HARRY POTTER AND THE UNFORGIVEN
A Sixth Year Harry Potter Fanfiction
BY
Jayiin Mistaya
"Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus."
...never tickle a sleeping dragon
COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to Harry Potter. Those rights are held, exclusively, by JK Rowling, and any other entities, corporations, subsidiaries, or groups not named here possessing legal rights to the aforementioned books and/or trademark.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry about the long delay, y'all. Real life kicked my in my unmentionables and took over for awhile, but I'm back to writing – and hopefully posting. Depending on how many reviews I get, I might post CH24 soon. (It is almost revised.)
I can promise you this: Harry wakes up in CH26, and much will be revealed in CH27. Thanks to everyone for their patience.
As always, thanks to everyone who has been reading, even if you haven't reviewed, and especially to those people who have me on author alert or favorites.
More information on Harry Potter and the Unforgiven can be found at my website, which is linked in my Author Profile. This includes update dates, hints about upcoming chapters, and even a few spoilers.
Feedback of any kind is always appreciated. Remember, the more reviews I get, the faster I post.
And feel free to email, IM, PM or otherwise contact me to harass me to post. I enjoy talking to my readers.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:Thanks to Elusive Evan for making me continue to post this and to ElvenLaughter for support and helping me untangle Dumbledore.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Games of the Heart
Sweat rolled off his forehead and stung his eyes. The sun stung his bare, sunburned back, but he barely noticed. Each stroke of his arm scraped wood dust and peeling finish off the worn and stained surface of his parents' massive dresser.
He tried not to think or feel. He tried to concentrate on nothing more than what he was doing.
He was sanding. The dresser had been bought third-hand at a Hogsmeade community junk sale before Bill had been born, and was the first step in refinishing his parents' bedroom. He'd finished what he could do on the kitchen – at least without money and supplies – a week or so before. There was more to work with in his parents' room, and he was grateful for it. He had to stay busy. If he didn't he would start thinking again, and he was heartily tired of thinking. He wasn't nearly good enough at it, and it just complicated things. Being a clueless prat was so much easier.
Except being a clueless prat hurt Hermione so bad she didn't even want to read my letters.
He kept sanding. It was something he could do, and do well. He didn't have to think much. It just required muscles and sweat.
He didn't hear her walk up behind him.
"Ron?" Her voice was hesitant and quiet, as if not sure she should be there.
As if I don't want her here. The thought slipped through his rhythm and sparked another thought. I'm not sure I do. I'm not sure I want to share everything of me with her. If I can't hold something back, there will be nothing left of me when she goes back to him.
He looked up at her, caught by her brandy-brown eyes. She'd dressed in Muggle clothes; sneakers and jeans and a tank top. Her hair was still an adorable mess, but her expression was scrunched up with worry.
"Yeah?" He had decided to try a new tactic with her. Say as little as possible – the fewer words he used, the less chance he had of saying something stupid.
She looked like she was about to say something, but stopped, reconsidering.
He shook his head. She was even afraid to talk to him now. "Whatever it is, just say it, 'Mione. I promise I won't get mad or yell or anything."
She bit her lower lip and crossed her arms across her chest, as if unsure what to do with them.
"What are you doing out here?"
He shrugged, starting to sand again. "Trying to be productive while I stay out of the way."
He heard her huff. "So instead of dealing with things, you run away and sulk?"
He forced his emotions down into the pit of his stomach. He wasn't going to fight with her. I don't think I can deal with her being angry at me anymore. I can at least have her not mad at me.
But could he really do anything about that now?
"If that's the way you want to see, it, then yeah. I guess I did." He applied a bit more force on a particularly rough spot. You don't have to remind me I'm a coward, Hermione. I know I am.
He heard her shift her stance. "How should I see it then, Ron? Would you care to explain it to me?"
Ron sat back on his stool and kept working. See it any way you want. You always do. And no, I wouldn't care to explain it to you.
If it were anyone else, he would have ignored them. But this was Hermione, and he had promised not to do anything to hurt her. He tried to find the right words, wishing, not for the first time, he knew how to talk to his best friend.
