updates for reveiw responce.

:huddy leak: You can't rush genius but i appreciate the enthusiasm!

Hey all, who knew finding time to write could be so difficult?

I'm giving a general warning: the overall tone of this book is shifting. I've been fairly tame, but from here on out, I will be far more liberal with the depictions of violence and even more things as time goes on. So, I will be upgrading the content rating to mature. I hope this doesn't cost me too many readers, but it is necessary.


Harry awoke on a dull and dark Sunday morning extremely early to a start. A loud bang had sounded outside his window, causing him to jump from bed and rush to the window to see what had happened. When he peered out into the twilit gloom, he was further startled to see glinting and glimmering shattered glass decorating the cobblestone alley and a thick plume of black smoke belching out of the now-empty holes where seconds before glass panes were fixed into the window and door.

Rushing flung the window open and stuck his head out of it before calling to the older bald man who had stepped out of the shop, hacking and coughing from the smoke. "Hey, are you okay!?"

"I'm fine, Master Potter, I'm fine." He paused to cough some more, spitting out black phlegm. "All's well."

"Hang on, and I'll come down and help!" And with that, Harry retracted his head and rushed through his new apartment, still relishing the freedom to be as loud as he wished. He opened the front door of the currently empty store under his flat and approached the older man.

Both minding the smoke, "So, Aldwin, what happened?"

"Oh, nothing. I was brewing a potion, but my porcupine quills must have been contaminated or out of date. It's hard to tell sometimes, and I'm not exactly a master brewer. I need these windows fixed, though, and unfortunately, my wand went up with my potion. You wouldn't mind helping me, would you, Mr. Potter? The charm is Reparo, with a big, wide, slow wave."

"Well," said Harry, "I've never done it before, but I can give it a go." And with that, Harry pulled out his wand and cast in a long, sweeping arc, "Reparo!" What proceeded was a loud conflagration of tinkles and tingles as the glass rose from its resting space and fixed itself in place before the cracks sealed slowly. It took two more casts of the repairing charm for all the cracks to be gone.

"Very good, Mr. Potter, very good for a soon-to-be second year. I've said it before, but I feel we must expect great things from you. I, myself, couldn't cast that charm until fourth year, but I've never had my older brother's skill with wands or magic."

Harry knew his neighbor's older brother well. The older man's name was actually Aldwin Ollivander, the youngest child of the "Ollivander Brothers" as they had apparently been known in their youth, and the only one with children and now grandchildren to carry on the name and family business. He had first met the man on his first morning in the flat, four whole days ago now.


Waking up and hearing the hum and thrum of Diagon Alley had been a surprise. He had expected to wake up to his aunt banging on his door to start breakfast, but upon waking up and finding himself the owner of the house, he left his bedroom to find Andromeda and Mrs. Granger sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee while Ted and Mr. Granger were busy packing away what must have been several hundred pounds worth of groceries and household supplies: food, spices, dishes, cleaners, soaps, bins, hampers, and organizers.

The flat had been barren when they got in the night before—only beds, couches, and chairs covered in "stasis sheets," as Andromeda had called them.

Yawning and stretching, Harry called out, "Good morning!" He walked into the kitchen dressed in pajamas that must have been eighty years old but were still pretty much new. Preservation charms were very handy, Harry thought.

"What's all this?" Harry asked, gesturing to the slowly shrinking pile of bags.

"Ooh, just a housewarming present from the four of us!" said Mrs. Granger. We woke up just before dawn and looked through your drawers and cabinets and couldn't find a single dish. The icebox and pantry were empty as well, except for that." And then she pointed towards a shiny black canning jar with a dusty white label.

Harry walked over to inspect the old stock. He picked up the jar and found it warm to the touch. He read the label.

"Charlus Potter Special Brew 1954" ~94% ABV~

This original label had been hastily crossed out with much newer ink that read, "Charlus' Lava Burst—it tastes like burning!—Sirius Black, 1978."

"Well, that's terrifying," Harry said as he set the bottle down. "Would you mind putting that up somewhere for display?"

Mr. Granger came and grabbed the bottle and put it high up on the kitchen cabinet. "That'll do for now. We can take you shopping for furniture later, or you can go yourself, I suppose. The furniture store is just out front, actually."

