Warning: In this and the following chapters, there are adapted phrases from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
A Wind of Change
Harry woke with a start. The Order's advance guard was here… or at least they would be in five minutes at most.
He quickly packed the few belongings he had taken out of his trunk and perfectly cleaned Hedwig's cage with a quick flash of magic. Slinging the trunk over his shoulder as if it weighed no more than a feather, he grabbed the cage with his other hand and headed down the stairs. He placed his luggage in plain sight so they could depart as soon as the advance guard arrived.
It wasn't that he didn't want to be alone with this time's Tonks… or maybe it was. He dismissed the thought.
Looking around, he ensured everything was in order and that he hadn't forgotten anything, then turned on the lights. He didn't want to find himself at a disadvantage like the last time. He certainly wouldn't stay at the top of the stairs like a prime target ready to be hit.
He knew they weren't his enemies, but the members of the Order didn't know that, and improving his position would only gain him a bit more respect from them.
"Or maybe their suspicion," a little voice in the back of his mind added.
Sitting on the couch in the living room of Privet Drive, Harry began to reflect. For the first time in three days, he wondered if he had actually travelled back in time or if he had ventured into a parallel universe or something else entirely…
He started meditating, attuning himself to his magic. Examining the magical ripples created by reality itself, he came to the inevitable conclusion that he had travelled back in time.
This wasn't a parallel universe; if even a single atom were different from his universe, the magic would have sent different signals. Or at least it had when he travelled back, up until his arrival three days ago.
He could already feel that he had caused quite a bit of interference that would significantly alter the timeline from what it would have otherwise been.
So, everything that had happened up to August 3rd was identical to his timeline. "I deduce that even this Harry would have formed a soul bond with this time's Tonks," he thought, a slight frown crossing his face.
"And if I get caught up in this again?" Harry told himself he wouldn't betray his Dora even if a bond formed between him and this time's Tonks. Maybe he would explain the situation to her, helping her understand that he wasn't the right person for her.
What he hoped, though, was to avoid the situation altogether. That's why he shouldn't spend too much time with her, to avoid triggering the bond's catalysts.
"Who knows," he reflected, "maybe with the disappearance of the Harry whose place I've taken, the possibility of the bond forming has vanished. After all, our souls, while sharing half their existence, are otherwise completely different."
The thought saddened him. His younger counterpart was dead, probably because of him. He had an entire life ahead of him, yet he lost everything.
He wondered why all this had happened. He was sure he had died. Why had his soul ended up in his teenage body?
Maybe one day he would find the answer. What he was sure of was that he would live and defeat Voldemort; he owed that much to the Harry whose body now housed him.
Then, after Tom's defeat… he pushed the thought aside. He couldn't even imagine making a life for himself here.
All he could think about was the war against the Dark Lord. He couldn't even conceive of reliving his teenage years.
Well, he was sure he wouldn't be as moody as before. As much as he didn't want to reveal he was someone else, he had no desire to pretend to be the fifteen-year-old Harry from back then. He hoped that by changing his behaviour thoughtfully, everyone would just attribute it to typical teenage behaviour and nothing more.
His train of thought was interrupted when he felt a magical alarm in the back of his mind. Nine magical signatures, six belonging to wizards and three to witches, triggered his warning spells.
He recognized each signature perfectly. The advance guard was here!
He immediately dispelled the spells before Moody could detect them with his magical eye and quickly masked his magic.
Suppressing his magical levels to those of an average teenager, he crossed his palms on his knees and lowered his head in slight anticipation.
There it was. The sound of the door opening echoed through the silent house.
"Knocking would have been more polite." He still wasn't used to this tone of voice. He thought he had left such a thin voice behind, but he still had it.
The door swung open, and wizards and witches poured inside.
Extending his magical sense imperceptibly, he examined each of them, both visually and by sensing their magic.
Moody was the same as always: very vigilant, a bit grumpy, always ready for a fight… Remus was more emaciated than ever, but that magic was his. Calm and composed, like few Harry had ever met.
