A/N:

Hi, new chapter! I'm glad a bunch of you liked the first one :)

I want to mention that there will be no bashing in this fic, at least not the kind you normally see in the fandom. Characters make mistakes, and some are just downright evil, but they won't be overly satirized for no reason.

Thanks for reading, and feel free to give me feedback in the comments :)

"And you're sure you didn't see who killed Vernon Dursley?" Dumbledore asked. "Not even a glimpse?"

"Nothing," Harry lied. "One minute I was on the floor being beaten, and the next he was nearly falling on top of me. Whoever did it was gone by the time I recovered."

Dumbledore exhaled and rubbed his temples tiredly, and the sight made Harry feel both guilt and vindictive satisfaction in equal measure. He knew it was petty and potentially dangerous to withhold important information from Dumbledore, but his anger was trumping his better judgment at the moment.

The Hogwarts headmaster had left Harry in the dark all summer, only to show up on his doorstep in the blink of an eye when something happened to Vernon. If it was so simple for the man to reach Harry, couldn't he have at least checked in a few times to update Harry on the state of the wizarding world, share information about Voldemort, or even just stop by to make sure Harry was getting enough to eat?

And if that wasn't bad enough, Harry had realized over the course of their conversation that he had been kept under constant surveillance since school ended, watched by those loyal to Dumbledore to make sure he was 'safe'. Hadn't his hidden protectors seen him toiling long days in the Dursleys' garden, tending to the flowers at risk of being punished by his abusive relatives? Or trying to dodge the stones that Dudley and his gang threw at him while he worked? Did that fit under their definition of 'safe'?

And when genuine mortal danger did arrive at his house in the form of an axe-wielding psychopath from France, what were they doing? Gabrielle had time to kill his uncle, lecture him about her own brand of reductionist morality, and get out before any of Dumbledore's people had even seen her.

All this to say, Harry was seriously doubting the competence of his supposed allies, and was holding on to a fair bit of pent-up resentment towards them as well. He found keeping a secret of his own helped him feel like he had some modicum of control over his life, as ridiculous as it sounded even to his own ears. He would see Gabrielle brought to justice in time, but for the moment his petty revenge was taking priority.

"Thank you, Harry," Dumbledore said eventually, standing up from his seat. "I will continue to look into the matter. In the meantime, I think it would be best if you stay here until school starts – it's where you'll be the safest."

"And where is 'here', exactly?" he asked with more than a hint of bitterness. "Tonks refused to tell me until you got here."

"I'm afraid I must leave a proper explanation to the others; there are still some urgent affairs to which I must attend today."

Harry sighed disappointedly as the man headed towards the door. Maybe if Dumbledore had answered some of his questions, he'd have been willing to answer some in turn.

"Oh, and Harry?" Dumbledore said, pausing on his way out of the room. "One last thing. You've just been through a traumatic experience – you'll find friends and family within these walls, and I implore you to talk to them about it. You mustn't try to bear the weight alone."

With that, the old wizard left, leaving the door open behind him.

And all things considered, Harry thought that was a pretty nice thing for him to say.

"Harry!"

He had only been exploring the house for a few minutes when a Hermione-shaped torpedo hit him in the chest, hugging him so tightly he thought his ribs might crack. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting to find as he toured the seemingly uninhabited place, but his muggle-born best friend had not been it.

"Hermione?" he gasped out, still crushed in her potentially lethal embrace. "What are you doing here?"

"That's what we should be asking you," she replied in a rush, finally letting go of him. "We've been here all summer – you must've just arrived! No one told us you were coming today, otherwise we'd have gotten something ready for you. Oh, Harry, I'm so glad you're here, we've been feeling so guilty. You must be cross with us-"

"Slow down, Hermione," a voice chuckled from behind her. "He's not going anywhere. Unless you are, mate?"

Harry looked behind the girl and saw his other best friend, Ron Weasley. The sight of the two of them put a few puzzle pieces into place in his mind, and the frustration that had been steadily fading since his conversation with Dumbledore returned in full.

He had exchanged letters with his friends this summer as always, but their writing had been sparse and they had intentionally withheld any information about the wizarding world or Voldemort. He had assumed they were simply busy at The Burrow, and didn't know much more about anything relevant than he did, but apparently he had assumed wrong.