"Dumbledore didn't want to hear what I had to say. Instead of causing a scene that would just get me yelled at, I decided to not cause problems that didn't need to be caused and let Dumbledore concentrate on what he thought needed to be concentrated on. I came out here to work on this, 'cause it's doing something other than moping and getting bloody pissed about something no one will let me have a say in."
She pulled up another stool and sat down. "I don't believe you."
Ron grit his teeth, clenching his jaw shut against the angry words threatening to break out. Despite everything I have done to you, I have never once lied to you, Hermione Granger. Why would I start now?
"Fine. Don't." He exerted every ounce of will he possessed to keep the hurt from his voice.
"You're just going to come out here sulk and play with your toys instead of trying to get along with the grown-ups?" Her voice hadn't increased much in volume but he could hear the tension in it warning him it wouldn't be too long before he would be on the receiving end of a first-class scolding.
Might as well say it before she really gets going. This might be my last chance for awhile. He took a deep breath and forced the words out.
"I'm sorry, you know. I know I'm a prat when it comes to Victor. I won't be that way anymore. I promise."
"What?" she asked sharply.
Ron reached down to a bin next to his stool and pulled out a different sander. He needed a finer grain to smooth out what he'd just cleaned off.
"I'm sorry for being a prat about Victor. It's not fair of me, I don't have the right to, and I won't do it anymore. You're one of my two best friends and I don't like the idea I've done something to make you so upset you won't even answer a letter from me. It's part of what I was gonna say this morning when I went to check on you. I'm saying it now, before I lose the chance to."
To his surprise, Hermione was silent for a long time – long enough for Ron to finish the side he was working on and move to the front – which meant moving his stool closer to her.
"This morning...were you really in Ginny's room to look after me?" She sounded almost scared – either of what she was asking or what his answer might be.
He nodded. "Yeah. I'm worried about you. You were pretty upset last night."
He sounded gruffer than he wanted, but at least it was better than he would have done just a few weeks before. "I figured you wouldn't say anything if no one asked you, and I wanted to let you know I was here for you before you transfigured me into something soft and squishy."
"Why would I do something like that?" Hermione sounded like she was trying not to sound amused.
"I dunno." Ron took a rag and wiped the dust away from the dresser. "That letter you wrote...you seemed pretty put out with me."
If he had been able to force himself to look at her, he would have seen her staring at her feet. "It's okay. I...I just didn't want to hear it from you, about me going to Bulgaria. I didn't know where else to go, after I left my parents. And Dumbledore said I could go help the Order..."
He nodded and tried not to wince. I wish you'd thought you could have come here...to me, instead of going to him. He was a little surprised how deep the hurt ran that she hadn't thought of his home as being safe.
Why would she? It's hardly Malfoy Manor. He was rarely embarrassed about where he lived, but he didn't like feeling like it wasn't good enough for her. But why would she come to him when she felt so much more for Victor; when Victor had so much more to offer her?
"You're always welcome here. Or anywhere else I am. No matter what."
"I know." She was talking even quieter now. "But I needed to go to Bulgaria. There was a lot that needed doing there."
Ron nodded and sat back down, sanding at a rough spot. "They made you a member of the Order, then?"
"What? How did you...?" She was spluttering. Even with everything that had happened, everything she'd said, she hadn't expected him to make that leap. She knew he would know she had been helping the Order, but she had been counting on Ron not figuring out they'd made her a member.
"Easy," Ron answered. "You're Hermione."
"What do you mean by that?" She snapped back.
Ron was surprised at how upset she sounded. "You're Hermione. Smartest witch I know, powerful, and I've never seen any problem or situation get the best of you. You've figured out stuff Dumbledore and the rest have spent a lot of work hiding, and you probably know more about fighting You-Know-Who than some Aurors. The Order'd be daft not to want you."
"You're not mad, then?" She was on the edge of her stool, her legs facing his side.
"No. You deserve this. I'm proud of you, happy for you – not mad at you."
"Thank you, Ron." Hermione scooted even closer to him. "You shouldn't be working out here without a shirt, you know. You're going to get sunburned."
"I'm already sunburned, and it's too bloody hot to wear a shirt. So, you gonna tell me what happened after I threw my little fit and stormed out? Or maybe what all of happened this morning?"
