Odd Ideas

by Rorschach's Blot

Odd little one shots that may or may not be turned into their own stories.

132. Halloween Echoes

Disclaimer: This is my rather poor attempt to answer our own dogbertcarroll's TtH challenge #3389 'Halloween Echoes'. I'd like to say I'm going to do it justice, but I'm afraid lack of familiarity with one of the series will pose a bit of a problem.

Halloween Echoes

Harry awoke with a start, his eyes danced around the room searching for his opponent, every fiber of his being intent on the bastard's destruction.

"Shit!" he gasped. He got up and began pulling on his clothes as he tried to process the . . . dream? Vision? Whatever it was he'd experienced. Plans upon plans raced through his head for several moments before the boy came to a realization. With a sigh, Harry forced himself to relax, hoping that the new him would at least be likable. "Normal to go through changes at my age," Harry assured himself, "just bloody wish it had happened in the normal way."

With a shrug, Harry put aside his worries in favor of finding a solution to a problem he could deal with. Step one was to get out of his current residence as it contained nothing but Dursleys and bad food, the complete lack of research material was another strike against it.

"Who'd have thought that I'd turn into research boy?" Harry chuckled. "Either of me . . . it's more a job for Hermione . . . I hope she doesn't charge a fee . . . I'm sure it will not be, that Hermione, will charge a fee, to me." The boy smirked. "I'm a poet and I didn't know it."

First things first, Harry walked down to the garage and rummaged around Vernon's unused tools for a bit, setting aside several potentially useful items in his quest to find something that would suit his needs. For a moment, his hand lovingly caressed a billhook before putting it into the keep pile. It's blade needed quite a bit of work and it didn't quite suit his immediate needs. In the end, he was left with a steel wrecking bar and a bag of tools that Vernon would never miss. Time to put the first stage of his plan into motion.

Harry walked up the stairs and to a floorboard he'd spent most of his life avoiding. With a grin of anticipation, he put down his foot and shifted his weight to produce a loud 'squeak' followed by another and another until he heard the sounds of someone moving about.

The door to his Aunt and Uncle's room opened, framing Vernon's bulk for a moment as the fat man allowed his eyes to adjust to the brighter hallway. Petunia was sleeping with Prince Valium so she wouldn't hear a thing.

"You know what happens when you do that, boy," Vernon growled. The fat man cracked his knuckles as he took a menacing step forward. "You knew and you did it anyway, so what happens is on your head."

"I woke you up because we need to have a talk," Harry said calmly, ignoring his Uncle's bluster.

"I'm not in the mood to talk," Vernon said, grinning as he brought up his fists.

"I told myself I wasn't going to enjoy this," Harry said conversationally.

Harry swung the crowbar below the fat man's field of vision and into the bastard's kneecap.

Vernon howled in pain as he went down and continued screaming as Harry added several more hits to the now prone man's flabby body.

"I lied. Do you want to talk now?" Harry demanded, kicking the fat man in the kidney. "Or do you want me to keep convincing you?"

"What do you want?" Vernon screamed, shocked to the bone at the reversal of fortune.

"You're never going to lift a hand to me again, neither is Dudley, and neither is Petunia. If any of you try, I'll bury you and piss on your grave." Harry kicked the bastard in the groin. "Understand?"

Harry watched as Vernon emptied his stomach onto the once pristine carpet. "I asked you a question."

"I understand," Vernon gasped.

"I'm not supposed to use magic out of school," Harry continued. "But I can still do other things and I can still defend myself if you get any bright ideas." Harry kicked the man again. "I think it would be a good idea if you left for a couple weeks, maybe went to visit Marge, I don't care. You don't have to see her but you can't stay here." His foot lashed out and impacted on the man's groin again. "I'm going to go to my room for a few, I don't want any of you to be here when I get out. I'll be gone when you get back, forever."

"Got it," Vernon groaned, shocked beyond belief at how his nephew had changed overnight.

"Oh, and Vernon," Harry paused. "if you ever see me again, I'd suggest you run." The boy continued up the stairs and paused at the door into his room. "Because if I see you again, it'll be the last time."

Vernon thought briefly about the shotgun he kept, fantasized at the look on the boy's face as the trigger was pulled for a moment, before rejecting the idea. If he didn't succeed, the boy would kill him, he had no doubt of that. If he did, there were the police to consider. Even if the courts saw sense and released him, it would still mean the end to his nice normal life. Best to do what the boy said and see if the worthless little twit disappeared. If he didn't, well . . . then it would be time to reconsider his options, wouldn't it? Be better to plan out how to properly dispose of the little bastard first anyway, provide a few pleasant hours of wishful thinking if nothing else.

Mind made up, Vernon went up the stairs to wake up his wife and son. The sooner they were away from the little bastard, the sooner they could finally have a normal life again.

Harry could almost see the thoughts track across the fat man's mind as they occurred. Worst case scenario and he did fail in his first goal, Vernon would have to go. Mind made up, Harry returned to his room for phase two.

"I, Harry James Potter, do not consider this place my home!" he intoned. To the boy's private amazement, it worked, he could feel the wards around the house collapsing, destroying Dumbledore's excuse to ruin his summers.

And now it was time to wait. "Wonder which group of incompetents will notice first?" Harry mused. It would take a bit of time for them to vanish completely, best thing to do was catch a nap so he'd be well rested when the party started.

As it happened, he didn't have to wait long to get his answer.

"Wake up, Harry, we've got to get out of here!" Tonks screamed as she burst into his room.

"What's up, Tonks?" Harry asked with a yawn. "Er, I mean gorgeous pink haired girl I don't know."

"Death Eaters, we've got to get out of here before . . . too late." The woman drooped. "They've got anti-transport wards up. How'd you know my name?" she demanded, realizing what he'd just said.

"Hmmm." Harry glanced out the window. "I don't know what you're talking about, Tonks, I distinctly remember calling you a gorgeous pink haired girl I don't know."

Tonks put the matter out of her mind, figuring that Sirius had mentioned her in his letters or something. She had much more important things to worry about at the moment.

"Only four of them," the boy commented, remaining absolutely calm, one of the key traits that had allowed him to survive his childhood.

"And only two of us," Tonks pointed out. "Here's what we're going to do." She took a deep breath, this was it, this was her time to show that she was true to her salt, to put herself between death and her charge. Tonks silently decided that no matter what price she had to pay, Harry Potter was going to live.

"You put on your cloak, I'll distract them, you run. Understand?" she asked, determination coloring every word. Tonks knew that at best, one of them was going to get out. So be it, she'd show the bastards how an Auror died!

"Mmmmm, no, I don't think we'll be doing that," Harry said absently, showing a complete lack of concern at the situation they'd found themselves in. "How long do you think it'll take them to break down what's left of the wards?"

"Not more than an hour which is why you need to do what I say," Tonks said firmly.

"If I do, you'll die," Harry pointed out. "So we're not going to be doing that. You can feel free to use my cloak if you like, might give you a bit of an edge when they break in."

Ignoring his guest, the boy stripped off his nightclothes and changed into one of the few outfits he had that kinda fit.

"I . . . you . . ." Tonks' jaw worked but no sounds came out.

"I'll be in the kitchen," Harry announced, "my cloak is in my trunk if you want it."

Seeing her charge leave, Tonks snapped out of it and followed after the boy.

"You don't understand, Harry," she said, "my plan is the only chance we have for survival."

"I already pointed out that you'll die if we do it, so it's off the table. Suggest another plan that has a good chance of letting us both live and I'll consider it," he said reasonably.

"I'm an Auror!" Tonks said, trying another tack. "So you will do what I say!"

"No, I won't." Harry reached the kitchen and turned on the stove. "Could you pass me that sauce pan, Tonks?"

"This is no time for a snack!" the woman barked.

"If you insist," Harry agreed, "I'm still going to need that sauce pan."

"Fine," Tonks huffed. This was not going the way she'd thought it would. A couple quick spells followed by a heroic death, comforted with the knowledge that she'd taken a couple of the bastards with her and that Harry was safe. This was just . . . odd.

"To the left . . . the other left . . . the other left . . . right, that's the one," Harry agreed, taking it from her. "Thanks."

"I could stun you, you know," she pointed out.

"Then how would I escape?" Harry asked, amused. "Cabinet in front of you has a bottle of oil, could you pass it to me please?" He took it and dumped it into the sauce pan. "It's missing a certain something, isn't it?" Harry scratched his chin. "Sugar in the same cabinet, please pass it to me." The boy dumped the sugar into the pan and stirred it into the hot oil.

"What are you doing?" Tonks asked, coming to the conclusion that the boy might have a trick or two up his sleeve.

"Getting ready," Harry replied. "Willing to consider changing your mind about the invisibility cloak? The only unfair advantage in a fight is the one you don't have."

"Yeah," she agreed, disappearing up the stairs.

While Tonks was gone, Harry selected a couple of large butcher knives from the block and put them on the counter near the stove.

"I'm back," her voice announced.

"Great, just in time," Harry said as the falling wards began to crack. "Stay back," he commanded.

"What?"

"Don't get close to the Death Eaters, it would be bad," Harry explained.

"Why do you . . ." She was interrupted by the door flying off its hinges.

"Ready to die, Potter?" the first Death Eater through the door screamed, a stream of drool dripping from the bottom of his mask.

Harry tried and failed to think up something witty to say, choosing to let his actions speak for him. More specifically, the action of flinging the contents of a pot of hot oil and molten sugar into the man's face. Number two got the pan and was distracted enough for Harry to dash across the room, knife in each hand. His hesitation got him four inches of steel in the throat, number three got six in the left kidney.

Tonks managed to fight through her shock long enough to stun the last Death Eater. "Harry, you . . ."

"And now we can leave," Harry announced, twisting the knife. "Would you be so kind as to pack my things while I finish up down here?"

"Finish up?" she asked weakly.

"Just making sure we won't be followed or attacked from behind," he assured her. "It's nothing you need to see," he added gently. Aurors, a little blood and they went all to pieces.

"R-right," she stammered. She left to pack the boy's things and was more than a bit relieved that there was nothing left but a couple of stains when she returned.

"I'm gonna want you or someone else to check out a couple items that recently came into my possession for curses," Harry announced. Best thing about combat was the post fight looting.

"Sure," Tonks agreed weakly. "Let's see 'em."

Harry pulled out a couple rings, and amulet of some sort, and double handful of things one might expect to find in an average wizard's pocket.

"They all look clean," Tonks reported, trying very hard not to think about how the boy had acquired them. "I can tell you that most of it's magical, it'd take me a while to tell you what they all do."

"That can wait, we'd best be off before more company decides to drop by," he prompted.

"Right," Tonks agreed, her voice firming a bit. "We'll go to the edge of the wards they put up and I'll apparate you to Headquarters."

"Wouldn't happen to be Sirius' family home, would it?" Harry asked.

"I can't say," Tonks replied, "it's under a charm."

"Interesting," Harry commented, wondering if his added experiences would let him circumvent the protections.

Harry followed the nervous witch to the edge of the wards and allowed her to take him to the location of the mysterious Headquarters. Which, he was delighted to see that he could see.

"Wait here, I'll be back in a flash to let you in," Tonks said.

"Take your time," Harry said, doing his best to hide how amused he was at the whole thing.

She didn't, Tonks was in and out of the house in less than thirty seconds. The woman walked over where she'd left him and thrust a paper in his face.

