Chapter 16
Reunion
Sirius Black was done arguing with these people. "ENOUGH!"
"But Sirius, you know what Dumbledore said —"
His voice was uncharacteristically harsh as he interrupted Molly. "Yes, I know what Dumbledore said. I also don't care; if he has a problem with it, he can take his lemon drops and sanctimonious attitude somewhere else to host the Order." He turned to Remus, who was standing between him and the door. "Moony, you heard what Arthur said. Harry, my godson, could be in that house, his soul ripped out by Dementors, and you want me to sit here and do nothing? I'm going to make sure he's okay, and no one — not Dumbledore, not the Aurors, not even you — is going to stop me. You have until the count of three before I curse you out of my way. One —"
"Wait, just wait," Remus said with his hands up. "If you go charging in, the Aurors will catch you, and you'll be the one getting a closer look at a Dementor. How about, instead of a notorious mass-murderer, the visitor is an old family friend who just happened to bring along his pet?" Sirius glared for a moment but sheathed his wand; five minutes later, a man in shabby robes and a dog arrived on the streets of Little Whinging.
He immediately leapt from Remus's arms and sniffed along the ground, searching for any sign of the boy he cared for as his own flesh and blood. Catching a scent, he raced ahead, his best living friend on his heels.
Fine, maybe Moony was right, after all. The house was absolutely crawling with wizards and witches draped in red cloaks; literally, in fact, as he could spot one walking straight up the wall. The stench from the gliding nightmares was stronger here, a clue they had become excited as they closed in on their prey. He laid his head on his paws with a whimper, for once in his life praying to any being he could think of for his godson's safety. He had already plead to Merlin, Morgana, the Old Gods of the Isle, the Fae Queen, and was about to start on the Greek Pantheon when he heard a surprising but welcome voice.
"Snuffles? What are you doing here, boy?"
His head popped up to stare at Harry — who looked tired but thankfully not de-souled — and he pounced on the boy, licking every square inch of his face in lieu of hugging the stuffing out of him. Harry protested feebly, but only at the beginning; by the end, he was laughing at the mutt like he used to do as an infant. "Okay, okay, let me up; you're too heavy to be sitting on me. Lupin's been feeding you too many sweets again, hasn't he?"
Padfoot ignored the internal sigh at how Harry addressed Remus; he had never called the older man anything else in his letters, so it was foolish to expect a change now. What was more important was how healthy the boy looked. No longer was he short and scrawny; it looked like he had gained a stone or more in weight, and he had definitely shot up a few inches. Add the new glasses and fitting clothes, and he was barely recognizable.
Before he could shower his godson with more doggy affection, a stern, gray-haired woman wearing a monocle approached the trio. "Mr. Potter, I am pleased to see you unharmed. I am Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
Harry stiffened, worrying the old dog. "And why would the head of the DMLE be in Little Whinging?"
"The investigators from the Misuse of Magic office called the Aurors when they arrived here, and they then requested I come personally due to the circumstances. If you will accompany me inside the house, I can explain in more detail."
"I'm not sure I will," he said, pulling a short wand from his pocket and summoning a large lump towards them. "It depends on if any more of your men plan to curse me in the back."
The woman stared at the unconscious Auror. "Dawlish? He's supposed to be guarding the Minister."
"Well, unless Fudge is here, I'd say he's neglecting his duties. He started casting at me when I left the park that's a bit aways from here, and he kept at it even after he saw that I didn't have my wand in hand."
"And how is it that you are standing while he is out cold?" she asked as she gazed at the boy shrewdly. Her eyes narrowed at his nervous chuckle.
"I may have thrown a rock at his head. Oh, and this is his, too." He tossed the wand onto the man.
Bones sighed. "I suppose it's for the best if he was assaulting a teenager." She pulled her own wand out and charmed his cloak yellow, then dropped a wooden ring on the insensate form. The illustrious John Dawlish vanished. "I will question him later. Now, shall we?"
The inside of the Dursley house was just as hectic as the outside, but the den she lead them to was empty. Harry dropped onto the sagging couch, and Padfoot joined him, laying his head on his godson's legs and heaving a gracious sigh when his ears were scratched. Remus and Bones both conjured chairs for themselves, though his friend's chaise lounge looked far more comfortable than her uncushioned wingback. The woman pulled a quill and pad of parchment out of her pocket and addressed Harry gently. "Just for the record, could you please give me your account of recent events, starting last night at approximately nine-thirty in the evening?"
"I guess; I don't really know what happened, you see. I was upstairs in my room, packing my trunk when —"
"I'm sorry, but why were you packing?" Bones asked, looking up from her pad. "Were you planning to stay with friends for the next few weeks until Hogwarts resumed?"
"No, Vernon kicked me out, said I had an hour to gather my 'freaky things' before he burned whatever I left behind." At her nod, he continued, "Well, I was in the middle of packing when someone blasted the door open. When Vernon and Petunia started screaming, I figured being in trouble with the Ministry was better than dying, so I used magic to pack and shrink my trunk, then flew away from here as fast as my broom could carry me. I spent the night in an old treehouse in the park, came back this morning to find out what happened, that Auror attacked, and you know the rest."
She finished writing his statement and returned her gaze to Harry. "Thank you for the explanation. You may have received some letters from the Improper Use of Magic Office," he pulled a pack of envelopes from his pocket, "yes, those. Don't worry about a hearing or being expelled; you may not have confronted the threat directly, but a minor using magic to flee a dangerous situation is still considered self-defense, which is permitted by the Reasonable Restriction on Underage Sorcery."
"So I can go back to Hogwarts on September first? Brilliant," Harry said with a smile. Padfoot would have smiled if he could, but he settled for bumping his head against his godson's hip. Doing so got him more scratches, too; not his original plan, but nothing he was going to turn down. "Er, Madam Bones? Out of curiosity, what didhappen to the Dursleys? I'm guessing from your earlier words that it was nothing good."
"It wasn't, I'm afraid. I'm sorry to tell you this, but all three of your relatives received the Dementor's Kiss last night. You have my condolences."
"Don't bother," he said shortly. "This wasn't how I expected us to be rid of each other, but at least I'm not stuck here anymore."
The woman's expression shifted into one of wary confusion. "You don't seem very upset that your family is dead. Why is that?"
Now it was Harry's turn to harden. "Let's get something straight. They weren't my family; they were just three people I had the very serious misfortune of being related to. They hated me my entire life, punished me for accidental magic, insulted me and my parents. Merlin, I just told you that Vernon kicked me out. I didn't want them dead necessarily, but I'm not going to waste any tears or pretty words on them now that they are. All I have to say is good riddance to bad rubbish."
"I mean no offense, Mr. Potter, but you are far different than what I have been led to believe."
"And I mean no offense, Madam Bones, but whatever you have heard about me is likely either a half-truth or a flat-out lie," he returned. "I can count the number of people who actually know me on one hand, and none of them had any reason to speak with you. Now, is there anything else?"
The rest of the interview was short — basically Harry telling Bones that he didn't care what damage was done to the house during the investigation and that he could arrange the sale of the property without assistance from the Ministry, while she promised to find the rogue Dementors that had attacked — and soon the man, the boy, and the dog Disapparated away.
Harry stumbled as he let go of Lupin. He hated being Side-Alonged; it always made him extremely queasy. Grumbling, he read the scrap of parchment with the Secret and was escorted inside, where Sirius pounced on him again, this time in human form.
