Harry Potter and the Sword of the Hero

Chapter 3 - Casualties of War

Night falls on the eve of battle: another point of
No return. As "darkness crumbles away" into
Daylight, here is the calm before the storm, a
Time of hope and fear and of last minute memories

--Unknown

"Its okay, Hermione, he's all right," said Ron, as tears again started to appear in Hermione's eyes, a thing that had been happening a lot the past few days.

"Oh, I know. It's just... I thought we'd lost him..." Hermione sniffed over a tissue as she said this.

"Me too, me too… But he's right here, alive and well... maybe not too well... but alive at least."

Ron and Hermione were sitting on the end of Harry's bed in the hospital wing. It had been two days since his rather abrupt arrival and neither had left his side for long.

"How long do you think he'll be asleep for?" asked Ron.

"I don't know. Madam Pomfrey has been keeping him asleep while his leg heals. She said the pain would be terrible if he was awake. I don’t know how he made it to the castle like that…."

"His leg looks okay now," said Ron, looking at his best friend's leg wrapped in bandages. God... he never gets a break, Ron thought. How right he was.

"It feels okay, too," whispered Harry weakly.

Ron and Hermione looked up so quickly that Harry thought they might have injured their necks.

"HARRY!" shouted Hermione, throwing herself around Harry's chest.

"Ow- Hermione... ribs... broke."

"Oh sorry," she said quickly, picking herself up.

"How are you, mate?" asked Ron lightly, but Harry could hear the concern in his voice.

"Fine….” replied Harry dryly, not feeling up to discussing much of anything.

“Are- are you sure? You’ve been through a lot….”

“I know, I know,” he said, turning to face Hermione; she had tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm alright, Hermione, really I am," he continued, seeing the disbelieving look on her face. He knew that he wasn’t, but he needed to appear strong. How could he be the hero, the saviour, if he snapped...?

"Harry... what happened... why did you hit the window?" whispered Hermione, breathing heavily between her tears.

"I didn't hit it on purpose,” Harry coughed. “It sort of snuck up on me. I was being chased by Death Eaters and..."

Harry recounted the story of his flight from Privet Drive, though tried not to mention the Dursleys too much, it was painful. How he had landed in a forest, had a dream about Voldemort, and how the Death Eaters had chased him right to the window in the Great Hall. When he had finished he looked carefully at Ron and Hermione. Neither of them appeared to have anything to say. They just sat there in shocked silence. Both were crying, Hermione openly, Ron trying to hide it.

"Well... that's what happened," said Harry.

"Harry, you took on seven Death Eaters!" whispered Ron, with an awestruck look on his face.

"Yeah... I- I- did," muttered Harry who, now that he was thinking about it, realised he’d caused the death of some of those men. It was an odd feeling, he didn't know them and they were trying to kill him, but...

Hermione seemed to be thinking the same thing. "Harry, you... you killed those Death Eaters..." she said.

"I- I know," he whispered, not quite looking her in the eye.

Hermione seemed to pause a moment, sensing his distress. "Its okay, Harry. It was self defence.”

"But I-"

"No, Harry, it was either them or you. You did the right thing," Ron agreed completely with Hermione.

They all sat in silence for a moment, the guilt of the dead once again building up inside Harry, before the doors of the hospital wing opened. In walked Albus Dumbledore who looked a lot better since Harry had returned. He walked over to Harry's bed.

"Professor-" began Harry, but stopped as Dumbledore raised his hands.

"How are you, Harry?" asked Dumbledore.

"I'm all right... just feeling a little worse for the wear."

“I meant mentally, as well as physically.” Harry didn’t say anything to this, so Dumbledore continued. "Please tell me what happened."

Harry repeated his story for Dumbledore who sat in silence throughout the whole thing. Once he had finished Dumbledore surveyed him over his half moon spectacles before speaking.

"You say Sirius came to you in a dream and warned you of the impending attack?" Dumbledore's eyes held no sign of a twinkle, they were deadly serious.

"Yes, I woke up and thought that it was just a dream... but then my scar exploded with pain and I knew he was coming. It had never hurt so much before, it had split and was bleeding," said Harry, raising a hand to his scar, feeling a thin scab.