"Read!" she ordered.

"Got it," Harry replied.

"Come on, the sooner we've got you safe and under the wards, the happier I'll be." She grabbed him by the wrist and literally dragged the boy into the house.

"Harry!" Sirius said, greeting them with a wide grin. "How you doing, kid?"

"I'm up another four," Harry replied, just as cheerfully. "How you doing, Sirius?"

"Found a spell in the library that'll make Peter's intestines shoot out his bum and strangle him to death," Sirius replied.

"Wicked, do you think you could teach me?"

"Of course," Sirius agreed.

"SIRIUS!" Tonks barked. "That's a dark spell."

"As I was saying before I got so rudely interrupted," Sirius sniffed. "Of course not, that's a dark spell. I only learned it to come up with a counter-spell."

"I'm sorry." Harry looked down at his feet, showing the world an image of contrition. "How bout you teach me a couple useless light spells that won't help me in a fight?"

"Sure," Sirius agreed. They both turned and shot Tonks a pair of horrifyingly similar grins.

"Just . . . just get out of here," she said, looking away.

"Come on, kid," Sirius said. "We'd best be going to the library to learn those useless spells."

"Maybe one that'll help me fluff my pillow," Harry suggested. "That's useless in a fight and is probably more trouble to learn than all the times I'll fluff a pillow combined."

The two retired to the library and made quite a bit of progress before the Order assembled

Sirius did indeed teach him a spell to fluff pillows... in a matter of speaking, though he was quite sure it wasn't a dark spell he was certain that using it on a witch without an engraved invitation would get him killed.

"Anything else you needed, kid?" Sirius asked.

"Access to your library," Harry replied. "I need to research a way to make sure Voldemort stays dead after the next time I kill him."

"Next time?"

"You'd have thought the third time would be a charm," Harry agreed. "I figure I need to either find a way to make it stick or a way to make it so horrible that he doesn't want to come back."

"Sounds like a plan," Sirius agreed. "Come on, I'll explain the way the place is laid out."

Harry was at a desk surrounded by books a few hours later when his concentration was broken by a paper airplane landing on the page he was reading. The second he focused on it, the object unfolded itself to reveal a note asking him to come down to the order meeting to answer a few questions.

"Probably easier to see what they want than it would be to ignore 'em," Harry mused aloud. Probably also a good idea to give his eyes a rest.

Harry ambled down the stairs to the meeting room, making a quick stop in the kitchen for some snacks.

"Thank you for joining us, Harry," Dumbledore said as the boy entered the room. "We were hoping that you could clarify a few things for us?"

"No problem," Harry replied, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Fire away."

"When you said you would . . . uh . . . take care of the Death Eaters, what exactly did you mean?" Dumbledore asked.

"I meant get them medical attention so they could be arrested and either escape or bribe their way out so they could kill, rape, and torture again," Harry replied. "Why, what did you think I meant?" He grinned at the way the order exploded at his statement.

It took Dumbledore several minutes to regain enough order in the Order to say, "You've changed, Harry."

"Being forced into a tournament, watching a fellow competitor get murdered, being forced to take part in a ritual to regain the body of your arch nemesis, and getting tortured tends to change you," Harry agreed. "Not to mention puberty."

"We meant you've changed in that you seem to have acquired a few abilities you did not posses before," Dumbledore clarified.

"Oh." Harry's expression turned solemn. "That."

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed gravely, "that."

"The war was going badly," Harry whispered, his eyes haunted, "we were losing, we were desperate." The boy gave a hollow laugh. "We came up with a plan so brilliant and insane that it had no chance of working, only . . . it did."

"You sent yourself back in time," Dumbledore gasped, eyes widening in understanding. "The audacity of such a plan and the risks associated with it are . . ." the man trailed off, unable to think up a word or even a dozen that would suffice.

"Nah, I'm just fuckin' with you," Harry laughed. "I can't believe you all bought that."

You could have heard a pin drop, every witch and wizard was staring at the boy, their faces frozen into a rictus of shock.

Harry took one last bite of his sandwich, then shrugged. Looked as if the question and answer session was over and he had research to do. After all this was over, he wasn't going to so much as touch a book for at least a week . . . maybe two.

He hadn't really gotten a chance to get back into it when Sirius appeared with a giant grin on his face to state the obvious.

"Harry, you pranked the entire Order," Sirius said.

"Yeah?"

"I'm . . . I'm so proud," Sirius pulled the boy into a hug. "MY GODSON PRANKED DUMBLEDORE!"

"Are you crying?" Harry asked oddly.

"Rubbed an onion in my eyes before I came out," Sirius said, brushing away a tear.

"Why'd you do that?"

"Because manly blokes like me don't cry of course." And because Poppy had refused to cauterize his tear ducts. "But they do sometimes rub onions in their eyes for no reason at random times like right after their godson pranks the second . . . third greatest wizard in the United Kingdom."

"What about Moony?"

"Moony never lost his virginity to a pair of busty twins or pranked Dumbledore," Sirius replied.

"Oh. Twins, huh?"

"Busty twins," Sirius corrected.

"What'd they look like other than that?"

"You're getting lost in the details, Harry. All you need to know is twins, busty twins," Sirius said, lost in a happy memory.

"Fine," Harry agreed. "You want to do some godfather and godson bonding?"

"Sounds girly," Sirius said suspiciously.

"Really? Cause it sounded like a good way of getting the order off our backs when you teach me how to ride a motorcycle, unless of course you don't want to," Harry added. "Suppose I could just stay here . . . with these books. I'd thought riding a motorcycle would help me with the witches, but if you don't want to . . ."

"Harry, stop," Sirius interrupted. "Of course I'll teach you and of course we'll use that excuse with the order." The man grinned. "I'll also teach you the other things every bloke needs to know how to do."

"Like what?"

"Like belch loud enough to rattle windows and how to play cards and well, lot's of things," Sirius replied. "My duty as your godfather to teach you the things your parents never would have wanted you to learn."

"What about the things they would want me to learn?" Harry asked.

"That's your godmother's job," Sirius replied.

"I have a godmother?"

"Nah, it's just what I call Remus when he starts whinging about teaching you responsible things," Sirius laughed. "Let's go."

They returned to the house after a short lesson on how to ride a motorcycle and a long police chase that racked up millions of pounds of damage to find that the Order had reassembled and still wanted answers.

"Fine," Harry agreed with a world weary sigh. "You really want to know? On your heads be it then, it won't be my fault if your fragile little minds shatter under the weight of the knowledge I'm about to impart. God knows mine barely survived the first time I discovered... the truth."

"If anyone wishes to leave, now is the time to do it," Dumbledore intoned. "As Harry said, if you can not accept what he has to say, you have none to blame but yourselves if you stay."

Shame faced, three members of the Order stood and walked out of the room, each secure in the knowledge of their own weakness and that it was sometimes better to remain in ignorance than to get even a fragment of an awful truth.

"You may begin, Harry," Dumbledore said seriously.

"Well, ever since I was a kid, I got these . . . flashes of someone else's life. After Voldemort got resurrected, they became stronger and I realized that the life I was seeing was his." Harry's gaze swept over the room. "I have access to his thoughts, his power, his memories. I know what he's going to do and I know how to stop him."

"Something that will prove invaluable in our fight against the dark," Dumbledore said seriously.

"Yes, I . . ." Harry burst into laughter. "I can't do this anymore, I got you again. Seriously, reading his mind, this is even less plausible than the whole time travel story."

Dumbledore shot a disappointed look at Fawkes as he fell off his perch laughing along with Harry and Sirius.

"Okay, seriously, the truth is that . . ." The Order leaned forward in expectation causing Harry to burst into another fit of laughter. "The looks on your faces, I can't do this." Tears streaming down his face, the boy stumbled out of the room and into his second favorite pair of twins at Hogwarts.

"Oi!" Fred barked.

"Who you callin' second favorite?" George agreed.

"Didn't know I was saying that out loud," Harry admitted. "And you're a distant second behind the Patils, sorry guys but I just don't think about the two of you at night when . . ."

"We get the picture," George interrupted.

"No need to go into any detail," Fred agreed.

"We understand completely that you prefer witches to wands," George stated.

"Tacos to hotdogs-"

"-tuna to . . ."

"Enough," Harry said firmly. "We've got business to discuss."

"We do?"

"Well let's get started."

"Fred, George," Harry had a serious look on his face. "I need a favor from you."

"Anything-"

"-Harry."

Harry glanced around to make sure they weren't being overheard before getting to business. "You've seen how closely the Order's watching me, makes it a bit difficult for a bloke to step out to get some much needed supplies." Not that he couldn't escape, but it would close off the holes he'd found in their security and then he couldn't use that route for something more important.

"What do you need-"

"-Harry?"

Harry pulled a roll of pounds he'd found on one of the Death Eaters. "Well . . ."

The twins listened to Harry's request and immediately agreed to it. They owed him too much to say no, even if it should cost them their lives they would get him the items that every teenage boy needed to survive!

They were back within the hour, carrying large but discreet brown shopping bags, and sporting looks of almost religious awe on their faces.

"Here you are, Harry."

"Thanks for telling us about that place-"

"-forget the joke shop, we'll make a mint just reselling this stuff to everyone at Hogwarts."

"Why not have both?" Harry suggested. "Or use the joke shop as cover for your real business."

"You're a genius-"

"-Harry. We promise, we won't forget what you showed us today."

"We promise, we'll find a way to repay you for it. You've changed our lives, Harry!" one said with a look of bliss, as if he was staring at an unbelievably bright future.

"No problem, guys, now go forth and make your dreams come true," Harry commanded.

Sirius brushed past the twins as they rushed out of the room.

"What's with them?"

"Showed them one of the wonders of the muggle world," Harry replied. "What's up, Sirius?"

"Dumbledore sent me here to get the real story from you," Sirius replied, snagging the top magazine off of Harry's newly acquired stack of porn. "Figured that as your godfather, I could use my godfatherlyness to weasel my way into your confidence to pry it outta you or something."

"You really want me to tell you?"

"And spoil your joke? Never!" Sirius laughed. "Go against the Marauder code to spoil another Marauder's joke."

"I'm a Marauder?"

"A legacy," Sirius agreed, eyes still locked on the magazine.

"Oh." Harry shrugged, whatever. "There was something I wanted to talk with you about."

"What is it?" Sirius asked, flipping a page.

"Where were you hiding before you came back for the tournament?"

"Brazil, they don't have an extradition treaty on the magical side and the beaches have . . ." He shuddered. "It's not something I can describe, it's something you have to see for yourself."

"Why not go back?"

"Can't leave you alone here with Voldemort, wouldn't be right," Sirius said, closing the magazine and looking the boy in the eyes. "So long as that bugger is drawing breath, I'll be here watching your back so long as I'm drawing breath. The beach birds 'll have to wait."

"Noble," Harry said, forming an argument. "But maybe not as productive setting up a bolt hole and keeping the escape route open."

"What do you mean?" Sirius put the magazine back onto the stack.

"How'd the Ministry do against the Death Eaters last time?" Harry asked.

"Not so well," Sirius admitted. "Truth is, we were losing badly when you got the bugger the first time."

"How well do you suppose they'll do now, after Lucius bloody Malfoy has had a few years to get things ready?"

"Voldemort'll have the place in an afternoon," Sirius said, turning pale.

