Chapter 1 – Just enjoy it Lad

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. As Proof of this, notice the sixth book does not have Luna searching for Crumple Horned Snorkacks... in Harry's pants!

Re Edited: May 9 2010

Earlier that day

'You won't beat me!'

Harry Potter was currently in an epic battle, continuing the fight of man vs. nature, and he was losing.

Blood oozed from his right index finger as he tried to grasp the tough wrinkled surface with razor sharp barbs protruding from its skin.

'You want to play rough, do you?' Harry brandished the handle of his weapon and used the blade end to hack at the torso of his foe. Fluids smeared the metal as he tossed it aside into the soft mud.

'DIE.'

Harry planted his feet on a rock and using all the muscle he had gained from quidditch, which were mainly focused around his ass, pulled the beast from its den.

'HA! You can't beat the boy who lived.'

Harry raised the dying carcass up to the heavens in celebration. Revelling in his victory.

Harry was rewarded with one final slice from a stray spike, as the life slowly started to leave his former adversary. Its green body already starting to wither away under the summer sun.

"Ow, son of a…" Harry threw the weed he had spent a good half hour digging up on the ground, and stomped on it, not unlike a two year old.

"Harry! Language."

Harry turned to find an amused if not stern Mrs. Figg, making her way over to him.

"Sorry Mrs. Figg." Harry would have reddened slightly if he weren't already flushed from his heroic defeat of the ugly plant.

Mrs. Figg took pity on the amusing child and smiled warmly. "The lawn looks extraordinary. I've walked by this lawn for an entire year; an entire year of your aunt trying to keep this thing from keeling over, and you've somehow restored it to perfection. You must be a wonder in the green houses. Good work." She said in praise.

Harry fidgeted from the compliment. "Thanks Mrs Figg." Harry refrained from telling her how much he hated herbology, gardening, and plants in general.

These were his chores to do and no matter how good he was at doing them, he would always despise every photosynthetic plant that crossed his path.

Harry noticed the setting sun starting to dissolve behind number seven. With its vanishing warmth came the now familiar chill that he had associated with Surrey this summer.

"You shouldn't be out so late Mrs. Figg. It's been getting dark faster than usual this year." Harry stated trying to deflect Mrs Figg's attention back unto herself. If he were to be honest with himself, he was also worried for her, as she was the only person who had known him his entire life.

It had been one week exactly since he arrived back home but even he could feel the work of malevolent magic that had begun to claim the area. He had tried to warn the order but all the information he could gleam was that they were looking into it. He did not want to see something happen to someone who he would probably call a childhood nanny if not surrogate Aunt.

"Oh not to worry dear, I'm quite careful… but I have to go" Here her eyes took on a troubled appearance and scanned the area. Harry perked up at the possibility that his eccentric neighbour may be in trouble. "It's horrible Harry, Snowball has been getting feverish"

'Should have known' Harry thought sarcastically.

Harry didn't know cats could get feverish. But he did not try to voice his thoughts; he just looked sympathetic and related to the batty woman how unfortunate that was.

"I'm going to try to get a different brand of cat food; he doesn't seem to have the appetite he once had."

For the next ten minutes Harry tried his best not to tune the woman out, while she gave him a brief summary of her cats' lives. Although Harry liked her, he did not share her fondness for the feline breed.

"Get in here boy… and stay away from that freak." Aunt Petunia was Harry's most unwelcome rescuer from Mrs. Figg's tale about a kitten she had that loved mittens.

After last year's Dementor debacle, Mrs Figg had come to number four bearing Honey Dukes chocolates blathering on about how the ministry was going to the dogs. Needless to say the Dursley's soon figured out Mrs. Figg's secret. They forbade her from entering their property, and insulted her as viciously as they did Harry.

Mrs. Figg colored slightly, but put forth a regal pose and haughtily addressed Harry.

"I'm sorry I must be going Harry. I do hope these Muggle's don't ruin to much of your summer, God knows how insufferable they can be." She didn't even try to whisper her words as she clearly projected her voice.

Harry inwardly cheered Mrs. Figg on as she turned on her heal, away from an infuriated aunt, who could only glare frigidly at a strutting Mrs. Figg. Her satchel for cat tins, swaying saucily in defiance of Petunia Dursley.

"I thought I told you to get in here" His aunt whispered harshly. As she flounced off into her house. More in an attempt to hide her ire than out of any sense of urgency.

