SentinalSlice: good question. read on to find out!
"Who d'you think this Nate is?"
"No clue. Could be from Surrey. You should ask him."
Harry's head was heavy. It weighed his entire body down like a cold anchor, unwilling to let himself up. His skin itched and he tried to breathe slowly.
"Why don't you ask him?"
"I'm not an idiot."
The voices in the room were familiar, but Harry's eyes were sewn shut from this intangible force holding him down.
Someone was holding his hand.
What?
The cold palm grew warm with his touch.
Who was holding—
"Stew's growing cold."
"I'll warm it up when he wakes up."
Mrs. Weasley's carrot stew. Harry pushed against the invisible force, head slowly tilted to the side. Someone gasped.
"Harry? Are you awake? Does anything hurt?"
"Give him a minute, Hermione!"
"I'm just checking on him!"
"He's doing fine," a third voice said. "Take your time, Prongslet."
His stomach protested at the thought of food, but his mouth was drier than it had ever been. He needed something.
"The lights are dim, can you open your eyes?"
It took Harry a few minutes to really understand what was happening. He wasn't alone. The voices were of Ron, Hermione, and Sirius. This didn't console him as much as it should have.
"He…" his voice cracked.
"It's alright," Sirius soothed him. "I've got a straw here. Get a sip of the water."
The straw poked his chapped lips.
Cold wetness touched his lips.
What?
Tears.
Harry recoiled. What was going on?
"It's warm water," Sirius said, now sounding a little worried.
Someone was crying.
Harry was getting tired of this. He made fists of his palms and shifted his entire body to the left, rolling onto his side. He pushed himself up and a pair of hands held onto his shoulder.
He shoved them away.
"Okay, okay," Ron placated him. "You got this."
He finally peeled his eyes open and found them staring back worriedly. Harry made a face.
After an entire month of no contact, he's supposed to be glad to see them? Bollocks to that.
He pushed himself up and shoved the pillow to the side, taking in the room. It was an oddly old house hastily cleaned with some Scourgify spells. Not the Burrow though. Harry peered out the window and found bright sunlight streaming peeking in through the gap of the thick curtains.
He smelled dust. This house ached him. He scratched his arm, nails picking harshly at the dry skin.
Sirius offered a glass with the strange straw.
This time, when it touched Harry's mouth, no strange sensation assaulted him. He emptied the glass and set it aside.
"Well?" he croaked.
"How d'you feel?" Hermione asked, hesitating.
"Spiffy. What's this about?"
"We picked you up early," Sirius explained. "We figured that was for the best."
Harry stared back. "Where's Hedwig?"
"With Pig," Ron shrugged. "She wasn't eating anything at first, but Fred got her to try some of Pig's treats."
Harry frowned. What pig? Hedwig preferred premium owl treats. He had a hundred questions bursting in his throat like firecrackers.
He asked none of them.
Sirius rewarmed the cold stew with a tap of his wand and Harry quietly drained it. His taste buds flexed and worked slowly. His stomach made him stop after the bowl was half-empty.
"When are you sending me back?" Harry asked, pushing it away.
"Not now," Sirius sighed. "Moony agreed and Dumbledore…"
The words fluttered away from Harry's ears and he shook his head. Of course, they'd be sending him back. It was a stupid question to begin with.
Harry dropped back to bed and turned his back on them.
Sirius paused. "Does anything hurt?"
Tears streaked down his cheeks.
"Of course not," Harry muttered. "What did Dumbledore say?"
"He… he mentioned that until the hearing, you're to stay here."
What hearing? Harry frowned at the wall. "Are you going to tell me everything?"
"Harry," Sirius sighed and the long, complex answer was packed into his name with unfixable knots. "We'll tell you everything possible, but you're not part of the Order, so—"
"Got it."
"You're upset, I can understand."
"Stop talking."
Hermione inhaled sharply. Sirius paused and Harry closed his eyes, trying to relax. He figured they were murmuring behind his back, but that was nothing new.