"Well, I'll have to check it out later today," Harry said while looking at the slightly less-than-barren flat with its ancient couches. "I'd like to get a bit more modern furniture, I think."

A few hours passed, and Hermione had finally woken up. With everyone fed and watered, the group left the apartment by the stairs leading to the vacant shop underneath rather than the stairs that led directly outside, as the balcony and stairs had rotted and were unsafe to stand on. "This store looks a lot bigger in the daylight," Harry commented, looking around. The night before, the shadows had kept everything dark and lent a claustrophobic feel to the place.

"That'll happen with old buildings like this. The shop was built along with the rest of the alley a few years after the Statute of Secrecy came about," said Andromeda knowingly.

"Hey, Hermione, what kind of store should I open up here? It seems like a waste to leave the space empty. Of course, I can't really run a shop at this point with school and everything. So it's a bit of a moot point, I guess."

"Hmm, I don't know, Harry. This store opens up into Muggle London as well. Through the back, you could open an apothecary on this side and a tea shop on the other when you graduate. But who knows, maybe a better idea will come along in a few years." Hermione said, standing behind and fiddling with the old brass till until, with a loud clanking (ching!) sound, the drawer popped open. Hermione had to stand on the tips of her toes to see into the drawer better, but she lifted the top drawer and, with a sound of surprise and an "Oh my!" pulled something out. She walked over to Harry and handed him five galleons and a note written in feminine, flowing cursive writing.

"Monty, these five galleons are the profit from the first day of this shop's business. Leave them under the till; they may bring your store luck—it certainly isn't going to do much good anywhere else with prices these days!

—Euphemia Potter"

"Huh, would you looky there? Put them back, Hermione? I don't need them, and they've been in that till since it was bought, most likely. But who were Monty and Euphemia? My grandparents were Charlus and Dorea."

"Those would be Charlus's parents, I believe," replied Andromeda. Now, let's continue to the furniture store. As much as I appreciate the hospitality, Harry, a woman does prefer her own bed to sleep in."

And so, they stepped out into Diagon Alley and proceeded to the neighboring store, "Olivanders Lomary, Fine Furniture and Decor, 392 B.C." When the owner saw a large group enter his store, it being a rare occurrence, he rushed over and tripped, managing to catch himself before he hit the ground. "Good day, good morning, good afternoon. Welcome to my family's lo—" He had caught sight of Harry, and he continued almost in a whisper, "Bless my soul. Harry Potter, here in my shop. What an honor. Mr. Potter, welcome to the Olivander family lomary, or furniture store in layman's terms. My name is Aldwin Olivander. What may I do to assist you this afternoon?"

The man, Aldwin, had a manner very similar to the man who ran the wand shop, and he looked just the same, if not younger. He had brown hair, bordering on red, flecked with gray. He was skinny but well-built, and his eyes were the same shimmering silver as his older brother's, and they shone with an inner light, glowing in anticipation of assisting his most famous customer.

"Well, I'd like three bedroom suites with queen-sized mattresses. And one of your best bedroom suites fit for a king-sized mattress. I don't know what the best type of mattress is, but I want all of them to be top-of-the-line in comfort. Also, I need a dining room set and a matching set for a sitting room with the best and most comfortable couches. If possible, I'd like a reclining chair as well. I don't know if the wizarding world has those, so I might have to buy one from a Muggle store. I'd like all the armoires and chests magically expanded, please."

"And what colours would you like? Unlike in my brother's shop, you get to pick the material here, Mr Potter. We have deep oak, dark pine, rich mahogany, ebony, yew and cherry, and stains in just about every colour you can imagine," Aldwin explained with a smile. It took a bit for Harry to look around and decide on mahogany with a natural colour stain, but when he decided he was very happy. The colour reminded him of the four-posters in Gryffindor Tower.

"And finally, to chalk up this order and make it official, how will you be paying for this, Mr. Potter?"

"How much is it? I will go to the bank right now and get it for you."

"That will not be necessary. We merchants in Diagon Alley accept many forms of money, both credit and cash. But for those people who have enough wealth, there is a third option." And then he pulls out what appears to be a gold business card.