He had spent the whole week doing chores for his family with them goading him into calling the order. Harry couldn't bring himself to mail the order and tell them that his relatives were making him do chores… no matter how he tried to relay the abnormal amount and difficulty his chores entailed, he could not make it sound like he wasn't just complaining about washing the dishes. This had left his mind with nothing else to ponder but the last half hour of his godfather's life. At first it was still a sore subject but he was starting to reach a new stage in his grief.

He had however forced them to allow him to eat his fill. He would take his meals outside with him while he worked so that if his relatives had tried to take it away they would risk exposing they're questionable treatment to the many eavesdroppers of little whining. It was amusing to say the least when aunt petunia had come out side and snatched away his sandwich as he was watering the lawn, only to stutter at the shocked looks of Mrs. Flannigan.

Harry followed her in as she led him to the living room where a very angry Uncle Vernon was trying to pry fluff from his moustache.

"What is the meaning of this Boy?" Uncle Vernon scolded as he brandished a brochure like a sabre.

"I wouldn't know, I haven't read it yet?" Harry said quickly but tiredly.

Harry had come to the realization long ago that trying to get his relatives to treat him normally would be futile; all he could take out of the experience was towing the fine line between disrespectful and violent. He really wanted to cross that line.

Vernon started to become red as was his nature to do when dealing with the "ungrateful whelp". This was also one of the reasons for the Dursley family (plus Harry) diet, they were on this summer. It was not so much for Dudley like the last one but for Vernon. He apparently had high blood pressure.

'Who knew?' Harry would sarcastically question himself.

Harry hadn't actually seen his cousin very much lately. But each time he did he would admit to himself that he was disturbed by the pure hate directed in his direction. Harry had held out a meagre hope that his cousin might be just a little grateful that Harry had saved him from the Dementor.

But no, if anything his cousin had reached a level of fury that Harry was certain Voldemort might have had trouble attaining. It was a little disconcerting though as Harry was the only person his cousin had expressed any emotion to; the rest of the time, Dudley's face took on a defeated look that left Harry feeling sorry for him.

Harry was brought back to the Dursley living room by uncle Vernon turning an interesting shade violet. Vernon threw the brochure at his nephew yelling about mangy animals attacking him in his house delivering freak junk mail.

Harry decided to read the mail that had incensed his uncle so. Also he was curious what magical junk mail would look like.

Ministry Of Magic guide to Muggle defence.

As you are a relative, or significant other, of a magical being/squib, the ministry of magic has brought together the finest defensive minds within our jurisdiction to help you protect yourself.

Harry read over the list and scoffed at the Ministries lack lustre attempts at placating the masses. 'How the hell are Muggle's supposed to erect a Fidelius Charm around their property'

To be fair some of these suggestions were above average when applied to a magical family capable of doing magic. But for someone like Hermione, who was the only witch, underage at that.

'I mean how is she supposed to prepare defensive shield rings for her family to wear.'

Harry's mental gears paused as he thought about his hyperactive friend.

'Actually, Hermione might have actually done that already.'

For any other subject Harry would chalk such an action to her overly studious nature… but this was a defensive subject, and ever since third year she had been in a fierce self imposed competition with Harry for top marks in defence.

She acted proud of Harry's natural skill, but Harry knew she was secretly irked that she was consistently beaten by her 'dimwitted friend.' Last year did not count as Harry was being targeted by the repulsive Toad. His constant goading and irritating ability to not submit to the amphibious woman had not helped his marks any. Harry thought Sirius would have been proud.

"I will not have you parading your freakishness about as if this is your home! We tolerate you but you are not welcome here." This was said pointedly to make sure Harry understood his place amongst his 'family'.

Harry would not admit it but he was a little stung by his uncle's words. No, he did not have any love for his vile relatives, but they were still his relatives. Putting aside the cruel words from the crueller man, Harry tried to squash his rising frustrations.

There was a throbbing in his head, building with intensity as he tried to drown out this unfamiliar speech. For whatever reason the words were hitting home today. Maybe it was his Uncles inflections, his Aunts supportive glare, or some unrealized combination of factors, but Harry was incensed to realize that he felt like that pitiful child under the stairs again. The child prior to learning he had a place in the world, or the ability to be wanted for more than menial tasks.

His uncle noticing his slightly glazed look, or perhaps sensing the vulnerability he had awakened, suddenly prodded Harry decisively in the chest. With a strong Jab, he enunciated, "Why don't you get a hold of your freaks and just go early? We'd all be the happier for it."