Hermione sighed and rested her elbows on her knees. She didn't know much; she only knew what she'd managed to overhear while Dumbledore had legilimenced Ginny. "I don't understand all the details, not really, but the gist of it is Harry was attacked by Death Eaters at the gym he and his cousin train at. We still don't know where he was last night, but Professor Snape was right about him turning up at the Gym. After the attack, Harry somehow brought himself here, appearing at Ginny's feet. I just don't know how he did it. He doesn't know how to Apparate and that kind of accidental magic should be impossible! He appeared right in front of Ginny, so maybe it has something to do with their connection, but the power involved had to be enormous to transform the Patronus charm into some kind of a teleportation spell while allowing it to retain its form. For that matter, I don't know how he got through the wards."
"Hermione!" Ron chuckled, getting her attention before she went off on a tangent about just how Harry had done what he did. "You were saying?"
Hermione looked embarrassed, but shook it off. "Anyway. The Death Eaters followed him and brought Dementors as backup, triggering Bill's wards, which alerted Dumbledore, who was apparently looking for me. Bill was able to fight and capture the Death Eaters and hold off the Dementors until Dumbledore arrived. Fawkes healed Harry, who was apparently very hurt..." She swallowed back a lump that threatened to become a sob. Ron reached out and put a hand on her arm. She sucked in a breath and continued. "Kingsley Shacklebolt took the captured Death Eaters to the Ministry, and I heard someone say Mad-Eye was going to track down how they were able to find and attack Harry."
Ron grunted and went back to sanding. "So how did we not hear this bloody fracas in the backyard?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes and sounded peeved. "Apparently, your brother cast a spell to hide it all from us. The spell also prevented the Death Eaters from entering the house unless a Weasley let them in. He was trying to keep us all safe."
Growling, Ron sanded harder. "Of course. Just like Bill. Protect us whether or not we want it, especially if it'll get him killed at the same time. He and Harry are two of a kind. What happened after I left?"
"I'm not sure I really understand what happened. Dumbledore used Legilimency on Ginny to find out what happened, at least the parts Ginny saw, and then Ginny left to go upstairs. Dumbledore whispered with Bill for a minute, then followed her. For once, you know as much as I do."
"Ginny all right?" He vividly remembered how Harry looked after his Occlumency sessions with Snape. "She need me up there?"
"No, she's fine. Dumbledore's apparently a gentler than Snape. She was just a bit woozy, but said she was going to take a bath. Honestly, I think she was going to try to see Harry."
The muscles around Ron's jaw clenched, and he seemed like he was going to say – or ask – a lot more. But he just let out a long, slow breath.
"No surprise there. I think Blast-Ended Skrewts are gentler than Snape. Well, I guess I'll finish this up, at least the sanding, and see if I can't sneak in to see Harry."
He trusted her when she said he knew as much as she did. Even if she was a member of the Order, he trusted her to tell him what she knew. The ties between the her, Harry and himself went deeper than any she had to the Order.
But he knew he didn't know everything about what had happened to her. It was what she had said earlier about 'having' to leave her parents. He was fairly sure they weren't in danger; she would have said something about that the night before when she'd been reaming out the Order. No – it was something else. Something had caused her to leave and seek out Victor Krum. It seemed logical, anyway. Something happened with her family and she had to leave...maybe keeping them out of danger? She went to Krum, and the Order recruited her.
He shifted positions to get at an area nearer where she was sitting. "So, you want to tell me about it? Why you had to leave your parents, I mean."
Hermione frowned. "Only if you let me help you."
"With what?"
"All of...this. Whatever project you're doing." She leaned an elbow on the dresser and looked down at him. "What are you doing, Ron Weasley?"
"Refinishing Mum and Dad's dresser. Then the rest of their room. I've got just enough time before Hogwarts starts to finish it, I think." He plucked a splinter from his thumb, then went back to sanding.
"I had no idea you knew how to do any of that." She knelt down next to him.
"I didn't know I did either." He shook his head. "Grandad Charlie taught me a bit of woodworking when I was a kid, before Hogwarts, but I haven't kept up with it since. I was bored out of my gourd, so I decided to be productive for once. Got Mum to teach me to cook, and I refinished the kitchen."