"This, Mr. Potter, is a Gringotts vault transfer slip. As the merchant, I place my wand on it and inscribe the total cost." He does this, and 7,847.11.23 appears in the center of the card.

"Now, you just take your Gringotts vault key and tap the card, same as me." As Harry completed the action, an imprinted copy of Harry's key appeared in high relief on the card.

"And that Mr. Potter allows Gringotts to transfer the necessary funds immediately into this store's vault. Very convenient, eh?"

Harry was grinning. "I love magic!"

"Well, Mr. Potter, that's us done. Is that you who moved into the old Potters' potions shop, yes?"

And Harry's nod, the older man beamed. "Well, then, we'll be happy to deliver your furniture before closing. I'll just need an hour to check if my stock is up to par, but it should be. My sons will move the pieces, and you just tell them where to place them. That charge is also in the total you already paid."

"This is amazing! I didn't think it would be such a quick and easy experience."

"Well, Mr. Potter, that's magic for you; it makes everything easier. It's good to hear you vocalize your love of magic, young man. Too many of us take our gifts for granted."

After that meeting, Harry had gone back to the furniture store daily to fill some need of the newly furnished home: picture frames for the pictures Hagrid had given him of his parents, end tables for the couch, and bookshelves for his seemingly ever-increasing collection of books. He even went into detail and helped design three shoe organizers for the three armoires. After building one and placing it in the window as new stock, Mr. Aldwin had told Harry he had more new customers that week than he had in three years. "Witches and their love of shoes!" as the older man said.

"And what potion exactly were you trying to make? I don't think the potion to give black lung has been invented yet," the young man snarked to the accident-prone Ollivander.

"Oooh, my, no, no, no. Just trying to invent a new diamond-hard polish, one I can sell here and not mark up exorbitantly like the current producer does. Potion experimentation can be a dastardly, dangerous pastime, but worth it in the end, most of the time. Now, be on your way, Mr. Potter. I say you can still get a few hours of rest before that charming friend of yours makes it over. You said she was coming by today, yes?"

At the mention of Hermione, Harry had jumped about a foot in the air, realizing that he had forgotten she was due over today. At the same time, a large, fluffy missile whizzed out of the sky and slammed into Harry's front door.

"Oh, my!" said Aldwin. The two rushed over, and Aldwin bent down to examine what had hit Harry's door.

"This is an owl. Or maybe it was an owl. There's a letter here, Mr. Potter," said the old ploughwright as he handed the letter to Harry before returning to examining the owl on the ground.

"Oh! It's from my friend, Ron Weasley. If I remember correctly, he said his family's owl was ancient and that it collapses on deliveries all the time."

"Well, you go best reply to your friend's letter and tell him that the last delivery finished the poor owl off. And tell him to let his folks know I'll have the owl in a nice casket for him. A loyal owl deserves to be buried."

"Is he dead?" asked Harry with great concern. He knew that owls were expensive and that the Weasleys were very, very poor.

"Hmm, oh yes, you will not want to look too closely at the poor thing. Best go on, Harry. I'll take care of the owl. You go on and pen a reply to the letter and send it off as fast as possible." When Aldwin scooped up Errol, Harry saw a small pool of blood on the stoop under his door before it was vanished by whatever magic keeps the alley clean.

Harry hurried up to his room and to his new writing desk; this was only the second time he had gotten to use it. Given the nature of his reply to this letter, Harry felt the need to get out his best quill, a jet-black albatross feather quill with a dazzling silver nib, and his best ink. Properly readied with his supplies, he sat down to read the surprisingly long letter.

Well, long for Ron anyway.

"Hey, mate!

I'm sorry it's been so long since I've written. Mum had me grounded ever since our marks got back and she saw I barely passed. She only let me write to you now because we heard what happened. Dad came home the other day and told us about you getting emancipated. I swear Fred and George are acting like they want to have a go at it as well. Is it fun, not having anyone to tell you what to do or anyone to ground you for not caring about school?

I bet it is.

Have you heard from Hermione this summer? She said she went to France, but I can't reply to her letters, and Mom confiscates them, so I can't read them. I know she's sent at least four, but Mum won't let me see them. I bet she was trying to tell me a bit of what you were up to.

Dad also told us about Dumbledore. Have you heard from him since? Has he tried to contact you?