"Oh Merlin, Harry, I was so worried! A pair of rogue Dementors, and in the current atmosphere, even using the Patronus could have gotten you in deep trouble!"
"Sirius, need to breathe…" he gasped, gulping down air when he was let go. After his face was no longer blue, he surprised both of them by wrapping his godfather in a tight embrace. They stood there for several minutes before separating.
Sirius awkwardly cleared his throat. "Well, you're safe and here now, and that's what matters most. It's a little late for breakfast, and early for lunch, but I'm sure we can scrounge something up if you're hungry, or we can move your things to your room…"
"The second one," he said, not wanting to reveal that Dobby had provided a filling breakfast at the Manor. If he could occupy Sirius until lunch, he would be able to keep that secret and avoid any awkward questions.
"Alright. You're staying on the second floor, and make sure you're quiet going up these stairs," Sirius whispered as they passed his mother's portrait, "it's best to let sleeping harpies lie. The Weasleys are here, too, so you'll be sharing with Ron —"
"Er, Sirius, that may not be such a good idea. He and I are going to be having… issues fairly soon, I think."
The man turned to look at him. "Oh? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, it's just… He fancies Hermione, and since I'm effectively banished from the Wizarding World during the summer," he raised his hand to ward off his godfather's denial. "That may not be how it's meant, but that's what it feels like. Anyway, I was stuck in the Muggle World, so I hopped on a bus to Chelsea a couple of times a week to spend the day with her. Things went about how you'd expect with people our age, and now we're going to try out dating."
"Good for you, Harry! If it makes any difference, your parents would have loved her. Still, I see how this would make being around Ron difficult." Sirius thought for a second, then his eyes lit up. Crooking his finger, he led Harry up another flight of stairs and unlocked a door just off the landing.
Before Harry could ask anything, he saw the sign on the door. Regulus's room, he thought as he entered. Sirius was hurriedly summoning the yellow Prophet articles detailing Voldemort's philosophies and first rise to power, so he took in the Slytherin-themed decor and massive Black family crest painted on the wall over the bed's headboard. "Whose room was this originally?" he asked, hoping to draw out more information on the young man who had ultimately given his life to destroy the monster he served.
"My little brother, Regulus. He was the apple of my mother's eye, the perfect Pureblood prince," Sirius said with a mirthless laugh. "He became a Death Eater right after Hogwarts and was killed a short time later, didn't even live to reach his nineteenth birthday. The worst part is that I can't really be mad at him for it; he was soft-hearted when we were younger, wouldn't hurt a fly, but he wasn't brave enough to risk our parents' disapproval. That's why he was in Slytherin rather than Hufflepuff, I think, and I'm pretty sure that's the reason he joined Voldemort.
"I'm somewhat to blame for his death, too," he sighed. "When I ran away from this house at sixteen, my parents forced all their expectations onto him. He was different the next year at school, and I never thought to find out why. I was too busy enjoying our monthly trips into the Forbidden Forest and playing pranks. Poor, foolish Reggie."
Someday, Sirius, I'll figure out how to show you just how brave Regulus turned out to be. You say he'd have been a better Hufflepuff, but I think he would have made a decent Gryffindor, too.
The rest of the day was dedicated to catching up with Sirius, and Harry couldn't have wished for anything more. In the previous timeline, he had only been able to spend a month in total with his godfather, and yet the man's death had torn a hole in him that only now felt like it was starting to heal. I'm not going to let you die again, Sirius, not for a long, long time.
At last, however, it was time for dinner. Molly Weasley had again tried to beat the world record for largest meal, and there was plenty for everyone to have thirds or fourths before the deserts paraded out. Knowing what he did about the overbearing harridan, he wouldn't have even looked at the food were it not for the neutralizing potions Hermione had whipped up before her vacation. He had a Notice-Me-Not-charmed case in Regulus's bedroom that held sixty vials; as each dose was good for twenty-four hours, he and Hermione would be quite safe from any potions the dumpy woman tried to slip them.
Ginny yawned, which set off a chain reaction with the others. "Time for bed, I think," Molly said, covering her own.
"Not just yet, Molly," Sirius said as he gently banished his plate to the sink and turned to Harry. "I know that you've had quite a day, but I must say I expected you to start asking about Voldemort by now."
Last time, he had puffed up in righteous indignation. Last time, he had been soothed by a few vague comments and sent to his room with a pat on the head. Last time, his lack of knowledge had gotten Sirius killed, him tortured, and five of his friends injured.
Last time, he hadn't been twenty-five years old.
So, instead of shouting like he had last time, he leaned back in his chair and lightly glared at the man. "I was waiting to see how long you would be foolish enough to try to keep me in the dark."
"Oh," Sirius said, startled. "I suppose that's one way of looking at it."
"It is. However, since you've brought it up, I do have questions I would like answers to."
"Hang on now!" George cried.
Fred was quick to join his twin. "How come Harry gets his questions answered?"
"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for months, but you haven't said a stinking thing!"
"That's your parents' decision," Sirius replied calmly. "Harry, on the other hand, is my responsibility, so —"
Molly's face took on an angry cast, either the look of a lioness defending a cub or a hyena growling at the creature that stole her prey. "It's not up to you to decide what's good for him!"
"As his godfather, I believe it is, in fact, up to me to decide that," Sirius rejoined.
The Weasley children's heads were switching back and forth between the two adults, knowing that their mother did not like anyone challenging her authority. Lupin, though, was fixated entirely on Sirius, and remembering what the werewolf was like, Harry prepared himself to defend his godfather. Merlin knows no one else will.
"Dumbledore said not to tell him anything more than he needs to know!"
"I don't intend to, but as he saw Voldemort come back, he has a right to know what's going on. In fact, he has more right than most —"
"Except he's not a member of the Order! He's just a child!" she screeched. "He's not James, Sirius!"
Harry's cold voice was an arctic wind sweeping through the kitchen. "Nor are you my mother, Molly Weasley, so stop acting like it. Every time you do, you insult Sirius, my parents, and me, and I will not stand for it a moment longer. Sirius is the only person on this Earth who has the right to act like my parent, and that he realizes I should hear this shows a better understanding of my needs and desires than you claim to have."
Silence followed his statement as everyone looked at him like they had never seen him before. Her face reddened, so he fired his second salvo before she could open her mouth. "In addition, not only are you haranguing him over something that is, quite frankly, none of your business, you are doing so while a guest in his house. I find this arrogant and deplorable, an action I would expect from a Malfoy rather than a Weasley."
"Harry, I would appreciate it if you would not speak so disrespectfully to my wife," Arthur said, trying and failing to be stern.
"And I would appreciate it if she would not speak so disrespectfully to my godfather," he returned dismissively. "As my tone is predicated on hers, she is the one you should seek to discipline."
Lupin's quiet cough broke the tense stalemate. "Getting back to our original topic, it is probably better that Harry gets some of the facts — only some, Sirius, enough to understand the general picture — from us, rather than third-hand from… others." Harry cut his eyes to the twins, who looked back at him with faces of dubious innocence. They had not told him about the Extendable Ears yet, so he knew they were wondering how he knew they knew. And now I sound like Luna.
Sirius and Harry ignored the woman's protests. "You know I'm going to find out one way or another," he said, and his godfather nodded.
"Fine," Molly snapped. "I can see when people are going to do what they want, regardless of what's good for them. Ginny, Ron, Fred, George, I want you out of this kitchen, now."
"We're of age!" the twins shouted.