"Which is why I need someplace safe to run to," Harry finished.

"I'm not leaving you, Harry," Sirius said firmly.

"Alright," Harry agreed. "Tell me who else I can trust to do this for me, someone that won't let something slip to Dumbledore before they go."

"Remus . . . no." Sirius' shoulders drooped. "He'd talk, wouldn't he?"

"No one else has the perfect combination of trustyness, loyalty, ability, and willingness to trust a teenager over the so called greatest wizard of our time."

"You've convinced me," Sirius said sourly.

"Be sure to have enough gold moved with you so that it doesn't matter if the goblins fold," Harry advised.

"I've done this before," Sirius laughed. "Leave everything to me."

"Thanks, Sirius. Sorry to cut you out, but there really isn't anyone else I can trust to do this for me."

Sirius put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Something happens to you, I'll be back here before you know it and taking stupid risks."

"I'd better not let anything happen to me," Harry agreed.

"Good."

"I'm sorry, Sirius, but there really wasn't anyone else I could turn to. You know there's no one I'd rather have at my back in a fight, right?"

"I know, kid," Sirius sighed. "Don't have to like it, but I'll do what has to be done."

"You're imagining the beaches, aren't you?" Harry accused.

"I was thinking the safe house could overlook one of 'em," Sirius agreed, a goofy grin on his face.

"I'll distract the Order for you while you pack and go," Harry offered.

"No need," Sirius replied. He ambled down the stairs into the meeting room. "I'm going back on the lam, see you later. Oh, and Harry agreed to finally tell you the truth about what happened to him."

All eyes shifted from Sirius to Harry, anticipation filling each and every one.

"Well, Harry?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Reincarnation," Harry said, doing his damnedest to keep his voice level. "The truth is, I . . . I . . . excuse me for one second." He stepped out of the room and closed the door before howling with laughter. Once he'd regained control, he stepped back into the room to continue. "As I was saying, I'm the tenth incarnation of a Japanese warrior wizard named Chinkage Manko, the greatest of all that ever lived and . . ."

"We heard you laughing," Tonks interrupted, "we don't buy it."

"Would you believe, second greatest warrior wizard?" Harry asked with a smirk.

"I don't think so," Tonks replied.

"How bout a second rate sushi merchant?" Harry said, lips twitching.

"No, Harry," Tonks replied.

"How about this one? The truth is that I don't trust any of you enough to tell you," Harry said calmly. "We've got Professor dickweasel over there ready to run off and tell Voldemort, Mister sticky hands." He glared at Dung. "Waiting to sell it to the highest bidder and let me add that if you don't replace everything you've stolen, I'll cut your hands off."

"Harry!" Dumbledore barked.

"Fine, right hand for the first offense and head for the second," Harry agreed. "If I may continue?" He looked around, there were no objections. "And aside from the two notable firsts, we've got a whole crowd of people I don't even know. Even leaving that aside, why in the hell would I want to tell you all? There's only one way two people can keep a secret, think on that."

The Order began shouting as Harry left the room. He really needed to calm down. Flying was out, so he found a bit of scrap wood and a carving knife. Fifteen wooden stakes later and he'd regained a bit of his center and managed to prepare a bit for his first vampire hunt.

To the boy's private amazement, his speech to the Order seemed to have done the trick of getting them to leave him alone for a couple of days. Having had time to process what had happened greatly lessened the feeling that he was being overwhelmed, it (paired with a rare moment of quiet) meant that Harry had time to get started on one of his new pet projects.

It didn't take long to find the billhook he'd liberated from the Dursley family. It was a Newton pattern, meaning it was about five hands long and shaped like the hooked beak of some predatory bird. The inside curve of the blade was indifferently sharpened and the outside was typically blunt. In short, with a bit of work it had the potential to be a devastating close quarters weapon.

The first thing he did was remove layers of grime and rust it had acquired as a result of sitting for years at the back of the Dursley's shed. There was something about physical work that makes a job well done more satisfying than magic ever could, Harry thought to himself. The boy paused, wondering who had originated the thought. Things had been a lot easier when he hadn't had a skullmate.

Blade rust free, Harry was about to set off in search of a sharpening stone when someone began pounding on his door.

"Come in," Harry called out.

The door opened to admit his bushy haired best friend. The girl paused for a moment to give him a once over before coming closer to give a more through inspection.

"They told me you got attacked, you didn't get hurt, did you?" the girl asked anxiously.

"I'm fine," Harry assured her.

"Are you really?" she asked. "They also said that you've been acting strange ever since you got back. Is . . . are you having nightmares about what you had to do?" She knew she would have and Tonks had admitted that she was having trouble sleeping after witnessing the massacre in the Dursley's parlor. "How are you sleeping?"

"Better than I normally do," Harry said honestly.

"Harry, what happened?" Hermione asked softly. She knew that there was something off about her friend, she just wasn't sure what.

"Did they send you to find out?" Harry dodged the question, voice colored with annoyance. "Did Dumbledore send you up here to spy on me? Are you going to skip down and regurgitate everything I tell you?"

"Bugger 'em, you're my friend and I want to know what really happened to you, Harry Potter?" Hermione demanded. If asking nice didn't work, she'd try doing it the other way. "So talk!"

Harry started to open his mouth, a wicked gleam in his eye when Hermione continued.

"And I don't want to hear some stupid story like the ones you've been telling everyone else, I want the truth," she insisted.

"Promise to keep it to yourself?" Harry asked, trying to regain control of his emotions. Looked like he hadn't gotten as much of a handle on them as he'd thought.

"Of course," Hermione agreed immediately, "I'd never reveal your secrets without your permission, you know that."

"Then you're going to have to raid the spice cupboard for me," Harry replied, "I'll also need a good sharp, unenchanted knife, an unenchanted bowl, a flat slab of stone or a piece of unenchanted parchment, two cups of fresh spring water, and a bottle of whiskey. Note, I said whiskey, not fire whiskey, Kentucky bourbon if you can get it. Nothing can have any magical residue at all."

"Why do you need all that, Harry?" Hermione asked, puzzled by the requirements. It looked like she was going to have to make a quick trip to the neighborhood grocer.

"You won't know until after you get it for me," Harry replied with an infuriating smirk. "Oh, before I forget, I'll also need something from the muggle world."

"What?" As if she'd have been able to get any of the other things from a wizarding shop.

Another wicked gleam appeared in the boy's eye.

The Order didn't question Hermione when she told them she had to nip out to the corner shop, figuring that the muggle born had to do some mysterious muggle thing that properly bred witches and wizards were better off knowing nothing about.

She returned an hour later, burdened by a couple of heavy packages and went directly back to the room her best friend had claimed for himself.

"I'm back and I want answers," Hermione announced as she stepped through the door.

Harry stared at the box in the witch's hands as if it held the secret of eternal happiness, which in a way, for him at least, it did. He set aside his project in favor of giving the box his full attention.

"Did you get them?" he asked, entranced.

"A whole case, just for you," Hermione agreed. "You won't believe what I had to go through to get them. Now talk!"

Hands trembling, he reached out to take the case, only to have it snatched out of his reach.

"Box later, answers now!" Hermione insisted.

"Do you have the other stuff?" Harry asked, his mouth dry, his entire attention still captivated by the object in the witch's hands.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed. "Why do you need it?"

"Privacy and to make sure you won't be able to reveal what you're about to learn," Harry explained.

"I promised, didn't I?"

"You did, but promises to keep secrets don't mean a whole lot when there are mind readers in the house," he pointed out.

"Mind . . . who?"

"Precautions before answers," he insisted. "I'll start you off if you give me . . ."

"Answers first, snacks after," Hermione growled, sticking to her guns.

"I could just take them from you, you know," he grumbled.

"Harry Potter using force on me?" Hermione giggled, unable to keep a straight face. "You don't have it in you."

"I could, you know. I've got loads more experience fighting than you do."

"But you won't," Hermione said smugly. "You're much too sweet."

"Fine." His shoulders sagged in defeat. "Take out the bowl, pour the water in and add the spices."

"Then what?" she asked after she'd followed his instructions.

"Cut yourself and bleed into it, back of your hand is one the better places," he advised. "Pour a bit of the whiskey over your cut into the bowl and give me the knife."

Harry cut the back of his own hand and poured a bit of whiskey over the cut and into the bowl. Then he chanted a few words, causing the whole thing to flash white.

"What did we just do?" Hermione asked, blinking the spots out of her eyes.

"Modified marriage ceremony," Harry said absently, drawing something on the parchment, using his blood as the ink.

"MARRIAGE?" Hermione squeaked.

"Modified, we're as single as we were five minutes ago in the eyes of magic and the law," Harry assured the girl, "Black family used it to keep business partners from leaking secrets. You literally can't reveal any of the secrets I'm going to reveal to you."

"Oh." The girl visibly calmed. "No offense, it's just . . ."

"I'm not even close to being ready either," Harry assured her, "be happy to jump into sex at any time, but marriage can wait."

"Harry!" Hermione admonished, swatting him on the arm.

"Done," he said, making the last stroke on the parchment. "And now we won't be overheard."

"Where did you learn how to do these things?" Hermione demanded.

"The Black family has a very good library which includes a book on how to do magical things without magical ingredients," Harry explained.

"How is that possible?" Hermione asked.

"It's the blood, should have said without any magical ingredients other than what you produce yourself. It's also considered quite dark and restricted by the Ministry so it's naturally one of the things I'd rather you didn't talk about with other people," Harry said. And thanks to the little ritual they'd just performed, she wouldn't.

"Okay, now let's have it, Harry Potter, the truth about what happened to you."

"I did promise to give it to you, didn't I?" Harry sighed, stalling a bit.

"You did," she agreed firmly.

"The truth is that I went to bed and woke up wearing someone else's body in a demon infested town in California," Harry said.

"You promised me the truth, Harry Potter!" Hermione growled.

"And I gave it to you, not my fault that it's less believable than the lies I've been telling the Order." Harry shrugged. "Someone in the town had cast a spell of some sort that turned people into their costumes and someone had dressed as . . ."

"You," Hermione deduced.

"Yep," Harry agreed. "I spent the night keeping my host alive and protecting a couple girls, then I woke up back in my bed as if nothing had happened. Only it did and my host left a bit of himself behind." Harry wondered if he'd left a bit also, he hoped it'd be useful if he had.

"Harry, we have to contact him and see if . . ."

"We can't," Harry said. "Not now anyway, maybe in a few years, but not until we've figured out how. Hell, we may never figure out how."

"Why not?"

"My host didn't dress up as me because I'm the 'boy-who-lived' he dressed up me because I was a character in a popular book series. How does it feel to be fictional, Hermione?"

"Oh." The girl looked startled. "What happens to us?"

"I'd like to think that free will plays a part here, so I'll say that I don't know," Harry replied.

"So, books. How did they turn out?"

"For one, you'll be happy to hear that we were a rather popular series, made billions of pounds on people that regarded my life as light entertainment," Harry replied. "You have to understand that a lot of this is tainted by his perceptions . . ."

"Of course," she agreed, understanding how much a person's preconceptions could color their view of the world.

"In the books, we survived the war with Voldemort, the world went back to normal minus the hundreds of muggleborn that were exterminated, no one was punished, and we both fell into unhappy marriages, possibly with the aid of a love potion. Malfoy got a happy ending, the Weasleys got a moderately happy ending, the ones that survived anyway, we got shit on. World wasn't just fucked, it was proper fucked."