"Hope to hear from you soon, Ron Weasley."

Harry sat back and wondered how to reply. He had planned to talk to Ron about all this when they were back on the train. Well, that's as good a place to start as any.

Ron,"

Hi, Ron,

It's good to hear from you. I'm sorry I didn't put any effort into writing to you after that first time. Your reply was short, and I figured you weren't the type to write letters. So I was just going to catch up with you on the train back to school.

Before I start my letter, I must tell you that your family owl, Errol, is dead. I'm sorry, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys. He crashed straight into my door, and I think he cracked his head open. I'm not sure. My neighbor, Alwin Ollivander, took Errol into his shop. He said that he would keep Errol until your mum or dad came to collect him for burial.

onto your letter.

Yeah, being by myself is pretty good. Of course, I have my own experiences coloring that. I'm sure that if I had my mother and father, I would most likely be very thankful for them.

Don't take advantage of your family, Ron. You're the lucky one here, not me. I'd take my mom grounding me ten times out of ten rather than be here in this empty flat with only the memories of a family I never had hanging on the wall.

Well, that was depressing.

I've been with Hermione quite a bit. She was at my hearing, actually. And yes, you're right, she was likely trying to bring you up to speed on what was happening with me. It was very touch-and-go there. Without Smara's help, I'd probably be dead at least three times over. She helped save me from Dumbledore.

I was also hospitalized because of my uncle. That's what really prompted the emancipation. It was already in the works, but then my uncle lost control of himself, and I think that's what won it for me. I met a whole lot of interesting people—some you wouldn't approve of, like Malfoy's father. He's a smarmy one, I can tell you that, but decent enough if you have something he is interested in.

If your mom or dad lets you come with them to get Errol, it'll be brilliant. Hope to see you soon, and if not, at some point before school. -Harry Potter

p.s. "the furnace" is my new floo adress.

Harry then rolled up the parchment and sealed it with the wax seal at his desk. Before giving the letter to Hedwig, who was on her way, she was at once pleased to have work after nearly a week.

As Harry sat at his desk, he examined his new room. It was large, as all master bedrooms are, with a spacious en suite that included a magical hot tub. It was spectacular. His bed was a king-sized mattress, big enough that he could spread out his full length and not touch the top or bottom of the massive cushion. All the furniture was made of deep mahogany and various shades of red. The place reminded him of a furnace, and thus, the name of his home was born. "The Furnace" was now his floo address.

On his desk and on the floor next to his desk was a truly massive pile of both Ministry tax papers going back until his grandfather's death and Gringotts management and accounting forms, as well as an equally massive stack of forms from all of the Potter family businesses.

He had a little more than a month from now, till he returned to school, to hand these all in. He had decided to start on the business requests and requisitions—the various ventures wanting emergency funds for repairs that needed to be done a decade ago or requests for money to expand a business. Gringotts asked if they could change investments from one account to another to protect growth. Upon seeing that Harry had sent a letter to his account manager stating that Harry was entrusting the full financial might of the Potter investment vault to his hands and that he didn't need to ask permission to do anything, the account manager immediately planned to recoup those losses as quickly as possible. He had furthermore instructed Bloodrock to invest heavily in the Muggle side of things, especially in the world of technology and computers.

Harry's desire to return and regrow his family fortune to what it should have been did not negate the fact that paperwork was torture. Each of these Three days, he had done nothing but read and sign papers. Sometimes, I discovered a few packets later that what he had just signed wasn't necessary anymore because the business closed or reached a workaround for acquiring the funds needed. He still sent in and submitted those forms anyway, just in case Gringotts needed them. But today, he wasn't touching those papers. He had a guest, or two if Ron showed up with his parents to collect the owl.

Harry didn't quite understand why he was so excited to see Hermione. They had been writing at least twice a day since she and her parents left that first day on Harry's insistence.

"I need to get used to being on my own anyway. You all go home. I'm perfectly capable of cooking my own dinner."

Casting a quick Tempus Charm, Harry saw that the time was 11:27, so he went about making a light breakfast of bacon and egg sandwiches. As he sat down to eat, another owl landed on his table and dropped a letter from its beak before taking off again. Harry had expected a reply from the Weasleys, but it was a letter from the DMLE.

