Harry felt like he was floating, rising and falling on the surface of some massive current. It was almost like riding a broom. Something fluttered at his eyelids.

"G'way," he moaned, and pawed at his face.

"Harry?" said an anxious voice. It sounded familiar.

"Remus?" said Harry, opening his eyes very slightly. Remus was leaning over Harry, his unshaven face very close. Harry turned his face away. "You have bad breath," he muttered. He blinked. "Remus? What are you doing at the Dursleys?"

"You're not at the Dursleys, Harry," Remus said quietly. "You're at Hogwarts."

Now that Harry thought about it, it did smell like the Hogwarts hospital wing: starch, blood, the sharp scent of Pomfrey's nasty medicines. "Why'm I—"

Harry sat bolt upright in his bed, felt a burst of pain across his back and slumped back down. "The Dursleys," he said through clenched teeth. "Aunt Petunia. Are they all right?"

"Your uncle and cousin are fine," said Remus. "Your aunt…" He hesitated.

Harry sighed. "Dudley said she was dead. Was it…was it really a car accident?"

Remus gave him a long look, rubbed a hand over his chin. He looked tired. "We don't know. Dumbledore is looking into it, we've got your relatives at an Order safehouse for now."

"Oh, they must be loving that," said Harry, trying to squirm upright.

Remus put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Don't sit up. You had a nasty cut across your back; it hasn't finished healing."

Harry lay still, but Remus didn't remove his hand. Harry tried not to shrug it off. "Does—" Harry grimaced, swallowed against his dry throat. "Does Dumbledore know what happened? How they found me?"

Remus removed his hand and stood up. "I don't know, Harry. Dumbledore will tell you when he returns, I'm sure."

"Great." Harry swallowed again. "Can I have some water?"

"Of course." Remus padded away, and returned a moment later with a glass. Harry couldn't raise his left arm more than a few degrees; Remus had to help him drink.

"I feel like an idiot," he said as Remus put the empty glass on the bedside table.

"You're alive, Harry. That's all that matters." Remus' voice was warm and very distant.

"Got hurt…stupid…" Harry murmured as his eyes slid closed.

"I'll talk to you again later, Harry. Get some sleep."

When Harry woke again, Remus was slumped in a chair beside the bed, head cradled in one hand. He started when Harry moved, and smiled.

"Harry. Feeling any better?" At Harry's nod, Remus smiled tightly. "Good. Dumbledore asked me to fetch him when you woke; do you want anything first?"

"No," Harry rasped, then reconsidered. "More water, please." Remus poured him a glass, then left the room. Harry moved his left shoulder very slightly, and felt a twinge across his shoulder blade. His leg didn't hurt at all. "I love magic," he said out loud, and snorted. "I love Madam Pomfrey."

"A sentiment you might keep to yourself, Harry," said a strong voice from beyond Harry's view. "Poppy has a husband, and I fear he would fight most vigorously to keep her hand."

"Good to know, sir," said Harry. Trust Dumbledore to jump to the least important topic first. "Is he a good dueler?"

"Ferocious," said Dumbledore, walking into Harry's field of vision. Dumbledore was resplendent in royal purple robes with white and gold stars, his hands folded in front of him. He was tall, serene and reassuring as always. Harry remembered a certain scene in Dumbledore's office, and felt a twinge of guilt; with the anger faded, Dumbledore seemed again a figure of hope and relief – bent, but not broken. "He works in construction, I believe," Dumbledore went on. "It is best not to trifle with such men."

"I'll remember that," Harry said. "Professor, the Dursleys. Are they coping? …You didn't put them in a magical house, did you?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "They are spending the night in a thoroughly non-magical apartment, far away from Surrey." His expression softened. "Harry…I am so terribly sorry about your aunt."

Harry didn't think it was wise to say he didn't feel very sad about it. "Was it really a car accident, like Dudley said? It seemed too…even my luck isn't that bad." He raised his eyebrows at Dumbledore, who sat down in the chair Remus had vacated and steepled his fingers before replying.

"You are right, Harry. The timing is suspicious. But I have examined the car that…struck your aunt, and its driver. Neither bear any traces of magic, only large amounts of alcohol."

"It doesn't seem like something Voldemort would do," Harry said pensively. "Using a Muggle to get things done, I mean," he clarified.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore. "I cannot imagine Tom planning such an attack; it would be an admission of failure. And none of his followers would have the knowledge required."

"They didn't know it was going to happen," Harry said, suddenly remembering something the Death Eaters had said. "The two that came after me in the park, they didn't know the wards were going to go down. I think Voldemort had them using that watch all the time, in case…I don't know."

Dumbledore played with the end of his beard for a moment. "Yes, the tracking device. Most ingenious. Tom was always clever when it came to getting around obstacles." He was silent for a moment, and Harry had the impression Dumbledore was looking through him at something else. He was about to ask if something was wrong when Dumbledore started talking again. "When he resurrected himself using your blood, he took it within himself. The device contained a drop of Tom's blood, and used the link between your blood and his to trace you. The tracing spell could not penetrate the full wards, but when your aunt passed on she weakened the wards to the point of failure."