"Language," Hermione said automatically. "Who did we marry?"

"Ron for you, Ginny for me. I named one of my children after Snape which gives you an idea of how bad it got," Harry commented. "Then there was the internet and a thousand other ideas on how things could have went; ranging from horror to harem to horrible harem."

"Harem?" she giggled.

"They had us both with every wizard and witch you can imagine. My host's best friend was rather fond of you and Luna together with me." Possibly because it gave her a chance to read about two girls together without having to admit a few things about herself, or possibly because it let the brainy girl have the hero in addition. Having an outsider's perspective of an insider's view was tremendously insightful. He wondered what his host thought of his life.

"Ravenclaw the year behind us?" she asked uncertainly, the bridge of her nose wrinkling in thought. Even as small as the student population at Hogwarts was, the house system made it rather difficult to get to know students from different houses, especially if they were in different years.

"Yes, someone we should probably get to know even if we don't both decide to fall into a sinful relationship with her," Harry agreed.

"Harry!" she squeaked.

"She was a very good friend in the books," Harry explained. "I'd be happy if she's half as good in real life."

The two friends stared at each other for a few minutes, neither knowing quite where to take the conversation.

"Me and her together, huh?" Hermione asked weakly. To be honest, while the thought of dating another witch had crossed her mind, the thought of dating a witch and a wizard at the same time had never occurred to her. "Were we happy?"

"In the stories, yes. Would it work in real life?" Harry shrugged. "They also wrote stories about me and Draco, me and Snape, me and Voldemort, and you with all three at the same time. I don't see that working out."

"Oh. What do you think, Harry?"

"You're asking a teenage boy what he thinks of dating two beautiful girls at the same time?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. "Really?"

"Never mind," Hermione said with a blush. The blush deepened when she realized that he'd just called her beautiful.

"In addition to leaving behind a couple things, my host strengthened a few traits I already have . . . had . . . whatever. Important thing is my libido is also quite a bit higher than it was, it thinks having a harem is a marvelous idea. My more practical side isn't sure and is terrified of doing or saying anything that would lose you as a friend."

"Direct." She felt warm inside at his admission.

"I promised to tell you the truth," Harry replied. "And the truth is I'd jump at the chance for some fun of the horizontal sort. But, as I said before, not at the risk of losing you as a friend."

"Oh, thank you, Harry," she murmured, turning a deep red.

"No problem, Hermione. Did you want to know anything else?"

"Who . . . what were you?"

"I was a soldier in a war as old as humanity, one of the few volunteers in an army of conscripts," Harry replied. "A man willing to do anything to keep humanity at the top of the food chain. I never really considered how scary and all encompassing the word anything was before."

The girl shivered. "Top of the food chain?"

"The world . . . his world was filled with monsters that regarded humans as a good source of food, he was part of a group that killed them." Harry paused. "The only member of the group that considered it an honor, the only member that didn't consider it a chore or a duty." Quite the contrary, his host had regarded it as a pleasure.

"Were you able to learn anything from our books?" Hermione asked, hoping to change the subject to something that wouldn't produce such a horrible look of glee on her friend's face.

"I know a bit about a few things that may or may not happen to us, I know that Ron tends to get angry and storm off whenever things get a bit difficult and I'm not sure if the fact that he'll always return after he cools off makes up for that . . ."

"Harry, Ron's not that bad," Hermione said, looking away.

"I'm not saying that we should stop being friends with him," Harry said gently, "just making a few observations."

"Al . . . alright," she agreed hesitantly.

"I know that you'll stick with me no matter what," Harry continued with a fond smile that matched the blush on the girl's face. "I have a new appreciation for research, a new attitude on how to deal with Death Eaters, a few weapons skills, and a newly found love of god's own snack cake. I can only hope that my host got half as much as I did, least I can do to repay him for what he gave me."

"Fine, you can have one," Hermione agreed. The girl opened the box and tossed a cellophane wrapped package to her best friend.

Harry snagged it out of the air, opened the package, and crammed the golden snack cakes into his mouth one after the other with a look of bliss on his face.

"What else did you learn?" Hermione demanded.

"A hundred possibilities," Harry replied. "I know who our Defense Professor is this year." And the bitch wasn't going to last a week before he put her in the ground. "I know a few students we might want to get to know better, I know why Voldemort came after me, and I know who put him on their trail." Another name on his list.

"What are we gonna do, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry snagged another snack cake while the girl was distracted. "We're going to win, Hermione," he replied as if it were a foregone conclusion.

Hermione waited until his friend had finished devouring the cellophane wrapped goodness before she asked her next question.

"Why do you keep making up all those crazy stories?"

"Two reasons, the first is that it's fun," Harry replied.

"And the second?"

"If you can't dazzle them with brilliance, blind them with bullshit, the Lovegood family motto . . . well, maybe," Harry said. "If I'm able to confuse the issue enough, it won't matter what I let slip."

"The truth is so precious it must be guarded at all times by a bodyguard of lies?" Hermione suggested.

"Same idea conveyed in a different way," Harry agreed. "Appropriate quote considering what we're going to have to do."

"I thought so," Hermione agreed.

"What changes have you noticed about me?" Harry asked, curious to hear an outsider's perspective.

"You're much more relaxed, you're much more willing to joke around, and you're much much more direct," Hermione listed off a couple things. "At your core, you're still Harry Potter, just . . . just more in some ways and with additions in others." She reached over to give him a hug. "Thank you for sharing this with me, Harry."

"No problem," Harry replied inhaling her scent and barely resisting the urge to nip at her collar bone before she released him. "Um, do you mind if I ask your help with something, Hermione?"

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Research," Harry replied. "We've only got a limited amount of time with the Black library. I'm trying to find anything that can help me defeat Voldemort. I'm particularly interested in alchemy, enchantment, and wards, but any combat or defensive magic will do. Two people could cover more ground than one, so if you don't mind . . ."

"Of course I'll help, Harry," Hermione said. "You only had to ask."

"Thank you, Hermione."

"What're friends for, Harry."

Hermione bowed out of the search shortly after dark, stating that she needed to get a bit of sleep but Harry continued until well after midnight. He'd uncovered a couple interesting things that would help with his current pet project and did not wish to let go until he'd followed the trail to its conclusion.

Hermione was waiting outside Harry's door when he emerged the next morning and nearly forgot what she had wanted to say. He was wearing grey tweed plus fours, a grey tweed waistcoat, a grey tweed hacking jacket, and it was all topped off by a matching grey tweed flat cap. She'd never seen him in an outfit like he was wearing, she'd never expected to see him in an outfit like that.

"Where did you find that, Harry?" Hermione asked, holding back a snicker.

"Ordered it," Harry replied. "Had 'em layer a few comfort charms on it and a few more to make it more durable, I also got a few more in different colors. Why, did you want to get something similar for yourself?"

"Tweed, Harry?" Hermione asked, taking in the boy's new outfit. It was becoming harder and harder to hold in her laughter, looked as if wizarding fashion sense had claimed another victim.

"Yes," Harry agreed, "and for two very practical reasons."

"You're planning to drop out of Hogwarts to be a gamekeeper?" she suggested, eyes filled with mirth. "Does poor Hagrid know that you're threatening his position?"

"No. The first is a joke, it's always good to be able to laugh at yourself, if you can't do that then you have no business laughing at other people. Something I could never give up, what with the wizarding world being filled with the sorts it is. More important is the second, because my host wouldn't be caught dead in this outfit, lets me hang on to being me." Harry brushed his hand against the jacket. "Not that what he left behind is trying to take over or anything, it's just . . . I can't really explain the feeling of waking up and not being sure of who you are, even if it fades in a heartbeat it's very disconcerting. Tweed may not be me but it's more me than it could ever be him."

"Well I think it looks good on you," the girl said, changing tracks. "Makes you look like a country lord. Much better than those horrid clothes you got from the Dursleys."

"So we'll have the Dark Lord, the Light Lord, and the Country Lord all facing each other in a fight to determine the fate of the magical world?"

"I know which one I'd prefer," she said, brushing a bit of invisible lint off his lapel.

"I presume you had a reason to wait up for me?" he prompted.

"I did," she agreed, smoothing down his collar.

"Well?"

Hermione gave the outfit one last pat before meeting his gaze. "I don't think you're going to like it, Harry."

"I don't like a lot of things, doesn't mean I have the luxury of remaining ignorant about them. Let's have it, Hermione."

"They're talking about doing something to keep you out of the library while they go through it and remove all the books that they don't deem to be appropriate," Hermione told him.

"Which would be most of them," Harry said, scratching his chin. "How'd you hear about this?"

A faint blush dusted the girl's cheeks. "There may or may not be an air vent in my room."

"Which you may or may not be listening to," Harry laughed. "Good on you, Hermione."

"What are you going to do, Harry?"

The boy closed his eyes for a bit. "They're going to have an awfully big surprise when they try something."

"Sirius gave you control over the wards before he left," Hermione said in delight.

"Did he?" Harry gave her a grin. "Still, it's only a temporary solution. I can stop them when they try but they'd, or rather Bill shouldn't have too much trouble getting around what I did. Suppose I could Kill Bill." His lips twitched, all he needed was a yellow track suit. "But then I'd still have Dumbledore to contend with and I'm sure the Weasley family would be rather cross."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed.

"Guess I'll have to think of a bone to throw Dumbledore or a way to move the library someplace safe." Pity he couldn't trust the goblins, or could he? How accurate were those stories anyway and what could he do to test it? Damn it, things were so much simpler in the stories than they were in real life.

Harry accompanied his friend to the library and got in a few hours of good research before the Order blundered in, Bill in the lead accompanied by a couple of wizards whose names Harry hadn't bothered to learn.

"Something I can help you with?" Harry asked.

"We're just here to remove some of the less savory books," Bill said cheerfully. "Don't mind us."

"No," Harry said calmly. "I don't think you'll be doing that, please show yourselves out."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple, Harry," Bill said, face showing every sign of regret. "Dumbledore's orders."

In response, Harry surged the wards as he rose to his feet, wand in hand. "Care to give me another answer, Bill?"

"Neither of you make a move," Bill ordered to his companions, voice deadly serious. "You don't have to do this, Harry."

"I rather think I do," Harry replied. "You didn't want to talk, which leaves the alternative. Hermione, please be a dear and go get Professor Dumbledore. The old man and I need to have a discussion."

"Do you want our wands, Harry?" Bill asked after the girl had left.

"I probably should," Harry said. "But I'm hoping we can resolve this in a civilized manner. If not-" The boy shrugged.

"What's he talking about?" one of the anonymous wizards asked.

"He has control over the wards," Bill explained. "He has control and we're under them, while they're up, he has a very large advantage if something happens."

"You're the ones that refused to talk," Harry said. "Ah, the man of the hour has arrived," Harry said, the wards informing him that the head of the Order was on the other side of the door. "Come in, Headmaster!"

"Is this really necessary, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, looking very disappointed.

"Your side refused to talk," Harry replied.

"I wasn't aware that we were on different sides, Harry."

"Tell me, Headmaster, what were you planning to do with the books after you stole them from the Black Library?"

"I'd hardly call what they were doing theft," Dumbledore said, trying to inject a tone of humor in his voice.

"Really?" Harry asked in mock surprise. "What would you call taking objects without their owner's consent if not theft?"