"Hmm, I wonder what they want," thought Harry.

"Good day, Mr. Potter.

The DMLE requests that you come in for an interview regarding your upbringing in the House of VErnon DursLey and Petunia Dursey, as well as a few quick details about the DuMbledorE case. We will send an Auror to escort you to the Ministry tomorrow morning at 10 a.m. sharp.

-Emilia Bones, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,

Harry sat the letter down and began eating, thankful to have something to look forward to tomorrow as well. As he finished eating, he felt a slight niggle from the wards and, with a bare thought, allowed the party requesting access to his Floo, and a second later, three people stood in his parlor sporting identical shades of flaming red hair, but the tallest among them was balding on top. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ron had arrived.

"Hey, mate!" Ron ran up to Harry for a crisp high five, sporting a bright smile.

"It's good to see you again. Sorry about the letters, oh," he cut himself off and looked back at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"This is my mom and dad. Mom, Dad, this is Harry Potter, my best mate."

"It's good to meet you, Harry, dear. This is a fine flat you've found for yourself. While I can't say I approve of such a young man living on his own, I can at least see you're being sensible and taking care of yourself," said Molly.

"And I can see why you've called this place, 'The Furnace.' Goodness, I haven't seen this much crimson since I left Hogwarts!" Mr. Weasley said jovially.

"Molly and I will leave Ron here for the day if that's alright, Harry. We're here to take Errol back to the Burrow, which you should know you are more than welcome to come to anytime you like, especially if you want a home-cooked meal," Mr. Weasley started, and Mrs. Weasley finished the declaration, waiting for Harry's assent before stepping out of the side door to the recently replaced stairs.

"So," said Ron. "What are you up to today, mate?"

"Oh well, not much waiting for Hermione to get here; she can't take the Floo, you know."

"Hermione's going to be here? When did you set that up?"

"When she and her parents were last here the day after my hearing, "

"Oh, sorry. I thought she had been over a lot or something."

"Nooo, not for lack of trying, mind you, but her parents want to spend time with her as well, I think. They went up to Edinburgh yesterday. She mentioned feeling some hidden magic around the castle but couldn't find anything with Muggles around."

"She can feel magic? She said, 'Feel?'"

"Err... yeah? Why can't everyone?"

"Harry, only truly powerful sorcerers can sense magic like that. I think Dumbledore is the only person known to have this talent in Britain this century. Wait, are you saying that you can as well?"

"Err, well, yes, I can. Sort of like a static charge in the air?"

"Wow, two people who can directly sense magic. Cool..." They sat in an airy silence for a minute before Ron spoke again.

"So, what do you have for fun over here?"

"Fun? Ha. I haven't had much time for fun since I got here. Refurbishing. Refinishing. And restocking the entire house. By yourself, even with magic, isn't easy. Not to mention my second day here, people from the Ministry and Gringotts dropped off a few stacks of parchment work about three meters thick. Each." Harry pointed back to his bedroom where the heavily laden desk was clearly visible through the doors.

"Whew, well, I can't say I envy you there, mate. Well, let's go to one of the shops down the alley. Dad gave me some pocket money."

"I can't run; I'm waiting for Hermione. Remember, we can go check out the shops after she gets here," said Harry sternly.

"Oh, alright then. Well, tell me more about what's been going on. Dad told us about the hearing and all, but what started it? Have you seen or heard from Dumbledore since then?"

"No, I haven't, but a wizard like Dumbledore? He could be sitting in the room, and I probably wouldn't notice him." And they sat at Harry's kitchen table, and Harry recounted the events of his summer, including the two times he had apparently died but had been resuscitated.

And with that, a few hours passed, and there was a loud knock at his door.

Upon answering it, a great, fluffy missile impacted Harry and knocked him off his feet, taking him and the large tangle of hair to the ground. When the weight settled on him and his best friend sat up, revealing her beaming face, they both laughed. "Sorry, Harry! I didn't mean to knock you down. Hello, Ronald."

She stood up, and Harry was astounded. "Hermione, your hair has grown."

"Of course it has. Hair is always growing. Don't you know anything?"