Hermione's eyebrows went up. "Ron...I'm impressed! What can I do to help?"
Ron shrugged again and looked over at her. "Just keep me company? It can get a mite lonely working out here...and I want to hear what upset you so much you had to run away from home."
She stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. "Ronald Weasley, I am as perfectly capable of helping you with this as I am with anything else. I will not have you put me off."
He blinked in surprise. Was it just him, or was Hermione more prickly than normal?
Ron paused his sanding and sat perfectly still for a moment. "Yes. You are. I'd even put down money you're better at it than I am." He was studiously not looking at her. "But I want to do this on my own."
Her expression softened some. "You don't mind me being out here with you?"
Okay...now I know something is wrong. Whatever it is...she's hurt, if she doubts even that.
This time, he did look at her, meeting her eyes. "No. I told you. You are welcome wherever I am, no matter what."
She looked away first, staring down at her hands. "Thank you...it's nice to hear I'm wanted, at least by someone."
Ron was tempted to ask: what about Victor? But he held his tongue. He reached out and put his fingertips under her chin, gently pushing her head up.
"Hermione Granger, you are my best friend. Whether or not you're in the Order of the Phoenix, dating a Quidditch star, or a bushy-haired know-it-all, that is never going to change. That means I want you around. It also means that when something's hurting you, I want to help. I'm not always good at the helping part, but I can try."
Her hand reached for his as he pulled it away from her face. "Promise?"
Ron nodded slowly, letting his hand close around hers. "I promise. I will always be your friend, no matter what. I will always be here for you and I will never turn you away."
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'll hold you to that, Ron Weasley."
He smiled and dropped his hand. "Feel free. So, you want to tell me what happened?"
She looked away as if she were ashamed. "It's nothing, really. I just didn't get along with the cousins who came for the family reunion. That's all. I don't want to distract you from your work."
It was Ron's turn to narrow his eyes. I know better than that, Hermione.
He didn't know what to say to convince her. He was afraid anything he said would push her farther away. He put his sander down and stood in front of her. Slowly, he reached out a hand and put it on her shoulder, leaving it there until she looked up at him.
"The dresser can wait. You're more important than it is. I told you – I'm your friend, and I want to help. If you don't want to talk, that's okay. I'm still here. But something's wrong. Even I can see it." He swallowed hard. He knew he was getting dangerously close to saying something that would tear them apart again, but he wasn't going to leave her to deal with this alone, not if there was anything he could do. "Please let me help."
He was surprised when she sniffed and tried to blink back tears. He was even more surprised when she closed the distance between them and leaned against him.
Ron didn't know what else to do but wrap his arms around her and let her cry. She tucked her arms close to her body and let him hold her.
He didn't say anything – he didn't really know what to say. He felt her tears run down his bare chest and felt her shaking in his arms as she sobbed. Ron felt lost as she cried; he wanted nothing more than to take her pain away, but he didn't know how.
I just don't know what to do. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling for him. He rarely knew what to do or to say unless he'd had time to think about it before hand, and in all of his many thoughts of how Hermione might end up in his arms, crying like this wasn't one of them. He just stroked her hair and let her cry.
He didn't know how long they stood there like that before she drew away, sniffling. She wouldn't look at him again, and if anything, looked more embarrassed than he felt, but she still stood close enough to him her hair brushed against his shoulders when the breeze caught it.
So he didn't say anything about it. He felt a hot rush of shame as he realized he really hadn't want to let go; about how good she had felt in his arms, and how good it made him feel that she trusted him enough to break down like that.
When she finally looked up, he reached out with one hand and brushed the tears from her face, almost as if he were wiping away the last traces of awkwardness between them. He tried not to think about her leaning into his touch. He tried not to think about how much he enjoyed touching her.
"Better now?" He asked, wishing he could get his voice above a whisper.
She nodded.
Ron smiled. At least she was a little better. Maybe he had done something right after all. He let his hand fall to her shoulder and then run, ever so lightly, down her arm. He felt guilty about that too. The touch was more for him than for her. His hand fell over hers and he felt her fingers lace with his.
"I'm not good at this," he admitted quietly. "I don't always know what to say, and I've not always been the best at listening, but I can try, if you want to talk."