"Confiscation maybe?" Dumbledore suggested. "They really are too dangerous to be left out."

"You were going to 'permanently confiscate' several items without their owner's consent, what were you planning to do with them after that?"

"Some were to be destroyed, others were to be put to better use," Dumbledore admitted.

"How about this, I will allow you to 'permanently confiscate' these books if in return you and the other members of the Order allow me to 'permanently confiscate' most of the gold in your vaults, does that work for you, Professor?" Harry grinned. "That way no one else can accuse you of being a common thief."

"You do know that we are only acting in your best interests, don't you, Harry?"

"I could probably be persuaded that you think that," Harry said thoughtfully. "But, I'm also sure that someone of your vast experience has heard the saying about how they pave the road to hell."

"Why don't we leave aside the issue of the library for the time being?" Dumbledore suggested. "With the promise that the next time we revisit it, we shall do nothing without your knowledge and consent?"

"I can agree to that," Harry said. "How often does one get a chance to find out if a great wizard's word is good. The loss of the Black library might even be worth the price of knowing that it was worth nothing."

"Harry, what happened to you?" Dumbledore asked softly.

"You want to know what happened to me? I've got a fragment of Voldemort's." He paused to let the Order members recover from their flinch. "Soul stuck in my scar."

Dumbledore choked. "How . . . how did you acquire that piece of information, Harry?"

"I . . . I . . ." Harry began giggling. "Come on, that's the least believable one yet. You of all people should know that. Remember how I beat him my first year? Blood protection would have fried it to a crisp."

"Are we done here, Professor?" Bill asked.

"We are," Dumbledore agreed.

"Mind if we leave, Harry?" Bill turned his attention to the house's master.

"Alright, but feel free to stay if you want to look something up Hell, you can feel free to return if you ever need to look something up, " Harry added. "You can come in now, Hermione, we're finished."

Bill's eyes bulged when he saw the girl waiting in the door behind them with her wand drawn, the tension in her right arm and shoulder saying she was more than ready to act. "You have very good friends, Harry."

"I know," Harry said, beaming at the girl.

Hermione beamed back, blushing faintly at the compliment.

"Thank you for your time, Harry, and please do an old man a favor, just to set my mind at ease," Dumbledore requested.

"What is it, Professor?"

"Please avoid the books on that shelf over there, they're rather badly cursed and I'm afraid Poppy would be quite put out with both of us if we had to call her in to heal you."

"I have no objection to that request, Headmaster, I also have no objections to you or someone else checking over any books I'm not sure about before I read them," Harry agreed.

"Something Sirius was good enough to do for you before he left, I presume?" Dumbledore asked.

"I have a very good store of relatively safe reading material," Harry agreed.

"I should have known." Dumbledore shook his head. "Thank you for your time, Harry. I'm glad we were able to begin to solve some of our differences."

Harry waited until after he was sure they were alone before opening his mouth to speak. "That's the Dumbledore I know," he said thoughtfully.

"So?" Hermione replied, looking up from the large book in her lap.

"It's not the Dumbledore my host thought he knew, of course that Dumbledore was a master manipulator and able to fool everyone so I suppose I should take that observation with a grain of salt," Harry admitted.

"Your host didn't like Dumbledore?" Hermione squeaked. "Why?"

"Like I said, he thought the Headmaster was a sinister figure manipulating things from behind the scenes. That or a senile old man," Harry said. "I wish I knew what he was."

Hermione shot him a sympathetic look, not knowing how to respond to that.

"I guess it doesn't matter," Harry continued. "The safest thing is to expect the worst and be pleasantly surprised if it doesn't happen."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed.

Harry stood up, popping his back. "I need a break," he announced. "I also need some help with something so I'm going to go speak with Remus. Hold down the fort while I'm gone."

"Alright, Harry," she agreed.

Harry left the Black family library in search of the Order's resident werewolf. He found the man in the sitting room watching the floo and listening to the wireless.

"What's up, Remus?" Harry greeted the man.

"Keeping an eye on the floo in case someone has an emergency," Remus replied. "Heard you had an argument with Dumbledore earlier."

"A small difference of opinion," Harry corrected. "He thought he was in charge of looking out for my welfare, I thought I was."

"You can't just expect us to sit by while you endanger yourself, Harry," Remus sighed.

"You can't expect me to sit by and watch the library get robbed," Harry shot back. "The key to killing Voldemort could be in one of those books."

"Dealing with him shouldn't be your job," Remus said.

"No, it shouldn't be," Harry agreed. "And it won't be three seconds after I figure out a way to make the world fair."

"Fine," Remus agreed. "Was there something you needed, Harry?"

"Would you mind helping me with something?" Harry asked. "I'm gonna need you to keep it to yourself."

"Of course, what can I do for you?" Remus replied.

"I've got a list of spells I'd like you to cast into some crystals," Harry said, handing over a piece of parchment.

"Cutting curse, anti-coagulation curse, sticking charm, pat . . . Harry, what do you need all this for?"

"Got curious about alchemy, wanted to try something," Harry answered, semi-honestly.

"Try what?" Remus asked.

"That, is a secret," Harry replied with a smirk. Granted, no one else would have caught the reference, but it was a start. He'd be tossing out witty quips while engaged in mortal combat in no time.

"Let's see those crystals," Remus sighed. Sirius was a seriously bad influence.

"Thanks, Remus." Harry pocketed the now glowing crystals and ambled back to the library a few minutes later to rejoin his bushy haired friend.

"Was Remus able to help you?" Hermione asked.

"He was," Harry agreed. "I got another list of things I'd like you to pick up," Harry said. "And another case of god's own food if you can."

"Give it here," Hermione sighed. What was it with him and those disgusting cakes? She'd tried one, strictly as an experiment, and had nearly vomited at the taste.

"I need that silver to be as pure as possible, else I'd have just got something from the kitchens."

"Alright, Harry, I'll see what I can do," she promised. "Do you need anything else?"

"No." He dug around in his pocket to find another of his liberated wads of bills. "Tell me if this isn't enough and I'll see about getting more."

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione said, taking and pocketing the cash.

'Time for another field trip to the real world,' she mused, as she left the rickety old house. It didn't take long for her to get the items on Harry's list, a couple more trips out and she'd consider herself a professional. When she returned, she found him sitting by a large bubbling cauldron engraving runes on the billhook he'd taken to carrying around everywhere.

"What are you doing, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I'm imbuing the billhook with the essences of the things you brought me," he replied. "The steel will add strength to the mystery alloy it's made of, the silver will help with werewolves, the obsidian will add sharpness as well as a few other things, and so on and so forth."

"Oh . . . wouldn't it have been easier to just start with good steel?" Hermione asked.

"Much, better if I had a master craftsman forge it too," Harry agreed. "Don't happen to have one, so we're doing it the hard way." Though mystically, there might be a few advantages to using the antique. Harry was just at the point in his scholarship to be aware of such things, but not to know why it would be or how to check. "After this stage, I'm going to transfer the spells from the crystals to the billhook and make them stick."

"Why go through all the effort to do all this to a gardening tool?"

"I think it might be another thing that sets me apart from my host," Harry explained. "He was a great believer in axes where as I favor this for close combat. It's either a case of the same experiences producing different results in different people or another example of me doing something because I know it's something he doesn't do. Take your pick."

"How about both?" Hermione suggested.

"Works for me," Harry agreed. He plunged the blade into the bubbling mix, grinning in triumph when the blade began absorbing the brew. "Hermione, could I trouble you for a few drops of blood?" He nicked his hand and let it flow freely into the bubbling mass.

"Of course," she agreed. "Um . . ."

"It's necessary to have our blood mix on the blade, sorry," Harry said, figuring out the reason for her hesitation.

"Alright." The girl replicated his action. "Why did you need my blood?"

"This does two things, first is that it binds the blade to us, meaning that you'll be able to use it." He'd have to go through another ritual to add or subtract users. "Second is that it'll . . . well, think of it like starting a fire, you need to begin with a spark."

"We're using our blood to bind the enchantments?" Hermione asked uncertainly. This really wasn't her field and she didn't feel confident making guesses.

"Sort of, we're also . . . feeding it is a good way to put it, I guess," Harry said with a frown. "It's self powering, the more blood it absorbs, the more powerful it'll get. More fights I use it in, the more dangerous I'll be."

"Harry, isn't that sort of . . . well . . ." the girl stammered.

"Dark?" he suggested.

"Evil," she confessed.

"Blood, not souls. The inbred idiots were right about one thing, blood is very magically powerful. It'd be like going outside and raising a metal rod every time you needed to charge a battery. Nothing dark there."

"Bit daft though."

"So it's not a very good analogy, I'm tired."

"Good night, Harry," Hermione hinted.

"In a few minutes," Harry said. "I need to monitor the rest of this reaction."

"What's going to happen?"

"Either we're going to get a newly enhanced billhook and a cauldron full of black goop, or the whole thing is going to melt into slag," Harry replied.

"Black goop?"

"That's the technical term," he agreed.

As it happened, luck was with our intrepid hero and his project was mostly a success. All he needed to do now was figure out a way to get the blade to stop glowing with a pale silvery mist. Task complete, Harry stumbled into bed and was soon fast asleep.

He awoke the next morning and went through his usual routine of shower, food, and research. One big difference was that Dumbledore was waiting in the library when he arrived.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry said, taking his seat.

"Good morning, Harry. I hope you don't mind but I decided to take advantage of your generous offer to use the library," the old man said.

"Not at all," Harry replied. "Books are meant to be used, the more of us using them the greater the chances that someone will find something useful."

"Quite," Dumbledore agreed. "But one must not forget that knowledge isn't solely found in books."

"What are you trying to get at?" Harry asked, closing his book and giving the old man his full attention.

"Remus tells me you're doing a bit of alchemical research," Dumbledore said.

"Really? He told me he wouldn't be telling you anything," Harry replied, and then he'd gone and spilled enough details to give the old man an idea of what was happening. "Guess I should cross him off my list of people to trust."

"He only told me because he was worried about you," Dumbledore admonished. "Alchemy is dangerous and, modesty aside, I am one of the foremost practitioners in the country."

"You're also someone I took off my list," Harry added.

"For trying to remove dark books?" Dumbledore asked.

"Why don't I make you a deal?" Harry offered, ignoring the question. "I'll give you a piece of the truth and in exchange, you and yours will leave the library alone and you will no longer try to restrict my reading list here or in Hogwarts."

"I'm not sure that I can agree to that, Harry," Dumbledore said sadly.

"Then I know I won't be telling you anything," Harry replied.

"How about a compromise?" Dumbledore asked. "I will only segregate books that are inherently dangerous, I promise that I will not remove or dispose of them without your permission. Similarly, I will only restrict your access to similar books while you are at Hogwarts."

"I want approval over anything you want to move, if we disagree, you leave it. If you use this as an excuse to do what you wanted to do in the first place, you'll burn every bridge you have with me."

"I can agree to that, Harry," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling.

"Does this deal include the rest of the Order?"

"I will do my best to reign them in," Dumbledore agreed. "You must understand that we only act as we do out of worry for you, Harry."

"Must I?" Harry snorted. "I suspect that I'll regret this . . . deal. In return for you only separating out inherently dangerous books, inherently dangerous meaning that they're cursed and not because of the knowledge they hold, I will agree to give you a piece of the truth."

