Not a problem. But blimey, that means… you don't know, do you?" Tonks asked, her words a bit choppy. Even though they had been at it for two weeks, she still got short of breath rather quickly.
"Know what?" asked Harry anxiously. With the war going on, any news was bad news.
"Amelia Bones is dead," Tonks said shortly. "They found her body a few block away from the Ministry. Huge scandal. Bad business. Think Voldemort did it himself."
Harry said nothing, but looked away in contemplation. He remembered Amelia Bones from his farce of a trial at the Ministry. She had been one of the fair ones, if a bit stern, and had made sure she found out the truth rather than falling into line with the politicians. He didn't really know her that well, but he had sensed that she was a good person. Harry wondered how Susan was taking the news.
The two of them ran in companionable silence, the thwack thwack thwack of their shoes and the huff huff huff of their breaths the only noise besides the morning trills of the birds. Although neither of them were truly tired yet, they were running too fast to try to keep up a conversation. Harry lost himself in his musings, trusting himself to know the way instinctively. The light stirrings of a breeze ghosted along his sweaty limbs, allowing for a rather pleasant run. Before he knew it, they were halfway through their loop around Little Whinging, and the first rays of sunlight began peeking out from behind the shingled suburban rooftops.
Harry thoughts returned to the news of Madame Bones, and the abruptness of her death. Harry might have been stuck with his relatives, but Voldemort wasn't going to put the war on hold just because it was summer vacation. He was doing his best to demoralize and frighten the country, and it only made sense for him to start by eliminating key figureheads in the Ministry. Tonks had explained to him how Fudge was on the way out, leaving Amelia Bones and a man named Rufus Scrimgeour as the most likely successors. The general consensus (according to Tonks) was that Bones was much more supportive of Dumbledore's cause, whereas Scrimgeour viewed Dumbledore with poorly veiled suspicion and contempt. By killing Madam Bones, Voldemort had in effect planted a wedge between the Order and the Ministry. Together, the two would've had a better chance of resisting him, but separated and plagued by mutual mistrust, it'd be easy for Voldemort to tackle them individually. Harry shuddered involuntarily. It was brilliant, really, how much Voldemort had accomplished with one strategic death. He had divided his enemies, removed a powerful opponent, made the Ministry look weak, and had struck fear into the hearts of the populace.
Harry mind wandered unbidden to Susan Bones, and the grief the entire Bones family must be feeling right now. To them, Madam Bones' death wouldn't be a news story to be forgotten about in a few weeks – they would carry that sorrow with them forever. Harry himself knew what it was like to lose someone, and even now, thoughts of Sirius still filled him with anguish. To Voldemort, death wasn't a family torn apart, it wasn't countless sleepless nights, it wasn't a grieving niece or godson – it was just a means to an end.
Harry could practically feel his mood darken, and so responded to it the best way he knew how – he quickened the pace to a flat-out sprint.
Tonks kept up valiantly for several blocks, but was soon panting and gasping beside him. He slowly began to pull ahead of her, but kept up the pace, knowing that her sense of competitiveness would kick in and make her run faster if she fell too far behind. Harry himself was already sweating profusely, and his limbs were aching in protest.
They were nearing Harry's neighborhood, but Tonks continued to fall behind. When he could no longer hear the sound of her trainers hitting the pavement, Harry turned his head around, and was greeted with a sight that hit upon some carnal part of his nature.
Tonks' arms were pumping wildly, causing her breasts to bounce up and down and her chest to heave in rapid motion. Her shorts had crept up her thighs, and her skin was shining with a fresh layer of sweat. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was wildly mussed and stuck to her neck and face in some places.
Harry felt a surge of warmth go through him, and when her eyes met his, he whipped his head back around. As silly as it sounded, he had never really considered Tonks as a female, or a sexual female at that. But now, the proof of his attraction was staring him in the face, and in…other areas. He slowed his pace to a normal run, and Tonks quickly caught up with him. He gave her a wayward glance, but she kept her eyes locked on the pavement in front of her.
He didn't say anything, and soon the two were making their way along Magnolia Crescent. Harry slowed the pace back down to a jog, since Privet Drive was just two streets up ahead. Both of them were breathing heavily, and Tonks let out an indistinguishable noise of relief when they finally turned onto Harry's street. They stopped a few houses down from #4, and took a few minutes to collect themselves and catch their breaths.
Tonks had bent over and had her hands on her knees, unknowingly giving Harry a great view of her cleavage. Harry couldn't help but stare, and wondered how in the world he could have overlooked Tonks' attractiveness for so long. After long moments of uninterrupted staring, Harry began to feel like a bit of a creep, and so forced himself to look away.
He felt dishonest, and pondered the idea of making a move. After all, she had been giving him signs, hadn't she? Was she flirting with him earlier? He didn't know, and understanding women was far beyond his expertise. Sure, he might have kissed Cho, but attempting something with Tonks was on a whole other level. They had grown quite close over these past few weeks, and Harry had no intention of jeopardizing that friendship.
Tonks was still bent over, breathing deeply, and Harry felt a sudden urge to make sure she was alright. He moved towards her and went to put his arm around her shoulders, but she suddenly stood up, bashing the side of her head against his nose.
"OWWW!" Harry cried out, staggering back in pain. He cupped his hands over his nose, which began to bleed profusely.
"Oh bollocks! Harry I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" she asked frantically, instinctively reaching for her wand.
"I'm bine! I'm bine!" Harry managed to get out through a mouthful of blood. Tonks did not look too sure, and she began looking around nervously. Sure enough, the curtains opened in #6, and Harry saw the snooping gaze of Mrs. What's-Her-Name peering out into the street. Tonks hastily stowed away her wand, and started leading Harry to his house.
Once they were out front, Tonks, slowly pried one of Harry's hands away from his nose, and saw that the blood had already started to thicken and congeal. She inspected it closely, and finally let out a breath of relief.
"Ok, I don't think it's broken. Just keep strong pressure on it for five minutes and it should stop bleeding," she diagnosed.
Harry, for one, was not so sure, but nodded all the same. He was glad that in the commotion, she had forgotten to be curious about why he had gotten so close to her in the first place.
Tonks looked at her wristwatch, and then asked "Hey, you said your aunt wakes up at 7:30, right?"