Despite the werewolf not possessing formidable mental defences like those of wizards of the calibre of Dumbledore, Snape, and Harry himself, he had a remarkable control over his emotions. Probably his little furry problem had forced him to focus on that aspect of his education.
The others were just as they were. Shacklebolt, very reassuring; Diggle, as excited as ever; Vance, Doge, Jones, and Podmore, simply composed.
Wait. Not everything was as it seemed. There was someone else who was different. It was Tonks!
Recalling the event from his teenage years, he remembered the Metamorphmagus had bright purple hair. Now it was a dull brown, and her face was devoid of the radiant smile that could pull Harry from the deepest of depths.
Even her magic felt different. Not too much, but there was some difference. Moreover, she seemed to have a bit more magic than she should have had at that moment.
The difference wasn't great, but it was there. An uncomfortable thought crossed his mind. And if she too… he quickly dismissed it. It was a completely improbable event, indeed an impossibility. He hadn't yet understood how he had travelled back, let alone if the same had happened to his lost soulmate.
He quickly looked away as Moody spoke:
"We were in a hurry," he said gruffly. "Besides, we can't afford to attract too much attention."
"How are you, Harry?" Remus continued. His parents' friend seemed genuinely worried about him.
Lingering on him for a moment, the image of his body lying in the Great Hall of Hogwarts during the battle flashed before Harry's eyes.
"Pretty good," Harry replied. "I've thought a lot about Cedric's death, and I hate Tom even more than before."
"Tom? Who are you talking about?" one of the others interjected. "By the way, I'm Sturgis Podmore."
"Tom Marvolo Riddle, Voldemort's real name."
At the sound of that name, a series of whispers spread through the group while most members grimaced and/or flinched. The only ones who remained apparently unperturbed were Moody, Remus, Kingsley, and Tonks.
To lighten the atmosphere a bit, Remus took it upon himself to introduce Harry to all the members of the advance guard and explain the reason for their arrival.
"I suspected Dumbledore would send someone to pick me up," Harry declared. "That's why," indicating the trunk with Hedwig's cage on it, "I've already packed."
He hadn't purposely taken the broom out of the trunk. After all, he wasn't supposed to know they would be leaving by flight.
"Wait a minute," the retired Auror exclaimed, turning to the werewolf. "How can we be sure he's not an impostor?"
"Harry, what form does your Patronus take?" Remus asked in return. "A stag," the boy replied. This was the answer Remus wanted to hear.
His Patronus hadn't actually been a stag since his bond with Dora had formed. During that period, it would randomly switch between his stag and Dora's jackrabbit, a similar situation for the Metamorphmagus. Since he had lost her, however, its form had permanently settled on that beautiful and tender jackrabbit, and it had become really difficult to summon it.
Not that he had used it much, not when he had learned to deal with Dementors in more permanent ways and had found alternatives to send messages.
In extreme cases, he was well-versed in illusion magic, and creating the physical form of the stag Patronus wouldn't have taken much effort. Or at least its physical form. As for the sensation the Patronus itself emanated, he would have to put in a bit more effort to simulate it.
Anyway, he was confident he could fool almost everyone, except maybe Dumbledore.
"It's him," Remus declared confidently. "We'll wait for the signal, and then we can go."
"How exactly will we go?" Harry asked.
"By broomsticks," Remus replied. "It's the only way. You're too young to Apparate" if only they knew "the Floo Network will be monitored" besides, connecting the Dursleys' fireplace to it would take forever "and it's not worth setting up an unauthorized Portkey."
As last time, the Order members began inspecting the Muggle appliances while Moody asked Harry for a glass of water to wash his eye.
With all the preparations done, letting Remus place a letter on the table explaining things to the Dursleys, Harry looked around one last time. He doubted he would ever return to this place. Who knows, maybe by next summer, Voldemort would already be just a dark and terrible part of history.
Moody proceeded to Disillusion Harry. "Lupin says you have an Invisibility Cloak, but you can't wear it while flying; this will hide you better."
In reality, the power Harry had received from the Hallows could conceal him far more effectively than any Disillusionment Charm, and if he wanted, he could extend it to cover the entire group.
