Chapter 1:
Harry woke on the morning that he would be boarding the Hogwarts Express, and heading off to his Fifth year at the school that had been a second home to him since before he could remember, with an ache in his chest and a slight bit of nausea in the pit of his stomach. After everything that had happened at the end of the last term, Voldemort returning, Cedric being killed, he wasn't sure if his beloved Hogwarts would ever feel the same. Cedric and Harry hadn't been close, which his friends kept on reminding him constantly like it was meant to help. But no one deserved to die that young, or that way, no one. And no matter how he tried, he just couldn't get the memory of it all to stop replaying in his head over and over again.
If he had been at home, his wake up call would have been his Aunt Minerva sharply rapping at his bedroom door, and sternly, but fondly, reminding him to double check his packing before coming down to breakfast. But this summer had gone a little bit differently, and he was not at home with his aunt. After the term had ended, he had stayed with his aunt, who for the most part he just called Professor McGonagall while they were still at Hogwarts, had stayed at the castle another two weeks as they normally did, so that Minerva could finish up all of her grading before they returned home. But afterwards, they'd been home less than a week, when his Aunt had surprised him by asking him if he would like to spend the rest of the summer at Order Headquarters with his Godfather, telling him that she thought it would do him good. He had apparently doing a worst job of hiding just how depressed he was than he thought it seemed.
But he'd supposed she was right, being surrounded by his godfather, and the rest of his friends and makeshift family would probably be better than spending the rest of the summer alone and left to his own devices. And despite the fact that his life for the past two months had consisted of Order meetings (half of which he had not been allowed to attend), and helping Mrs. weasley clean out his Godfather's childhood home while listening to the Black Family House Elf and the portrait of Sirius' horrid mother mutter (or in Mrs. Black's case scream) profanities about the filth that now inhabited the house of Black, Harry felt much less hopeless. But then, being surrounded by the entirety of the order, the entire Weasley clan, and most of his best friends, would probably do that for someone wouldn't it?
It was true that the one of his best friends that was not present at Grimmauld Place, was also the one that he'd not heard from at all since the last day of last term, and that had been worrrying him a great deal. But he also knew, and Hermione had reminded him multiple times, that circumstances in the Malfoy household were probably making communication with people Draco was not meant to be friends with quite difficult. And he knew his very best friend was more than capable of fending for himself when he needed to. Of course, this knowledge had not stopped him from harassing the members of the order, with help from Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, for weeks to at least look into Draco's welfare. They knew that he was alive, and seemed alright, but nothing concrete. So truth be told, despite his misgivings about returning to school this term, Harry was partly relieved that he would be able to see for himself soon how his best friend was.
Which led him back to waking up. At home, Aunt Minerva would have woken him with a sharp rap at the door. But this morning, he felt himself being shaken, while a familiar female voice, much younger than that of his Guardian's, urged him to get up. Opening his eyes slowly, he found himself looking into a set of eyes the exact same shade of green as his own, paired with long fiery red hair that was tickling his face. He'd been told often that he and his cousin Dahlia had the same color eyes, and that Dahlia had the same color hair, that his mother Lily had had. But they'd learned from Aunt Minerva, who'd done some research at their request, that the red hair and green eyes had originally been inherited from their Great Grandmother, and that this was who Dahlia, and Lily, truly looked like.
His cousin had not been at Headquarters when he'd gone to bed the night before, and to be honest, he'd been almost as worried about her as he'd been about Draco. Her parents weren't Death Eaters, in fact they were muggles, but his aunt and uncle were incredibly cruel, and they hated anything to do with magic. They hated it so much in fact, that as soon as Dahlia had shown signs of magic, which his Aunt Petunia recognized from when her sister, his mother, had shown her own first signs, they'd done a complete switch in the way that they treated their daughter. Instead of continuing to spoil her to an unhealthy amount, which they did with her older brother Dudley, they began to treat her instead like trash that they just couldn't seem to get rid of.
Harry was honestly surprised that they hadn't abandoned her somewhere at this point, but apparently they took pleasure in tormenting her. She put on a tough act, keeping herself almost completely closed off in front of most people. But there were a select few, a small group that included himself, which she allowed her walls to come down in front of, who she actually let in. Harry could always tell when she wasn't doing too well, and this morning, this morning was no different. She didn't just look sad, she looked exhausted, completely drained, as if she hadn't slept for days. But somehow, despite this, as she she sat here looking down at him, she was still giving him the smallest, yet the most genuine, of smiles.
"Alright Dahlia?" he asked her softly.
"I am now," she replied simply.
He nodded, but frowned slightly all the same.
"What time did you get here?"
Her smile remained, but her face tensed just slightly. It would have been barely visible, if at all, to most, but Harry knew her too well to miss it.
"I think it was… four in the morning? Remus and Tonks… they came and got me, them and Moody. Gave Mum and Dad a right scare actually, it was quite brilliant really."
She was trying to make it seem like things at home were better than they were, trying not to worry him. But he was sure that they both knew she was failing at this miserably.
"Day," he said, using the nickname that very few besides himself used, "do I want to know?"
Her eyes glossed over then, and he knew that his normally tough as nails cousin was fighting tears now.
"No," she stated, "you don't want to know. So please don't ask Harry."
If there was one thing that Harry knew about Dahlia, it was that it was never the best idea to push her further than she was ready to be pushed. If and when she wanted to talk about it, she would, she would find him and start the conversation herself. But until then, pushing it was a waste of time on his part. He had learned this from previous experiences over the last few years.
"Well, now that you're up," she spoke again, changing the subject with ease, "Molly told me to tell you that breakfast is ready, and that we'll be leaving for the train station shortly after."
He nodded his understanding, giving her a warm smile. After she'd delivered the message, she got up and made her way out of the room, saying something about dragging Ron out of bed now, and leaving him to get ready.
Entering the dining room shortly after, Harry placed himself in an empty seat between Hermione and Dahlia, and across from Ron, Ginny, and the twins. He was trying to keep all his emotions and worries from his face, but Hermione had always been able to see right through him.
"Draco will be fine Harry," she whispered, taking his hand and squeezing it tightly, "You'll see that for yourself in just a little while, as soon as we get on the train and find him."
He nodded ever so slightly, squeezing her hand back. He didn't say thank you aloud, but he knew that Hermione knew that he was thinking it. Just then, Sirius came bursting into the room, grumbling under his breath, and sat on the other side of Dahlia. Blinking at his Godfather's apparent bad mood, he gave Hermione a questioning look.
"Any idea what that's about?" he murmured to her softly.
"He wants to see us off at the station, in his animagus form," she replied, just as quietly, "but Molly and Moody are against it."
Harry nodded his head in understanding. He knew that Sirius was sick and tired of being cooped up inside this place constantly, never able to go out in public as his name had not yet been cleared of Peter Pettigrew's crim. He didn't blame him for wanting this small excursion, and as long as he was careful to stay a dog the entire time, and not slip into human form, he really didn't see the problem with the idea. He made a mental note to speak with Molly after breakfast and plead his case.
Just as he'd had this thought, Molly came through from the kitchen, levitating platters of food along in front of her. With a flick of her wand, she set them down on the table, before sitting in the empty chair at the end.
"Well," she said, looking at all of them, "What are you all waiting for? Eat. Especially you Dahlia, have those people even been feeding you?"
Dahlia's strong facade faltered there for a moment, as she muttered softly "Barely," and stared down at the table.
Molly frowned at this, before flicking her wand a second time, causing one of the empty plates to fill itself to the brim with food, and then slide itself in front of Dahlia. Everyone else took that as their cues to start filling their own plates, and start eating.