"Yeah, thad's ben she bakes me up," Harry responded. The blood had slowed down to a small drizzle, but his nose was still clogged.
"Whew, alright. Well then I guess it's time to see how skilled you are at evasive maneuvering. It's 7:22," informed Tonks.
Harry groaned. He'd somehow have to sneak into the bathroom, wash off his face, and then get back in bed without Aunt Petunia hearing or seeing him. In eight minutes.
Tonks had the grace to look sheepish. "So, err… you should probably get going, yeah?" she suggested, sparing another glance at her watch.
She was right, of course, but Harry was paralyzed by some insane compulsion. He wanted to compliment her, reassure her it wasn't her fault, or just make some sort of witty remark in general. But, as he opened his mouth, the metallic taste of blood clogged his throat, and he closed it again rapidly.
Tonks stared at him strangely, probably wondering why he was standing here opening his mouth like a fish instead of heading inside.
Harry's courage left him, and instead of saying anything flirty or witty, he managed to mumble "I'll see you dater," before rushing inside.
Harry felt his face flush red in embarrassment, and was glad that he as safely inside where Tonks couldn't see him.
He was mad, barking mad. He hadn't even thought of Tonks in that way before today, and now he wanted to…what? Ask her out on a date? Confess his undying love? He shook his head, deciding to declare the entire episode a bout of temporary insanity induced by a perfect pair of sweaty breasts.
He heard steps upstairs, and shook himself out of his stupor. If he wanted to have any chance of not getting caught, he had to act, now. Harry took the stairs by twos, and managed to dart into the bathroom right as he saw Aunt Petunia's door opening. He heard her walk around the landing and then head downstairs, presumably to get her cleaning supplies. Harry quickly turned on the faucet and wiped off the blood that was caked around his nose. It ran in tiny rivulets into the sink, with larger pieces flaking off and swirling down the drain. His nose had stopped bleeding, a miraculous feat that he attributed to luck or accidental magic, and one that he certainly wasn't going to complain about. After quickly glancing at his face in the mirror and not seeing any blood, he sprinted into his room just as he heard Aunt Petunia walking back up the stairs.
He tore off his clothes and tossed them into a heap before picking up his pajamas. He had just managed to pull on his pants when he heard a sharp rap on the door.
"Is that you in there making all that ruckus?" demanded Aunt Petunia. Without waiting for a response, she opened the door, only to see Harry half-naked in his pajama bottoms.
"Close the door!" Harry shouted indignantly. Honestly, he couldn't care less what his Aunt saw of him, but he'd prefer to keep some level of modesty. His aunt was probably mortified right now.
She closed the door as if stricken, and shrilly called out "Downstairs! Two minutes!" before rapidly retreating back down the stairs.
Harry sighed in relief. That had been too close. Knowing not to press his luck, Harry pulled down his pajama bottoms and changed into a new outfit that didn't reek of sweat and blood. They were old cast-offs of Dudley's, but they didn't swamp him like they used too.
Somehow, he had a feeling that his list of chores was going to be much longer today than usual.
Harry ate his lunch with gusto, polishing off two turkey sandwiches before reaching for a third. Aunt Petunia's lips pursed in distaste, but she didn't say anything, the Order's warning clearly still fresh in her mind. His relatives had lost the courage to try to deny him food, a fact that he had been taking full advantage of.
It had been a week since he had 'not' realized he was attracted to Tonks and 'not' broken his nose, and Harry had never felt better. His nightmares had somehow stopped, and instead were replaced with dreams of an entirely different sort, making his mornings much more pleasant. He still woke up anytime between 5 and 5:30am, but he figured that his body had simply gotten used to it. He had continued to run and practice with Tonks without complications, and had not had a repeat performance of his previous insanity. Of course, he still eyeballed Tonks whenever he could, but she was a woman. If he wanted to have any chance, he had to act like a man, and not like some hormonal teenaged boy.
Harry chewed on his sandwich, his mind wandering to the two letters that were up in his room. Both Ron and Hermione had been incredibly vague in their letters, and Harry supposed that he really shouldn't be surprised. They did both manage to leak him useful nuggets of information, but that only made him desperate to know more.
Ron had informed him that his parents had gotten Dumbledore's permission to bring him to the Burrow two weeks before school started. Harry had grimaced at that, wondering why they needed Dumbledore's permission at all, until his mind had once again reminded him that there was a war going on, and that 'The Chosen One' was an important player.
Hermione, on the other hand, had conveyed to him a critical message – his post was being watched by the Ministry. Both she and Ron had been expressly ordered to not communicate anything to him about the war so that the Ministry wouldn't have knowledge about the Order's plans. That little kernel of knowledge was perhaps the most infuriating news of all, and Harry had barely kept his anger in check. According to The Daily Prophet, Rufus Scrimgeour had been elected Minister of Magic three days ago, and he was clearly not going to be an ally that the Order could count on.
Harry finished off the sandwich and cleared his plate. There were dishes in the sink, and Harry absently began to do them without even needing to be told. Aunt Petunia had been surprisingly lenient with his chores today, and he had already finished up everything he needed to do. He figured there was no harm in buttering her up a little bit.
Sure enough, when she walked into the kitchen carrying Vernon and Dudley's plates, she looked startled to see Harry being willingly helpful and obedient. She gave a neutral sniff, set the plates down on the counter next to him, and walked out of the kitchen without a word.
That was about as close as Aunt Petunia ever got to saying 'thank you."
Once he was done, Harry went up to his room and closed the door. He faced an entire afternoon of having nothing to do, and figured it was time to start his homework. Of course, it was only three weeks into his summer holidays, but the idea of reviewing something magical was too appealing to him to pass up.
However, when he loosened the floorboard underneath his bed to pull out his textbooks, the first thing he saw was the tattered old book he had bought on a whim in Diagon Alley. He had forgotten all about it.
Intrigued, Harry pulled it out and replaced the floorboard before sitting down in his bed. He wasn't sure it was entirely sanitary to bring it under the covers, and so chanced reading it in plain sight. His aunt hadn't opened his door since she had walked in on him, and so he doubted she would do it again anytime soon.
The title read "What Your Hogwarts Teachers Never Taught You," and there was no description or table of contents of any kind. Sighing, Harry figured he might as well start at the beginning, and flipped it open to the first page. There was no preface, preamble, or anything, and instead, the book started right off.