"Wonderful," Dumbledore said cheerfully. A grin appeared on the old man's face, looked as if he was finally getting a chance to repair some of the damage that must have appeared in their relationship.

"I'm a seer," Harry said seriously. "Meaning that I see things that others do not or that I've seen things others have not," he said skirting the truth. "The fact is, that causes me to do things and react to things in ways that differ from how other, so called normal people, will react."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Dumbledore asked.

"The more people that know, the less useful it is," Harry replied. "Not to mention the fact that I don't trust your judgement. I've told you and now you'll run off to tell the Order. Voldemort will know every word I said shortly thereafter."

"Harry, I trust Severus . . ."

"I don't," Harry interrupted. "I also didn't so much as mention his name, odd the way it immediately sprung to your mind, isn't it?" Harry gave a rather Gallic shrug. "It doesn't matter. I've given you enough information to hurt me, I have not given you enough to do more than that nor will I."

"You don't trust me, Harry?"

"Why did Voldemort come after me?" Harry shot back. "I never did get an answer to that question, did I? Trust is a two way street, Professor. You seem to think that it's all take and never give. You want to know more? Start by showing me that you can keep my secrets, then trade a few of your own. Good day, Professor." Harry rose to his feet, grabbed a couple books, and stormed out of the room.

"Good day, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said automatically, lost in thought.

Dumbledore spend most of the day lost in thought, going over the boy's words again and again, trying to divine if there was any truth to the boy's implications. Finally, he decided that the boy was correct. It was time to stop treating him like a child and to begin treating like the adult he was becoming. In trying to protect the boy from a few terrible truths, he feared that he was causing even greater damage.

It took nearly an hour for the old man to settle his thoughts. The course of action he ended up settling upon was not without its risks. However, he felt that it offered a far greater chance of success than any of the others he saw before him and the potential reward more than made up for it. Mind made up, he strode down to the meeting room to wait for the rest of the Order to assemble. It did not take long.

"Thank you for coming," Dumbledore said in a firm, strong voice. "I'd like to start off with an apology, I did not know that the library would become such a contentious issue, I am sorry for putting you at risk because of it."

"Risk is part of the job, Professor," Bill replied with a dashing grin. The looks on his companions faces indicated that they had a slightly different opinion.

"I've spoken with Harry," the Headmaster continued. "And while I am not at liberty to share the full contents of my conversation with young Mr. Potter, we did manage to come to an agreement regarding the books in the library."

"When can we get back to removing them, Albus?" Molly asked.

"Never, the agreement was that they would be left where they are unless they had some sort of curse. Bill, may I trouble you look over them for me?"

"Of course, Professor," the curse breaker agreed.

"Please keep Harry in the loop and do not remove anything without his express permission," Dumbledore requested.

"So we're just going to leave dangerous objects around where the children can get into them?" Molly demanded.

"We're going to trust that Harry is mature enough to manage his own affairs," Dumbledore replied, a touch of frost coloring his tone.

The remainder of the meeting went by rather quickly and at its conclusion, Dumbledore retraced his steps up the stairs and back to the Black library.

When he arrived, he saw the two friends bent over a book, heads almost touching. A smile appeared on the old man's face as he took in the scene, it was moments like this that kept him going, moments like this that reminded him that some things were worth fighting for, that not everyone in the wizarding world was a valueless snot.

"Do you have a moment, Harry?" Dumbledore asked softly.

"For you? Of course, come on in, Professor," Harry said.

"You once asked me why Voldemort went after you, at the time I did as I deemed prudent and told you nothing. Times have changed," Dumbledore said taking a seat.

"Do you want me to leave?" Hermione asked.

"No," Harry answered, undercutting the old man. "Stay, please."

Dumbledore looked like he was going to argue for a few moments before giving a little shrug, it wasn't worth making a fuss about and it was likely that Harry would tell her everything anyway. "A prophecy was given to me before your birth, saying words to the effect that a child would be born that could defeat the Dark Lord. When probed for clues, two possible children seemed to meet the necessary specifications. Neville Longbottom, and yourself. One of Voldemort's followers heard a fragment of the prophecy and took it to his master, that is why he came after you. If you like, I have a recording of its exact words in my office which you may listen to the next time you are at Hogwarts."

"Is that the only place it's stored?" Harry asked, knowing that it was not.

"The Department of Mysteries also holds a recording," Dumbledore replied.

"Is there anyway we can change it, or destroy the archive copy, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"It . . . it is something that I will have to look into," Dumbledore admitted.

"Did the prophecy say that I was the only one able to kill him or that I only had the power?" Harry persisted.

"It does not matter," Dumbledore said. "Tom believes it and so is bound by it. My advice is to ignore it, which is often the best policy when dealing with prophecies." The old man stroked his beard. "Ms. Granger, are you familiar with Oedipus?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione agreed.

"It is a similar case, had he or his father ignored the prophecy, it would not have come true. Prophecies often have only the power you give them, give them nothing and they will melt into nothing."

"I see." Harry looked lost in thought.

"Regarding your last jest, that Voldemort had placed a fragment of his soul inside your scar?" Dumbledore licked his lips. "There are indications that he may have done just that."

"I know," Harry agreed calmly. "It's not the only one he left behind, is it?"

"You've taken care of one of them, but I suspect that there may be several more," Dumbledore admitted.

"Speak with me before you do anything about them," Harry said firmly.

"More things you've seen?" Dumbledore asked.

"Something like that," Harry agreed.

"Dare I hope that you have some way of removing it from yourself that would not prove fatal?" Dumbledore asked hopefully.

Hermione squeaked, every bit of the girl's attention was focused on Harry, waiting to hear his answer.

"I have a couple ideas," Harry stated after a few moments of silence.

"Don't you dare scare me like that ever again, Harry James Potter," Hermione babbled, relief warring with sternness in her voice. She pulled her friend into a hug. "Never again!"

"Might I ask what it is?" Dumbledore looked as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"We know that basilisk venom destroys them, and we know that basilisk venom is potentially survivable if Phoenix tears are applied to the wound," Harry stated, wrapping an arm around his best friend's waist.

"It would be quite painful," Dumbledore mused.

"I've felt pain before, Professor," Harry said calmly.

"Do you mind if I speak with Poppy about this?"

"Go right ahead, Professor, it's always best to get the opinions of a professional before dashing off to do something stupid."

"Advice I wish I'd heeded a time or two in my past," Dumbledore said, lips twitching.

"Advice Harry's never heeded in his life," Hermione giggled.

"I'm glad you said it, Ms. Granger, and not I," Dumbledore added, eyes twinkling.

Harry spent another late night deep in research, finding several nasty things that would make good additions to his billhook and a few other things that would be useful at Hogwarts, before finally turning in for the night. He woke up late the next morning,

The sounds of someone pacing in front of his door were enough to get him to cancel his plans of having a lay in to see what they wanted. He threw on another of his tweed suits, this one a deep olive green, grabbed his grey tweed flat cap, concealed his billhook in the small of his back under his jacket, and opened the door to see what they wanted.

"Harry," Hermione said, a wide false smile on her face. "I thought you'd want one of these in the morning." She held up a package of what was becoming the bane of her existence. She hoped the boy appreciated how much she had to go through to get the damned things for him.

"Another thing I'm not going to like?" Harry asked, seeing the look on Hermione's face.

"Ron's here," Hermione said cheerfully, "he's hoping you'd be up for a game of chess later." She clutched her empty hands, hadn't she? A quick glance at her friend's bulging cheeks confirmed that he'd somehow managed to get the yellow confectioneries away from her.

"Please stop stalling," Harry prompted, cramming the second cake into his mouth the second he'd finished speaking.

"The Ministry is charging you with underage magic and violating the Statute of Secrecy," Hermione said. "They want to expel you, Dumbledore says that he'll try to get you off but that Fudge is really intent on getting to him by going after you so there's a good chance you'll end up being tried."

"Oh . . . huh, I haven't even done any magic this summer," Harry said thoughtfully.

"They say they have traces of a stunning spell being cast in your home," Hermione supplied helpfully. "And more magic around it."

"Interesting," Harry murmured. "Seems to confirm the theory that it's not us being tracked, it's them keeping an eye on the areas around our residences for magic. Would mean purebloods can do all the magic they want over the hols."

"Bastards," Hermione grumbled.

"Hermione, language," Harry said sternly, doing his best not to smirk at the now fuming girl.

"It isn't right that they treat us like second class citizens just because we live in the real world," Hermione grumbled.

"No, it isn't," Harry agreed. "Why don't we go talk to Ron?"

"Okay, come on," she replied. "Do you know what you're going to do about the Ministry?"

"I was thinking I'd hire a lawyer," Harry replied.

"Seems out of character for you," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Is this something else you got from him?" Hermione whispered.

"No, it's something that never would have occurred to him and something that never would have occurred to me either, before anyway. Guess it's another benefit is being able to think out of the box," Harry said thoughtfully. "Or being motivated to spend time trying to think out of the box."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed.

They found Ron trying and failing to make trick shots on the table in the billiards room. As they walked in, the boy succeeded in sinking the eight ball in the far left corner pocket.

"Well done," Hermione cheered.

"Not really, I was trying to sink the one in the side," Ron admitted.

"I was trying to do something else most of the times I accomplished something big," Harry said. Mostly not die, occasionally not die horribly. "How you been, Ron?"

"Hey, mate," Ron said with a grin, shooting the girl a wink. "Hermione tell you about the latest stupid thing the Ministry's trying to do?"

"She told me they were trying to get me expelled for underage magic," Harry volunteered.

"Wankers." Ron put both palms up and gave a 'what're ya gonna' do look. "Any plans, mate?"

"Thinking about hiring a lawyer," Harry replied.

"Thought Dumbledore was going to speak for you?" Ron said in confusion.

"I'm sure he'd be willing to, but it's time I learned to step out of his shadow and stand on my own," Harry said firmly.

Ron just nodded in response, not seeming to give the matter much weight.

"So how's your summer been?" Harry prompted.

"Meh, the usual," Ron replied. "Mum's been keeping me pretty busy, you're lucky to be here and out from under her thumb." The boy glanced around to make sure the woman wasn't present. Lowering his voice, he continued. "She's scuffed at you for some reason, I'd stay out of her way if I were you."

"Thanks, Ron."

"Mind telling me what you did to make her so skeeved?"

"Been spending a lot of time in a library full of books on dark magic, didn't let the Order get rid of them when they tried."

"You're learning dark magic?"

"I'm trying to research a way to kill Voldemort," Harry corrected. "Means I can't turn my nose up at any book."

"You want me to help you, mate?" Ron asked, accepting his friend's answer.

"You want your mum angry at you?" Harry shot back.

"To find a way to beat . . . him?" Ron shrugged. "Be cheap."

"I talked with Dumbledore, we've got a deal that will let me go through the restricted section. Much less chance of your mum finding out then," Harry offered.

"Thanks, mate," Ron said, drooping in relief. "Not that I wasn't willing to do it, you understand."

"Just that it would have made the rest of your summer really unpleasant?" Harry suggested.

"Yeah," Ron laughed.

"I'm thinking of going to Diagon later today, you think you can come?"

"Mum's keeping a pretty close watch on all of us, doesn't like to let any of us out of a warded area," Ron sighed. "Rather not . . . you know what happened to my uncles, don't you, Harry?"