He didn't want to reveal this ability, though. It would only raise suspicions among the others. "All in good time," he thought. "It's not the right moment for this."
The old Auror relayed the group's organizational details as the wizards moved into the garden.
Tonks secured Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage to her broom, and after a reassuring word from Kingsley to dismiss Moody's paranoid warnings and the flashing of red and green sparks on the horizon, the advance guard, accompanied by Harry, took off.
Break
Flying felt different. He no longer experienced the lightness that used to delight him whenever he wrapped his legs around a broomstick.
The last time he had felt something similar was when he fell from the Astronomy Tower. He would never forget that sensation: the void in his stomach, the feeling of spinning in the air as he lost all sense of direction…
Despite riding the fastest broom in the world, he felt hindered. For a long time now, he could fly without a broom, and he could do it more than ten times faster than his current speed.
His eyes darted frantically left and right, while a spark of magic flashed through his eyes to pierce the deepening darkness.
Nothing would escape his vigilance; it had become second nature to him by now.
Over the years of his travels, he had participated in several battles and missions of various kinds, which made the events of the magical war against Voldemort and his followers seem like walks in the park.
These experiences had developed, enhanced, and refined numerous instincts within him.
Wizards and witches flew around him like a flock of birds; the cold grew increasingly hostile, but Harry had endured worse. He could have cast a warming charm on himself, but perhaps it would attract Moody's attention and suspicion.
As they flew, a long gust of wind suddenly swept through the group. It was cold, icy, like the feeling one gets in the presence of Dementors.
But wait, those creatures weren't here, were they? Harry's fears were dispelled. The sensation passed immediately, leaving only the memory behind.
The other wizards shrugged it off as if it were just a particularly cold breeze, but Harry knew better. Perhaps it was just something like that, but his senses kept warning him… something was coming; if not now, soon everything would change.
Leaving the dark forebodings behind, the tangled mass of headlights, streetlamps, chimneys, and TV antennas that represented the city of London came closer below them.
The group descended quickly in a rapid dive, landing in the small square of Grimmauld Place.
The place was all too familiar to Harry. In recent years, he had returned here often and found refuge. It hadn't been the same after Kreacher's death.
Soon he would meet the house-elf again and help him complete the task assigned to him by his beloved Regulus.
He immersed himself in the magic. The house of the noble and most ancient House of Black shone like a beacon. A series of peculiar spells layered by countless generations of Blacks over the centuries had left their mark.
Although the house was protected by the Fidelius Charm, which prevented Harry from pinpointing its exact location, the spell couldn't hide the imprint that had been marked for centuries.
After turning off all the surrounding streetlamps with Dumbledore's Deluminator, Moody handed him a slip of paper with a very familiar thin writing: "The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London," and everything happened. The magic became at least ten times more impressive as Harry watched the house swell between numbers eleven and thirteen.
Immediately a feeling of disgust rose in his stomach as he sensed the unpleasant magic of Riddle.
The man's penultimate Horcrux was here, and soon it would meet its end.
Harry quickly climbed the worn stone steps, waited for Remus to open the door, and entered.
Immediately the house's magic wrapped around him like a tender and warm motherly embrace. Among other things, he had learned to master both the Potter and Black magics, both strong in his blood.
For a moment he felt the possibility of taking control of the house, of Kreacher and everything inside it, but he let the sensation slip through his fingers.
Although very reluctantly, Sirius was currently the Lord Black, and Harry didn't want to attract any suspicion.
As Moody restored the lights to their rightful places, the square glowed orange for a moment before the man shut the door behind him, leaving everyone in darkness.
Author's Note
And that's another chapter done! I didn't expect to finish it so soon. I apologize in advance if it's shorter than usual, but I had to stop it here.
The hardest part for me is writing the dialogues. I apologize if they're not very rich or realistic.
For now, it seems quite similar to the canon, but soon there will be big changes!
I'd like to thank everyone who has favourited, followed, and reviewed my story! You truly fill me with joy by doing so. Thank you!
Regards from Landar!