"I don't know," she said. "I don't know what to say about it, really."
Again, Ron didn't know what to say. He didn't know if she wanted more reassurances or if she wanted him to stop asking. He stood there, silent, and then decided it didn't matter what he said, sooner or later she was going to be mad at him again. He might as well try to get her to talk; he might as well try to help. At least then, when he did something stupid, he'd at least know he tried.
"Just tell me what happened, then. I'll listen, and I promise to try not to say anything stupid this time."
She gave him a penetrating look, as if trying to figure out what he meant by that. She seemed to weigh things in her mind before she reached down and picked up his sander with her free hand. She held it out to him.
"You work. I'll talk."
Ron realized he was smiling again. He let his hand drop away from hers and pulled the stools over again. He sat down on his and started sanding again.
Hermione sat on the stood next to him, giving him enough room to work, but she sat much closer than he had expected her to. She watched him work for a few minutes before she started talking.
At first, she was so quiet he almost couldn't hear her talking as she explain about the family reunion. Her voice got a little stronger as she talked about her cousins and her mother. She blushed furiously when she talked about the final argument with her mother, and Ron noticed she didn't tell him how the argument had come about.
As she talked, Ron felt anger stirring at her family – her mother especially – but forced it down with the rest of his emotions. There would be time enough to be mad later. Right now, the only thing that mattered was that Hermione needed him.
When she finished, Ron knew he needed to say something, but, as usual, he didn't know what to say. How could he tell her things were all right? It seemed to him her mother had rejected her because she was a witch. What could he say to make that pain any better? He'd never experienced that kind of rejection before, that kind of isolation.
At least he knew his earlier theory made sense. After her argument with her mother, she'd gone to Bulgaria to see Krum. If there was anyone who could get from London to Bulgaria by herself, it would be Hermione. And she was certainly upset enough to have done something like that. The Order had found her there and recruited her.
He could have done a better job taking care of her, though, the bloody git.
He sanded and thought. He thought about Percy and how his mother still wanted him to be part of the family. He thought about how mad his Mum had been at the twins and their dream of starting a joke shop – or how mad she had been when he and Harry had taken the flying car. He thought about how Seamus Finnegan had reacted when Harry had insulted his mother, and how even Draco Malfoy's mother seemed to dote over him.
"Family's weird," Ron finally said. "It doesn't always make sense. It's kind of why we're so mad at Percy. Not so much because he disagreed with us, but because he walked out on us. He's still family. We're mad at him, sure, but if he ever came back and apologized for being a daft git, he's still be family. It might take awhile and the twins would make him pay for it, but he'd be forgiven."
Ron struggled with how to explain what he was thinking. It wasn't something he'd ever given conscious thought to before, let alone put into words. "Your Mum loves you, Hermione. It's something about being a mother, I think. Harry's aunt loves her great whale of a son. Draco Malfoy's mother even loves him. I think, given time, you and your Mum will be all right. It might not be easy and it might not be soon, but she's your Mum. It'll be all right."
Hermione looked surprised. "You really think so?"
Ron nodded. "Yeah, I do. I mean, family is family. And mine can't be the only family that goes spare at each other and then makes it better later. But family is family, and in the end, I think that's all that matters."
Hermione leaned against his shoulder. "Thank you, Ron."
He shrugged. "You're welcome, I think. I told you, I'm always here. I might not always be good at it, but I'm always here."
"I know," Hermione smiled, still leaning against him.
"Good," Ron said, the seeds of another plan forming in his head as he tried to ignore his guilt. Guilt over how it made him feel that she was there, with him. Guilt over he had a family that would never treat him the way her family had treated her.
But that, at least, he could share with her. I'm going to spend the rest of the summer making sure she knows does have a family here...and no matter what, she always has me.
- 0 -
Nothing is every easy. Or simple.
That was a fact of life that never seemed to change. Albus Dumbledore tried to live simply and tried to keep most things in his life as simple as possible, but it was one of the few areas of his life he consistently failed at. The difference between this situation and most of the others he dealt with was that Albus didn't entirely know what was going on.
It was not a feeling he was used to. Or comfortable with.
Other times, he might have been amused at the novelty of his own ignorance.
Unfortunately, my ignorance could cost Harry his life.