"Yeah."

"She's just worried. If you think there'll be a fight or something, I'll go. Otherwise, I can't make my mum worry like that for no reason. I'm sorry, Harry."

"That's okay, Ron, I understand. You're right, you can't do that to your mum for no reason."

"Thanks for understanding, Harry."

"Does Dumbledore know that you're planing to use a professional?" Hermione asked.

"I didn't even know I was in trouble till you told me," Harry replied.

"I know, that was my way of hinting that you should tell Dumbledore you need to step out," Hermione stated.

"Don't ever change, Hermione," Harry laughed. "I'll tell him later after he gets in," he promised. Harry selected one of the cues from the rack and walked over to the table. "You two care for a game of eight ball?"

"How do you play?" Ron asked.

"I think I know," Hermione said brightly. "I read a book about it once."

They played several games with no clear winner emerging till shortly after Hermione suggested making a few wagers, just as a way of keeping score. Turned out that the girl had considerably more experience at billiards than just reading a book, winning several games and winning enough that she had no trouble extracting promises from both boys that they'd do their homework in what she considered a timely manner to avoid having their debts called in.

"Get O's on at least half your OWLs and I'll forget you owe me anything at all," the girl finished happily.

"How bout Harry gets all O's and I get an O in one class with EE's in the rest?" Ron suggested, feeling no guilt at the way he was tossing his friend under the bus.

"Hey!" Harry shot Ron a look of utter betrayal.

"Okay," Hermione agreed. "But you had better not try to avoid this by skipping out on some of your exams."

"Does Divination count?" Ron asked, feeling a horrible sinking feeling.

"O's in real subjects," Hermione amended. "Divination doesn't count."

"That's a relief, 'eh mate?" Ron nudged Harry.

"Traitor," Harry replied.

"It was every man for himself, mate, you're just jealous you didn't think to do it first," Ron said reasonably. "How'd you learn to play like that, Hermione?"

"My mum taught me," Hermione replied. "All it is, is simple physics and geometry."

"Wow! That's fascinating, Hermione, why don't you tell us all about it?" Harry suggested.

"If you'd really like to learn," Hermione agreed, happy at the opportunity to give an off the cuff lesson.

"Of course we would," Harry agreed, "wouldn't we, Ron?"

"Mate, I . . ."

"See how excited he is!" Harry exclaimed.

"Okay," Hermione agreed. "I think we should start with Newton's third law."

"That'd be great," Harry said. "But, oh wait, look at the time. I've got to go meet with Dumbledore, but you can still teach Ron all about Newton's third law and the rest of the stuff."

"Okay, Harry," Hermione agreed.

"You know that he's just using you to get revenge on me, right?" Ron asked as Harry walked away.

"I know," Hermione giggled. "You'd better listen closely, because there will be a test and if you do poorly on it, I'll expect you to get another O on your OWLs."

"Monster woman!" Ron accused.

Harry held in his laughter until after he was out of the room, then he let it flow.

He found Dumbledore in the kitchen after a short search and cleared his throat to attract the old man's attention.

"Harry," Dumbledore said with a smile. "I rather thought you'd be spending all your time with Hermione and Ron now that he's arrived."

"Hermione told me about what the Ministry is trying to do," Harry explained.

"You wish to discuss strategy?" Dumbledore nodded. "Sound thought, let me begin by saying that I don't believe it will be too much trouble to have you cleared."

"No offense, sir, but I was planning on hiring an attorney."

"If you like," Dumbledore agreed. "It may even be more advantageous, part of the reason they're going after you is to get to me."

"And appearing to distance myself from you, at least publicly, might cause some of the heat to go down," Harry finished.

"Would you like me to provide you with a list of skilled barristers that have little or nothing to do with me?"

"Please," Harry agreed. "Soon if you don't mind, I was hoping to get to Diagon today if possible."

"May I impose on you to take a bodyguard with you?" Dumbledore asked. "Not that Ms. Granger and Mister Weasley aren't quite formidable, I would just feel better knowing that someone from the Order was with you."

"Tonks," Harry replied.

"I had thought that Mr. Lupin might . . ."

"He's shown that he isn't willing to keep my secrets," Harry interrupted. "Tonks is an Auror which I'd like to think implies that she's at least half competent in a fight." He was willing to give her a pass on her first attempt, shock did strange things to everyone and it wasn't like she'd been completely useless. "Plus there's the fact that she was willing to die for me," he added thoughtfully. "Don't think I could break her of that habit without quite a bit of close contact."

"One usually sees that as a desirable trait in a bodyguard," Dumbledore pointed out.

"I'd prefer someone who can watch my back in a fight to someone that's going to dive in front of curses meant for me," he said firmly. 'Hypocrisy thy name is Xa . . . Harry Potter,' he thought to himself. 'Damn it, that is starting to get annoying!'

"I'll ask young Nymphadora if she's available," Dumbledore agreed.

"She prefers to be called Tonks," Harry pointed out.

"And I prefer to be called Albus. When she stops calling me sir, Headmaster, and Professor, I will start calling her by her family name," Dumbledore retorted.

"Fair enough," Harry said, dropping the matter.

They continued their conversation until Harry judged that enough time had elapsed so that he'd be safe from Hermione's lecture, excusing himself, the boy returned to his friends to find a gleeful Hermione and a depressed looking Ron.

"Agreed to play her again?" Harry asked.

"She offered to let me skip getting an O if I won," Ron agreed glumly.

"What'd you bet this time?" Harry prompted.

"I have to read Hogwarts a History and five books of her choice by Christmas," Ron said.

"Care for another game?" Hermione asked.

"Sure," Harry agreed. "But this time, if we bet, it'll be for blood or gold or something it won't hurt me to lose."

"You're no fun, Harry," Hermione said with a pout.

"I don't have time to branch out in my reading material at the moment," Harry replied. "Sorry, Hermione. Be happy to teach you the right way to gut someone or how to use a garrote or something."

"You'd be happy to teach me that anyway," Hermione sniffed. "It's no fun if I don't force you to do something you wouldn't enjoy."

"But would, in your opinion anyway, improve us in some way," Harry sighed.

"Education is very important to your future, the more OWLs you manage to get, the better your chances of getting a good career," Hermione lectured. "So of course I'm going to try to force you to get as many OWLs as possible, you two are my best friends." She shot Ron a predatory look. "How bout another game, Ron, double or nothing?"

"Gimme a chance to do some practicing first," Ron grumbled.

They got in another game and a half of experiencing the now familiar experience of being utterly dominated by Hermione before Harry's Order assigned bodyguard arrived.

"Come in, Tonks!" Harry called out, hearing someone outside the door and guessing it was the Auror.

"Wotcher, Harry," she said as she ambled in. "Got a question for you."

"Shoot."

"Why'd you want me to be yer watcher?" Tonks asked, mystified by the request.

"Well, there's the fact that you're gorgeous," Harry admitted, "always good to have eye candy around."

"Prat," Hermione said, sticking her tongue out at him.

Ron shot him a thumbs up, signifying that he most definitely approved of Harry's line of thought.

"She still thinks I keep her around for her mind," Harry stage whispered to Tonks, eliciting a blush from his friend, a laugh from Ron, and a giggle from the Auror. "The real reason I want you around is because you showed that you were willing to die for me when the Death Eaters attacked my house," Harry said, turning serious.

"I was just doing my job," Tonks said modestly.

"Then we're going to have to change your job," Harry said. "That'll be the first thing we do, second will be to break you of that silly habit of trying to throw your life away on my behalf." The boy put a hand on the woman's shoulder and gazed into her eyes. "I need people that will stand beside me, that will watch my back. I don't need people that will throw their lives away, even four for one it would have been a bad trade. Do you understand, Tonks?"

"Yes," Tonks breathed, mesmerized by his intense gaze.

"See that you do," Harry said firmly. "That goes for you guys too," he said firmly to his two friends.

"We love you too, Harry," Hermione laughed, shifting her focus back to the book in her lap.

"You want us to pick you up anything at the alley, Ron?" Harry asked.

"Nah, but thanks. I'll be here practicing my shot when you get back," he said.

"You do know that you're just going to get overconfident and Hermione's gonna hustle you for more bets, don't you?"

"Yeah, but at least I'll put on a better show this time," Ron replied, eyes locked on the pool table.

"Alright," Harry shrugged. At least he was losing to a friend. He got a sudden image of a crying Draco losing the Malfoy fortune to a laughing Hermione. Bliss, and something to look into when he had a moment of time.

"You two ready or do you want to change or something?" Tonks asked.

"I'm ready," Hermione offered.

"We need to make a quick stop by the kitchen before we go," Harry announced, ignoring the shudder hearing that statement elicited from Tonks.

"Are you alright, Tonks?" Hermione asked in concern.

"Remembering the last time he wanted to do something in a kitchen," Tonks said.

"Was it your first real fight?" Harry prompted.

"Yeah," she agreed.

"It gets easier," he told the witch. "It also helps if you don't think about what could happen to yourself, focus instead on doing unto the other guy before he has a chance to do unto you."

"How many fights to the death have you been in?" Tonks asked, staring at the boy in shocked horror. The thought that a schoolboy could have lived such a life . . .

"Several," Harry admitted in a tone that brought the conversation to a close.

They arrived in the kitchen and Harry spent several minutes rummaging around drawers before finding what he was looking for. He palmed the object, and slipped it into his left jacket pocket.

"What'd you get, Harry?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Ice pick, most people don't think about how useful they can be." Jam one in someone's ear and they'd never be a problem again.

"Do I want to know?" Tonks asked.

"Do you?" Harry retorted.

"No, but I have a feeling I need to," the Auror admitted.

"It's very good if you want to kill someone, less useful in a fight," Harry replied. "I can show you later if you want."

"Where did you learn all these things?" Tonks demanded. "I know Hogwarts hasn't changed that much from when I attended."

"That's a good question," Harry stated. "Are we going to be using the floo to get to Diagon or a Portkey?"

Tonks gave the boy a look. "I thought we'd use the floo, I also had Dumbledore make up a couple portkeys that I'd like you to use if there's trouble."

"I'll consider it," Harry conceded. "Thank you for looking out for us, Tonks."

"Yes, thank you, Tonks," Hermione echoed.

"Just doing my job, Harry," Tonks replied.

"Are you?" Harry prompted.

"What?"

"Are you getting paid for this or is this all off the clock?" Harry clarified.

"It's off the clock," Tonks admitted. "But I don't need to be paid, anything I can do to bring down 'you-know-who' is payment enough."

"What's having Dumbledore stop calling you Nymphadora worth to you?"

"Diagon Alley trips whenever you want them and Hogsmead after you get back to school," Tonks said immediately.

"Hogsmead?"

"You know how to sneak out, right?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

"Well, tell me and I'll be there watching your back when you do and I'll do my best to keep the Professors from finding out," Tonks said quickly.

"You'd do all that for free, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, but this way you don't have to feel guilty about taking advantage of my good nature," Tonks retorted.

"She's got you, Harry," Hermione snickered.

Harry suppressed the laugh, but not the grin. "Call him Albus."

"What?"

"He doesn't like it when you call him sir, Professor, or Headmaster, he likes it when people call him by his first name. Call him Albus and he'll call you Tonks out of simple courtesy."

"But . . . but he's Dumbledore."

"Yes, he's also someone that would prefer to keep things as informal as possible," Harry said gently.