Harry pursed his lips at that. "Yes, I'm aware hair is always growing, but I don't think it's natural for your hair to grow a full foot and a half in four days." Hermione's hair now hung well below her waist, maybe even reaching the middle of her thighs as it tapered down. But it was no longer a bushy mess but neat, orderly coils of bouncy hair.

"You are, of course, correct, Harry. It is not natural," she giggled. "I'm trying a hair treatment that will get rid of the tangled, bushy nest my hair is naturally. Unfortunately, the side effect is that your hair grows insanely fast for the week after the treatment. It was all the way down to the ground, but I've always liked my hair long, so I cut it to this length, and my hair will never again be a bushy mess! I love magic. Another downside is that I'll have to wear my hair in buns or braids forever if I don't want it tangled in everything, but it's a small price to pay."

"Well, you look good at any rate, Hermione," said a beaming Harry. "What would you like to do today? Ron suggested going and looking at the shops, which I have to admit sounds good. I haven't had a chance to do that just yet."

At this point, Smaragein comes barreling out of wherever she was hiding and leaps at Hermione, coiling herself around the young woman's waist, arms, shoulders, and once lightly around her neck, hissing nonstop.

"HERMIONE, little lion, you must never leave me alone with this insolent runtling for so long ever again! How am I to have any worthwhile conversation with you gone off somewhere?"

Hermione, giggling the while, replied to the snake, "Hello, Smaragain. I see Harry has been neglecting you, as usual." The snake nodded. "And it's obvious he hasn't been capable of giving you the kind of stimulating conversation you so obviously need."

Smara looked up at the ceiling in a way that was meant to mimic an eye roll.

"You know," said Harry. "I still can't decide if you can actually understand her, Hermione. Is there a way I can tell if you're a Parselmouth as well and just don't know it?"

"Of course not, Harry. I think I'd know if I was speaking an entirely different language."

"Why? I can't. It just sounds like English to me."

"Well, I suppose I can say that Smara and I communicate through the power of female intuition," Hermione explained, giggling.

Smara, still coiled around Hermione's shoulders, shrunk down further so that she wouldn't weigh the young witch down as she stood up and dusted her clothes off. Not that there was any dust. Harry very quickly swept the room with a dust-expelling charm, as he did at least twice a day.

Some habits from Aunt Petunia were hard to break.

"Well, Harry, to answer your question, I would like a tour, Harry. I haven't seen everything you've added, and you're absolutely dreadful at describing things in the right detail."

Oh, alright. Well, we'll start here then.

As you can probably tell, I had you in mind for this room. I had the windows enlarged for more light in the daytime as well as eight large gas lamps around the room with special glass and enchantments that make them all even brighter than they would be normally. Apparently, St. Mungo's uses the same ones. But this will make reading day or night a very nice and relaxing time. There are plenty of books, shelves, and shelf space. It's mostly empty now, but I figure with me and you, and maybe Ron, we will be clamoring for shelf space soon enough. Ron snorted at this.

"As if, Harry, you know I hate reading."

Harry shrugged at this. "Hogwarts offers a lot of classes, Ron. We might not take the same courses in the future, and you can store your extra coursebooks here if you want. That's all I was saying."

And with that, Harry went through the rest of the flat and showed them all the upgrades he had made or, more accurately, hired someone to make. He showed them the hideaway shelves under the kitchen counters, the hidden drawers in some of the walls, and explained the odd bits of furniture that were not part of the package suites he had purchased and which problem they solved, like the Muggle-inspired shoe organizers or the long, tall, and thin table in the hallway whose only purpose was to hide the old knee-high radiator that Harry had kicked on his second morning. They gathered in the sitting room after Harry showed off his master bath with a magical whirlpool bath and walk-in shower to discuss their next options.

"I say we go check out Gamble and Japes! They're supposed to have a whole new line of Dr. Filibuster's fireworks and the latest Trick Sweets."

"Alright, then. We'll start there."

" Well, how can i disagree with cuaseing the twins' mischief? Hermione?"

"Okay, alright. But we were stopping at Scribbulus. I'm almost out of self-correcting ink."

Ron looked at Hermione, his eyebrows crinkled and eyes wide.

"How do you go through so much ink, Hermione? I know you buy ink refills by the pint, but it takes me a year to go through that much."

"It's a side effect of correcting your homework so much, Ronald. If I didn't have to write correction notes for you so much, I'd save a fortune on ink!" Hermione snapped out, furiously.