"But the wards didn't go down," said Harry. "They kept complaining about how the watch wasn't working all the time."

"The wards were anchored to your mother's blood, and as such there was still a foundation for them," said Dumbledore. "Not enough of one, apparently."

"What…Dudley." Harry said, interrupting his own question.

"Yes, your cousin," said Dumbledore. "He was quite concerned for you; he almost came here to see you."

"Dudley was concerned?" That was a surreal thought. Harry smirked at a sudden thought. "How was Uncle Vernon?" he asked innocently. He could imagine how Vernon had felt, being spirited away by a wizard.

"Still too shocked to grieve," Dumbledore said gravely, which wiped the smirk off Harry's face. "I sent him to sleep for a time; it will help him heal." Dumbledore hesitated before speaking again. "You do not seem yourself, Harry. I have never seen you be heartless, or uncaring, before."

Harry opened his mouth to tell Dumbledore how little the Dursleys had cared, but closed it again. That wasn't the problem. "I can't feel everything all the time," he said eventually.

"I sympathise, Harry. But I have always been impressed by your ability to care about others, regardless of their circumstances. Be careful not to let it slip away."

Harry sighed. The pain of Sirius' death had faded to a dull ache, but it didn't seem to be going away. "What if I want it gone?"

"That is your choice, Harry. It has always been your choice; do not allow anything to make it for you." Dumbledore touched Harry's shoulder with one pale hand. "We will talk more later. For now, your body needs sleep – a great deal of it."

Harry caught Dumbledore's sleeve as he turned to go. "Professor. The Death Eaters, what happened to them?"

Dumbledore looked at Harry, and for the first time that day Harry saw the faded blue eyes twinkle. "They are in the Ministry's custody. They were still unconscious when I came across them; the Aurors were rather impressed. Sleep well, Harry."

As Dumbledore left, Harry wondered whether he really had a choice. Why did he care about the Death Eaters? They would have killed or tortured him. Stupid to care about them. Harry closed his eyes again.

*

"Take it slowly, Harry. Your back is still healing; you don't want to strain a muscle now."

"I'll be careful, Remus," Harry said impatiently, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "But two days in bed, it's enough. It didn't take this long to regrow all the bones in my arm." Harry stood up and stretched, feeling a tightness across his shoulder blade where the piece of metal had cut him.

"Anything hurting?" asked Remus.

"Nope," Harry replied. It didn't exactly hurt, it was just a little more tense than normal.

"Excellent!" said Dumbledore brightly, striding into the hospital wing wearing a robe with purple and yellow checks. "It is good to hear you have made a full recovery, Harry. But I must remind, you should inform us if you experience any lingering pain at all in the next few weeks." Harry met Dumbledore's knowing blue eyes, and cleared his throat.

"Of course, sir."

"Very good. Remus, I think your diligence in caring for Harry may have induced some fatigue. Hmm?" Remus looked away and ran a hand through his greying hair. He looked tired at the best of times, and now Harry could see deep rings under Remus' eyes. Dumbledore went on. "Perhaps you should get some rest. I find myself at a loose end at the moment, with Minerva badgering me out of my administrative duties, so I shall escort Harry to his safe house."

"I really would prefer to—" Remus began, but Dumbledore cut him off.

"Remus. You do none of us any good by falling asleep on duty." Dumbledore's tone softened. "Go home and get some sleep. Perhaps visit Miss Tonks."

Remus stood quietly for a moment, clapped Harry on the shoulder, and trotted out of the hospital wing. Harry watched him go, then turned to Dumbledore.

"Him and Tonks?"

"Gossip is a dangerous thing, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I shall say no more on the topic of Remus's budding relationship with Miss Tonks."

"Good idea, sir," Harry said, still smiling. Remus and Tonks? That was…good. Surprising, but it was nice to know that Remus had someone.

"Indeed." Dumbledore indicated the door with one hand. "We will be taking the Floo from my office. And there are some matters that I must explain along the way. I am sorry to tell you, Harry, that you will not find what I have to say pleasant."

Harry sighed, and started walking. "That's not really surprising, Professor."

Dumbledore matched Harry's steps, bowing his head. "Yes. You and I have rarely converse save in times of trouble and crisis." He ran a hand through his silvery beard. "An entirely lamentable trend, my dear boy."

Harry swallowed hard, remembering their last conversation – when he had destroyed half of Dumbledore's office. "You said you had matters to explain," Harry put in, trying to push the conversation away from things he didn't want to remember.

"Yes, of course." Dumbledore shot Harry a piercing glance over half-moon spectacles, then returned his attention to the corridor ahead.

Headmaster and student rounded the corner, and went up a flight of stairs only to stop as the landing vanished abruptly. Dumbledore peered down the two-storey drop to the next landing, and shook his head.

"How long will it be gone, do you think?" Dumbledore asked Harry, still peering downwards.

"Two minutes," Harry replied, having fallen here more times than he cared to remember. There was a Cushioning Charm on the landing below, probably added to prevent student fatalities. "It activates if there's an even number of people on the staircase. Professor, are you going to talk to me or just change the subject all day?"