"Interesting... interesting," muttered Dumbledore, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Do you know why I saw Sirius?" asked Harry anxiously.

Dumbledore was silent for a moment. "No, I don't, Harry. I’m afraid the mysteries of death are just that, mysteries.”

Harry took this as a typical Dumbledore answer, which was more of another question than the answer Harry wanted, or needed. In the silence that followed Harry found himself thinking about the Dursleys. "Professor the... er... the Dursleys... er... did they… are they really-"

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, Harry. I'm afraid they are... they died instantly. I sent some Aurors to Privet Drive to recover what they could."

Harry stared at Dumbledore. It was as if hearing it from someone else made it final, made it true. He now knew they were truly dead; he had no more family anywhere in the world. True family... Harry didn't know what to do, what emotion he should feel. Whether he should cry, shout out or break something. He settled on anger and began thinking about what he'd do to Voldemort, the next time they met.

"Their funeral," continued Dumbledore, "is in four days, this Sunday; you are of course permitted to attend... if you wish.

Suddenly Harry lost the feeling of anger and gained one of sadness. He thought for a moment. "What about..."

"Yes, Harry?"

"Well... isn't it supposed to be my funeral as well. I mean, my Uncle Vernon's family knew I lived there, aren't they going to be a bit suspicious if I turn up."

"Yes I had thought of that," said Dumbledore. "But do not worry. The Muggles who knew you lived at Privet Drive have had their memories modified; they believe you were spending the summer at your boarding school and were not in the house at the time of the accident.”

"Accident..." scoffed Harry, a defiant fury in his tired eyes.

"The Muggle emergency services believe that the destruction was caused by explosives and fireworks." Dumbledore sighed with century-old weariness.

"Fireworks!"

"Several Muggles saw the Dark Mark in the sky. They thought it was a firework, or rather hoped it was."

"Oh...” That makes sense thought Harry. “Well I… guess I’ll go then," finished Harry quietly. How could he not? They may have not been the nicest of people, but they did take him in. It was also his fault Voldemort attacked... and Dudley had become his friend.

Dumbledore smiled gently. "Very well, Harry. I think it best if you leave Saturday."

"Saturday?" said Harry, "You said the funeral was on Sunday."

"Indeed it is, but I believe that you may need to purchase the proper clothing for a Muggle funeral. In fact, I think you need to buy new robes and books as well."

Harry sighed. "Yeah... yeah I do, they were all destroyed. They were in my trunk at Privet Drive."

"Well that's settled then. I'll arrange to have someone from the Order to go with you, for some extra protection."

"Do you think Remus could come?" Harry asked hopefully.

Dumbledore smiled. "Of course, Harry, I'll talk to him tonight."

Dumbledore got up to leave; he moved away from the bed and down to the small table in front of it. Harry hadn't noticed this table before, but now that he had, he saw that it was piled high with Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. "Who are all those from?"

"Get well presents from your admirers in the school," said Dumbledore happily. “Everybody has been rather worried about you; I’ve been having to give daily updates on your condition at breakfast.”

"The pile was getting really high," said Ron, "so I had to eat some of the frogs to stop it from falling over."

"Good work," laughed Harry, glad for the distraction from reality, as he turned back to Dumbledore. "Would you like a bean, Professor?"

"I believe you know my history with these sweets, Harry," said Dumbledore with a small smile, "but I might try for a coffee cream."

Dumbledore picked up a box of beans and removed a small brown one from within. He looked at it carefully, suspiciously, before placing it slowly in his mouth.

"Oh dear," sighed Dumbledore, "earwax again, I’m afraid.”

Harry managed a small smile and Ron and Hermione were still laughing as Dumbledore said goodbye and strode towards the exit. Once he reached the oak door he turned around again.

"You are of course, excused from class for the rest of the week, Harry," he said. "Madam Pomfrey seemed to think it best if you stay off that leg for a few days."

Dumbledore left the Hospital wing, leaving the three of them to talk. Ron had turned his attention back to the huge pile of chocolate frogs, leaving Hermione to talk to Harry.