Harry felt a throb in the back of his mind, and could feel whatever inhibitions he used to have around his relatives snap. Maybe it was a combination of the frustration he felt coupled with the jab to the chest to ignite his brashness, or Harry was just having a bad day, but he decided to let his uncle know some interesting facts of life.

"Don't flatter yourself Dursley." The two adults were momentarily stunned by the acid that Harry said their family name with.

"You will not talk to me…"

"Oh save your breath. If I could leave, do you think I would stay here with wastes of flesh like you?" Harry did not know where his words or boldness was coming from but he felt the adrenaline rushing through his veins as he stalked around his fidgeting family as they shrunk back from their nephew. Their nephew, with the emerald eyes that were changing; almost reptilian in nature.

A Vase Exploded unidirectional away from Harry. Its shards exploding as if hit with a wave pushing them through the fireplace. Flinching away from the explosion and their nephew, the Dursley demonstrated fear.

Harry could feel a wall crumbling; he wanted their fear, he lusted for it. A primal urge to bath in their terror. He could feel himself, teetering on the brink of something foreign.

"I would never consider this… place, a home you vial little man" He felt like he had just taken a leap of a cliff, briefly enjoying the free fall into the unknown. He could feel a pulse chasing his falling self catching up with him.

'You're a wizard.. You're better than these … things. Show them their place….' Harry started to reach out towards his uncle's throat; hand outstretched and shimmering with an invisible fire.

His uncle took a terrified step back as even he could sense the hidden power his nephew's hands hid.

'What am I doing, I can't…' a small voice in the back of his mind argued. It was a familiar voice that was his… but stronger. It held resolve and indignation; it was judging… and always right.

'Show them who they have been tormenting… return their love' the other voice goaded… its voice turning into a hiss; almost laughing when it enunciated the word 'love'.

Harry's hand was half a foot from his uncle's throat and power visibly rippled of his appendages.

'So close…'

'…no'

'Just a little closer…'

'No…'

'And now he is ours…'

'NO!'

Harry's hand halted as it was about to make contact with his uncles throat. The hand pulled back and wavered before resolutely snapping from its claw shape to its more natural fist.

'What was I about to do?'

Harry looked at his relatives with the still cold snake eyes he had developed.

"You think the freaks from the train station were the only ones you would have to answer to." The other voice hissed through Harry's lips…Harry may not have known where his brash streak was coming from but he liked it. His head was swimming with thoughts of unleashing his will on these vile creatures. There was a minor throb that seemed to emanate from somewhere behind his head but it was ignored in favour of rattling the Dursley's happy little world.

"One day I will be able to do magic, and I will always remember what you two have done to me." Harry was satisfied with the rapidly paling faces and stutters.

He turned and stalked away while yelling "You can't say I never listen, I've learned how to be vindictive from you."

As he entered the kitchen, he slammed the door shut somehow knowing it was locked by magic.

He was visibly trembling, with what he was not sure.

'Breath in and out, in and out." This was his new mantra. Moments earlier Harry felt as if his entire being would relish showering in the family's blood. He could hear the other voice hiss in his ear for the screams of his only family while a more righteous voice demanded restraint. Now his mind was starting to come back to him, and the hiss was fading, but the throbbing was getting closer. It started to become something tangible as his neck spasmed and arms cramped.

'Am I having a fit?' Harry wondered as he tried to lean against the table only to fall onto the hard stone tile.

Harry tried to get up but his arms and legs moved around of their own accord often injuring himself further by slamming a limb against a table leg or punching himself in the head.

'Oh no' Harry recognized the pain that coursed through his forehead. The scar beat to the same rhythm, his limbs seemed to follow.

His scar was pounding against his scull as he wondered what Voldemort was doing that could reach him through the coveted wards of his neighbourhood. Harry managed to roll over slightly, only to look at the trailing blood stains that lead up to his forehead. Looking at a lightning bolt imprint on the white tile, he thought that the sight of blood was 'not a good sign'. Then a feeling of being blown apart from somewhere within his very soul, confirmed his prophetic fear.

:-..-..-..-..-:

One moment Harry was looking at a bloody scar print, the next he was gasping for breath looking up at the dazed looking Tonks who was shimmering with the remnants of strong magic dancing across her skin.

That could be said about most everyone in the room actually, he observed scorch marks on the walls and the same dazed look and shimmer on all the humans, present.

Everyone, who included a tired looking Dumbledore, a distraught Remus, and a previously mentioned dazed metamorph, abruptly turned to look at the youth.