"Hermione, that's only half true, and you know it. You said yourself your notes are too long." Harry stopped their bickering with a placating tone.

"That is also true. I'm sorry, Ron. I'm just a bit off lately."

"It's alright, Hermione. I get it. I live with my mother and little sister, and they both get techy every now and then as well. I'm sorry I upset you, though."

And the trio set off through the alley, but something was off. Being Harry Potter, Harry was used to people's faces following him or even people following him, and almost everyone stared as he walked by. But Harry had caught sight of the same middle-aged man in a black suit and trench coat almost 10 times now in the corner of his eye as they looked into the various windows and shops they passed, staring at him, always never taking his eyes off of Harry. As they stopped in front of another window that Hermione was admiring, a rather tasteful knee-length skirt, Harry spoke up in a low murmur. "Someone's following us." On three, let's book it four stores up and into a right-side alley. Wands drawn. One. Two. THREE. On three, Ron and Hermione booked it forward, but Harry turned and shouted, "Expelliarmus!" As thick white smoke shot out of Harry's wand, he took off running, casting the spell behind him for a second, cutting it off just as he dipped into the alley his friends were in, wands facing forward. People, adults, and children were running, scattering, trying to escape the smoke. Always a wise precaution in the wizarding world. A second later, that same man came running into their alley and was hit at once with two "Petrificus Totalus!" and his arms and legs snapped together and to his sides, and he crashed down, his eyes going between the three wildly. While Ron was casting the Emergency Summon spell, that had two peacekeepers there within seconds as they were examining the smoke in the alley already.

"Whoa, whoa, what's this, then? You lot wouldn't know what happened out there," the peacekeeper said, throwing his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the rear of him where the thick smoke Harry had summoned was drifting out on the wind.

"Er, yeah, that was me," said Harry.

"I saw this guy watching us and following us, and well." Harry showed his scar. "I'm a bit offput by people following me, if you catch my meaning." At that, Harry looked at the older man.

Only, there wasn't an older man. The other peacekeeper had cast a Finite at him, and in three seconds flat, his cousin Tonks was there, lying on the ground and looking sheepish.

"Wotcher, Harry."

"Tonks?" the younger peacekeeper said. "Just what are you doing?"

"Following orders and shadowing Harry, you know who is after him at the moment. Jinx, the boss lady, has a few Aurors shadowing Harry just in case the old goat shows up and tries to blow up his house. Not that he needs it. Apparently, it was a nice show, you lot setting up an escape and ambush like that in under a minute. Fantastic instincts."

"Do you mind letting me up, Doyle, or am I under arrest?"

"No, no, not this time, Auror Tonks. But I'd work on your concealment skills if three kids spotted you that easily."

"Well, it wasn't just three kids, was it? It was two kids: Harry Potter, and I bet Hermione is there somewhere as well. She's never far from Harry. Trust me, Harry is hard to hide from."

"But Tonks, I don't understand something. I got a letter from you lot this morning telling me that I was going to be brought to the Ministry tomorrow to answer questions about the Dursleys and Dumbledore."

"..."

"What?" said Harry.

"... what? Repeat that in more detail," replied Tonks, all levity forgotten.

"I got a letter this morning saying that Madam Bones wants me to answer some questions about how the Dursleys raised me and about something to do with Dumbledore, and that she's sending someone along to escort me to the Ministry tomorrow morning at 10."

"Harry, the Dursley case is closed, and Madam Bones has been absent from the Ministry since Monday. She has not notified any of us about bringing you in to answer questions or clarify anything, and if she had, she would have just told the three of us watching you to ask you at your home instead of dragging you all the way across London!" At that, she perks up. "Doyle, jinx, go clear the alley now, immediately." She then casts a Patronus. "I want back up in Diagon Alley between Twilfit and Tatting's and Mrs. Maria's. Now! Possible Level 5 response needed immediately!"

"Keep your wands out, you lot, you might need them. If that old codger was sending someone to nab you, Harry, and he sees that you've spoken to me, he will probably try to—" An explosion rent the street in front of them, and five figures apparated into the spot that the peacekeepers had just been. Two of them raised their wands and sent two bolts of white light at the heads of the prone figures of Doyle and Jinx. The twitching of the wounded peacekeepers stopped.