"Are you sure you’re all right?" asked Hermione, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm fine, Hermione, really I am, just feel a bit sore is all." He evaded the real question, but Hermione wasn't about to take it.

"That's not what I meant... I-"

"I know what you meant..." cut in Harry. "The Dursleys... they were my only family... it'll take some time but I'll be alright. I just- Not now… maybe after the funeral... I’ll-"

"Harry," laughed Ron. "You'll never believe this, have a look."

Harry turned his attention to Ron at the bottom of the bed. He was looking at a Chocolate Frog card that he had in his hand and laughing.

"What's the matter? It’s just a card-”

"Have a look at this," said Ron as he threw the card at Harry.

Harry caught the card, giving Ron a quizzical look before staring dumbly at it. The card’s famous witch or wizard was none other than Harry James Potter. He stared at his picture; it was the one that had appeared on the front of The Quibbler last year. A much shorter, skinnier Harry. The photo Harry walked out of the frame, leaving it blank. He turned the card over and read the back.

Harry James Potter

1980 - Present Day

Harry Potter, 'The Boy Who Lived' is best
known for his survival of the killing
curse on Halloween night 1981. He is the
only person in known history to survive the curse.
Harry Potter is currently attending Hogwart's School
of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He enjoys playing
Quidditch for his house team and hopes one day
to be an Auror.

"I'm a Chocolate Frog card," he said simply.

"Yep, it doesn't get any better than that," laughed Ron. “It’s all downhill from here.”

"Can I have a look, Harry?" asked Hermione.

Harry passed her the card and turned to talk to Ron. But just as he did Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office and spotted him.

"Oh, you're awake then," she said as she moved over to Harry. "How do you feel?"

"Er- fine," he said. "All my joints ache though."

"Yes... well that's to be expected with all the bones you broke. Now stay still while I check you over," she said sternly.

Madam Pomfrey removed her wand from inside her robes and pointed it at Harry. She cast a spell and started waving the wand up and down his body. The tip of the wand glowed blue as she passed it over his chest, arms and back. When she got to his leg the tip changed from blue to dark red.

"Hmm..." she muttered.

"What's the matter?" asked Hermione, biting her bottom lip. “Is that normal?”

"Do you know what curse hit this leg, Potter?"

Harry thought for a moment, no; he hadn’t heard the name of the curse. "No..." said Harry. "Why?"

"Oh, it's nothing too serious... there was just some magic in that curse that's slowing down the healing."

"Is there anything you can do?" he asked hopefully.

"You’re just going to have to give it time to heal. A few weeks and it'll be as good as new," she answered.

"But I have to go to… to a funeral on Sunday, can I walk on it?"

"Yes, but you'll have to stay off it for the next few days, and when you do walk you'll have to put your weight on your left leg. I'll also have to give you a cane to walk with."

"A cane... how long will I need that for?" asked Harry, not much liking the idea.

"Just a week or two," said Madam Pomfrey.

"Great..." sighed Harry. "I'm stuck in this bed 'til Saturday and I have to walk with a cane."

"I'm afraid so, Mr Potter, but it's for your own good," Madam Pomfrey said with a sense of finality.

"Yeah... but-"

"No buts."

Madam Pomfrey finished checking Harry over in silence. Her wand tip stayed blue for the remainder of the spell. She left muttering something about 'never having a student spend so much time injured, just like his father and his friends' and returned to her office.

"What am I going to do here until Saturday?" Harry asked aloud, not wanting to be left alone with his memories and thoughts.

"Don't know, mate, but we'll pop in whenever we can, won't we, Hermione."

"Of course we will," Hermione said.

"You're not staying?" Harry asked, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice.

"We've got to go back to class. McGonagall said that we could stay with you until you woke up but then it’s back to life as usual," Ron said with a sigh.

Harry nodded with understanding. "Oh... okay."

"You'll find something to do," Ron assured him.

"Yeah... Oh! Where's my wand?"

"It's here, Harry," said Hermione. "Along with the cloak, map and your broom."

Hermione picked up a white cloth bag that lay next to his bed and passed it to Harry. Inside were his wand, map, and cloak.

"And your broom is here," she said, picking it up off the floor.