They all remained silent as they watched Harry unabashedly. It started to become quite awkward in Harry's opinion.

Sitting up he posed the most logical response he could.

"Hi?"

No sooner did the words leave his mouth before Remus pulled him into a bone breaking hug.

'Moony, stop acting like a woman, you'll break my ribs" Harry struggled to murmur through the man's rumpled duster.

Apparently this was said aloud. As the former professor let go and valiantly ignored the chuckles from the headmaster as he tried to make himself look presentable.

"Good evening Mr. Potter… my, I am not as spry as I once was. I hope you don't mind if I test out your couch." Dumbledore tiredly asked as he plopped down into the love seat.

Harry was back in the living room. He felt slightly annoyed as he was dragged back into the room where he moments ago, escaped.

Harry looked over at where he assumed his aunt to be but found only air. Then he looked down and saw the two stiff figures of the Dursley's, lying side by side on the red carpet. They appeared to be in some kind of magical bind. Harry decided to ignore the two as he couldn't be brought to give a rat's ass, and informed the Headmaster to make himself at home.

"Marshmallow Harry" Dumbledore asked. Harry was about to refuse once again the lemon flavoured candies before he realized what Dumbledore said. He was never one to refuse a marshmallow and thanked the headmaster. After grabbing a handful that were in a bag suspiciously similar to the one he carried his lemon drops in, a image of a giant lemon with a sword flashed before Harry's vision, but he ignored the warning signs of insanity.

Harry was about to question the headmaster about the absence of his signature candy when he noticed the not so subtle shake of Remus's head as he stared pointedly at Dumbledore's candy bag.

Harry got the message to not ask now. Instead he asked the question that was much more pressing.

"Tonks?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you on top of me?"

Harry wasn't sure but he thought his old professor snorted before the metamorph slammed a pillow into his head.

"Oy, that's the first thing you have to say to me!" She remarked indignantly.

"Enjoy it while you can lad." Mad Eye Moody sagely added as he strolled through the entrance hall and proceeded to yell "Portus" at the V.C.R. remote as if it had insulted his mother. Harry noticed that the wall behind Moody was missing and he could see the scattered remains of the dining room table hanging from a clothes line Still aflame.

"It's just your crushing me woman" Harry defended.

"You calling me fat?" Tonks asked in a low voice.

Maybe Harry waited a fraction of a second too long but Tonks had ignored his belated "No." and started wailing on him with cushions.

'Avoid calling girls fat…' Harry noted as he shielded himself from the Auror.

"It seems, Harry that we will have to move you earlier than usual. I believe that…"

What the headmaster was about to say was cut short by Mad Eye throwing the remote with a hastily added "catch" as warning.

Harry's seeker skills seemed to fail him as he was bonked on the forehead. He was whisked away by his navel taking with him a pillow happy, Auror who was in mid swing.

Harry landed on a hard surface as he was hit again by the now red haired woman.

"Stop hitting me Woman!" Harry yelled between each fluffy hit.

"That's for… talking about… my weight… around Dumbledore" every second word, Harry was smacked every which way by the crazed woman.

"You called her fat?"

"Not wise."

"Harry!"

"It's ok Tonks I like a girl with meat on her … Ow, stop hitting me woman!"

Harry felt the soft flesh of Tonks thighs disappear as she chose to enforce her brand of justice on a fleeing Fred. George on the other hand just laughed at his twin's plight.

Harry felt the back of his head and could feel the thick syrupy stew that was dinner drip of his matted hair.

"Great stew Mrs. Weasley" Harry complimented as he ate a carrot bit that he pulled from his hair.

"Thank you Harry dear" Mrs. Weasley handed him a dish towel while simultaneously smacking Ron upside the head for crimes unknown and trying to rescue her delinquent child from the now green haired woman.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up into the twinkling eyes of his headmaster.

"What do you say we adjourn to a less excitable room while the rest, sort themselves out?" the headmaster asked, far to amused for Harry's liking. Harry wondered when the headmaster had entered but ignored the question in case Tonks refocused her vengeance on him once more.

Harry followed the aged wizard along out the entryway doors and paused to look around.

"Professor?"

"Yes Harry."

"Where are we?" Harry looked down the long corridor that was similar to an apartment or condo with panels along the walls that cast soft white light down the hallway.

"Ah, I was wondering when you would ask." Dumbledore said proudly while looking at Harry for a reaction. "We Harry are in The Citadel"

"…What's the citadel?" Dumbledore looked faintly disappointed at the reaction like his favorite toy was taken away.