Then another figure appeared and stared at the four in the alley. "Good day, Mr. Potter. If you would be so kind as to surrender your wand, my compatriots and I won't have to slaughter your friends in front of you."

"Never! You can sit on your wand."

"Dumbledore, you can put your wand down and surrender. I have the entire Auror Department coming, and I have the Black family blood shield raised. You can't touch us. You can't touch Harry! Surrender now, and they might spare you the Dementors and throw you straight to the Veil."

"Nymphadora, how nice to see that you have the courage to face me. Maybe you were missorted, but you cannot fool me. You must be in the Black family to use that spell, and you are not." And Dumbledore took a few steps forward and cast an unknown spell at Tonks, but it rebounded on the caster, and the old man barely avoided it and the follow-up curses that Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Tonks had fired off. Dumbledore and four of his henchmen moved away unscathed; the fifth, however, was hit by Tonks' spell and fell to the ground, his arms outstretched behind his back and his forehead digging into the ground before a white bolt of energy entered the back of the stranger's head.

"You insolent whelp!" yelled another of them and stepped into the shield, trying to grab Tonks, who was standing in front of the kids. But as soon as he made contact with the shield, two things happened: he was repelled and disintegrated, leaving nothing but a thick cloud of black dust lingering in the air.

"I told you lot to stay back, drop your wands now, and surrender, and you'll be shown mercy."

Dumbledore spoke, then ignored Tonks. "Harry, my boy, you must come with me at once. Your meddling has undone over a decade of plans. You are meddling with fate at its deepest level. You must come with me so that I can guide you on your way to your destiny! I don't want to hurt your friends or you. You are destined to defeat the Dark Lord, and only I can show you the way."

'THE ONLY DARKLORD I SEE HERE IS YOU!

SMARA KILL THEM!"

And at that, Smara grew to over half her full size and let her shining yellow eyes free from their protective lenses. Dumbledore stood still, staring at them impotently and angrily, but the three remaining cloaked figures dropped to the cobblestone road dead, like marionettes whose strings had been suddenly severed. At that same time, the sky seemed to crack, and people began Apparating in so fast it was like being surrounded by machine guns.

Albus Dumbledore drew a round object from his robes and threw it into the middle of the alley.

Pale skin, blond hair, and a gaping mouth.

The severed head of Amelia Bones.

"Susan Bones is in my custody. If you wish for her safe return, capture the boy and bring him to me. Fate cannot be trifled with by an adolescent."

"That's enough, Dumbledore." Harry stepped forward and cast as strong a Cutting Charm as he could, and to everyone's surprise, his charm made contact and severed the wand arm of Albus Dumbledore.

As the arm and wand clattered to the stone below their owner, black sparks shot out of Dumbledore's wand as it made impact with the ground.

"Accio wand!" Tonks yelled out, but the wand did not soar to her hand. Instead, it seemed to curve in mid-air and land in Harry's open lap, shooting out white sparks at the touch of the young wizard.

Dumbledore stuck his left arm into his robes and disappeared in a flash of blue light, contrasting with the red light from the more than a dozen stunners that sailed from the space he had once been.

Tonks very quickly dispelled the shield and ran forward to check on the peacekeepers. Hanging her head over the body of the man she called Jinx, who had obviously been her friend, she noticed the kids hadn't moved. They couldn't move. Harry and Hermione clutched each other in a death grip. She approached them after conjuring two sheets to place over the officers. The Aurors, who had apparated in, were already examining the scene in full investigation mode. "Are you lot all right?" Upon their nodding, she simply nodded as well. "Harry, you're an adult technically, but Hermione and Mr. Weasley here aren't, so we'll need to summon their parents before we can question them. Come on, we'll go to the DMLE interview rooms while we wait. Everyone, put a finger on the badge. And three, two, one." She tapped the center of her badge with her wand, and with a sensation like getting hooked behind the navel, they all disappeared into a blue light, the same as the old goat had minutes prior.


Okay, like I said, the tones and themes of this book are about to get a lot more bleak and far more traumatic for our young hero..

also i think this is my longest chapter so far i apologize for taking so long eith it but it kind of ran away from me.