Harry nodded. "I'll have to buy a new trunk. Can you keep it in yours for about a week, Ron?"

"Sure thing,” Ron said, grasping the broom and rubbing at a scratch along the wooden shaft.

A comfortable silence fell between the three of them that was only broken when the loud ringing of the bell that hailed the end of lunch rang throughout the castle.

"You don't have to leave now, do you?" Harry asked, a little hopefully.

"No, we'll stay for today," Hermione whispered with a tired smile.

Despite it all Harry smiled himself. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, his good arm coming to rest on his chest. It took him a moment to realise something was missing. “Oh, where's the watch, Ron?"

"It's on the bedside table there," said Ron, pointing to a table to Harry's left.

"This is a really great watch," he said, putting it around his neck. "And it definitely works." He thought about it just before the attack, how his hand had landed on Mortal Peril in the briefest of warnings. "Thanks a lot."

"It wasn't just from me, it was from everyone at home... Oh! That reminds me, Mum and Dad owled, they wanted to wish you a 'speedy recovery'," quoted Ron.

"That was nice of them."

"Yeah... they also said they might pop in later in the week, see how you’re doing. Do you wanna play some chess?"

"All right," Harry agreed, stretching his sore leg and wincing painfully as it protested to this movement.

For the rest of the afternoon Harry played chess with Ron, while Hermione read The Standard Book of Spells Grade Six. It was a good way for him not to have to talk about his problems yet… he just wasn’t ready.

After the lessons finished for the day Hermione and Ron said that they were going down to the Great Hall to get some dinner, leaving Harry alone. Having nothing better to do, he decided to watch their progress on the Marauder's Map. He picked up his wand and the parchment.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Lines of ink started whirling their way across the parchment until every known corner of the castle was drawn. Harry watched the small dots of Ron and Hermione as they made their way down to the Great Hall. Most of the students were congregating there now. Harry watched as another small dot walked through the castle and up to the hospital wing.

"All righ', Harry?" asked Hagrid as he walked through the door.

"Hi, Hagrid," said Harry.

"Are yeh doin' alrigh' now?" the half-giant asked again.

"I'm fine."

"No yer not, but you will be.” Hagrid sighed. “I 'spect yer'll be off school for the week."

"Yeah... I've got nothing to do for three days."

"Oh well, sure yer'll find somethin'."

Harry spent the next hour talking to Hagrid. "I've go' some intrestin' creatures for yer this year," he said. "Tha' is... you still doin' Care o' Magical Creatures?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course I am."

"That's good, what else yer doin'?"

"I- I don't know. I have to choose what I'm doing for NEWTS, don't I?"

"Yeah, yer do. Should have chosen the other nigh' but... yer were held up in here. Professor McGonagall will probably be roun' with yer selection form soon, though."

Ron and Hermione returned ten minutes later. The four of them talked until nine, all avoiding the subject of how Harry felt. They could tell he didn’t want to talk yet. Eventually Ron and Hermione had to get back to Gryffindor Tower, as the curfew was in place. They said their goodbyes to Harry and promised to visit him tomorrow. It was just him and Hagrid now.

"I be'er be goin' too," he said. "Gotta feed, Fang."

"Oh... alright," replied Harry. "I'll see you soon."

Hagrid left the hospital wing just as Madam Pomfrey came out of her office.

"You need to sleep, Potter."

"Okay…" he mumbled. Now that Harry was on his own, he only had his thoughts for company, and they were dark. He kept replaying the devastating events of the past few years of his life in his mind. Kill the spare…Cedric. The veil… Sirius. And now the Dursleys... I’m sorry. As these thoughts clouded his mind, he slowly became overwhelmed and fell into a restless sleep. But his dream were filled with the same horrible images, and he woke up several times during the night, never having rest from the nightmares.

For the next few days Harry spent his time either with Ron and Hermione, opening up some of the two hundred or so Chocolate Frogs, or watching the small dots on the map move around the castle. He felt he had to do something to keep himself occupied and not have to think about the past, which had irrevocably changed his present and future.