It was not a thought lending itself to amusement or even comfort. But he wasn't sure there was a way to correct his ignorance before he had to make a decision about whether or not to return Harry to the Dursleys.
Contrary to what he had told the Weasleys and the Order, he had not decided if Harry would be going back – that summer or ever again. However, as long as they thought he was going back, he would not give them what might turn out to be false hope.
It was that decision that brought him to stand outside the Burrow, enjoying the afternoon heat, sucking on a sherbet lemon, trying to think his way through things.
The simple truth was, Albus didn't want Harry to go back there. He hadn't wanted Harry to be in the care of his relatives since his first year when he'd seen the letters addressed to The Cupboard Under the Stairs.
Why didn't I ever check on him? Why didn't I allow myself to be there for him? He paused, examining the thoughts carefully, as if searching for their hidden flaw. What was I afraid of?
The last question hung in his mind, and he knew finding its answer would lead him to the truth about why he had allowed Harry Potter to suffer the Dursleys as he had. Because another truth he had been carefully avoiding was that he could have easily kept a better eye on the Dursleys. Did I trust too much in human nature?
It was one of his greatest flaws and greatest strengths; his belief in the power of human nature to nurture and love and be compassionate.
No. No, that is a mere excuse, and I know it. Albus sighed, and knew he still didn't know why he had made the errors he had, despite how much he cared for the boy. And it tore at him, knowing his mistakes had cost Harry so much. Knowing it was probably his mistakes that had led Harry Potter to be lying in a bed while Ginny Weasley – a girl possibly as hurt and broken as Harry - clung to him.
All because of his mistakes.
Though in all truth, Albus wasn't sure what else he could have done to protect Harry from Voldemort. If Harry had been vulnerable before his restoration, even for a moment, Voldemort would have found a way to kill him, no matter how weak the Dark Lord had become.
Tom was hardly the only consideration. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel bitter. Angry. Resentful. If only the Ministry knew what their Oath would create, would they have forced it upon me after Grindelwald fell?
He pushed the bitterness away. It was no matter. There was no way the Ministry could have foreseen Voldemort, or Dumbledore's need to care for Harry. The Oath had weighed on him more than ever the past sixteen years, a weight that had grown every day Harry had been with the Dursleys. If not for the Oath, would I have taken him?
When Voldemort had been defeated, Albus had not even let himself even think about the idea; it simply wasn't possible for anyone bound by the Oath to take an orphan child, let alone one who had defeated a Dark Lord while still in nappies.
Nor could I trust the Ministry to do right by a child. Another pang of regret stabbed at him. What if he had accepted the position of Minister? Could he had reformed an already corrupt Ministry? Could he have single-handedly turned aside a corruption that had found its roots over a hundred years in the past?
It is arrogance to think I could have and arrogance to think I should have tried. It had been the right choice to become Headmaster to try to gently turn aside the corruption, to make each succeeding generation less susceptible than the last. Alas, there too, I failed.
He hung his thin shoulders and shook his head. None of it mattered right then. The only thing that mattered in that moment was the fate of Harry Potter.
There was much to consider. Could he truly send the boy back to a place where he was being abused to that extent? Before, the Dursleys protected him from both Voldemort and the Ministry and kept him out of the hands and away from the influence of those who controlled Fudge. It was the least of two evils. But now?
There was no way for Albus to know.
Politically, it would be easy enough for Albus to use Fudge's own intentions against him, especially if he had been foolish enough to have given the Dursleys written instructions, and force the Minister to allow a guard to stay with Harry. Even possibly take Ron Weasley up on his demand to accompany Harry back to Privet Drive. But what would it accomplish? The attack made it difficult for him to know if the wards were still working. How did Voldemort get past the wards? If they were setting properly, he could not have reached Harry's mind to see him in that gym. Nor should Harry spending most of the day in the gym have been a problem. In fact, he had been heartened to hear Harry was training with Gracie McAllister. He had fond memories of the muggle woman, even if she no longer had memories of him.
As long as he was living and sleeping at 4 Privet Drive, the wards should have strengthened and set themselves. If Cornelius Fudge's meddling had damaged them, I would have felt it by now.