Hormones affect magic. Hormones lead to an increase of turbulent emotions, which in turn increase the instability of magical performance. However, after puberty, witches and wizards experience an increase in magical ability and control. This increase in power is due to their hormone levels finally leveling out, allowing them to be emotionally mature enough to handle more volatile magics, and mentally mature enough to fully comprehend certain facets of magical theory. This is why OWLS are done in 5th year. Before, they were done in 4th year, but there was a highly acclaimed study which showed that males significantly underperformed females. The study explained that the average wizard passes through puberty around the age of 14 or 15, while the average witch passes through puberty around the age of 12 or 13, and the different ages of maturation were the cause of the discrepancy. Of course, there were certain exceptions to the trend, but the findings were conclusive enough for the Board of Governors to unanimously pass a decree that moved OWLS back into 5th year.
Whatever Harry was expecting to read, it certainly wasn't that. It was interesting, but a little odd. It was the sort of thing that Hermione would find fascinating, but that he had little interest in. Still, he figured he'd give the book a shot, and kept reading onto the next section.
Pureblooded couples flocked to Great Britain during the early 1800's during the conquest of Napoleon Bonaparte. Napoleon argued for a populist view that made him very popular with the people, but threatened the power of the aristocratic purebloods. Napoleon was born a squib and thus knew of the magical world, and when all of Europe began falling under French rule, wizarding society feared that they would be revealed to the muggles. Great Britain represented the last bastion of power against Napoleon in the west, and British wizarding society was one of the most prosperous of that time. Therefore, there was a huge influx of pureblooded wizards and witches, particularly those of French descent.
Hogwarts was well known as a prestigious institution of learning, and so when these pureblood refugees arrived, they sent their children to Hogwarts. This gave rise to a period in history where Hogwarts was largely considered 'elitist,' because the new French purebloods quickly obtained disproportionate power and influence in both the Ministry and the Board of Governors, and passed laws and regulations favoring pureblooded students. Muggleborns, who have historically represented anywhere from 20-25% of the Hogwarts student body, soon found themselves in an even smaller minority of 5-10%. The image of Hogwarts as an elitist school, along with the growing mood of prejudice and segregation, made most muggleborns feel like outsiders, and most were worried about finding security and friendships. As a result, the Sorting Hat largely put them into Hufflepuff, where they would find kindness, loyalty, and friendship. Due to pureblood supremacy ideals, this gave rise to the stereotype that Hufflepuff House was somehow the worst house, whereas before, no such stereotype existed.
Harry was actually surprised. He knew next to nothing about wizarding history due to the abysmal quality of his History of Magic class, and so had never heard of any of this. If this was true, he wondered if Hagrid knew that when he called Hufflepuffs "duffers" he was espousing a prejudice promoted by blood supremacists. He silently vowed to never make fun of Hufflepuffs again. Harry flipped the page, and saw that this next section was the largest by far. He started reading, wondering what he'd learn next.
Magic has two main types – intrinsic and extrinsic. Intrinsic spells affect the focus of the spell immediately (Ex – Transfiguration, Charms), whereas extrinsic spells manifest in a 'bolt' which must come into contact with the focus of the spell (EX – Hexes, Jinxes, Battle Magic, Dark Arts). Intrinsic spells were historically considered 'purer' because they had a symbiotic relationship with their focus, and there was no lapse of time between the incantation and the effect. Extrinsic spells were considered 'impure' spells because they were often parasitic or corrupting to their focus, and they required a lapse of time to take effect. Also, even if the spell was successfully performed, there was the chance of the effect not occurring due to the need for a physical connection between the spell and the focus. Over time, the bias for 'pure' spells over 'impure' spells eventually began to correlate with the woefully cliché and myopic stereotypes of 'light' and 'dark,' which are historically incorrect.
Because extrinsic spells are so much easier to create, there are many more of them than intrinsic spells. There was extensive research into the field of transfiguration in the 1750's by the noted alchemist Nicholas Flamel which significantly broadened the scope of the discipline and the quantity of transfiguration spells, and lessened the gap somewhat between the quantity of extrinsic vs. intrinsic spells, but the imbalance still remains.
There have been countless numbers of self-created extrinsic spells that were never formally written down, but oftentimes pureblooded families kept a grimoire of all the family spells. This practice gave pureblooded witches and wizards a significant advantage because they learned spells that nobody else had heard of. There was the Great Era of Espionage, in which the pureblooded houses attempted to steal and learn the spells of all of the other houses, almost leading to an international wizarding war. Grimoires, or collections of spells passed down from generation to generation, have faded of late, largely due to the Ministry Decree of 1923 that declared all self-created spells illegal until they were submitted and approved by the Ministry of Magic. This was done in part to help equalize the levels of magical knowledge between muggleborns and purebloods. As a result, Hogwarts stopped teaching spell creation as an elective, and began to focus more exclusively on intrinsic spells. It was traditional for a family grimoire to go to Hogwarts when the last living decedent of a pureblooded family died, but after the ministerial decree, all grimoires were removed from the Hogwarts library. It was believed that Hogwarts had collected 23 by that time.
However, the removal of the grimoires and spell creation was not a significant loss to the curriculum. Hogwarts has always focused more on intrinsic spells because they are held as fundamental building blocks of magical knowledge. While extrinsic spells can be cast based on intent, correct pronunciation, and correct wand-work, intrinsic spells require a certain level of understanding of the magical theory behind them. Therefore, Hogwarts found it more prudent to teach the harder-to-learn spells so as to give young witches and wizards a firmer understanding of magic. This is what distinguished Hogwarts from other European schools, like Durmstrang, that focused on battle magic, which is wholly extrinsic.
Examples of intrinsic magic include most charms. For instance, one can cast Wingardium Leviosa on any number of inanimate objects, and there is no need for a 'bolt' to hit the object for it to levitate. As soon as one (successfully) casts the spell, the focus of the spell will begin to levitate. The same applies for the charm Aguamenti, in which water is produced from one's wand instantaneously. The summoning charm also needs no literal connection between the spell and the object, and an object can be summoned from up to a mile away with absolutely no 'bolt' or contact between the spell and the object of the spell.