Early Thursday morning, when everybody else was in class for the day, Harry was staring idly into space when the Hospital doors opened. In walked Mrs. Weasley. She quickly scanned the room and caught site of Harry. “Oh, Harry, dear,” she said as she walked over to him.

“Hello, Mrs. Weasley,” replied Harry as he was enveloped in a big hug. “How are you?”

“Oh I’m fine, but you...”

Harry knew what she was getting at, but he wasn’t ready… not yet. “Don’t worry about me. Just had a bit of a rough broom ride, is all….”

Molly Weasley had been taking care of teenage boys pretty much full time for twenty years, she knew Harry was a wreck. “Okay, dear. If you ever need to talk, though.”

“I’ll know where to go.”

When the bell rang for lunch, Harry watched the dots of Ron and Hermione move up to the Hospital wing on the map. Mrs. Weasley was fascinated by the map. Harry explained it was made by his father and friends back when they were in school.

Soon enough his friends arrived. Ron was surprised to see his mum, and asked where his dad was. “He had to work, Ron. But he wishes you well, Harry.” When lunch was over Ron and Hermione left, as did Mrs. Weasley. All of them wishing Harry well but noticing the black rings of pain his eyes seemed to hold.

It was about lunch time on Friday, and having just opened his 150th Chocolate Frog (he now had fifteen cards with himself on the front), Harry was getting rather bored. He was just about to stare at the map again when the hospital doors opened and in walked...

"Professor McGonagall," Harry said.

"Ah, Potter, I do hope you’re felling well," the elderly witch replied.

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Harry.

"I have here your selection form for NEWT studies," she said. "I believe you need to know what books you need to buy tomorrow."

"Yep."

"Do you still plan on pursuing a career as an Auror?"

Harry blinked, not really caring. "That's what it says on my Chocolate Frog card.”

For a split second Harry saw the corners of her mouth turn up in what could have been a smile, but she corrected it quickly. "Ahem," she coughed. "I thought you might, your OWL results get you into all of the courses required for Auror training apart from Potions, but I've had a word with Professor Snape and he's agreed to take you on."

"Oh... that's great," said Harry bitterly. He had his problems with Snape.

Ignoring the tone in his voice, Professor McGonagall continued, "So... that will be Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Divination, yes, Potter, Divination, and Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Who's teaching DADA?"

"Professor Dumbledore couldn't find anyone to fill that position, so he is teaching that class until further notice."

"Dumbledore's teaching!"

"Yes, Potter, he is. So that will be all then. I'll just write a list of the books you will need."

"I also want to do Care of Magical Creatures," Harry said adamantly.

"All right, Harry."

Professor McGonagall removed a piece of parchment and an eagle feather quill from within her robes and began to write. When she had finished she handed the parchment to Harry.

"There you are, Potter; I expect to see you Monday morning for Transfiguration. Goodbye."

"Goodbye," he called after her as she left the hospital.

He looked at his new list of books, eight in all:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 6) by Miranda Goshawk

Advanced Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

Advanced Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

Advanced Charms by Brumhilda Goadly

Advanced Potions by Arsenius Jiger

A Guide to Advanced Divination by Cassandra Vablatsky

Magical Creatures: NEWT Level by Darius Bluetooth

The Dark Arts: An Advanced Study by Albus Dumbledore

"Dumbledore wrote a book," Harry said to himself as he finished reading the list. "Should be good."

Harry was looking at the cloudy grey sky out of an open window on the other side of the room. A slight breeze was blowing in that was rather chilly, and he didn’t want to risk getting up himself and Madam Pomfrey wasn’t around. He was trying to think of a solution to this problem when he heard a familiar screech and saw something fly in through the window.

"Hedwig," said Harry. “I’d completely forgotten-”

Hedwig flew down to Harry's bed and gave his finger an affectionate peck. Harry stroked the back of her neck and she gave a contented hoot before flying off back out the window to the Owlery.

"I'm glad you’re okay," he called after her.

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon, while Ron and Hermione were in lessons, counting the number of tiles on the roof... 1,681. When the bell rang for the end of the day he eagerly awaited for Ron and Hermione to come up from dinner. He looked around as the door to the Hospital wing opened and expected to see Ron and Hermione but instead he found Remus Lupin.