"Why it's the original Headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix of course." The Headmaster continued. He seemed hopeful that Harry might finally realize where he was.

Harry looked around the well lit corridor and around a corner.

"Well it seems nicer than Grimmauld place." was Harry's reasonable answer.

Harry was certain he saw the headmaster pout before letting a determined look wash over his features.

"Come, I'll show you to a window."

They walked on for about a minute before they were met by what could only be described as a gigantic balcony, or observation deck stretching down four floors. Slanting outward to meet the window at the bottom was a paneled dome around the space.

"This is the view. As the name suggests, it is mainly a decorative feature of the citadel."

The glass paneled windows that seemed to be fogged over at the moment, while slightly ominous was not overly impressive to Harry. 'The view seems to be lacking.' Harry thought sarcastically, as he searched for something to view in 'The View'.

Dumbledore seemed to sense Harry's meagre awe.

"Let me disperse the blinds for you to see outside."

Dumbledore trotted over to where the paneled window met the rail and placed his finger on the glass as if he were to write a naughty limerick on the fogged mirror. Instead he quickly pulled his fingers back and allowed Harry to view the left over finger print.

Harry looked at the fingerprint and then at his headmaster as he waited for a reaction. Harry was about to say something when the mark quivered slightly before slowly expanding clearing away the mist in a circular sweep from one end of the dome to the other.

"Ok this is nice!" Harry admitted as he saw the scenic Scottish cove give way to a body of water that he assumed was keeping him from the mainland.

"I thought so" was Dumbledore's smug response as he looked over the scene.

From what Harry could tell, they were fairly high to get this wide a view.

"Are we in an office tower?" Harry asked in shocked realization.

"I suppose that would be what the Muggle's would refer to it as. It is built on a magical Node of course but, as are all the citadels." was Dumbledore's response as he continued to stare at a bird dive towards the beach.

"How many of these things do you have?" asked a bewildered Harry. As far as he knew a group of maybe a hundred, tops, order members could not possibly use up even these four floors, let alone the rest that must be bellow… and definitely even more towers.

"What do you mean Harry? There are of course at least three on every continent. And one near every heavily populated area." Dumbledore's puzzled expression was quickly losing its novelty as he turned to question his pupil.

"How did you get so many?" gaped Harry

"We built them of course?"

"But how did you pay for so many, and why?"

"With our fund, and to fight for the magical world of course."

"You get funds?"

"Didn't you read your guide Harry?" Dumbledore asked, exasperated with his student.

"What guide?" an equally exasperated Harry asked.

"Why your, Guide…to..."

Dumbledore paled slightly, and then he seemed to color in embarrassment "Oh…we will have to have a talk with Hagrid soon"

"Hagrid?" Harry was thrown off by his non-sequitur ramblings.

"I'll explain later but for now let me ask you…what do you know of the Order of the Phoenix"

Harry was trying to figure out where this was going but decided to allow the headmaster to guide the conversation.

"The Order…um, it's a group of, I'm guessing maybe 50 to a 100 witches and wizards, I've only met a few, oh and there's Mrs. Figg too. My parents used to be a part of it with Neville's and some of the 'old crowd'. You guys have been guarding things and trying to recruit new members…. Oh and you used to meet out of Sirius's house, though I guess you used this tower before." Harry emphasized old crowd with air quotes.

Dumbledore blinked once, then blinked again, and once more just for the hell of it. "So the only order members you know of are the Weasley parents, yours, Neville's, and a handful of other witches and wizards you've met sporadically through last year... and you thought we used to meet out of each other homes to fight the forces of darkness before I showed you the tower." Dumbledore started to smile as he was holding back a chuckle.

"Well when you put it like that, it sounds like your describing a very diverse P.T.A. but yeah." Actually that is exactly what Harry thought it was all of last year and was one of many reasons why he was so very angry with Dumbledore. It seemed that he grabbed a few well meaning friends and well wishers, and gave them a fancy name and a cause. It particularly irked him that he was being bossed around by this group, telling him to let them handle the fighting when he did more to fight against Voldemort at the age of one.

'I mean what could they do? Have Mrs. Weasley make dinner discussing all the snooping they did around work.' How Dumbledore convinced Snape to actually spy for them was a mystery to him. He was the only one who seemed to be fighting the war as loath as Harry was to admit it. Oh Harry did not trust Snape. That gleeful bastard did nothing to help Sirius.

Hermione had told him that "he probably didn't want to risk exposing himself. He is a spy after all."