"So what is this place, exactly?" Harry asked, trying to push down his anger. "No one's given me a clear answer since I got here. Is this where we've been staging the resistance against Voldemort?"

Hermione nodded, happy to explain. "This is the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix; a society Dumbledore founded during the last war. The house itself is actually the ancestral home of the Black family. Sirius offered it up to be used as a base of operations for the Order, now that they've been reformed in the wake of you-know-who's return."

Harry gritted his teeth. His suspicions had been correct; while he was wasting away in Little Whinging, his two best friends had been at the center of the war effort here at the place Dumbledore called 'headquarters'.

"And no one bothered to let me know any of this?" Harry asked, looking between his two best friends critically. "I get Dumbledore, and maybe even Sirius, but I'd have expected at least you guys to be on my side here! Don't I deserve to know what's going on?"

They exchanged sheepish glances, and Harry clenched his fists.

"We tried, mate," Ron said earnestly. "We really did. But Dumbledore made us swear not to tell you anything. We kept asking him to let you in, but he always refused."

"And since when did we start listening to everything we're told?" Harry demanded. "We'd all be dead several times over by now if we did!"

"We were scared," Hermione protested. "We're at war now, and we wanted to rely on Dumbledore…"

He scoffed derisively. "Well I don't know where you've been, but I've been at war since I first entered Hogwarts. For that matter, I can't remember the last time I ever felt safe, even before I found out I was a wizard!"

Hermione looked on the verge of tears, and Harry almost felt guilty. Or rather, he did feel quite guilty, but his anger was temporarily overriding his need to apologize.

"That's why we didn't tell you anything," Hermione murmured, wiping at her eyes. "We really wanted to, but Dumbledore told us you'd be safer this way."

"Yeah? Well I guess that shows how much Dumbledore knows, doesn't it. I watched my uncle die in front of me this afternoon, you know. And it could've easily been me, whether you sent me a proper letter or not."

At that revelation, his friends froze.

"Wait, what?" Ron asked, dumbfounded. "Are you serious?"

"What, you think I'm joking?" Harry replied. "It's probably the only reason they brought me here in the first place!"

Harry got hit by another Hermione torpedo, causing him to almost fall as he stumbled backwards. For a moment he thought she was trying to attack him, but she was openly sobbing into his chest now as she gripped him.

"We're so sorry, Harry!" she hiccuped, her words muffled by his shirt. "We've done everything wrong, and you haven't deserved any of it!"

Ron just stood there looking genuinely afflicted, which by Ron's standard, was an even larger emotional outburst than Hermione's was.

Harry held on to his anger for a moment longer before breathing it out, reluctantly wrapping his arms around Hermione and patting her back. He hadn't totally forgiven them yet, but they were still his best friends, and it was sort of hard to stay mad at them when they were just trying to look out for him.

Not longer after, they moved down the hallway and found a small sitting room with comfortable seats to talk in. Hermione and Ron told him everything they knew about the Order of the Phoenix, and what they had been up to that summer. Apparently they hadn't been allowed in on any of the Order's meetings, and had only gleaned information thanks to Fred and George's eavesdropping attempts. Apart from them, Harry was heartened to learn that Sirius and Remus were also residing in the house, as well as several other people he knew and liked.

When they were finished catching him up, Harry filled them in on the same story he told Dumbledore; essentially the truth of what had happened to him that afternoon, excluding Gabrielle. He had planned on telling them about her, but he found the lie came quite easy to him thanks to his earlier practice, and he was still rather cross with them.

In any case, he'd have chances to tell them later.

Fresh tears were back on Hermione's face by the end of Harry's story.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," she said, putting her hand on his knee. "Even if you weren't…close, with him, it can't have been easy to watch him die…"

"I'm not sure," he shrugged hesitantly. "I keep expecting it to hit me, but I'm starting to suspect it never will. I care about the injustice of it, of course, but I think I have to admit that I'll never really feel his loss on an emotional level…"

"What do you mean by 'the injustice'?" Ron asked.