"We'll call you down for dinner in a couple of hours," Sirius finally said.
When Ron yelled at his back about dinner being ready, Harry had made his decision. He figured they'd keep to the same excuses they had all summer. So he wouldn't ask anything.
He'd never been in this house before. It was a derelict place, probably abandoned until the "Order" began living here. All the Weasleys except for the eldest three brothers were in the house. Hermione was also here but her parents weren't. Sirius and Remus were in the kitchen, setting out the plates. A cloak was thrown over a chair piled with old clothes near the side. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were levitating heavy dishes onto the table. A few other adults mingled by the chairs.
Everyone stopped and watched him.
Harry stared right back. "Am I leaving after dinner?"
Remus frowned. He shot Sirius a look and the man blinked back, surprised. "I told him! Harry, I mentioned you aren't going back to Surrey right now."
Harry nodded slowly. "So, after dinner?"
"I meant not today!"
"... tomorrow?"
Remus spoke up, "Harry, you're staying here for the next two weeks. Once Dumbledore sorts everything out with the hearing, you'll go straight to Hogwarts."
Harry sighed. He had no idea what they were talking about.
"So… I'm going to Surrey after two weeks?"
Remus was a little alarmed now. A pink-haired witch raised her eyebrows and muttered, "I told you we should get him to St. Mungo's."
Harry glared at her. "I won't ask anything about your precious Order! Just tell me when I'm going back to Surrey!"
"In eleven months!" Fred yelled from outside the kitchen. "So there's no need to panic, Harrykins!"
Months? What were they on about?"
"Why?" he blurted.
Mr. Weasley stepped forward. "Do you want to go back there?"
Harry scratched the inside of his wrist, desperate to get out of there. Everyone was staring at him.
"I have to go back," Harry said slowly. "That's where I'm supposed to stay. Have the rules changed?"
"Just for this summer," Remus explained. "You'll be staying at Grimmauld Place for two weeks."
"And then?"
"Hogwarts."
It was July, wasn't it?
"Why?"
Remus showed his open palms. "How about we eat now? We'll answer your questions after dinner."
"I have only one question," Harry insisted. "Why am I going to Hogwarts early?"
Hermione interjected now. "It's mid-August, Harry."
Harry glared. "No, it isn't."
"Yes, it is," Mrs. Weasley whispered. "You must be hungry, dear. We can explain this after—"
"It's not my dinner time," Harry snapped. He wanted to tear the skin off his arm.
"Alright, when do you eat?"
"Why isn't it July?"
"You were attacked by dementors," the pink-haired witch announced. A bunch of others protested, but she continued. "They got too close to you and your cousin. You both collapsed. He's fine now. We brought you here and you were in and out of it for a long time. It's the middle of August now. We brought all your stuff here with you. You aren't going back to your aunt's house until after the end of your fifth year."
Mrs. O'Leary helped with the shadow-traveling. Nico, Will, Hazel, and Lou arrived near an empty shack on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. It had been late afternoon when they'd left Camp Half-Blood, but the sun was setting now in this remote village in Scotland.
Lou whistled. "There she is. There's the castle."
Hogwarts wasn't as stupid as the name suggested. In fact, Nico heard Will's sharp intake and absolutely understood why Lou had been adamant about joining the quest. Just for the view. The magical castle towered over a dark lake, its grand towers reaching for the stars. The crisp air shimmered around the stone walls and Nico embraced the cool summer night that added to the magic.
"Sweet," Percy's voice echoed from behind them. Nico rolled his eyes as his cousin came into view, holding hands with Annabeth, while Mrs. O'Leary flopped onto her belly and yawned wide enough for a human to stand in her jaw.
"It's a true Gothic collision," Annabeth said in wonder. "It's got a mix of Medieval Gothic and Norman Romanesque, but there's also some Revival themes going on. I mean, those spires—"
Percy dropped his arm around her shoulders. "We can stare at the castle a little later, Wise Girl. But we gotta focus on this. Neeks, what's your game plan?"