Harry knew it was the reasonable answer but Harry could feel the giddy joy radiating off the potions master after the sad events of last year.

Dumbledore just couldn't hold in his hearty laugh at Harry's description any longer. "Oh my, you must have been very impressed by us then." Dumbledore laughed at his own quip.

Harry couldn't see why the headmaster was laughing but it left him feeling like he was out of the loop.

Harry waited with arms crossed for Dumbledore to regain his decorum.

"I'm sorry Harry but we assumed you would have known; I assume your friends thought the same."

"Knew what" Harry grumbled

"Harry, The Order of the phoenix is no mere vigilante group."

"You're not?" Harry asked sceptically.

"No you see Harry the Order of the Phoenix is a Confederation of Magical Brethren Sanctioned Militia."

Harry stared blankly at the aged wizard waiting for him to use smaller words.

"We are the magical army Harry." Dumbledore added kindly to the now shocked teen. An image of Mrs Figg and a grenade pin between her teeth did not seem likely, so Harry felt the urge to needle the headmaster for a better response.

"Oh… Well that makes more sense?" Harry lied unconvincingly. "So Mrs. Weasley, is a Soldier…?" Harry questioned with a side of disbelief.

"No no no… dear me we would never subject our enemies to her. That would be cruel, for them, but she does play her part. The people you met last year were mostly those we could find who could be convinced of the truth." Dumbledore clarified with a smile.

"They will remain members, some like the Auror's offered permanent positions as combatants, others like Mr. Weasley. Consultants in the fight."

"But now that we have the ability to be active again, we will begin enlisting those capable and trustworthy from across the globe."

"You see Harry, the Order has existed for a long time, since the founding of the ministries. The Order has been around to fight the big fights that threaten existence, from plagues, anomalies, and dark lords." The headmaster explained with his eyes twinkling along as if performing a jig.

Harry's hand rose as if on instinct.

"Yes Harry."

"If that's the case… why did they not step in during my first year?"

"Ah, an excellent question, and I'm afraid leads to one of the Orders biggest weaknesses."

Dumbledore took a moment to stop, crick his neck and rotate his wrist as if preparing for some intricate dance competition.

"The Order is run by a Chief Warlock, and they are, or I am directly accountable to the people. The people being represented by…"

Dumbledore patiently waited for an answer from Harry and slowly the answer did come.
"…The Ministry."

"Yes." Dumbledore beamed.

"Now to prevent corruption or wars happening with the resources of the order…" Here Harry took a now good look around him. The floors the corridors, even the doors themselves spoke of pristine discipline. The view while supposedly for décor, was practically sparse. This was not an environment he had seen in the wizarding world before. This was Professional. The Resources this one citadel had to even exist hinted at power of the kind fudge would have drooled for.

Corruption was starting to mean something different now.

"You mean on the ministries behalf…"

Tapping his nose in the affirmative Dumbledore continued "All order facilities are on a standby basis permanently. When there is no need, there is no Order."

"It is a wise decision that I cannot help but endorse but it leaves us in a pickle when the next highest authority refuses to acknowledge a threat."

"Since the defeat of Voldemort during the first war, the Order was dispersed according to its mandates and operating procedures."

"Oh, so because fudge admitted that Voldemort came back…"

"The Order came back. Yes I was certain we would eventually convince the minister but he was making it quite difficult."

"Anyway shall I show you to my conference room?" Dumbledore proceeded to guide Harry down some steps at the centre of the balconies that went down.

"Every third floor of the Citadel has a permanent healer station; they are responsible for moderate injuries. They also contain a portkey room that will transport all within to a hospital wing on the top floor. The area where you arrived were the designated suits where we hide refugees of conflict, or Order Members on duty, you will be staying in A suit 187 with Neville Longbottom and Ronald Weasley. They are similar to the dorms of Hogwarts as they have common rooms for your …"

Harry started to tune the headmaster out. To tell the truth, Harry wasn't a details kind of guy. He would listen in to the important stuff but if there was nothing to shoot, he wasn't interested. He was still reeling from the environment and the discrepancies of the order. The one he was used to before had a homey if not unreliable feel. Everything here was new and pristine. The idea that the magical world itself had an army made sense. He always assumed Auror's would take on that role but he supposed they were just the police of this society.

They passed a couple of people in black and grey coats who appeared to be scientists.

'They probably study magic; are they still scientists then? Maybe they're called Magisists… no that's stupid. Never try to name anything.' Harry was pulled out of his musings by professor Dumbledore holding open a door for him into what could only be described as a conference room.