In contrast, extrinsic spells absolutely have to have some sort of literal contact with a physical manifestation of a spell in order for them to have any effect. The stunning spell does not automatically stun a person, but rather, a red bolt of light is fired from the wand and must come into contact with a person in order to stun him or her. With extrinsic spells, it is possible for the spell to take effect on a focus other than the intended one, because the effects of the spell are solely dependent on physical contact with a focus. The Confringo spell is another example of an extrinsic spell, and has a yellow streak of light that causes something to explode into flames on contact. Without contact, the focus of the spell does not catch fire, and it is once again possible for something or someone other than the focus of the spell to suffer the effects. The Cheering charm, while called a charm, is actually a jinx, because it alters one's state of emotions (to happiness), similar to the Confundus jinx (to confusion).
Harry mind was swirling, slowly processing this new knowledge. He felt a strong impulse to bang his head against the wall. Of course! How had he never noticed this before? He and Tonks had been sending sparks at each other to mimic dueling, but he knew very well that most spells taught at Hogwarts didn't produce a bolt. In fact, now that he thought about it, the vast majority of spells that did produce a bolt usually did something to a human. Why weren't there any intrinsic spells that applied to humans?
Harry remembered Hermione's complaint last year about the complications involved in using Arithmancy and Ancient Runes to identify a person. Maybe that had something to do with it. Harry made a note to ask her once he got back to Hogwarts.
Harry looked at his clock and saw that it was tie for dinner. He made his way downstairs, the smell of a roast wafting deliciously in the air. Aunt Petunia wasn't the best cook, but every English housewife worth her salt knew how to make a proper roast.
Dinner was a predictably mundane affair, and Harry helped himself to double portions of everything. He had grown an inch since the start of summer, and his muscles had started to harden ever so slightly.
Vernon and Petunia carried on some inane conversation about the new car Mr. What's-His-Face had bought that Harry paid no attention to. Dudley didn't join the conversation either, but the joy of eating copious amounts of food was more than enough to keep him entertained. He kept giving Harry odd looks, but Harry had stopped caring what his cousin thought or did a long time ago.
Harry asked to be excused, and when Aunt Petunia gave him a stiff nod he went and grabbed his 'bag' from the cupboard under the stairs. He had bought a football and some cleats from a local sporting store just to keep up appearances, and made a show of grabbing it every night.
Soon Harry was padding down the streets to what he now thought of as the 'practice house.' A while back, Tonks had insisted on arriving to the house separately so as to draw less suspicious. It also served the dual purpose of allowing her to set up the training area before he arrived. She added furniture a while back so as to make the house a more dynamic environment, and dug countless gouges and pot holes in the back yard to make footwork more treacherous.
When Harry arrived at the house he leisurely walked inside. They had been practicing here for three weeks, and true to Tonks' word, they had never seen another person anywhere near the area.
Harry looked around the house, but when he failed to find any evidence of Tonks, he headed into the back yard. It was night time, and Harry could barely make out anything under the dark purple sky. But, after giving his eyes a few seconds to adjust, he could semi-make-out Tonks' form sitting on the ground with her back facing him. All throughout the yard were thick, piney hedges that were as tall as Harry's shoulders. She had certainly been busy today.
Harry went to approach her, but after a few steps, a devious idea came to mind. There she was, facing away from him, and likely completely unaware of his presence. This could be his chance to pay her back for all the times she had gotten the drop on him.
Harry drew his wand predatorily. There was almost no chance of missing.
Tonks remained totally still and silent. She must've been really deep in thought.
Quick as a flash, Harry sent an avalanche of sparks towards her sitting form, grinning victoriously at his success.
The sparks splashed harmlessly across her back, but instead of turning around and yelling at him, Tonks didn't move an inch.
That was odd, what in the world could Tonks be doing that she didn't even care about sparks hitting her?
Harry was still trying to puzzle it out when suddenly, a torrent of sparks cascaded over him, so many that he had to close his eyes and cover his face. Even still, his eyes danced with black spots, and his eyes watered from the intensity of the sudden light.
"Wotcher, Harry!" came a voice from behind him, and Harry let out a shameless groan of frustration.
He turned around and saw a madly grinning Tonks standing by the back entrance to the house.
"Dammit, how did you do that?" demanded Harry, turning around again and seeing that 'Tonks' was still sitting by the hedges.
"Simple. I made it so you would see what you wanted to see," she said, her tone indicating that this was a lesson. "I was standing right here the entire time, you walked right past me actually. That," she gestured towards the other Tonks, "Is a dummy."
Harry walked towards it, and from about ten feet away, he could clearly see that it was indeed a stuffed imitation of Tonks (and a poor one at that).
Harry felt frustrated, but knew that such reactions were childish and ultimately served no useful purpose.
So instead, Harry smiled wickedly and replied, "Tonks, you have a blow-up doll of yourself? Kinky."
"Harry James Potter!" she shrieked, lunging towards him and swatting him angrily upside the head. He could have dodged, if he really wanted too, but he figured he deserved that one.
"Ow, geroff me! Unless this is your idea of foreplay, in which case…" Harry said lecherously, earning himself another smack. He probably deserved that one too.
"Enough wasting time," said Tonks, transforming into teacher mode.
Harry recognized the change, and composed himself accordingly.
"Now, you've been getting better Harry, a lot better. I reckon you'll be as good as me by the end of the summer," she praised, and Harry felt his ego swell a little bit. "Our practicing has made you better at dueling strategy, evasive maneuvering, and aiming. This hedge combines aspects of all three. The evenings have been getting progressively darker, which helps you get used to fighting in the dark. It's been three weeks since you started, and I cannot explain to you how proud I am of your progress."
Harry felt his ego swell a lot.
"But," she continued, "The dummy test today showed me that you've gotten too comfortable with our routine. All of this training is useless if you can't anticipate a trap. As Mad-Eye would say, Constant Vigilance! From now on, even approaching the house, act like you're approaching hostile territory. We won't talk, chat, or count to three before we start to practice. We'll act like we're actually enemy combatants engaging in combat. Do you understand?"
Harry had to admit that it made sense. He had become comfortable with their routine, and in doing so, he had gotten sloppy.
"Of course, I understand," Harry said honestly.