Molly turned to them, and it didn't take much effort for Harry to imagine smoke streaming from her nostrils. "I said NOW!" Knowing when they were out of their league, the two previously proud seventeen year olds scurried away.
"Er, Harry'll tell me everything you say, mum," Ron said weakly, not wanting to face his mother's fury, then he turned to Harry. "Won't you?"
Recalling the rare letters Ron had sent him, written to tantalize rather than share anything, he carefully kept his face blank. "I'll give you the same amount of information you gave me this summer; namely, none." He lost the battle to his emotions and grinned wickedly at his former friend's dumbfounded expression. "Payback's a bitch, isn't it?" And just think, this is only a minusculebit of interest on what I owe you.
The red head glared but immediately winced as his hands dived to his crotch. Apparently knowing that arguing while his clothes soaked in his own urine wouldn't get him anywhere, he quickly retreated.
Ginny saw that she couldn't succeed where her brothers had failed and also chose a tactical withdrawal.
Lupin shut and locked the kitchen door, and once the room was relatively secure, Sirius spoke. "Okay, Harry, what do you want to know?"
"All sorts of things," he commented wryly, "but let's start with what the noseless one's been doing after he failed to kill me, again."
"He's laying low at the moment," Sirius said with a grin at his irreverent attitude. "His comeback didn't go quite how he wanted it to. With you escaping to warn Dumbledore, it's too dangerous for him to move openly."
"So he's hiding like the snakes he so admires? Can't say that isn't his style."
Lupin was the next to speak. "Don't be too overconfident. He isn't just hiding; he's also planning and marshaling his forces. Death Eaters are just the beginning. Vampires, werewolves, giants, Dementors; Dark creatures of all forms marched under his banner in the last war. He certainly didn't come close to toppling the Ministry with only a dozen wizards."
Actually, he didn't even need that many Death Eaters in the second and third wars; he killed Scrimgeour in '97 and immediately took over, and just showing up was enough in '02. It's not like it's hardto conquer a country full of sheep. Harry glanced at their somber faces and mentally sighed; he wasn't getting any new information compared to the last time he had questioned them, but revealing knowledge he had no way to learn wouldn't help him any. He had a role to play tonight if he wished to keep their suspicion off him tomorrow. "And is this 'Order of the Phoenix' forming its own army to meet them?"
"Not… exactly," Tonks said hesitantly. He smiled gently at her, and she relaxed; his uncharacteristic behavior must have unnerved her after Sirius told her all he knew about his godson. "You saw Cornelius Fudge after You-Know-Who came back, Harry. Well, he's sticking to that position, absolutely refuses to believe it's happened."
He shook his head sadly. "Let me guess, the gleam of Malfoy gold is blinding him to anything else?"
"Probably," Arthur replied, anger clear in his voice, "though we haven't seen it ourselves. Of course, his fear of Dumbledore hasn't helped any. He thinks Dumbledore wants to take his place as Minister."
"The same Dumbledore who turned down the position before? The same Dumbledore that he constantly pestered for advice? If Dumbledore wanted the job, he could just ask for it and be sworn in the same day."
The other adults nodded their heads in response, so he sighed and moved on while moving Fudge up his list of princes he and the girls would make paupers. He had forgotten just how small-minded the Minister was. "What is Voldemort doing besides gathering a menagerie? Surely he wouldn't lower himself to cajoling the Dark creatures himself."
"Well…" Sirius and Lupin looked at each other, then his godfather continued, "he's after something, something he can only get by stealth."
Knowing they were hinting at the Prophecy, he continued to look at them expectantly. "You don't think you can say something that vague without explaining more fully, do you?"
Sirius opened his mouth to say more when Molly cut him off. "That's enough. He has plenty of information; any more and you might as well induct him into the Order straightaway." Harry ignored her in favor of staring at Sirius, who had started to squirm nervously.
"She has a point, Sirius." Lupin turned to him. "It's not that we think you're not capable, you understand; it's that there are dangers you don't understand, can't understand. There's a reason the Order is comprised solely of overage wizards." Still he stared at Sirius.
Sirius half-shrugged. "They're probably right, Harry. You're starting your OWL year; you'll have enough to worry on without adding something you can do nothing about."
"If you insist," he said as he stood, though his godfather grimaced at the disapproval in his voice. "However, I will leave you with something to mull over." He looked over each of them, curiosity obvious on their faces. "I may be underage, but I have had to fight Voldemort directly three times, just as many as my parents did when they were members in this organization. Thinking that still being in school will deter him from trying again is foolish, a naive and misguided belief that would have seen me dead before I finished my first year." Everyone flinched, and he smiled thinly, mirth absent from his face. "Consider that the next time you start to tell me I'm 'too young' to know something."
He unlocked and walked through the kitchen door, leaving nothing but silence in his wake.
The meeting between Harry and Dawlish didn't go exactly as he described it, not that Dawlish will remember what really happened. It's not really important, but Madam Bones changed the color of Dawlish's cloak to let the Aurors at the holding cells know to leave him unconscious until she returned.
Do you want to know something terrible? I don't have to distort Molly's personality to make her an utter bitch; nearly all of her dialogue with Sirius is straight from book 5.
I've had some people bring up the issue of why Harry would leave his wand at the Dursleys' house. I freely admit it was a bit of handwaving on my part, but I can also see it happening on rare occasions; it's like driving around town all day running errands, than going home and realizing you left your driver's license on the counter. You smack your head, thinking "How dumb can I be?", but it's generally not a problem unless the cops pull you over. Harry's past couple of weeks have been very calm and boring, so he hasn't needed his wand while in Surrey; hence, he forgot it once, which wouldn't be too bad if the Dementors hadn't attacked.
Chapter 17
Gaudy Jewelry
Harry hadn't even stepped onto the second floor landing when a red-haired weasel moved in front of him. "How could you do that?!" Ron shouted. "You're not supposed to keep secrets from your best mate!"
"Oh? You mean like how you kept secrets from me this summer?" He decided not to inform the boy that his real 'best mates' were the two women who shared his crazy life; he had enough issues to handle without prolonging the shouting match and memory charming the little prick. "Perhaps if you had been a better mate, I'd be willing to tell you."
Ron couldn't stand his dismissive tone and came closer, trying to use his greater height as an intimidation tactic; too bad it wouldn't work. "Back off, Ron. I'm not in the mood for your stupidity right now."
That was apparently the wrong thing to say. The ginger flushed up to his ears, and the sudden acrid smell told him the brat was again thinking ill of him. "I'm not the stupid one, you bloody glory-hound! If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even be here!" He quirked an eyebrow, and Ron continued, "Who was it who got passed the chess set our first year? Who was it who got us to school when we couldn't get onto Platform 9¾? Who was it who found out Sirius was innocent? Who was it who saved you when you were drowning in the Black Lake? That was all me! Without me, you're just a whiny berk with a scar!"
"I don't have time for this nonsense." Releasing his acacia wand from the sticking charm holding it to his right forearm, Harry petrified his former friend, one who was showing his true colors much earlier now than he had before. "You are just as delusional as your sister, but instead of thinking you destined to bag the 'Boy-Who-Lived', you believe you're a far greater wizard than you are. I could spend the next several hours explaining why you're nothing but a follower, but I won't. Instead, all I'll say is Obliviate."