"Don't call me that," Nico sighed, jerking his head toward the shack. They followed him inside, and Lou lit up the tiny room. Hazel laid out a large, soft rug that thankfully covered the dirt-ridden floorboards.
Annabeth set down her tab and opened Lou's online version of Hogwarts: A Revised History along with a document with all her notes. Percy dropped to the rug and stretched his long arms while Will set his handy bag of med supplies to the side.
"Hazel has an idea to build trackers for each of the Hallows," Nico began. "So she's going to spend a day on that. Will and Lou should stay with her while she does it so she can concentrate on that. Percy, Annabeth, and I will check out the village and find out everything we can about Albert Doubledoors."
"Dumbledore," Lou said, exasperated. "He's a pretty big deal."
"S'why I don't trust him," Nico replied. "Thanatos mentioned him by name, so he's definitely involved in this more than I'd like."
"Is he really a hundred years old?" Will wondered. Lou nodded eagerly.
Percy whistled. "So wizards aren't human? Century-old humans tend to not be so…"
"Ambulatory," Annabeth smirked.
"Yep. Totally, what I was gonna say."
"I'd say they're like an enhanced version of humans," Hazel said. She placed three compasses in front of her and was thumbing through an old book. "They don't have ichor, but their blood has the magic gene that Hecate would have blessed their ancestors with. I'm just really surprised that they don't know anything about the gods."
"Mom said she'd run into a lot of problems a couple of millennia ago," Lou shrugged. "Could be why she created the Mist to hide us specifically from all humans, even witches and wizards."
"That should make things easier for us," Nico said. "Haze, are the compasses our trackers?"
She nodded. "They will be once I can isolate the pull of the Hallows and imprint that onto the compass needles."
Nico peered into the closest compass. It had a black base and a clear glass top. The tiny needle inside shone bright gold, now pointing north.
"Did you make these needles?" Annabeth wondered.
Hazel grinned. "Yes! I figured that would be the best way to get them to obey my magic even when I'm not around. It should last much longer too. Just don't touch the needles directly."
Nico shuddered. He'd heard stories about people meeting unfortunate ends after holding one of Hazel's cursed gems.
"Disguises," Will reminded Nico.
They went with a good, strong age—25. Nico and Will shot up like they'd been hit with an overpowered growth spurt spell. Percy too crossed a few inches. Hazel and Lou staggered around after being stretched a half-foot. Annabeth didn't so much lengthen than strengthen. She examined her new muscles and Percy also poked fingers into her biceps.
Lou went about changing their hair. Nico watched as Will's blond, bushy tangles went brown and straight like dead grass. He hated it.
"Just for the quest, Nico," Will smiled softly. He carded his fingers through Nico's dark-blond curls.
"I ought to change our faces," Hazel said, admiring Annabeth's golden box braids. "We're still kinda recognizable."
"We know each other pretty well," Percy explained. "First-timers will be more caught off guard by our clothes than our faces. Lou says all witches and wizards wear cloaks."
"Alright, then. Get some food on your way back."
"We're sure he doesn't actually live in the village, right?" Annabeth asked Lou.
"Dumbledore lives in England," Lou said, certain. "But he stays here 9 months out of the year."
"Yep." Nico got to his feet. "Someone here ought to know something about Bumblebee."
"You're just messing with me now," Lou muttered.
Will pecked Nico's cheek and sat beside Hazel while Lou went about casting protective charms around the shack. Percy and Annabeth followed Nico out onto the village grounds.
"We're going by beliefs," Hazel explained. "The wizards believe that the wand would have been the most powerful Hallow."
"Even though it's just a story to them?" Will asked.
"There are true believers," Lou reminded him. "The wand was associated with violence, blood, death, and power. I did find an old magazine article talking about the deathstick, but it didn't mention the other objects."
"The most powerful Hallow," Hazel emphasized. She closed her eyes and held her palm over the first compass.