"Good. This new plan will not only teach you to stay alert, it'll show you how to scope out a building for enemy combatants and how to take down those combatants before they have a chance to take you down. But of course, no matter how much we do, you're still going to be limited," admitted Tonks.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked in confusion. What did she mean by 'limited'?
"Harry, you're forgetting one key thing. We're not using magic," explained Tonks wearily. "Magic changes everything. What you can do with sparks isn't the same as what you can do with spells. Spells can affect the environment, reveal someone's presence, mask your movements, mask your enemy's movements, and countless other variables that there are simply no ways to compensate for. I'm teaching you the bare-bones basics of dueling. Point and shoot before the other guy can shoot you. What we're doing will help your dueling technique, but it isn't your technique itself."
Harry, whose ego had been fit to burst, was now deflating like a wet balloon. He understood what she was saying, and that was the scary thing. Spells, chains of spells, counters to spells, reacting to spells, knowing which spell to use on what, knowing when to use each spell; spells good in some environments and not others, spells good against certain types of duelers and not others, spells good against clusters of enemies versus a large group of enemies; spells spells spells. Dueling was based on spells. What good was knowing how to navigate around a hedge if someone could blast a hole through it, set it on fire, transfigure it into a flock of birds, or any number of other things?
"Oh no, I know that look!" said Tonks, interrupting his internal dialogue. "It means you're getting frustrated and angry, and are about to start ranting with some emotional outburst. Am I right?"
She was accurate enough to make Harry pause and refrain from yelling about how pointless the whole thing was. Again.
"That's exactly what I thought. Well, don't you dare," she all but ordered him. "As I said, there are a ton of benefits to practicing. I'm not going to go over them again, since I'm sure you can stretch your memory as far back as two minutes ago. What I'm trying to say is that practicing helps, but don't expect to get to Hogwarts and be able to out-duel everybody. You're going to have to start learning spells and start dueling with people if you really want to get better. However, when you develop your dueling style, what I'm teaching you now will be invaluable once you manage to integrate it into that style. "
"So you're saying I should duel people at Hogwarts?" asked Harry, slowly realizing what she was trying to say.
"Absolutely. Preferably multiple people," Tonks agreed. "As long as they're your friends and agree to do it away from the eyes of teachers, you shouldn't have a problem. The only way for you or anybody else to get better at dueling is to duel, as often and as strenuously as possible."
Dueling wasn't allowed at Hogwarts outside of the classroom, but that had never stopped Harry before. Now that he had been practicing with Tonks for so long, he didn't think he could just stop when he got to Hogwarts. For one, he actually enjoyed it, but more importantly, Voldemort was still out there.
"Alright, enough talking, let's get this show on the road," said Tonks, who promptly ran and crouched behind a nearby hedge. Harry was perplexed for a second before he realized what she had said earlier. There was no more counting to three. Instead of following her, he made his way to the other side of the yard and behind another hedge. It was dark outside now, and the only sources of light were the streetlamp by the front of the house and a thin crescent moon. Harry could barely make out the hedges around him, much less try to see Tonks. Who may or may not have been under her invisibility cloak.
Harry knew Tonks, and knew that she would try to wait for him to blunder across her path rather than try to seek him out. But, he also knew that she was impatient, and if enough time went by, she'd start looking for him. Feeling risky, he decided to sit down and hope she would stumble across his path.
After a few minutes of doing nothing, Harry's eyes had become accustomed to the dark. As he peeked around the hedge, he anxiously realized that if he could see, so could Tonks. Deciding his plan was a failure since there'd be no way for her to walk by him without seeing him, he got up and dusted the dirt off of his pants. So much for that idea.
Harry began creeping around the hedge and quickly darted to a new one. They were planted randomly, but once again, Tonks had the advantage of knowing the layout. Harry was in a bind, and couldn't figure out what to do next. As he stood there thinking, he saw a line of sparks heading towards him, and dashed behind another hedge. Tonks knew where he was. The sparks had come from behind him, and in front of him was the house. Suddenly, he had an idea. It was crazy, but it was crazy enough that it might actually work.
Without waiting, Harry sprinted towards the house. Tonks probably expected him to be prowling through the hedges, and wouldn't have a clear line of sight towards the house anyway.
When he got to the back door, he quickly jumped and used the two inch ledge of back window to propel himself further upward. His fingers barely manage to latch on to an awning, and he hung there swinging like a sitting duck.
With colossal effort, Harry managed to get both of his hands onto the awning, and then heaved himself up until he was hanging by his elbows. From there, it was easy to climb up the rest of the way, and with shaky arms, Harry found himself standing on the roof.
He looked out over the hedge, and saw Tonks' disembodied hand and wand floating along the edge. She hadn't seen him, and was slowly searching through the hedges. In a few moments, she'd wander to the hedge nearest to the house, and would be close enough to take a shot at.
Harry waited with anticipation, his wand poised and his arm tense.
Finally, after what felt like hours (but was really only a few minutes), she walked close enough to be in range.
Harry wasted no time, and immediately sent a slew of bright crackling sparks at her. It was so dark that she noticed the sparks instantly, but Harry had sent so many sparks but there was nowhere for her to go. She tried to dodge, but the invisibility cloak limited her movement and half of the sparks ended up hitting her anyway.
Harry had won the first session of the night! That had never happened before, and Harry didn't even try to contain his whoop of joy.
Tonks followed the sound of his voice, and when she noticed his location, she whipped off her cloak and approached him.
"Harry! How in the world did you get on the roof?" she asked in amazement.
"I climbed up," Harry replied simply.
"Bloody hell, I would have never even thought of that! Well done, Harry, well done!" she congratulated sincerely.
Suddenly, the two of them heard the front gate slam. Bewildered, Harry turned around, and saw a bulky figure galloping down the street.
That wasn't good at all.
Harry started into action, and quickly ran across the roof and jumped down into the front yard. He vaguely heard Tonks calling out something, but he was too far away to hear her. He started sprinting towards the figure, who had just now reached the end of the cul-de-sac. Harry pumped his arms and ran like he had never ran in his life. Whoever it was had seen them, had seen magic, and there was no way that Harry was going to let him get away.
Harry gained ground quickly, and it was clear that the person was not much of a runner. Soon, Harry was close enough to recognize the blonde hair of his cousin Dudley.