He immediately sent another spell, this one a compulsion. "Go back to your room and dream. Dream of being no one, having nobody know you as anything more than your older brothers' less capable sibling. Dream of being stuck at the bottom of the social ladder, eternally jealous of those at the top. Dream of having a life dominated by your insecurities and jealousy. Dream, Ronald Weasley, and when you wake, know that you are living your nightmare." A flick of his wand removed the petrification. The boy's eyes lightly glazed from the magical manipulation, Ron stumbled back to the his room and shut the door. Not a minute later, the chainsaw grind of his snores echoed in the hall.
I have to say, if there's one bad thing about the Mind Arts, it's that they make it so blasted easy to take revenge without anyone knowing, Harry thought to himself. He had no need to worry about the boy's reaction to his manipulations in the morning; the memory charm took a minute or so to dissipate, preventing Ron from remembering who had cast it on him, or even that it he had been under one at all.
He finally locked himself in Regulus's room and flopped onto the bed. Honestly, should we be treating him quite this badly? After all, when the girls and I look at him, we don't see Ron Weasley, idiot teenager; we see Ron Weasley, Death Eater and traitor extraordinaire. Yes, we know he's a false companion, one that we cannot trust in the slightest, but has he done anything to deserve being considered an enemy combatant? They were punishing the red-head for a crime that had occurred eight years in the future and now had no chance of happening again. Was their retaliation too extreme?
Then again, Ginny revealed under Veritaserum that she had been part of the plan to trap me in my 'prophesied role' as a martyr since my sixth year and thought Ron had been involved even earlier than that. Was he, though, and if so, how early? If it was before now, he deserves everything he gets, but if it's after, we need to tone down our responses. He turned over to stare at the ceiling. No use worrying about it now. I can check later, once I'm sure everyone else is asleep.
As the grandfather clock in the sitting room chimed two, a shrouded form slipped down the staircase. Harry's steps were silent due to the charm he had placed on them. He paused at the landing below, mentally flipping a coin about which stop he should make first, then turned and entered the bedroom from which he could hear the awful din coming.
Ron was lying on his back, legs splayed out and wrapped in the sheets at his feet. Casting a silencing charm on the ginger to preserve his hearing and sanity, Harry crept closer and aimed his wand at the figure. "Legilimens."
Compulsion charms had an interesting effect on legilimency. Memories relating to the compulsion, in this case Ron being socially invisible, flashed before him while others slowly slid along; navigating Ron's mind was like switching back and forth between a riptide and a pool full of treacle. He mentally pushed through instances of Ron jealously wishing to be the center of attention or exaggerating his own actions to a crowd and fell into a different memory.
"Bloody Potter!" Ron raged in the silence of a disused classroom. "Can't stand letting anyone else having a chance at fame! No, he has to hog it all. You'd think he would have told his best mate how to get past Dumbledore's Age Line, but he kept it secret. Well, Dumbledore can forget his sodding plan. I'm not going to have anything more to do with the blighter!"
Harry pulled himself out of the memory; obviously he had no need to feel guilty for anything he would do to the selfish boy. Dumbledore was in many ways just as much of an enemy as Voldemort. Still, how early did he start steering Ron's actions? He had never asked in the original timeline, too angry with the Weasleys' betrayal to think calmly when he discovered the truth, so he continued poking around. Several minutes later, he finally fished out the pertinent memory.
Ron stumbled down the Burrow's stairs in search of brekkers, only to be surprised by Albus Dumbledore calmly sipping tea at the table. "Professor! What are you doing here?"
"Ah, Ronald, just the person I hoped to see. Come, sit down." Ron slid into a chair, awed that the great Champion of the Light would call him by name. "How has your summer been so far?"
"Great, sir."
"Excellent," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Out of curiosity, have you been in touch with Harry recently?"
Ron scowled at the reminder of the friend that dropped him as soon as summer started. "No, that prat thinks he's too important to write to me now."
"I was afraid of that. He doesn't understand how good a friend you are."
He perked up. "Yeah! That's exactly right!"
"No matter what he believes, you and I know that you are the best friend he could possibly have. I saw how you kept him from spending all his time revising with Ms. Granger this past year." Dumbledore chuckled at his look of panic. "Oh, don't worry, Ronald. There is much more to school than just studying, a lesson I'm proud to see you've learned. Besides, Harry doesn't need to live in the library; the Boy-Who-Lived should be a brave Gryffindor, not a Ravenclaw bookworm."
"That's what I've been telling him! We have six more years of school. It's not like we have to learn everything right now."
Dumbledore grinned at him. "If classes were in session, I'd award you points. Alas, I must take my leave, but I wonder if you could do me a favor?"
"Sure," Ron replied. "What do you need me to do?"
"Just continue doing what you have been. Keep Harry at your sensible pace rather than letting Ms. Granger pull him ahead, and prevent those from… untrustworthy families from influencing him. In fact, it might be for the best if Harry doesn't make any more friendships right now, just in case. If you succeed, I might have a favor or two I can call in from my old friend Ragmar Dorkins."
Ron gasped. "You're friends with the Cannons' manager?"
"In a matter of speaking," Dumbledore replied as he stood and walked to the floo. "Just remember what I told you, Ronald."
Harry seethed as he pulled out of the traitor's mind. He sold me out for a Quidditch team! That spineless, lazy, bottom-feeding, back-stabbing, two-faced bastard! He paced silently about the room, torn between storming out and shredding the ginger into tiny pieces. Well, at least I know that Ron hopped into Dumbledore's pocket after first year. He then spent the next five bloody years doing everything he could to make me just as much an idiot as him, an idiot who would have been child's play for Voldemort to kill.
He snorted as a thought sprang to the front of his mind. "Love isn't the 'power the Dark Lord knows not'," he muttered facetiously, "luck is."
An unholy gleam entered his eyes as he glanced back at the sleeping boy. "Luck… that's all that would have separated us should you have been more successful. Let's increase that difference, shall we?" He flicked his wand in harsh movements as he recited an old Polish incantation he had run across in the Black library once; he had been feeling particularly vindictive that day and wanted a spell to cause utter chaos in the ranks of the people flocking to Voldemort. He hadn't wanted to kill them — the volunteers were spineless, not evil — so instead he made them regret their actions another way.
Chuckling, he finished the spell and watched a mud-brown jet of light hit Ron. "I don't know why I didn't think of using this on the Dursleys; the Dire Misfortune Curse is so much fun to watch in action. Nighty-night, ickle Ronniekins." He slipped out and continued to his original destination.
The drawing room was an incredibly gloomy place, with velvet curtains that buzzed lightly from the doxies sleeping behind them and cabinets filled with a number of Dark artifacts. One in particular caught his eye: a heavy gold locket bearing glittering green gems arranged to resemble the letter 'S'. He carefully opened the glass doors and levitated the Horcrux to a table in front of the couch.
A raspy voice broke his concentration. "What is Master's nasty half-blood brat doing poking his nose around so late? Mistress would be beside herself if she saw, oh poor Kreacher, blood-traitors and thieves and werewolves and scum —"
"Enough, Kreacher," Harry snapped. The old elf had died in the Battle of Hogwarts, and it had been so long ago that he had forgotten what a little monster Kreacher was. "Come here; there's something I think you'll want to see."
"What does the half-blood think will interest Kreacher, some foolish Muggle toy no doubt, oh Mistress would be so disappointed, the noble house of Black holding Muggle trash…" Kreacher finally stepped closer, and his eyes widened. "Master Regulus's locket!"
"Yes, the Locket. Regulus went through a lot of trouble to claim this, didn't he? Stealing it from Voldemort, dying for it; it would be a shame to leave his final wish unfulfilled."