Yet, there was no sense of weakening in the spells he had cast, even though the blood protections on Harry had been very weak, despite his having spent the requisite time there. The wards setting slowly had always been as possibility; it was why he had wanted Harry to spend the entire summer there.
If the wards were setting slowly due to Harry spending large amounts of time away from Privet Drive, then there is only one explanation. But why would he have spent a night away?
He hoped Harry had not run away again. Despite Fudge's warnings, the Order should have been paying close enough attention that if the Dursleys were mistreating Harry to the point he would leave the house, they would have acted.
He had to trust the Order had kept faith while he was gone. He'd had no choice but to go – there was no one else who could have gone where he had gone, done what he had done.
As Albus worked his way through the convoluted possibilities, he realized that he simply didn't know enough of what had happened to Harry this summer to determine why the wards had failed and why Voldemort had attacked. What did you hope to gain by this, Tom? Surely you know by now we would not allow you to kill him? If you were sure enough to send such a force, why didn't you come yourself?
As usual, Voldemort didn't answer Albus' unspoken questions. There was nothing to it; he needed to speak to Severus, Alastor, Kingsley and Nymphadora – and quite possibly Charlie Weasley. He needed to check his instruments at Hogwarts and speak to Harry before he made a decision. He didn't have much time to act.
At least Ronald will be satisfied his friend will be awake if I am forced to take him back to his aunt and uncle, for I must speak to Harry as well.
He looked out and saw Ron and Hermione sitting side-by-side and felt another pang of guilt. He knew he owed Ron Weasley and apology, but now was not the time to give it.
Or, perhaps, is there a part of me that feels I deserve his anger, too?
He smiled to himself. Sometimes, he wondered if he had become so adept at hiding things from others that he had begun to hide things from himself. It was a most disturbing thought, especially in light of all he still had to tell Harry, and the decisions the young man had to make.
Ahh, would that I could make such decisions for him still. But now he has enough knowledge to harm himself and the Order and not enough to act wisely.
Keeping Harry in the dark concerning the Order, Voldemort and the Prophecy was not the greatest – nor the least – of his mistakes, but it was the one that could prove most costly.
He tightened his grip on his staff and almost shook his head. How long had it been since he'd carried aught but a wand? But a staff was needed where he had gone.
If only my going had not cost us so much. He pushed the thought aside. There was no way to know if his absence would have changed things. He had to trust that Severus Snape had done as he asked and looked after Harry to the best of his ability.
This summer has not gone well. Dumbledore regretted having had to let go of events in order to discharge the duties he had sworn to. He refused to think about what would have happened if Hermione Granger had not sent him that note, or if Fawkes had been even ten minutes later delivering it to him.
It had already taken the phoenix two days to reach him, for fire-travel didn't work inside a Grove or a Circle. He had just left the Grove and read the note when he felt the wards on the Burrow fall as someone Translocated through them with more magic than he had felt in a long time.
He had arrived to see Bill Weasley holding back a host of Dementors. He had felt the spell Bill had put around the Burrow and knew that even if Bill, Ginny and Harry had fallen, the Dementors could not have entered the Burrow. William's spell would have kept the Dementors out of the house, but the cost would have been grave.
He could already feel the wards Bill had put in place. The mingled energies of High Magic and Lore crackled around the Burrow. The magic tingled with overtones of heat and sand and sun and fairly sang with the taste of old powers. They were as elegant as anything he could have created – if not quite as powerful.
William has far more knowledge and power than I would have expected, even for a Curse Breaker. He knew the Curse Breakers were more than they seemed. He had long known they crept into the dark places of the world and banished the ancient powers that resided there – remnants of Dark Arts from deep in the past. He knew their true purpose and calling, and admired them for it.
He often wondered what the wizarding world would think if they knew what the Gringotts Goblins had done for them.
He smiled slightly, remembering Bill as a younger man, a brilliant student at Hogwarts who had come to him seeking instruction he could not give, no matter how much he had wanted to.
He couldn't teach Bill anymore than he could teach Harry. He again sighed at restrictions of his oath, popping another sherbert lemon in his mouth. Poppy will fuss about my teeth when I return to Hogwarts. Which I must do soon, if I am to know if I must return Harry to Privet Drive in time.