Will swallowed. The air had gone heavy, drawn to her hand like a soft breeze. Lou fell silent, eyes growing wide. The golden needle of the compass glowed.
It pulled them.
Will gasped and clutched the rug before he actually fell face-forward. Gravity changed and warped around the compass and the needle began to spin. Will's bag and Lou's books were dragged toward the compass and they scrambled to catch them.
Hazel tugged her hand away and everything relaxed. The shack creaked.
"Ooh!" Lou gasped. The gold needle was pointing southwest now. It shook and trembled in the glass case.
"That was easy," Hazel said in surprise. "The wand had a really distinct feel."
"Nice!" Will cheered. He checked Annabeth's tab and found the description of the stone. "Okay, the Resurrection Stone will have a lot of death and sadness around it. Loss, failure, and coldness."
Hazel nodded. "Cool."
She held her palm over the second compass and concentrated.
Nothing happened.
Lou frowned. She shared a look with Will. Hazel grunted, her forehead crumpling up. As a 25-year-old, she looked like she was trying to lift something really heavy. And failing.
"Ooof!" Hazel grunted. She flexed her fingers. "It feels hidden. I can sense it, but I can't catch its trail."
"Could be in a different country?" Lou hedged.
"Thanatos mentioned they were all the UK," Will said. "We're pretty far up north, the stone could be all the way south of England."
"It's not the distance," Hazel huffed. "There's something stopping me from latching on to its power."
She tried again, face denting from the pressure. Her arm shook and the compass trembled under her intensity. The needle wobbled in its case but there was no change to the gravity. Hazel accepted defeat and went on the third compass.
"Alright, the Invisibility Cloak is supposed to be the subtlest one," Lou explained. "It has the least information, but the cloak is about generational lines and familial bonds. Less about power and magic, more about covertness."
"Security," Will nodded.
"Love," Hazel whispered. Its gravity was by far the strongest. Hazel found the trail and embedded it in the compass just as the shack groaned and the walls actually tilted inward.
Lou threw up a barrier to prevent the roof from caving in and Hazel picked up the third compass, watching it spin and point south.
"Thanatos wanted this one last," Hazel murmured. Will agreed, recalling Annabeth's conversation with the god.
"To be handed over willingly." Will nodded. "But the stone's gonna be a problem and Thany wants us to get that first."
"I'll have to concentrate harder for that," Hazel figured out. "I'll probably have to head south."
By the time Nico, Percy, and Annabeth were back, Hazel was marking points on a map.
"Dumbledore doesn't actually live in the castle," Annabeth explained. "His house is somewhere west of England. And we can contact him by sending an owl."
Will laughed. "Seriously?!"
"They still use owls?" Lou asked. "The older books mentioned it, but I didn't realize…"
"Owls are smart," Annabeth said, her nose in the air. "We can find a postal owl and send a letter. If Thanatos visited him, he'll acknowledge us at the least."
"He could ignore us," Will shrugged.
"If he's as smart as the rumors say, he won't," Nico pointed out. "We split up. One team sends the letter and tracks down the wand. The other searches for the stone since that'll take longer. Then we take the cloak at the end."
Harry was quiet all through dinner. He pushed the food around, his non-existent appetite straining his poise (or lack thereof).
He finally pushed the plate away with a disgruntled huff.
Mrs. Weasley winced. "You've barely touched your food, Harry."
Yes, Harry thought furiously. I can see that!
"Maybe you'd like some tea instead?"
Harry pushed his chair back, letting the legs scrap sharply over the wooden floorboards.
"Harry, we'd like to talk to you," Sirius said. His voice was sharper than Harry expected. The man must have wised up, not willing to let Harry play the victim.
"I don't want to talk to you," Harry fired back.
"Not even about Voldemort?" Sirius asked.
The atmosphere in the room changed with the rapidity Harry associated with the arrival of dementors. Where seconds before it had been slightly tense, it was now overly alert and strained. A frisson had gone around the table at the mention of Voldemort's name. Remus, who had been about to take a sip of wine, lowered his goblet slowly, looking wary.