There was a giant rosewood table that could seat at least all the members of The DA minus Edgecomb on one side. It was oval shaped with one end cut off for the Head.

When Harry took a seat to the right of Dumbledore who decided to take a less dignified seat near the windows the portion of table directly in front of the two lowered down to their perfect height while panels opened up to reveal quills and ink.

"Now Harry I'm sure you have questions about this evenings happenings."

"Just a few."

"Let me try to explain. Tom in the First War was known to the Order to perform rituals quite frequently in his attempts to gain immortality or power. We can track Ritual Magic's as it is so rare and powerful."

"Ok"

"He appears to have restarted his endeavours and this evening we detected a powerful if not distorted ritual being performed. What ritual, I cannot say, but significant nonetheless. I believe your scar bled off the magic and channelled its effects into you through your connection. You essentially were a ground for magic"

"Alright" Harry answered succinctly. Not knowing what else to say to that… Questions swam hidden in his mind waiting for the appropriate words to describe his confusion.

"Did you feel or act differently before you passed out?"

Harry decided not to mention his need to bath in the Dursley's blood. "I felt more aggressive, and got in a fight with Uncle Vernon." Harry said vaguely.

"You didn't happen to exchange harsh words to the effect that neither you nor your family wanted you in the house?" Dumbledore asked sadly.

"How did you know?" Harry asked, surprised.

"During the ritual, monitoring charms I have placed on your wards showed them being manually destroyed. Now from my understanding of the magic's at work; by vocalizing your wish to be away from them and having their agreement, caused the wards to fail. Thus allowing the ritual magic to fully enter your being and cause you to succumb to its effects."

Harry stared at his headmaster stunned. 'On the one hand this meant I have no reason to enter that house again, on the other I allowed Voldemort to…?'

"… What did the ritual do to me?" Harry could not remember anything after he passed out. Although his throat felt as if someone had taken shrapnel and rubbed it against his lungs.

"When I was contacted by a worried Mrs. Figg, we arrived to find you convulsing in the kitchen. You did not seem conscious but you were magically amplifying your voice while you were in… distress." Dumbledore did not look at Harry as he said this. He had taken to standing facing the expansive window as the sun was finishing its sunset over the rolling hills and lake opposite the Views view. Harry could not see his face but did not need to see it to know he had a sorrowful look as he pondered his young charge.

"I seem to find myself needing to apologize to you again Harry. I had not anticipated the hostility you faced at your home."

"Sir?"

"You see it was not exactly the words said but the emotion that charged them. Your family had to want you gone and you would have wanted it more than you wanted the protection afforded to you."

He seemed to shudder as he exhaled.

"That kind of…" Dumbledore paused to choose his words carefully.

"…animosity, is not something I would wish on any family"

Harry was not comfortable with where this was going. "What did the ritual do?" Harry repeated emotionless. If he was honest with himself, he no longer blamed the headmaster for placing him in that place.

It seemed that with the responsibility Albus Dumbledore had as military leader, Headmaster, Wizengamont Mugwomp, and many other titles he had forced him to choose a suitable home for Harry or let other less savoury individuals choose after his power was relinquished. 'The biggest threat at the time was and is again the death eaters, and a vengeful Dark lord. The Dursley's offered protection, and being relatives, must have seemed ideal.' Harry had forgiven the Headmaster, yes.

But he would never forget.

"Yes, of course." The Headmaster turned around with a false cheery voice as he put on a mask of a kindly grandfather.

"As you had not reached your magical equilibrium yet, your body was not prepared for the forces being directed through your magical channels. As far as we could tell at the scene you were being charged with magic that was meant to demolish standard evolutionary blocks."

Harry had no idea what the man was talking about. Although the phrase 'demolish standard evolutionary blocks' sounded like a good thing… no blocks mean less restrictions… less restrictions mean …something good?'

"Because of this, you died."

Harry did understand that though. He looked himself over as if he was looking for macabre signs that he had passed on.

An odd thought passed through his mind. 'Am I a zombie?'

Of course Harry voiced his question more intelligently. "I don't feel dead?"

Harry got the impression that the headmaster chose to phrase his sentence that way just to observe Harry panic.

"I'm sorry I should have rephrased that." Those eyes twinkled back at him with amusement.

"We were able to resuscitate you moments later but for… 13 seconds you were not with us. You should also know that all magical deaths are detected by the ministry of magic and I would assume that the wizarding world is in uproar at the moment."