Still, there was one small matter that needed attending to. And if Albus were thinking well of any delay that would prevent Harry from having to return to the Dursleys, he hid it from himself quite well.
Albus Dumbledore raised his wand to add his own spells to those protecting the Burrow.
- 0 -
Tonks crept along the edge of the wards quietly, managing to be unseen in broad daylight as only an Auror could.
She found the man she was looking for at the far edge of the Weasley's property, holding his ever present cup of bitter hot tea, looking off into the distance.
Unfair. The bastard fought off nine Death Eaters and a host of Dementors almost by himself, and he doesn't look like he's done more than go for a morning stroll.
"Heya, Nymph. You gonna tell me why you're mad at me yet?" His voice held a note of amusement and a note of uncertainty. She wasn't sure which one was more annoying.
"Sneaking up on you is a pain in the ass. And it's 'Tonks'. Don't make me carve it into your forehead." She walked up next to him, running a hand through her short pink hair. "You're damn right I'm mad at you. What kind of fool stunt was that, putting us all to sleep so you could play the bloody hero?"
He turned to look at her, and for the first time she saw the fear in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Tonks. I really am...but they're my family. They're all I have left right now. I couldn't let them come running headlong to the rescue only to get hurt or killed."
She rubbed the bridge of her nose. He gave up his job to come fight the war, and his brother stole his girl. All his close friends are in Egypt, and here I am yelling at him for protecting his family.
"I understand, sorta." She put her hands in her pockets to keep herself from reaching out for him. "But I'm here to help protect you guys."
Do you even need me here? Do you even want me here? She'd failed Harry. Was she going to fail the Weasleys, too?
He nodded. "I know. If it had been just you, then I would have been asking for help, not locking it away." Bill swallowed the last of his tea, and she could tell he was still trying his best to look cool and unflappable. "Even if I went down, you were still in there with them. I knew you'd take care of my family."
Tonks had known more than a few smooth charmers, and coming from a lot of them, she'd take his last comment as a platitude to soothe her wounded ego. From Bill it came across as sincere.
"Charlie and Fleur are back." Tonks wanted to be the one to tell him. Everyone else would beat around the bush or try to cushion the blow, which would only make it worse for him.
"I figured they'd be coming." He waved his wand, shrinking his empty mug so he could stick it in his pocket.
"It's why you're out here instead of back there."
"Cute, clumsy, and insightful. Very attractive combo." Bill had turned back to looking off in the distance.
"Flattery and flirting will get you a lot of very naughty places. A different subject is not one of them," Tonks scolded. "Hiding out here isn't going to make things easier."
"Yes, it will," Bill said. "I'll stay out here until they leave. No awkward moments where I have to interact with them, no ill-timed comments or tense situations where people think they have to choose sides."
"Wow. You really liked her, didn't you?" Tonks said, shaking her head reproachfully. "You're doing that whole noble thing where you don't stand in the way of the Wonder Couple's chance of True Love and Happiness, aren't you?"
"That's the plan." Bill smiled wryly.
Tonks groaned. "Ugh. You Weasleys. With all your noble self-sacrifice, it's a wonder any of you manage to procreate at all."
Bill grinned. "That's why those of us who do procreate make sure to have extras. Besides, Charlie and Fleur are gonna have beautiful children."
She rolled her eyes. "You really want them to be happy. I can't decide if that's incredibly sad or incredibly sweet."
"Go with whichever one makes you more likely to let me stand out here and be noble."
"Hardly." She tugged at his arm. "You realize the only way you're gonna keep me from making snide comments and being a right nasty bitch to Fleur for breaking my friend's heart is if you're there to stop me?"
Bill sighed. "I do now. That's blackmail."
"Yes. And I'm a woman. It happens. Now come on, prove you're a Gryffindor and go be all noble in the same room with them."
"Fine, fine." Bill held up his hands in defeat. "But I'm not promising I won't come back out here to be noble from afar."
She grabbed his hand and led him back towards the Burrow. "If you think it would help, I'll sit in your lap and snog you to see if she gets jealous."
"I don't think that would help."
Tonks pouted a bit. "But it'd be fun."
Bill laughed. "Can't argue with that."
End Chapter
Posted 01-26-08