Harry's face twisted, trying to figure out how to explain himself. "Vernon wasn't a good person, I can promise you that," he started. "One of the worst I've met, to be perfectly honest. But still…for someone else to think that they get to decide who lives and who dies based on their own morality…it's the height of arrogance."

"So you do think the killer was there for him?" Hermione asked, still sniffling. "You don't think you were the intended target?"

"I don't think so. Whoever killed him had ample opportunity to finish me at the same time."

The group continued to sit in silence for a while, until eventually Ron stood from his chair with a sigh.

"Well, damn. Looks like we're in for another great year, huh?"

Hermione gave him one of her 'you're being insensitive' looks, but Harry just nodded.

"It can always get worse," he said. "In fact, it usually does."

The Order of the Phoenix had started their conversation sitting calmly around a large wooden table, but by now most of them were fidgeting, standing, or pacing around the room nervously. Sirius had pulled a bottle of something from a shelf and was taking long swigs.

"You said there were no traces of magic?" Alastor Moody asked. "The man was killed through muggle means?"

The grizzled ex-auror was one of the few in the room who had maintained his cool and was still sitting at the table, though the deep lines in his face were creased in thought.

Dumbledore nodded. "He was struck once in the back of the head with a hatchet; it was still embedded in his skull when I arrived."

"That makes things difficult," Moody said callously. "It means the suspect could be anyone under the sun with enough strength to swing an axe."

The group fell back into an agitated discourse as they continued puzzling over the summer's newest mystery. In many ways, it would've been much simpler - though far more dire - if it was Harry who had been attacked. The number of people who wanted the boy dead was select, and the motive would've been easy to assume. Today, however, it was the boy's uncle who was killed, leaving him untouched not even a meter away.

"Dumbledore, if I may?" Remus spoke tentatively from the corner. "Is it possible it was Harry himself who killed him? We know his relationship with the Dursleys was rocky, and-"

"Nonsense!" Sirius shouted over his friend. "You know Harry – he wouldn't do anything like that!"

Remus shrunk back, feeling guilty. He knew verbalizing the thought would get him into trouble, but it was nevertheless on all of their minds. He had seen the sheer hatred on Harry's face when he confronted Sirius at the end of his third year - back when he still thought Sirius had betrayed his parents - and it was one of the easiest explanations for the case at hand.

"I'm not saying I think he did it," he clarified contritely. "I'm just asking if it's been ruled out for certain."

Sirius scoffed and turned away. "Well you'd be able to rule it out for certain if you knew the boy at all."

"We can't rule out anyone," Moody cut in. "Sometimes one bad day is all it takes for a nice boy to snap – I've seen it before."

At this, everyone around the table started to voice their personal opinions on whether or not they thought Harry was the killer. Most of those who already knew Harry spoke in his defense, rallied by Sirius, while the skeptics were led in spirit by Alastor.

After a minute or so of fruitless debate, Dumbledore sighed. They wouldn't get anywhere like this.

"I've already spoken to Harry," he announced loudly, silencing the group. "And I am quite certain it was not him. I will not say that he is no longer a suspect, but I agree with Sirius in this case; it is not in the boy's character. Additionally, the circumstances of the scene suggest heavily that there was a third person in the room when Mr. Dursley died, and the front door showed signs of forced entry."

Arthur Weasley, who had already voiced his belief of Harry's innocence, scratched his palms nervously. "But will that be enough to convince the ministry?" he asked. "It's no secret they have it out for Harry, and they could try to use this opportunity to get him exiled from the magical community…"

"For that matter," Molly added, "maybe it was the ministry that did it in the first place! We've all seen what they've been printing about you and the boy – it could've been a set up!"

The ministry employees in the room looked fidgety at those particular accusations, but also couldn't refute them outright. The Ministry of Magic had been acting rather shifty as of late, and nothing would surprise them at this point.

"I don't think the ministry has fallen so far as to assassinate a muggle," Dumbledore declared. "Not yet at least. But you are right; they would have undoubtedly used this opportunity to frame Harry. That is why I have already taken steps to ensure that Harry is not wrongfully convicted while we continue to investigate this matter on our own."

"Well that's a relief," Molly sighed. "Heaven knows the last thing the boy needs on his plate right now is a criminal trial."