Now Harry had to laugh at that. He could just imagine the headlines.

Boy Who Lived, Dead!

Defeater of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, found dead in kitchen. Possibly done in by a rusty egg beater.

The Headmaster shared a dignified snort with Harry before turning back to the subject at hand.

"This is actually an opportune moment for you Harry. While the ministry has detected your death. They cannot detect your revival, you could disappear, Voldemort would believe this as well, we could sMuggle you across borders and give you a new life, an anonymous life. Your friends would understand."

Harry paused his laughter to look at his Headmaster in wonder. He could be normal, no more press, no more Voldemort, no more expectations. It sounded like heaven.

"But what about the prophesy?" Harry asked. This little fact nagged at him. Depriving his soul a choice at happiness.

"Harry, a prophesy is not a binding contract. If you so chose to, you could escape, and the prophesy would go unfulfilled. If this were to happen The Order could fight in your place. We could win as well, we just don't have a prophesy to ensure our chances."

Dumbledore looked at Harry almost pleadingly.

"This is the secret Voldemort doesn't want you to know because he wants to have the prophecy valid. If you are the one and only person who can destroy him and he gets rid of you. No one will challenge him. But it doesn't have to be so, if you actually choose to disregard the prophecy, it will just be words in a broken bauble. Gone but for the memories."

Harry understood now that the headmaster for all his meddling in his life did not want Harry to face Voldemort to the death. The Headmaster wanted Harry to live, the Headmaster wanted Harry to be happy.

'I'll do it' Harry thought. But his mouth seemed to mangle his verbal cry to, "No thanks Headmaster."

Both seemed stunned by his proclamation.

"Can I ask why Harry, so many would give anything for such an opportunity. Why would you choose to live by the prophesy?" he looked on in morbid curiosity. As if observing a horrible tragedy that he could not turn away from.

"I …I just can't. I want to, I really do. But ….Voldemort is my problem. He has taken too much from me to run away." Again Harry felt like words were being forced into his mouth again, but this time he knew he truly believed them. For all his faults, Harry Potter would not rest till Voldemort, died at his hands.

"Revenge is not a path I would advise Harry." Dumbledore pleaded. "It is one that leaves us empty and alone in the end. I myself have seen where the path can take us."

Harry could see his Headmaster seeking revenge. For all his kind and wise words, he was still a powerful wizard who had probably seen more death in his vast lifetime than the most hardened veteran.

"I don't see it as revenge sir. I see it as justice. Besides I won't turn my back if I know I'm capable of ending his ... influence."

The headmaster looked at Harry with unreadable eyes." We are more similar than I would care to admit Harry. Know that if you should want to escape, you need only ask. I will find a way."

Harry only nodded his head in understanding and gratitude; not trusting his voice to not quiver with emotion.

With a visible effort, the headmaster regained his composure and Harry sensed that the conversation had come to its end. Back was the kindly wizard, who many would only ever see. Back was the mask of a man who had more responsibility than even he could handle.

"Now that you know the important details of what brought us here there is only one thing left." Harry did not like that twinkle at all. No he did not care for it one bit.

Harry thought about what usually happens when he had to talk to the headmaster

'Usually I get hurt somehow. Check'.

'He explains the background info. Check.'

'Then I spend the rest of the week in the…crap'

Harry turned pleading eyes to the Headmaster who smiled kindly if not mischievously.

"Yes Harry we must pay a visit to the hospital wing." This was said with such cheer that Harry almost believed it would be okay.

Almost.

AN: It is I Quazi Joe. Here is the first chapter in my story. I'm still waiting for my beta to finish editing but I decided to do a little editing myself… those of you who have read the story already can probably already see the additions and minor changes. Any criticism is still welcome as long as it's constructive. That means flames will be ignored. Since this is my first time writing I expect quite a few critics so don't be shy. Thanks to Necessary-Evil for his review. You all get a little bit of a taste of what's to come but trust me when I say this is nowhere near the main plot. I've left my summary so vague just so I can surprise you lot.

Well I think it will be a surprise at least. Oh I want to point to another author who used rituals to affect Harry through his link with Voldemort. Musings of Apathy wrote Cracked Reservoir with something fairly similar to what I wrote. I thought I should post this to make sure he gets credit for his idea as well. And here I thought I was being all creative. It's a pretty good story, even if it's Harry/Ginny.

Don't expect me to post another chapter so quickly again... I just didn't feel like sitting on this for a week.
Joe