Dumbledore took in a slow, deep breath. "You have caught me out, Harry. I was attempting to distract myself, in order to avoid this subject. Ah, well. You recall Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry?"

Harry felt the rage rush through his body, curling his hands into fists and making his pulse pound against the inside of his skull. "I remember her," he growled. "How could I forget, sir?"

"Did the Death Eaters you incapacitated make any mention of her, Harry?" Dumbledore continued.

"I…yeah," Harry said, frowning. "They said something about her and Voldemort, that she'd made him angry." He thought over what he'd heard. "Well, they just said 'Lestrange'. It could be her husband."

"I think that unlikely," Dumbledore murmured. The landing reappeared, and Dumbledore began to climb again, Harry matching his pace. "At the Department of Mysteries, Bellatrix failed her master, and Tom is not a forgiving man. He attempted to execute her, as an example to his followers."

"He what? But…she loved him, she went to Azkaban for him." Harry stopped walking suddenly, and Dumbledore wheeled around to face him. "Attempted to execute her?"

"Indeed. She escaped, and…" Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, Tom is returned to the height of his power. He has had more than a year to consolidate his power and gather his followers, while the Ministry has done nothing. Even now, terror and disbelief slow their response."

"You did everything you could, sir," said Harry. "You can't make people see the truth."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore agreed, with a faint smile. "But a war is coming, and at this point I am desperate for any further advantage, any weapon – even one that cuts both ways."

"Sir, what do you—" Harry trailed off. Lestrange had escaped Voldemort, but there was no way she could hide for long. Voldemort had almost got at Harry through blood wards, Lestrange wouldn't have had a chance. She would have needed protection. Harry shook his head. "You didn't, sir, you – she's evil!"

"I have no illusions about Bellatrix's moral compass, Harry. But she has already provided valuable information, and may give us more. It has nothing to do with right and wrong; it is a matter of utility." Dumbledore's expression was regretful but resolved. Harry had heard this tone of voice before, when Dumbledore had sat behind his desk and told Harry that Sirius' death was not Harry's fault, but Dumbledore's.

"Fine, you hid her from Voldemort. And I guess you can't put her back in Azkaban. Good. Can we go to the safehouse now? Where am I staying?" Harry went to continue down the corridor, but Dumbledore touched him on the arm.

"Yes, Professor? What is it?" Harry said through clenched teeth. He could feel angry flush across his face, but he didn't care.

"There were further problems of…practicality, Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "There were only two places that could shelter Bellatrix. One of them was Hogwarts; I am sure you understand why I did not invite her to stay here, even without students in the halls."

"Where did you put her?" Harry asked sharply. He thought he had an idea already, but surely…

"Aside from Hogwarts' layers of wards, the Fidelius Charm was the only sure way to keep Bellatrix from Tom's grasp--"

"You ler her stay at – you put her in Sirius' place?" Harry asked in a harsh whisper. He couldn't believe it.

"Not only that, Harry," said Dumbledore. "With the blood wards weakened, and Tom likely creating another tracking device, you are in the need of the same protection."

"I'll stay here, then," Harry said firmly. "I'm not a mad, murdering bitch. I'm not a threat to Hogwarts."

Dumbledore sighed. "I am sorry, Harry. But you cannot remain here."

"But you won't tell me why, right?" Harry said, fuming. Dumbledore was doing the same thing he'd done last year.

"On the contrary, Harry," Dumbledore said gravely. "I will explain myself fully. You are aware of the role Severus performs for the Order.

"Yeah," Harry mumbled. "He's our barely competent spy."

"He maintains a dangerous deception, Harry; one on which his life depends. My fear is that if you were to reside here until the beginning of term, Tom would task Severus with abducting you. When he failed, Tom would immediately suspect Severus' loyalty – and we would lose one of our few advantages."

"What makes you so sure he'd fail?" Harry said sourly.

Dumbledore ignored that. "The only remaining option is Grimmauld Place. I have informed Bellatrix you are coming, and that she is not to disturb you. Her oath to me renders her incapacle of attacking you."

"It'll be the other way around," Harry snarled.

"Precisely," said Dumbledore. "Harry, I need your word that you will not assault Bellatrix. I will not ask any more of you than that; but I need Bellatrix as a source of information."

"You trust her to tell you the truth?"

"She has sworn the Unbreakable Vow to obey me, Harry; she cannot lie if I do not allow her to. And no, I do not trust her. But she is useful, and will remain so for some time." Harry thought for a moment, still and quiet. Dumbledore waited for him to speak.

"All right," Harry agreed. "But…she'll get what she deserves eventually, right?"

"I believe in forgiveness, Harry," said Dumbledore, eyes cold. "But I also believe in justice. When it is possible, Bellatrix will face punishment for her crimes."

"Good." Harry nodded. "Good."

"Shall we, Harry?" Dumbledore began to walk again, and Harry followed him.

Harry, Dumbledore, Pomfrey and McGonagall are the only people in the castle. That's why Dumbledore had that whole conversation in the hallways. Also: please review! Criticism makes better writers.