Kreacher glared at him with a rheumy eye. "Nasty boy shouldn't know of Master Regulus's orders, no he shouldn't, how does he know since Kreacher didn't tell him…"
"Regulus told me," Harry lied. I really need to not let my mouth get in front of my head. "He spoke to me from behind the Veil, said the Locket needed to be destroyed for Voldemort to die. Then he told me where to find it and how to get rid of it. He was quite disappointed that it still exists after all this time."
"Kreacher tried!" the elf wailed, and Harry quickly cast a silencing charm around them. It would not do for everyone in the house to hear them when the original plan called for discretion. "Powerful magic Kreacher tried, but nothing would work, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to open it, but Kreacher could not —"
"Of course you couldn't," he interrupted, "you don't speak Parseltongue. Fortunately, I do. Now, do you want to watch Regulus's work be completed?"
Kreacher said nothing but nodded, and so Harry turned his attention back to the Locket. "Open."
The golden doors opened with a quiet click, and dark eyes stared from the glass windows. "I have seen your heart," a soft, dangerous voice hissed, "and it is mine."
"Sorry, Tom, but my heart belongs to others. Avada Kedavra." Sickly green hit the Locket, and the glass shattered with a loud screech. He wasn't going to give one of the world's best manipulators a change to play any mind-games.
Kreacher crept closer and nudged the defunct jewelry with one gnarled finger. "Master Regulus is happy now."
"I'm sure he is. Here, take this with you," Harry said as he draped the locket's chain around Kreacher's neck. "Regulus would have wanted you to have it. Just make sure you keep it hidden from everyone else, or they'll try to take it."
"Yes, Kreacher will keep it secret, keep it safe. Master's brat is not so bad for a nasty half-blood."
"Just… go away."
By the time Harry returned to his room, the full impact had hit him. The diary, scar, diadem, ring, chalice, and locket are gone, and Nagini and Voldemort himself are pretty much a two-for-one-special. He grinned darkly. Be afraid, Tommy-boy; your 'flight from death' is quickly coming to a very sticky end.
Reaching into his trunk, he pulled out a small box he had charmed unbreakable early that morning and opened it to reveal his mirror earring. Luna and Hermione were nine and ten hours ahead, respectively, so they were both likely taking a break from their days' activities to eat right about now. "Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood."
There was no immediate response, but this didn't worry him; both had informed him they would have their mirrors with them at all times. Finally, Hermione's voice sounded from the glass. "Yes?"
"Hermione?" Luna asked before he could greet her. "Why did you call me?"
"Luna? I didn't call you; did you call me?"
"No, I'm certain you called me. My earring was in my pocket, though I couldn't answer until I was away from the Snorkack den. Maybe you said my name accidentally?"
"I wasn't even talking about you earlier. Could you have been thinking out loud about me?"
"Hermione Jane Granger! I'm not going to just blurt out my sexual fantasies about you when my father's present; he has enough trouble finding a girlfriend of his own without being jealous of his daughter's."
"Too much information, Luna," Harry said, smiling at their stereo surprised salutations. "How are your trips going?"
"Excellent. Daddy and I think we've finally stumbled upon a den, and now it's just a waiting game. With the onions and cabbages we set out, I doubt it'll take much longer."
"My trip has so far been less… eccentric," Hermione replied, and Harry rolled his eyes. Some households refused to discuss politics, others avoided religious debates, but theirs stayed away from the topic of magizoology. It just wasn't worth the effort trying to keep the girls from becoming far too passionate about their opinions. "Melbourne is our last stop, so we'll be coming home in the next few days. What about you; you haven't been lonely, have you?"
"Not at all; I've had a veritable line of girls after me since you two left. In fact, I had a pair try to snog me just last night." At her growl, he laughed and continued, "Don't worry, I don't do Dementors on sheer principle."
"Dementors? Oh, bugger! Are you okay? Obviously you are, or you wouldn't be talking to us. Merlin, that means we have to get you ready for your trial again. If you look in the library in… in… Sirius's house, there's a book on magical law published in 1927 —"
"Hermione."
"— and yes, I know it's old, but the relevant portions of the Statute of Secrecy and the Reasonable Restriction on Underage Sorcery haven't changed since 1904 —"
"Hermione."
"— anyway, make sure to memorize the citation for the self-defense clause. It should make a good impression on the Wizengamot as a whole if you can rebuttal Fudge's claims with a detailed knowledge of the law rather than just a vague idea —"
"HERMIONE!"
"What?! I'm trying to help you, Harry!"
"I know, and I appreciate it," he continued more gently, "but it's completely unnecessary. There isn't going to be a trial."
"Why not?"
"Because I didn't fight them off; I just got myself out of there. There was still magic recorded because I had to collect the last of my things, but Amelia Bones questioned me this morning and cleared me of any wrongdoing. I think she was more concerned with a pair of rogue Dementors and covering up a trio of Kissed Muggles."
"You left the Dursleys to the Dementors?" Luna asked. "Are you sure there was any attack at all? I'd have expected the five of them to recognize each other as kindred spirits."
"They weren't soul-sucking demons, love, just cruel, small-minded, self-absorbed bigots. And yes, Bones confirmed it when I spoke with her. I'm now safely ensconced in London with our least favorite traitor, fangirl, werewolf, house elf, and housewife."
"Poor Harry," Hermione commented dryly, "locked up with your greatest admirer. Just make sure you don't leave your pants around for her to steal. I caught her sleep-talking about doing so and building a shrine around them once when we were staying at the Burrow."
He shuddered, more than a little tempted to memory charm that comment away. "Thank you for that wonderful image. I'm sure to have an easier rest knowing Ginny wants to root through my dirty underthings. Why didn't you mention this to me earlier?"
"I figured it was just a dream, not something she'd actually plan to do; you can't control what your mind throws about when you're asleep, after all," she murmured sheepishly. "I know, I know, I should have recognized just how obsessed she was from that instance alone, but I thought she was my friend and ignored it. By the time I realized the scope of the problem, you were already chasing other skirts —"
"Ours!" Luna chirped.
"Yes, ours — and so it just never came up. Are you taking the neutralizers I made?"
"No, I'm using them to brighten up the place," he retorted. "You wouldn't believe how well they complement faded floral wallpaper."
Hermione harrumphed. "I understand you're upset with me, but there's no reason to be rude. If you want to be dosed by one of Molly's love potions, go right ahead. I just wanted to make sure I wouldn't arrive to see you having your wicked way with Ginny in the front hall."
"Aaand moving on before I feel any more nauseous. In a display of cross-timestream karma, Ron may have been cursed tonight."
"Oh? And just what did you… I'm sorry, karma… curse him with?"the blonde asked. "You're only this maliciously gleeful when you've done something truly inspired."
"Well, I found out that Dumbledore recruited Ron to not only stop me from learning any information he didn't approve of, but also to keep me from having 'untrustworthy' friends. I figured, since he worked so hard to destroy any social standing my own timidity hadn't ruined and turn me into a bumbling buffoon, I'd return the favor, so I hit him with the Dire Misfortune Curse."
"My goodness, Harry; that spell's just plain evil. Wasn't the last man you used that on almost mauled by the geese he raised?"
He chuckled at Hermione's question. Dire Misfortune was the closest thing there was to a Dark pranking spell, but it was still Dark. "Yes, he was, but remember that he didn't die. That's what I love most about it; the curse can't kill you, not that you won't pray it will. As long as we remember to reapply it every two weeks, we'll have an unrelenting source of entertainment."