"What's the point?" said Harry indignantly.
"You need to know some things."
"He's too young!" Mrs. Weasley suddenly snapped. She was sitting bolt upright in her chair, her fists clenched upon its arms, traces of worry gone.
"Since when did Harry's age ever protect him?" asked Sirius. "He's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen—"
"Hang on!" interrupted George loudly.
"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" said Fred angrily. "We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!" said George.
"I got just one question answered," Harry muttered, remembering how his brain had nearly short-circuited when Tonks had spilled the beans about his dementor attack.
"You're too young, you're not in the Order," said Fred, in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother's, totally ignoring Harry. "Harry's not even of age!"
"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing," said Sirius calmly. "That's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand—"
"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" said Mrs. Weasley sharply. Her normally kindly face looked dangerous. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"
Of course, Harry thought, his own temper stewing.
"Which bit?" Sirius asked politely, but with an air as though readying himself for a fight.
"The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know," said Mrs. Weasley, snapped.
Harry stood up and walked out of the room. He had no illusions. Even if Sirius wanted to say things, Dumbledore had made things phenomenally clear. If they chose to keep him in the dark, Harry would keep them in the dark as well.
He ran up the stairs despite voices calling out for him.
Nate. Why're you crying?
Memories flitted across his head unbidden. Memories he didn't remember experiencing.
"Who's Nate?" Harry asked abruptly.
He was on his back, paging through the worn family album Hagrid had gifted him years ago. There was no one in there who seemed like a Nate.
Ron and Hermione paused in the middle of their fifth chess run. After a week of chosen silence, this question from Harry had startled them enough to not feel annoyed that he hadn't helped them in fighting cleaning the house.
"Umm," Ron mumbled. "Not sure. Is he in our year?"
Harry narrowed his eyes. Ron blinked wide and focused hard on the chess spread in front of him. Hermione winced.
Either they knew and weren't telling him on Dumbledore's orders or they didn't know but figured something was up with the name.
"I think I met him in Privet Drive," Harry finally spoke.
"Do you remember that?" Hermione blurted.
Harry frowned at the album. The others had implied that his encounter with the dementors had stripped away memories lasting more than a month. He really couldn't remember staying with the Dursleys all through July. It had been June when Harry blinked and ended up in mid-August.
Sirius descended the stairs catching Harry's eye. "Court time's set early tomorrow, Harry. Best get up to bed."
Without another word, Harry flipped off the couch and stomped up the stairs.
Sirius waited for the door to shut. Then he asked, "What did he say?"
"Asked about Nate," Ron mumbled.
"I think he knows that we know," Hermione said worriedly.
Sirius's frown deepened. "But we don't know enough. I'd rather give him all the information than some half-baked tosspot."
The front door knocked. Only a limited people knew about the safehouse and none of them were scheduled to barge in this late in the evening. Ron and Hermione gawked at the cold corridor and Sirius whipped out his wand at attention.
"Get Remus!" he hissed.
Hermione rushed to the kitchen and Ron stood up raising his own wand.
Sirius cast a silencing charm on his mother's portrait and called through the locked door, "Who is it?"
"It is I," a soft voice rumbled and Ron relaxed. Sirius didn't let him lower his wand though.
"How many feathers does a phoenix have?" Sirius asked.
"As many as they must burn," the voice answered.
Remus marched from the kitchen wand aloft. He gestured to Ron who backed away and the two men opened the door.
Dumbledore was clad in a green set of robes. Despite the late hour, he was quite alert, eyes roaming over the four visible faces.
They invited him in and Sirius cast a careful eye on the surroundings. Nobody wandered close by the house. He inhaled a breath of cool, fresh air and closed the door.
"Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore nodded.
"Hello, professor," Hermione squeaked. Ron hastily kept his wand away.
"Always good to be alert," Dumbledore hummed. "But it is time for bed, I think."