"Dudley, stop!" Harry called out, but his cousin kept running frantically. After a few more seconds, Harry was almost on top of him, and so did the only thing he could think of – he tackled him to the ground.
He and Dudley scuffled on the ground for a few seconds, earning them both a hefty collection of bruises, before Harry yelled out "ENOUGH!" and detached himself from his cousin. Dudley finally stilled, but his eyes were wild. He looked scared out of his wits, and it was with mild guilt that Harry stood up and slowly pulled out his wand, pointing it at Dudley's face.
Dudley immediately began to tremble, but nevertheless jumped to his feet. "You'll be expelled now, for sure! I saw what you did back there! You haven't been playing football at all, have you? Your freak show government will arrest you and you'll be out of our hair for good! I'm telling Mum and Dad," he said, keeping his eyes locked on the wand.
"If you saw what I did, you know that I'm not afraid to use magic right now," Harry hissed viciously. Dudley gulped. "I have permission to use magic outside of school now, so if you breathe one word of this to your parents, I'll hex you into next week!"
Dudley's jaw quivered, and his face turned an alarming shade of white when Harry's wand spat out a few red sparks. His eyes became absolutely feral, and without warning, his fist was sailing through the air and connecting with Harry's face.
Harry was stunned, literally. His vision swam, and for a few moments, his mind was a pleasant buzz of white noise. However, when he came to, he saw that Dudley was once again running down the street, even slower than last time. Really, Harry would barely call that a jog.
Harry rubbed his jaw angrily, and once again started running towards his cousin. He should have known that Dudley would try to follow him, and when confronted, would react with physical violence. Boxing had made him confident in his own abilities, and therefore much less intimidated by Harry's threat of magic.
When Harry caught up with him for the second time, he tried a different tactic.
"Hey Big D! Wait up!" Harry called out.
Confused, Dudley turned around, and when he saw it was Harry his face contorted into a mixture of fear and anger.
"Don't come near me or I'll punch you again!" Dudley threatened, cracking his knuckles.
Harry was silent for a moment, wondering how exactly he was going to handle this situation. If he did nothing, Dudley would tell his aunt and uncle and he'd be locked up for the rest of the summer. Threatening to use magic didn't seem to work on Dudley anymore, and if he actually jinxed Dudley, he'd be expelled quicker than you could say 'unfair.' As his jaw throbbed in pain, he had a sudden burst of inspiration.
"But Dudley, that's exactly what I want," Harry said. "I want you to punch me. I can see you have a mean right hook. If you'd be willing, I'd want to start boxing with you."
Dudley was clearly mystified by what Harry had said, so Harry took the liberty of repeating himself more slowly.
"Do you want to practice boxing with me?" Harry said, enunciating every word.
It seemed to help, but not by much.
"What do you mean?" Dudley managed to ask, his hand still curled up in a fist.
"I want to learn how to fight. You're a good boxer. Ergo, I want to box with you," Harry repeated, wondering how many times they'd need to go over this before Dudley finally understood.
"But… why would you want to practice boxing?" Dudley asked again. He seemed to be finally calming down.
"Because I want to know how to fist fight. Remember those things from last summer, the things that I saved you from?" Harry inquired, knowing full well that wasn't something anyone would be likely to forget.
Indeed, Dudley gave an involuntary shudder. He made a grimace, clearly not liking to be reminded that Harry had actually helped him one time.
"Yeah. You can fight those off?" Dudley questioned, clearly wondering where this is going.
"No, not with fists" Harry admitted, "But there are people, evil people, that would release those things everywhere if they could. What you saw earlier was me practicing so I can try to stop those people. If you tell your parents what I've been doing, I'll have to stop, and I need to keep training. Fist fighting, while I might not ever use it, might also give me an edge against them when they least expect it."
Dudley looked torn. This was clearly too much information for his mind to process, and he didn't look happy about being forced to actually think about things.
"So what? Why should I help you?" Dudley finally asked, getting to the crux of the matter.
"Because you'll get to beat me up on a daily basis, and I'll consider us even for me saving your life," Harry explained.
Dudley still looked puzzled. It was almost eerie, how similar he and Uncle Vernon were in their thought processes. He didn't like Harry, and snitching on him to his parents would no doubt land him in a boat load of trouble. But, he owed Harry for what he did last summer. If he managed to remove that debt while improving his own technique and hurting Harry in the process, it seemed like the benefits outweighed the cons.
"Alright, I'll help you box. I've been looking for a partner anyway, and Dad's not in good enough shape to help. But I'm not going to go easy on you, and you're going to have to do whatever I say!" said Dudley imperiously.
Harry almost groaned. He could see some benefits to fist fighting, sure, but it wouldn't give him a significant advantage, considering most duels were done at a distance of ten meters or more. It had a slim chance of helping him against Voldemort, would take up a colossal amount of time, and would force him to actually interact with his cousin. But the die had already been cast, and now there was nothing for it but to grit his teeth and accept it. He doubted that Dudley would agree to hold his tongue for any other reason.
"Alright, brilliant," Harry said, doing his best not to sound morose. "So you won't say anything to your parents about what I've been doing?"
"Nope. After all, if you're grounded, we can't exactly spar together," Dudley said, showing a surprising amount of logic that Harry did not think him capable of.
"Great. Well hey, I need to be getting back…" began Harry, but trailed off when he heard footsteps rapidly approaching them. He turned around and saw Tonks hurrying towards them. Dudley looked taken aback, and glared at Tonks warily.
"Hey Harry. Christ, you run fast! Didn't you hear me calling you? I brought your bag, you left it at the house. Anyway, what's going on?" she questioned hastily, glancing at Dudley with curiosity and shoving Harry's football bag into his arms.
"Nothing, we just had a misunderstanding is all," Harry replied smoothly. "Everything has been resolved. Tonks, you've met my cousin Dudley before, right?"
"I saw him but I don't think we've ever been introduced. I'm Tonks!" she said, extending her hand warmly.
Dudley merely stared at her hand without making a move to shake it, and Tonks lowered it lamely.
"Well alright then… Harry," she said, returning her attentions to the boy in question. "I think we might as well end our session for tonight. I need to head in to the Ministry anyway; Scrimgeour has been having us do extra night shifts. I'll see you tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah, of course. I'll see you then," Harry replied. After a few more moments of awkward silence, she departed.