"While I love the thought of that ginger bastard getting his due, I'm more concerned about the Locket," Luna said. "Did you find it?"
"Found it, dealt with it, gave it to Kreacher. Six Horcruces down, one to go, and then it's just Voldemort himself. I'd call this a summer a success."
"That it was. Going back to a previous topic, why didn't we remember the Dementor attack? That's something we should have prepared for."
"We didn't remember because it happened a decade ago, Hermione. Still, you raise a valid point; what else happened this year that we need to pay attention to?"
"Well, we have the toad torturing us, the Ministry and Prophet smearing my name, teaching the D.A., though I refuse to deal with that headache again… that's all I can think of off the top of my head."
"While I understand that the D.A. is a sore spot for you, and for good reason, it was the only way our year-mates passed their OWLs —"
"Which isn't my responsibility!" He shook his head, surprised at just how angry he still was with the group as a whole. He taught them for the explicit purpose of defending themselves, but when Voldemort returned the second time, so many of them did nothing and just accepted his rule. Some, like Ron and Seamus, even joined him! A few were trustworthy — Neville and the Creevey brothers were wonderful examples of this — but they weren't enough to make a difference in his decision.
The problem, he knew, was that the Wizarding World was full of cowards. Each member of their society was handed a deadly weapon at eleven and required to learn how to defend themselves with it. Even with Voldemort's jinx on Hogwarts's Defense Against the Dark Arts position, there was an incredible library available to the students and books at Flourish and Blotts for those who couldn't attend the school or who wanted extra information. If that weren't enough, no one had to fight Voldemort's forces alone. Every time a ten-man squad of Death Eaters attacked Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, they were easily outnumbered ten, twenty, or even fifty to one; few shield charms were capable of stopping a dozen Reductors hitting at the same time, and none could withstand thirty.
This meant that, prophecy or no, any half-trained mob had a chance to take Voldemort down. The Aurors should have done so with no problems whatsoever; the reason they didn't was that they were, quite frankly, incompetent. Fred and George had made a killing by selling their Shield Hats to the Ministry because the average DMLE investigator couldn't even cast a Protego shield.Not even all the Aurors could, which was inexcusable.
Harry pulled himself from his wool-gathering and refocused on the conversation. "I am under no obligation to waste my time teaching Defense skills to those who would rather roll over and show their bellies than stand up for themselves. There are simply too many other things to do. The only way I would teach DADA again was if I was paid for it and given the same authority as any other professor. Unless that happens, I will leave the students' education in the oh-so-capable hands of Hogwarts's staff."
"Harry…"
"Mione, he has a point. Restarting the D.A. is his decision, and if he decides not to do it, that's the end of it. Unless you were planning to lead them?"
Hermione sighed. "No, I've learned that teaching is not one of my strengths. So, no D.A… Nagini!"
"What?"
"Something else that happens this year is Nagini sneaking around the Ministry at Christmas. If we kill her, that will be the last Horcrux gone!"
"Yes, that's true," he said. "It will also infuriate Voldemort and possibly let him know that someone's working to render him mortal. Unlike the other Horcruces, he keeps a close eye on her."
"Not necessarily," Luna countered. "If we arrange things just so, he might think it was a random Ministry worker getting in a lucky strike. I'll think on it and get back to you on the Express." There was hushed muttering, then she continued, "I need to go; it's almost time for the Snorkacks to come out! I love you, and I'll talk to you two later!"
"Her and her creatures. I have to go, too, but I should be arriving at… in London in a few days. Love you."
"I love you, too. Otium." Returning his mirror to his trunk, he changed clothes and crawled into bed, mind racing in an attempt to remember everything important from the upcoming year. So much for a restful night's sleep.
I can only remember one time in canon where a magical fight wasn't depicted as a bunch of one-on-one duels happening at the same time, and that's at the end of book 5.
Chapter 18
Family Momentos
Harry had just sat down to breakfast the next morning when he, along with the rest of the Weasleys, heard a series of loud thuds coming down the stairwell and ending with a soft, "Bloody hell. What else can go wrong today?"
"Ronald Weasley!" Molly yelled as she stormed towards the kitchen door. "What have I told you about using that sort of language?! I'll wash your mouth out with soap if you — Oh, Ronnie! What happened?!"
Ron staggered into the kitchen in obvious pain. His right hand was hanging limply from his arm, his shirt was covered in blood from his flattened nose, and he didn't appear to be able to put his full weight on his left leg. "Tonks, this is your fault. Your klutz curse got me!"
"Don't blame me for this! Metamorphs are always clumsy; our bodies are constantly shifting and throwing off our balance. Besides, last I checked, it wasn't contagious. You have my sympathies, though." The smile Tonks couldn't quite hide leeched all sincerity from her words.
While her son and the Auror were talking, Molly had cleaned Ron up and fixed his nose, and was now focused on his broken wrist. A few muttered words caused it to straighten with a sharp crack. "How did this happen, dearie?"
"I don't know. I fell flat on my face when I got out of bed, then the dresser slammed itself shut when I was getting my clothes out, and then something tripped me at the top of the stairs." He blindly reached for his utensils to eat breakfast, only to cry out as he squeezed the blade of his knife, cutting his hand. Apparently, Molly had laid a razor-sharp filet knife at his place by accident.
It was only thanks to his Occlumency that Harry didn't snort out loud, even if he was positively cackling on the inside. Much like malaclaw venom or Felix Felicis, the Dire Misfortune Curse somehow manipulated chance; in this case, the chance of almost anything bad happening was made a near certainty. As he had told Hermione the night before, a few days under the curse was enough that some people seriously prayed for death.
After Ron's remaining injuries were healed and the rest of the room had the opportunity to see him stab himself multiple times in the cheeks and lips with his fork as he ate, the dumpy matriarch shooed them into the drawing room. The velvet curtains that had been so quiet in the night now buzzed ominously, and it was to these that Molly directed their attention. "We're going to start cleaning this room today, starting with getting rid of the doxy infestation here. I expect us to be done in a few days if we don't slack off —"
"I'm sorry, what?" Harry asked, looking about the room. In the light of day, the filth really wasn't that bad, certainly less than what had been covering the Manor when he first saw it. "A few days? Most of what this room needs is some Scourgify spells, maybe a Reparo or two on the furniture. It shouldn't take five minutes."
"Harry, you, Ron, and Ginny aren't allowed to use magic during the summers, and I think Fred and George are too young to be doing so, too. Besides, a little honest work never hurt anybody."
"So instead of saving everyone a lot of time and effort, you're drafting us to do everything by hand. How… inefficient." That was not what he wanted to say, but telling Molly he shouldn't have expected anything more thought out from a gormless, prejudiced, inbred harpy probably wasn't the best option at the moment.
She ignored him and pointed to a collection of spray bottles. "Now, everyone take a cloth and bottle of Doxycide and — ah, Sirius, you can join us."
"What?" Sirius asked, stopped mid-stride in the hallway.
She exited the room only to physically drag the still-skeletal man inside. "As I was saying, all of you grab a spray. It says here that doxies are poisonous, but I've brewed the recommended antidote in case anyone is bitten. Lockhart says —"
Harry's voice was incredulous as he interrupted again. "Could you repeat that? I could swear I heard you referencing Lockhart, of all people."
"Yes, I was," she said, showing him the copy of Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests she had been flipping through. "I don't see why that would be a problem."