"Of course," Hermione said, pulling on Ron's arm. "Goodnight, professor!"
"And sweet dreams."
Ron heaved up his battered chess set whose pieces were moaning at being packed away after an unfinished game. Hermione wondered, "What d'you think that's about?"
"No clue," Ron grunted, hushing the rooks who were blowing raspberries at him. "Dumbledore has a court case to prepare for tomorrow, why would he be here?"
"Maybe, it's an emergency," Hermione said, trying to strain her ears from the first-floor landing.
"Whatever it is, they won't tell us," Ron sighed, shoving the struggling chess pieces back into the box. "I reckon Harry isn't as mental as everyone's thinking. If they're not gonna give, what's the point in badgering them?"
Hermione glared at him. "That's not a reason to give up! They think we're innocent little kids who've never seen a drop of blood or had a bruise! It's our job to prove them wrong! We need to be rational enough and let them know that we can handle the information."
"Fred and George would back you, for sure," Ron shrugged. "Ginny too."
"And you?"
"We can't leave Harry alone. Divide and conquer, you know."
Hermione's shoulders drooped. Ron had a point. Harry was clearly at the end of his tether, but leaving him to his own devices clearly wasn't helping. She'd never seen him hold a grudge like this.
Ron knocked on the bedroom door but Harry didn't respond.
"Maybe he's already asleep," Hermione suggested.
"Maybe he turned into a circus monkey," Ron suggested, just as seriously. "Eh, come on. Let's finish this game in Ginny's room or else the rooks will rile up everyone else."
Dear Albus Dumbledore
We are an interested party connecteb to your summertime visitor, a mysterious tall, dark, and handsome stranger who requested a halo. You know what we're talking about. We would like to have a little chat.
This is not a threat. We really want to talk to you. Please respond ASAP since we're closer to you than you think. (Nothing to worry about, just clarifying butter.)
We hope our message is clear. Again, not a threat. But our spelling may be bad.
Yours sincerely,
The Interested Party.
There was no precedent for this.
"Could this have anything to do with Nate?" Remus whispered, examining the letter.
"It doesn't say. It doesn't mention Harry and I'm inclined to believe that they aren't interested in him," Dumbledore said.
Sirius was frowning at the words. "Why does it feel like a pre-teen wrote this?"
Dumbledore grimaced. "I was afraid of that. But let's not have the lack of an obvious threat fool us. I was indeed visited by someone enquiring about…"
He trailed off, thinking better about saying the word. "Conduct the standard tracking enchantments on the letter. I received it from a Hogsmeade post owl."
"So…" Sirius spluttered. "These people could be that close to the castle!"
"Perhaps…"
"Halo?" Remus asked, reading the letter for the umpteenth time. "What kind of a halo do you have, Albus?"
"We can discuss everything after the court case," Dumbledore decided. "Right after the case, actually. Tell Arthur to take Harry out for lunch. It'll give us enough time to inform the Order about this party that wants to talk."
Sirius glared. "How sure are you they're not dangerous to Harry?"
"To Harry? No, they aren't. But dangerous?" Dumbledore mused. "That's a whole other question."
Harry exhaled through his mouth. His blunt nails dragged over the dry skin of his wrists. His legs ached, folded as they were in the cramped alcove he'd squeezed into right by the stairs covered by his Invisibility Cloak.
Maybe Hermione was right. Harry had given up looking for answers from the Order.
But there were just so many new questions popping up every day. They knew something about Nate, but wouldn't tell him obviously. Dumbledore was contacted by some "party" searching for a "halo." And he'd be discussing that only when Harry was out of the house.
He fumed under the cloak, his skin terribly stretched and dry. Dumbledore was clearly distracted enough to not have caught Harry. Something about the letter worried him enough he was ready to tell the Order.
But not Harry, of course.
He closed his eyes and let the strange disjointed memories in sepia tone wash over him.
Nate. Why're you crying? Harry asked.
I'm going to miss you.