After a moment of collective silence, Tonks spoke up. "But then, who else would have a motive to kill Harry's uncle? The Death Eaters? If it was them, wouldn't they have just taken Harry at the same time?"

"Maybe they had planned on it while he was unguarded, but decided to retreat when you arrived?" Arthur proposed.

Molly put her hands on her hips. "Which leads us to another issue – Mundungus Fletcher! What was he doing throughout all of this? We were only so lucky that Tonks arrived in time to rescue Harry, but the killer broke in during his shift!"

The room devolved into smaller, harshly spoken conversations at that, and Dumbledore rubbed his temples once again.

He imagined the real situation was much more complicated than anyone knew. While Mundungus' oversight was a major problem, the blood wards that protected Harry from Voldemort should have prevented any Death Eater from entering the Dursleys' home with malicious intent. The protective magic had originated from Lily Potter's sacrifice and was then strengthened by Dumbledore's own designs, creating a defensive power the likes of which had never been documented by the magical world before.

Which means whoever killed Vernon did it with no intention to harm Harry, Dumbledore reasoned. But were they aware of him, or was it simply a coincidence?

Dumbledore dismissed the thought; he had lived too long to believe in coincidences. He knew how the Dursleys treated the boy, and while he wasn't happy about it, the protections on the house were too valuable to pass up. To anyone uninformed, however, killing Vernon might have seemed like a simple solution to a complex problem.

Yes, he thought, nothing else makes quite as much sense as this; the killer knew Harry, and most likely knew him well. Someone who thought they could help Harry by murdering his uncle, and was willing to commit such an atrocity for the boy's own sake…

Dumbledore frowned. A few names came to mind, but each was as unlikely as the next.

Who could it be?

Gabrielle Delacour sat in her room, talking to her collection of dolls. They had been her best friends for most of her life, and she was rather loath to leave them next month.

"Will you miss me when I'm gone?" she asked them, positioned in a circle around her.

She grabbed the nearest one, Polly, and made its head bob up and down as if it were talking.

"Of course, Gabby!" Polly replied in a squeaky voice. "But we're also so happy for you. You'll finally get to be with your beloved!"

"You're right! And thanks for understanding, Polly."

She reached over and made another one, Rufus, tilt its little head.

"You'll be taking some of us with you, right?" it asked, a gravelly voice this time.

"Some of you, yes, but I can't bring you all. Though I wish I could."

A lilting, androgynous voice spoke from a few dolls down. "You'll take me, won't you Gabby?"

Gabrielle turned her head towards her favorite doll and smiled.

"Oh Sammy," she said fondly. "Of course I will. I would never dream of leaving you behind."

There was a knock at Dolores Umbridge's door, and she looked up from the stack of papers she was organizing.

"Come in!" she called.

The door opened, revealing one of the ministry's newest interns. His name was Cameron, and she had rather taken a liking to him.

"Madam Undersecretary," he started, closing the door behind him as he entered. "I have news about the, uh, 'special project' you tasked me with."

Dolores smiled. The boy was effective, ambitious, and obedient; he'd go far in the ministry, she'd make sure of it.

"What is it?" she asked. "Anything we could use?"

"I'm not sure," he replied. "But I still thought you'd like to know. His uncle died at home earlier today; the reports were filed just now."

Umbridge's eyes widened in excitement. "Was the boy there?"

"The reports say he was working in the front garden when it happened, and eyewitnesses saw him run inside upon hearing a loud noise from the house."

"Is there an angle for us to open the case?" she asked eagerly.

Cameron shook his head. "The muggle police ruled it as a carpentry accident, and magical forensics arrived on the scene a few hours ago to confirm there was no foul play."

"Magical forensics?" she inquired, narrowing her eyes. "Which auror led the team?"

"It was Kingsley Shacklebolt, Madam. It would be nigh impossible to open the case now, which is why I was hesitant to bring you the information in the first place…"

"No, you did a good job coming to me," she said slowly. "We might not be able to charge him with anything, but we can still use this…"

"What were you thinking, Madam?"

The Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic tapped her chin thoughtfully for a moment before replying.

"Schedule a meeting with one of our contacts at the Daily Prophet," she said eventually. "Tell them I have one of those 'juicy scoops' they love so much."