Harry turned back to Dudley. "So, I guess we should head home," Harry suggested, and immediately started walking in the opposite direction as Tonks, not bothering to see if his cousin was following him.
Soon enough, Dudley quickly fell into step beside Harry. If Harry and Tonks' silence was companionable, this could only be described as awkward.
Eventually the two of them made it back to Privet Drive. They went inside, and both Petunia and Vernon seemed shocked to see them walking in together with no apparent hostility.
"Hey Mum, hey Dad. I went to see Harry at one of his games, he did really well. He even agreed to be my boxing partner," Dudley explained simply. Harry was immensely relieved that he was indeed holding up his side of the bargain.
"But Dudkins! Why would you want to practice with him? He'll be terrible!" said Aunt Petunia, ever one to give Harry the vote of confidence.
Vernon quickly added his opinion, and the family began a discussion while Harry quietly slipped upstairs. He had no interest in listening to them talking about him like he wasn't there, and knew that they wouldn't ask for his input anyway.
Harry felt exhausted, and his jaw still twanged painfully. He didn't know whether to feel happy about convincing Dudley, or frustrated at convincing Dudley. He tiredly stripped into his pajamas, noting the multiple bruises that now coated his arms and legs. Boxing with Dudley was probably going to be pure hell.
He collapsed into his bed unceremoniously, and fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
It turns out, falling asleep right after you experience head trauma isn't the smartest decision. It was one of many things that Harry had learned over the past two weeks of training with Dudley. Training, however, might have been putting it lightly. If Aunt Petunia was a slave driver, then Dudley was an absolute Nazi.
Indeed, Harry considered himself lucky that he had managed to make it to his sixteenth birthday. Every morning, he went running with Tonks, and then the rest of the morning he struggled to complete a list of chores that he normally would have had all day to do. However, Dudley had insisted on spending every afternoon working out and boxing, and Aunt Petunia was unwilling to reduce his chores, so Harry usually found himself working like a maniac from 7:30am until 12pm to get them all done.
It was at 1pm that Dudley too over the rest of Harry's day. Even though Harry had only agreed to boxing, Dudley had successfully blackmailed him into working out every day from 1pm to 3pm under the threat of revealing the truth of Harry's evening outings. And so, after weightlifting at the local gym until his muscles screamed, Dudley then insisted on sparring from 3pm to 5pm, leaving him one hour before dinner to shower, read the Daily Prophet, and slowly chip away at his summer homework. After dinner ended at 7pm, Harry then went to practice dueling with Tonks, who was sympathetic to his plight but refused to lessen the ever-increasing intensity of their matches.
Needless to say, Harry had found himself bone tired every day, and he often fell asleep before he could even remove his clothes.
Still, Harry pressed on, and took comfort in the fact that everything he was doing (with the exception of his chores) was helping him against Voldemort in some way. While he always had a motley collection of bruises these days, he took pride that Dudley also sported a few of his own. Harry was beating Tonks more often than he lost, and they were both thrilled with his progress. According to Tonks, there wasn't much more she could teach him.
He had somehow grown another half an inch, and now stood at a healthy 6 feet (okay well 5 feet 11 ½ inches but really who was counting). While he had always been skinny, any trace of body fat he had once had was now gone. He wouldn't be winning any body-building contests after two weeks of working out, but his muscles were noticeably more defined.
Overall, Harry could actually say he was pleased with his progress.
Today was his birthday, and Tonks had planned to take him out for a celebratory dinner this evening. Harry had no idea what she thought of the whole thing, but Harry was seriously considering making a move. He could easily see them being together, but once again, she had remained carefully aloof, despite his innuendos and flirty teasing. Regardless, he and Tonks had grown incredibly close over the summer, and had developed a rapport almost as strong as the kind he had with Ron and Hermione.
He had written to his friends once more a while back, but he had only talked about trivial things. They had responded a week ago, and their letters were predictably empty of any useful information.
Equally useless were the Daily Prophet articles and pamphlets that were littered around his room, which had admittedly gotten quite messy. The Ministry had sent out leaflets with 'helpful hints' about avoiding Voldemort, Death Eaters, Inferi, and Dementors. They were such rubbish that he had only glanced at them before tossing them aside in disdain. If the Ministry honestly thought that those things would help people, they were sorely mistaken.
Today, he expected to receive his customary Daily Prophet issue, along with his friends' birthday presents and his yearly Hogwarts letter. He suspected he would get his OWL results as well, but he was less than optimistic about what marks he would get.
Harry sighed, and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. His Aunt had ordered him to clean his room, which he had neglected in light of his other chores and activities. He had barely made a dent in the mess, and she was sure to give him hell about it tomorrow. But, the clock read 11:55, and Harry wasn't going to miss lunch just so he could organize socks.
Harry headed downstairs and sat down at the table, getting a friendly nod from Dudley that he mindlessly returned.
Things had changed quite a bit at the Dursley household. While Aunt Petunia remained as disdainful as always, Uncle Vernon had become miraculously neutral. Vernon's new attitude was due to his mistaken belief about Harry's apparent change to 'normalcy,' a belief that Harry was happy to reinforce whenever possible.
Harry ate in silence, allowing their conversation to go on around him. He shoveled down his chicken salad, his mind on the upcoming dinner he had with Tonks.
Soon, lunch was over, and Harry and Dudley wordlessly headed outside and started jogging to the local gym. Dudley had wanted to take the car, and Harry had wanted to run. It was only when Harry reminded him of how easily he had caught him a few weeks back that Dudley had agreed to compromise.
The two of them arrived at the gym, Harry barely winded and Dudley pouring sweat. They headed straight for the weightlifting section, and fell into a well-established routine.
Harry first spotted Dudley while he bench-pressed an obscene amount of weight. They then alternated, with Harry's load being much more reasonable.
Soon, they were doing curls, and then push-ups, and then sit-ups, and then more curls. Dudley chatted amiably about the football team he liked (and other such topics) while Harry mindlessly tuned him out. Dudley didn't talk too much, but when he did, he never had anything interesting to say, and he never seemed to care whether Harry responded or not.
Harry mused whether this was what Draco Malfoy felt like when he hung out with Crabbe and Goyle.