"Let's see, maybe because it's Lockhart? The same Lockhart who couldn't corral a bunch of pixies, even though Hermione, Ron, and I could as second years? The same Lockhart who Ron and I proved to be nothing more than a fraud with a penchant for memory charms? That Lockhart?"
Molly huffed and glared at him. "Well, if you think you can do better…"
"I don't think I can do better, I'm sure I can. Sirius, could you conjure, oh, half a dozen snakes? Venomous, preferably, so they have some resistance to the doxies' bites."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Sirius asked, looking at him worriedly. "We don't have anything for snakebites."
"It'll be fine."
"If you're sure." He extended his arm, his hand gripping his wand by the shaft. "Conjuring was never my strong suit."
Harry took the wand gingerly, shocked at Sirius's offer. As Luna had explained to them on the Hunt, permitting another to use one's wand was an act of extreme trust. In the Pureblood world, such a thing wasn't often seen outside the Aurors, where trust between partners had to be absolute, or extremely close couples. It was actually Hermione loaning him her wand after his had been broken in Godric's Hollow that had first given Luna the idea for them to form a ménage à trois; she told them later that if she hadn't offered the suggestion and kept him to herself when the war was finished, she would have felt like a homewrecker.
He jabbed the wand at the floor and whispered, "Serpensortia." He ignored the gasps from his audience as the snakes raised their heads above his own and stared at him coldly, their hoods flared. "Behind you are tasssty little flying creaturesss," he said, Parseltongue slipping easily from his lips. "Eat them. Eat them all."The cobras turned in unison to the velvet curtains.
A weak gust of wind brought the pests swarming from their nest. The snakes were having the time of their lives snagging the doxies from the air and swallowing them whole, still kicking and chittering. Noticing that his creations were beginning to be overwhelmed, he doubled their number and repeated his instructions. The crunch of the doxies' exoskeletons and the serpents' hisses of delight made for a morbid background noise, one that was turning all of the Weasleys a mite green.
He turned his attention to the rest of the room and fired spells at everything in sight. Before two minutes had passed since he conjured his little helpers, he scoured the walls free of dirt and wallpaper, cleaned and repaired the chairs, polished the glass of the cabinets, darned the curtains, and vanished the snakes with the doxies still inside. Smirking a bit, he returned Sirius's wand and asked, "Anything else?"
Molly scowled at him for stealing her thunder. "Well, now we can get started throwing out all the evil things in here." Her brood followed her as she crossed the room.
Sirius, however, patted his shoulder fondly. "Not bad, pup. Where'd you get so much practice with household charms?"
"Living with four other boys is far too much for my sense of acceptable cleanliness. I had to learn them just to keep from being driven barmy." His godfather shrugged and nodded at that, then joined the gingers, who had conjured sacks and were poised to wage war against the enemy bric-a-brac.
Idly curious if any of the trinkets could be useful for his ventures, he sidled over as well. One of the twins was the first to open the doors and reach in, but he immediately pulled his arm back and began flailing it about. It didn't take much to see why; a multi-legged silver instrument, something reminiscent of a spider if they ignored the sharp edges on the limbs, was perched on the boy's wrist and doggedly trying to climb up his arm. Not knowing what it was, Harry slapped the device off, right onto Sirius's face.
"Huh, I had forgotten all about this thing," the man said as he pulled it off. Unlike with the boy, it curled its legs under it and settled calmly on his palm.
"What is it?"
"This, Harry, is the Family Compass. It can point to anyone that it's been introduced to before, ignoring any wards or charms they're under, even the Fidelius."
He came closer, peering down at the contraption. "Any ward? How would it do that? And what do you mean, 'introduced to'?"
"Let me show you. Obliviate." Harry's eyebrows rose at Sirius's choice of spell; memory charms were only supposed to work on living things. This Compass, however, proved to be an exception as it scuttled up Sirius's bare forearm. It jabbed a pointy leg into the crook of his elbow and absorbed a few drops of the blood that welled up before returning to quiescence.
"It's blood magic, very Dark stuff. The little bit of blood it 'drank' ties it to me, preventing anything short of death from hiding me. My parents used it on my brother and I, as well as my cousins, when we were little in case we snuck out of the house or were kidnapped from Diagon Alley, which was actually less paranoid at the time than you'd think."
Harry glanced at all the other objects in the cabinets; if this device, which appeared so sinister at first, was truly benign, how many others were as well? He pointed to a enamel-plated music box in the corner. "Do you remember what that was for?"
"Oh, Merlin," Sirius whispered, dropping the Compass onto the shelf and pulling it out. "This is Reggie's music box. He had terrible insomnia, even as a kid, and the charm on this was just about the only way he could get to sleep. My father commissioned it when he was four, after Kreacher mentioned that he was only getting a couple of hours a night, and that was on the good days. He even took it with him to Hogwarts. My mother must have put it here after his death, which explains why it's right next to Aunt Elladora's favorite daggers."
"Are all of the things in here heirlooms?" he asked softly. Sirius nodded slowly, and he motioned for the Weasleys to leave the room; they didn't, of course, but he wasn't terribly surprised by that. "Maybe, instead of tossing everything into the rubbish out of hand, you should go through them and keep the pieces you consider most significant. Clearly you don't associate all of them with bad memories."
Sirius gazed at him, a slight shine in his eyes and a fond smile playing on his lips. "You may look like James, but you're definitely Lily's son. You're right, I should sort through these. I'll probably still get rid of most of them, but…" He returned his attention to the music box, the rest of his sentence obvious. Harry shooed the Weasleys out, leaving him to reconcile with his past in peace.
"Harry, my boy, how are you today?"
Harry refrained from sighing out loud. I was wondering how long it would take for him to seek me out. He had been in Grimmauld Place for three days now, and in that time he had turned Molly's plans completely on their heads. A wonderful example was the library he was in at the moment; the harpy had been shocked when he convinced Sirius to leave most of the books where they were. Knowledge, he had insisted, was far too important to throw away unless a book could be proven beyond a shadow of a doubt to contain nothing useful, interesting, or beneficial. After Sirius and Bill, the only 'adult' who was the least bit impartial, spent several hours skimming the collection, only eight books were consigned to the bin for being unrepentantly Dark; Harry had managed to replace them with surreptitiously conjured duplicates and sneak them to Winky for shelving in Potter Manor. As a side-benefit, doing that had earned him serious points with Kreacher.
Though he wasn't sure the title 'sneaky half-blood brat' was much of an improvement, to be honest.
He closed the book on warding he had been perusing before double-checking his Occlumency shields, not that he planned to need them. Last time, Dumbledore had been so wary of his connection to Voldemort that the old man went out of his way to avoid eye-contact. That was advantageous now; Harry's natural talent for Legilimency made his shields weaker than average, and even were they not, Dumbledore's vastly greater experience meant going head-to-head in the Mind Arts was a sure way to have his secrets exposed, something he was anxious to avoid. He would notput his girls in danger if he could help it.
Turning in the old man's general direction, he kept his eyes from focusing on anything in particular. "Quite well, Professor. And you?"
"As well as can be expected. Remus told me about the Dursleys; you have my condolences."
"Thank you, I suppose."
"However," Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't spoken, "he also mentioned that you did not seem to care about their fate, that you were rather happy about it, in fact. I must confess that I am disappointed."
"Disappointed? Vernon and Petunia should never have been allowed within ten kilometers of a child, and Dudley has been a burgeoning thug from practically the day he was born. They got what they deserved in the end."