"I'll . . . I'll try it," Tonks said, looking uncertain about the whole matter. "Come on," she barked, trying to regain a bit of her tough Auror image. "Sooner we get your business done, the more time we have for fun."

They followed Tonks through the floo, the Leaky Cauldron, and half way down Diagon Alley before the woman froze.

"Did you forget where we were going?" Hermione asked.

"I don't think you ever told me," Tonks admitted.

"Harry!" Hermione admonished, turning on her friend.

"Law offices of . . ." He dug out the list Dumbledore had given him. "Actually, why don't you look at this and tell me who you recommend."

"Me?" Tonks asked.

"I got these from Dumbledore, he says that they're decent and that they have little or nothing to do with him. If you needed someone to represent you in court, who would you choose?"

"Um . . ." Tonks studied the list. "Number three. I know his daughter and he just destroyed the latest case we had against Malfoy." He'd done a good job of it too, reducing the amount of bribes Lucius had needed to pay by at least half.

"He's Malfoy's barrister?" Harry tried to keep his calm.

"Charged Uncle Lucius through the nose too," Tonks agreed with a grin. Might have been cheaper to pay those bribes. "He'd probably give you a discount though."

"If he's Malfoy's attorney, why would he give Harry a discount?" Hermione asked.

"Have you ever heard the expression, gold does not stink?" Tonks asked.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed. "One of the Roman emperors said it I think."

"That's only the case with Uncle Lucius if he spreads around enough of it. Harry's gold is clean from the start."

"Oh."

"Guess we should go to Gringotts first to see how much I have to play with," Harry suggested.

"If it's a hardship, Dumbledore asked me to let slip that he could help offset the costs," Tonks volunteered.

"Next time you speak with him, let slip that I'm grateful for his offer but am turning it down," Harry requested.

"Will do," Tonks agreed.

A quick trip to Gringotts revealed that, thanks to the Ministry pay out for the destruction of Voldemort he'd received shortly after his first birthday, the royalties from the 'Boy-Who-Lived' book series, the royalties from the 'Boy-Who-Lived' doll . . . er, action figures, and the modest amount he'd received from his parents, money was not a problem at the present time.

Tonks led them to the office of Harry's perspective Barrister and waited outside while Harry conducted his business with the man.

"So what can I do for you, Mr. Potter?" the Barrister asked.

"I want to sue the Prophet for defamation and anything else you can think to tack on. I want to sue the Ministry for attempted murder and anything else you want to tack on. And I need someone to represent me in my upcoming criminal case."

"Attempted murder?" he prompted.

"Dementors almost did me in a couple times and they were at the school at the Minister's orders," Harry explained.

"Don't think we'll succeed in that, might get 'em for assault," he mused.

"Could I also have you sue for false imprisonment on Sirius Black's behalf?" Harry asked.

"I'd have to get something from him authorizing it. If that should suddenly appear after speaking with you, I would have reason to suspect that you are in contact with him and would be forced to report that to the Ministry due to my oath," the man replied. "If such an authorization along with say . . . one hundred galleons were to go to my partner after a reasonable amount of time had passed, I would not be able to suspect a thing if such an authorization included a request that my partner were to be particularly discreet." The Barrister leaned back in his chair. "I couldn't begin to guess what another firm would want as an upfront retainer, but I don't believe they'd have grounds to be suspicious if anonymous notes were sent asking what they would charge in a hypothetical situation such as the hypothetical situation we just discussed."

"Oh . . . would it be possible to really put the screws on the Prophet first and have them publicly admit to being manipulated by the Fudge administration as part of the settlement?"

"Assuming Fudge had something to do with the libelous statements the Prophet has been printing as of late, it should be very possible," the Barrister agreed. "Assuming they'll be caught as flatfooted by the filing of this suit as I suspect they'll be."

"Why wouldn't they suspect anything?" Harry asked.

"Our libel laws were written by thin skinned politicians that wanted to be able to silence any paper that crossed them, meaning that the Prophet is in a very tenuous position. The reason they're going after you is that Dumbledore has publicly come out against these laws on a number of occasions, they figure that he won't undercut his position by suing them and they figure that you're his man."

"How much will this cost me?" Harry asked.

"Eight percent from the Prophet case and fifteen from the Ministry," he replied.

"Why the difference?"

"Because I hate the son of a bitch that the Prophet hired to be their staff council," the barrister explained. "Personal feuds are one of the main things that the legal profession runs off of. I'm willing to take cases for less money, work nights and weekends just for the chance to rub that smug bastard's nose in a pile of defeat."

"What about the criminal case?" Harry prompted.

"Twenty five galleons up front," the Barrister replied. "And I'm also going to need you to tell me everything that happened, regardless of how important you think it is to the case."

Harry counted out the coins and told of what happened from the time Tonks burst into his room to the time he arrived at the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. His new barrister then spent the next half hour asking him questions to nail down every little detail.

"Should be a piece of cake," the Barrister announced. "I'll be in contact."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me till after we've won," the Barrister replied. The door opened with a wave of his hand to reveal a curious looking Tonks.

"All done, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

"Is this the young lady you were with the night you were attacked?" the Barrister asked.

"She is," Harry agreed.

"Please set up an appointment to come by and give your account of what happened," the Barrister requested.

"Alright," Tonks agreed.

"Let's get in some shopping before we go back to the Order," Harry said after he rejoined the girls in the outer office.

"You're volunteering to go shopping with us?" Tonks asked in disbelief. "I thought guys hated that."

"We do," Harry agreed, feeling a familiar sinking feeling in his gut. "Unfortunately, it's tradition so I don't have a choice. Only gotta do it once and I'm only willing to go to five stores. Three of 'em have to be a haberdasher, a place to get rare books, and a weapon shop. No more than ten minutes per store."

"You're willing to go to five shops that we want to go to in addition to that and you have to carry everything," Tonks countered, a gleam appearing in her eye.

"Three shops, Hermione 'll get more enjoyment from the bookstore than I ever could."

"Deal," Tonks said quickly.

"And I don't have to carry . . . damn it," Harry cursed.

"And you're taking us out for ice cream after and it doesn't count towards the total," Hermione added.

"Fine," Harry grumbled. Curse his love of clichés.

Harry picked up a couple of hats, another tweed suit, and a new pair of shoes at the Haberdasher. Spent nearly twenty minutes watching Hermione run wild through the bookstore before he'd managed to pry her away from it, and was more than a bit disappointed by the selection of junk on the racks at the weapon store.

"Anything that doesn't weigh five pounds more than it should?" Harry asked, on the brink of leaving the store in disgust.

"Enchanted walking sticks have always been rather popular," the salesman said quickly, sensing the opportunity to make a sale slipping out of his fingers. "Try this one. Self transfigures into a sword, self adjusts for height, elegant, and capable of casting spells," the salesman said, handing the cane over.

"How do I turn it into a sword?" Harry asked. The salesman demonstrated and Harry took two practice swings before putting it down. "No."

"Sir?"

"That's not a sword," Harry explained. "The balance is wrong, the weight is too high, and the edge couldn't cut butter."

The salesman gave him a look of frank appraisal. "How bout this?" he asked, handing the boy another stick. "Just will the blade to appear."

Harry made a few practice swings, they were enough to capture his interest so he decided to give the blade a closer look.

"Toledo steel," the salesman commented. "You want a good sword, you take it and transfigure it into a stick, other way around doesn't work so well. Won't cast spells, wouldn't recommend any that do anyway, but it will make a nasty club if you don't want to run someone through."

"Any other weapons that were made to be used?" Harry asked, putting the sword aside.

"Not really," the salesman admitted. "Most people come here to pick up something to decorate the house with, ninety percent of what I've got is poorly made junk. I might have something in the back if you'd like me to check?"

"Please," Harry agreed.

The salesman departed and returned a couple minutes later carrying a meter long wrapped package which he placed on the counter.

"Found a horse pick and a couple Robbins punch daggers." The salesman popped his neck. "Free if you buy the sword."

"Deal," Harry said.

What followed was, in Harry's words, "three little shops of Horror." The boy smirked, even burdened down as he was, he still managed to find humor in the situation.

"Don't complain, this was your idea," Tonks said over her shoulder.

"You know, you could just shrink these bags," Harry grumbled.

"Isn't is much fun that way," Tonks said with a grin. "Is it, Hermione?"

"Right you are Tonks," Hermione said with a straight face. "Suffer, Harry."

"Keep it up, and I'll tell your parents that you're eating sweets," Harry retorted.

"You wouldn't," the girl said confidently.

"Try me."

"I don't mean that you don't have the guts, I mean that if you did, you'd never see another of those disgusting cakes you like so much again," the girl explained, a smug look on her face. "You have no idea where I found them, you have no idea how I found them, and I'm not going to tell you."

"Damn it." Curse his weakness for all things sweet and prepackaged, curse it. "We're finished, that's all that matters."

"You promised to take us out for ice cream," Hermione pointed out.

"You promised I'd take you out for ice cream," Harry corrected.

"Exactly," Hermione said with a smirk. "Let's go."

A quick stop at the ice cream parlor and they were back at Headquarters. They found Ron in the billiards room with a deck of cards in his hand and a smirk on his face.

"Care for a game, Hermione?" he asked.

"Sure you don't want to play more snooker?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"We can do that later," Ron replied. "Do you know how to play poker?"

"I read a book on it a few years ago," Hermione stammered, looking nervous. "Okay, but we're not going to bet anything this time."

"Care to join us, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Nah, I gotta figure this stuff out," Harry said, waving to the bundle of things he'd bought. He'd been in enough ambushes to know the best way to survive them. "Thanks for the offer though."

"Don't spend too much time holed up in your room, mate," Ron advised.

"I won't," Harry agreed. 'Sorry, Ron,' he thought to himself as he walked out. 'Your sacrifice won't be forgotten.'

AN:

Polish by dogbertcarroll

Typos by redbaron_94014, Eric, Jon Wombat, redbaron_94014, Dark King, Tara Li, Andrew Chapman, walkabouttigger, Daenerys, Jon Wombat, jaycb65, David Ford, Joel N. Fischoff, Bob, Daenerys

Facts provided by Tommy King

Mistakes pointed out by redbaron_94014

Suggestions by Joel N. Fischoff, Andrew Chapman

Omake by davidiusbrown

"Harry, you have no idea how difficult is was for me to get these. American groceries are not exactly sold at Tescos. I had to pay Gringotts for an American military dependent's ID card, and the Air Force base commissary doesn't accept payment in pounds, so I had to go back to Gringotts to get American dollars and back to the Air Force base, and then back again the next morning because the commissary was closed. I swear to you if you do not explain everything to me right now, you will never see, smell, or taste a Hostess product, ever."

Omake by DireSquirrel

"'Arry?" Fleur asked, walking over to him with a puzzled look on her face.

"What's up, Fleur?" Harry replied, glancing up from what he was working on.

"I zank you for ze cadeaux d'anniversaire, ze birthday gift, but I am confused," the French girl replied, pulling out a box. "Why a track suit and a katana?"

"I hope you don't need it, but a little preparation just in case never hurts," Harry said with an innocent shrug.

Mini OMAKE by me:

Just a stray thought I may have to use in the future in this fic or another.

"I'm Professor Harry Potter and I'm here to teach you offense against the dark arts," Harry announced. "Lesson one; Kill it with fire."