From curls they moved on to pull-ups, then chin-ups, then leg reps. Harry was sore, as always, but Dudley never seemed to get tired of this type of exercise. It was certainly a change from the grossly obese boy that he used to be.
Harry could only really think about Tonks, and what tonight was going to be like. He imagined conversations they would have in his head (that almost always ended with them making out), and tried to think of what he would say to her. He was heading to the Burrow in two more weeks, so if he wanted to have any time to spend with her romantically, he needed to make a move tonight.
Dudley and Harry made their customary route of the weight room and then headed to the machines, Dudley tackling them in earnest while Harry listlessly paid only enough attention so as to not squash his fingers.
Before he knew it, they were done with weight lifting for the day. Harry did his best not to look too excited. Only two more hours until they were done, and only four more hours until he saw Tonks.
Dudley led him to the boxing ring the gym sported, a weathered old thing that was nevertheless well taken care of. They put on their helmets and gloves and entered into the ring.
Harry, on his part, really tried to focus, he really did, but it just wasn't happening today. His mind kept wandering, and as a result, Dudley beat him soundly five matches in a row. Harry had never won against Dudley, but could fight him to a draw about a third of the time. Considering Dudley was actually a boxing champion and outweighed him by a good three or four stone, Harry considered that an achievement. If he ever got into a fist fight with anyone, even Crabbe or Goyle, odds were he would win or at least hold his own, and that was enough for Harry.
After getting soundly defeated for a sixth and seventh time, Dudley stopped for a water break. Harry was sore all over, and absolutely hated his life right now. It was his birthday, and here he was getting thrashed by his cousin in a sport he couldn't give two shits about.
Dudley returned, and Harry readied himself for another fight. Another two matches went by, and Harry barely managed to attack at all, instead relying mostly on blocking and evading.
Finally, there were only thirty minutes left, and Harry found himself watching the clock as often as he could (earning himself several more bruises in the process). Just as the tenth match was about to begin, Dudley stopped, and Harry stared at him with mild confusion.
"Look, I don't know what's up with you today, but beating you isn't even fun right now. We'll stop early for today, it's just not worth it to keep going. Consider it a birthday gift," said Dudley, being surprisingly thoughtful. Harry was genuinely surprised that he had remembered that it was his birthday.
"I'm sorry, I just have something coming up later today. Thanks Big D," said Harry, the nickname falling out of his mouth with ease.
Dudley grunted and slapped him on the back. "Not a problem. Let's head back. But we're walking this time."
Harry had no problem with that, and so the two of them walked the way back to Privet Drive. The walk consumed most of the extra thirty minutes that would have otherwise been spent sparring, and Harry was glad for it. The more time passed, the less time he'd have to wait to see Tonks.
They got back at 4:45pm, and when Harry opened the door to his room, he was happy to see a small pile of presents and letters on his bed. He had left his window open so that any owls could come in, and it seemed like his friends had all sent him something. He also noticed his Hogwarts envelope, which was much thicker than usual. So his OWL score had arrived after all. He also noted an envelope that had the word "Harry" written on the front in looping letter that Harry recognized as belonging to Albus Dumbledore. He set that letter aside and began opening his letters and presents.
Hermione had sent him a book titled "Spells for the Prospective Auror" that looked to be rather promising. Ron had sent him a package of sweets, which he stored away for later. Hagrid had sent him a wooden carving of a dog that looked remarkably like Sirius' animagus form, and Harry felt his eyes tear up unwillingly. It was easily his favorite gift, and he made a mental note to thank Hagrid when he got to Hogwarts.
Harry then turned his attention to his Hogwarts letter, and nervously opened the seal. Inside was his customary letter and list of supplies, along with a separately sealed paper and a letter and badge proclaiming him to be Gryffindor's new quidditch captain.
Well that was a surprise. Harry grinned widely, and was suddenly much less nervous about his OWL results. Now he was the same status as a prefect.
But still, Harry opened his OWLS, and saw that they were a little better than he expected.
Astronomy: A
Care of Magical Creatures: E
Charms: E
Defense Against the Dark Arts: O
Divination: P
Herbology: E
History of Magic: D
Potions: E
Transfiguration: E
He knew he had done terribly in Divination and History of Magic, but was surprised that he had managed an E in Potions and Herbology. And he had gotten and O in Defense! The only thing that bothered him was that he still couldn't get into Snape's NEWT potions class with an E, meaning his dream of becoming an auror would never happen.
Finally, Harry turned his attention to the final letter. He opened it and saw that the letter itself was indeed from the Headmaster. It explained how Dumbledore was coming to pick Harry up at midnight exactly two weeks from today and would bring him to the Burrow. Harry's heart almost burst in happiness at that. So he was actually going to be able to leave the Dursleys.
Harry looked at the clock and noticed that it was almost 5:30. He quickly showered, and put on his nicest casual clothes. If he was going to see Tonks, he wanted to look decent tonight.
He headed downstairs right as the Dursleys were starting dinner. If they noticed his clothes, none of them said anything. Harry ate a normal portion of food tonight instead of his usually large portion so that he could still have room to eat with Tonks, but not be so hungry and eat so much at the restaurant as to be off-putting.
Dinner finally wrapped up, and Harry felt his stomach twist anxiously. He was nervous, excited, and was altogether overthinking the entire thing. He got up and cleaned his plate, and walked outside.
He didn't have to wait for more than thirty seconds before he felt someone hug him and say "Wotcher Harry! Happy birthday!"
Tonks was here. Harry swallowed compulsively, and wiped his palms on his jeans. He sent out a silent prayer to whatever or whoever might be listening to help him get through tonight without screwing up. He followed her invisible form down the street, allowing himself to calm down.
Whatever happened, he was going to have a great birthday dinner with the woman he liked. No matter what.
A/N Ahhh no! A cliffhanger! Well I promised this would be the last Dursleys chapter, and it ran a bit longer than I planned on. SO, I bumped the dinner and Harry leaving the Dursleys to the next chapter. To people who wonder when we'll see this dark Harry I've been promising - never fear! I needed to establish Harry's compulsive desire to train, as well as his motivations for that training, in order to make it plausible that he'd turn to the dark arts in order to get stronger. Next chapter, we'll see Harry's first signs of temptation.