"You should always be able to forgive people, my boy. I have told you before, but we must strive to do what is right, not what is easy."
"Except ignoring everyone's crimes out of hand isn't right; it's the epitome of easy. Forgiving those who honestly regret their actions and punishing those who see no reason to change, that is right." Dumbledore reared back as if struck; had no one ever turned his own words against him before? If not, Harry really needed to find something he could justify for 'the Greater Good'. Maybe it would be enough to give the old goat a heart attack.
"By that logic, what of your own actions? You are capable of casting a Patronus, one strong enough to frighten away dozens of Dementors, yet you let your family die. Does this not mean you should be punished?"
He took a deep breath to center himself. No matter how much he wanted to, starting a magical fight with Dumbledore was not in his best interests, especially not when everyone else in the house thought the manipulative bastard had hatched from a phoenix egg and shat rainbows and lemon drops. But oh, did he want to curse him. "First, as I have told you before, the Dursleys were never my family. Second, it was the summer, when we're not allowed to use magic. I wasn't going to paint an even larger target on my back when the Ministry is already doing everything they can to depict me as a dangerous lunatic. Third, and most important, my relativeshaving their souls ripped out and eaten was punishment for how they treated me all my life. Holding them in Azkaban for fourteen years before being Kissed would have been better, but I'll take what I can get.
"Though I must say I'm surprised by the fact the Dementors were able to enter the house at all," he mused. "It's rather sad that you constantly shoved the blood wards in my face as a reason to go back to Surrey, only for them to fail when they were actually needed."
"The blood wards couldn't protect you from everything. They were meant to keep you safe from Voldemort."
Harry stared incredulously at him. "You're telling me that you kept me in that hellhole for protection against a disembodied spirit? Surely there is some other ward that could have done the same thing, one that could have been placed over a magical home."
"While you were protected from a direct attack from him, it also kept Death Eaters away from you. No one with the Dark Mark could cross the threshold of the property."
"That's it?" he asked. "That's the limit of your protection? What was stopping someone from cursing me while I was at school? Or from a distance when I spent all summer working in the garden? Or sending someone under the Imperius to enter the house and kidnap me or kill me? They wouldn't have the Dark Mark yet would be just as dangerous to my health. There was nothing else? Un-bloody-believable. And that's just threats from outside the house; there are many days I wonder if I wouldn't have been safer with the Death Eaters than in the hands of Vernon and Petunia."
Dumbledore frowned at him. "Surely they weren't that bad."
"They locked me in a cupboard for days on end without food if I did something as simple as show up Dudley in school or have an episode of accidental magic. They worked me like a slave. They beat me, belittled me, tried their best to utterly break me. Actual prison inmates are treated better than I was. Yes, they were 'that bad'." Harry's voice was cold and hard, a sign of how far beyond mere anger he was. "And for the record, I do not appreciate being called a liar by someone who has no knowledge or understanding of the subjects being discussed. I am the one who had to live with the Dursleys, not you; I don't know that you ever even met them.
"Now, is there something else, or were you here solely to chastise me for celebrating my freedom from the worst sort of Muggles imaginable?"
"Yes, actually. Professor Snape has mentioned that you were incredibly rude to him yesterday. He was upset, understandably, but he said if you would apologize —"
"No."
"I'm sorry?"
"You should be." Harry glared at one of the golden stars on Dumbledore's garishly red robes. "My 'rudeness' was simply ignoring his habitual insults towards my father. Snape —"
"Professor Snape, Harry."
"Snape is simply a bully who's angry that his favorite target isn't fun anymore. He can either get over it or not; I don't particularly care." Because when he inevitably crosses the line, I'll take care of him personally. That bastard owes my father and now me his life, and before I'm done with Hogwarts, I'm going to call his debt in.
Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "You really must let this grudge go; it is very immature. And you should at least be respectful to your teachers."
"And you'll notice I'm not mimicking Sirius and calling Snape 'Snivellus'. That's the most respect he's going to get from me." He let out a short, bitter laugh as realization struck him. "Snape really can do no wrong in your eyes, can he? Just because he's a 'reformed' Death Eater, you'll pander to his every whim like a father indulging his spoiled brat. Is becoming a murderer and then crawling to you for absolution the only way to gain your trust? Must I start lashing out at all the students who irritate me for you to listen to a word I say? If so, tell me; I already have a list of who I would hurt first, and the 'strutting, arrogant bully' Draco Malfoy is right at the top. That would just increase the similarities between Snape and myself, right?"
Dumbledore had paled as he spoke, and now the old man whispered, "Harry, have you truly become so Dark?"
"No," he replied, though this was a matter of opinion. He, Hermione, and Luna were not murdering children, torturing innocents, or trying to rule the world; all they sought was justice and a little profit. He knew the headmaster would disagree. According to the old man, taking vengeance of any kind was 'Dark', as was wielding lethal magic, stealing from the rich, and generally not obeying the infallible Albus Too Many Bloody Names Dumbledore. "I'm making a point. For the 'Leader of the Light' to trust a self-professed Dark wizard over those who never joined a terrorist group is… strange, to put it lightly. Of course, I don't trust spies in general. You can never know where their allegiance truly lies." Like Ron, for instance.
He picked his book back up. Though he had made valid points, he knew Dumbledore wouldn't listen; the manipulative man was too caught up in his grand scheme. According to the journals found after the war was over, Dumbledore saw only two possible resolutions should his plans bear fruit: the most likely was that he would defeat Voldemort after destroying his Horcruces and lock him up in Nurmengard next to Grindelwald while the Death Eaters miraculously saw the error of their ways and became productive members of society, but he still held hope that the psychopath himself could be convinced to give up his quest for destruction, retake the name Tom Riddle, and become the next Leader of the Light. Either way, Harry was of no importance, just a lamb to be slaughtered on the altar of prophecy.
This was why Dumbledore had never helped him whenever he was in danger in Hogwarts. Every time he faced Voldemort and came back alive, the old man hoped it would be the last so that Voldemort could be truly 'vanquished'. Even worse, somehow, was that it wasn't personal; his demise was just another box to be checked off a to-do list. Dumbledore's morals were all that kept him from doing the deed himself.
Harry thought his rage at the delusional bastard was entirelyjustified.
Oblivious to his thoughts, Dumbledore came closer and peered at the text. "Warding? I did not realize you were interested in this branch of magic."
"Sirius told me about the wards on the house, so I got curious and decided to do a little digging. It's an intriguing and lucrative field from what I can find. The only thing I need to learn for it is runes, and I'll have a chance to do that once Voldemort's six feet under."
"I was under the impression you wished to be an Auror," Dumbledore suggested gently. Harry suspected it was due to the old man not wanting him to have any plans for after the war. Merlin forbid he survive and live a full and happy life; why, he might decide not to throw himself at Voldemort's feet and politely ask to be killed!
"It was just an idea I was tossing about last year, when I thought it was actually Moody teaching us. Besides, my life's bad enough with one Dark wizard after me. I really don't want to have to deal with that for the rest of my life." The ding of the doorbell and Walburga Black's screech signified a new arrival. Harry returned the book to its shelf before heading to the door. "If that's all, Professor?"
Dumbledore reluctantly waved him on, and he left the room with a smile. Hermione was here.
I honestly think Rowling forgot she was writing about witches and wizards when she had everyone cleaning Grimmauld Place. If the twins were "[whipping their] wands out for every tiny little thing", they at least should have done the smart thing and spelled all the filth away, even if no one else had that idea.