"Harry."

"Remus?" Harry replied, slightly confused. He hadn’t expected to see his former professor, but he was by no means unwelcome.

Lupin walked over to Harry’s bed and let out a heavy sigh. "You don't know what a relief it was to hear you were alive," he finally said.

"Yeah, I was happy I was alive as well."

"I expect you were," laughed Remus.

"So you’re coming with me tomorrow?"

"Yes I am, we leave early in the morning. Taking the Knight Bus to Diagon Alley."

"That's good; I can't wait to get out of this bed," Harry said with an eagerness that bordered on longing.

"You can get out now, Potter," said Madam Pomfrey who had left her office and walked up the aisle to him.

"Hello, Poppy," said Remus.

"Remus, how are you?"

"Oh, as well as to be expected. Young Harry here keeps aging me terribly."

"And I, and the Headmaster, and half the wizarding world. Now, Potter, let's see how you do on that leg of yours."

Harry nodded and slowly sat up in bed, his bones and joints felt stiff from not moving in so long of a time. He carefully turned and let his legs fall down to the floor.

"Now, Potter, I want you to get up using your left leg."

Harry nodded again and gently pulled himself up out of the bed, leaning heavily on his left leg, which gave him a lopsided look.

"Good, now carefully put a little weight on your right leg."

Harry did so. He lowered his leg to the floor and slowly started to straighten himself up until...

"Argh- Ow," he cried, before collapsing back on to the bed.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "You're definitely going to need that cane; I'll just go fetch it."

She retreated back up the aisle and into her office, leaving Harry and Remus to talk.

"Does it hurt much?" Lupin asked.

"Actually it hasn't hurt until now, when I tried to walk,” Harry replied, resting against the bed.

"Well practice makes perfect. I probably had best leave you alone to try, I'm staying in the Visitor's rooms tonight and I'll be in early tomorrow, so get some rest."

"All right, Remus, see you tomorrow."

Remus left just as Madam Pomfrey returned carrying a brown cane with an ivory handle. "Here you are, Potter," she said. "Now let’s try walking again."

Harry spent the rest of the evening learning how to walk with the cane. Ron and Hermione appeared halfway through but were quickly ushered out by Madam Pomfrey. At about ten o'clock he was pretty confident with the cane and could walk the length of the hospital with only a dull ache in his leg.

"G-G-Good, Potter," yawned Madam Pomfrey. "I think that's fine, you can walk well enough now, goodnight."

She left the Hospital wing presumably going to the Staff Quarter's. Harry climbed back into bed. Keeping the pain and guilt hidden during the day was one thing, but when Harry fell asleep his dreams were plagued with the faces of the dead. He saw Voldemort reborn from the cauldron. The green light envelope Cedric. Sirius falling through the veil. The destruction of Privet Drive, and more recently a nightmare about Dudley.

Harry would be standing in his room at Privet Drive, everything would be in flames. It seemed so real. He could smell the smoke and feel the heat of the crackling fire. He’d turn around and see Dudley, except he was covered in blood and pieces of his flesh were torn open and burnt, hanging loosely from his face. Dudley would just stand there and stare at Harry, who was begging for forgiveness. At this point Harry usually woke in a cold sweat, and to a burning scar.

"Harry... Harry... HARRY!"

"Whatyuwant?" said Harry sleepily.

"Come on get up, we're going," said Remus.

"Errr... whatimesit?"

"Six, now get up."

Harry rolled over in bed and looked up at Remus. He had his wand held alight and was carrying a package. Harry picked himself up out of the bed and reached for his cane. He made ready to go but then...

"Remus, I haven't got ant robes, only these pyjamas."

"I know, here, take this," he said passing Harry the parcel he was carrying. "Nothing too spectacular... just some plain black robes."

"Cheers," said Harry as he took the parcel and began to change.

Once he had finished he picked up his watch and put it around his neck, then he pocketed his wand and the Marauder's Map. He limped over to Lupin, ignoring the pain in his leg and followed him out of the room.

As they walked through the long, empty corridors of Hogwart's, Lupin told him the plan for the day.

"How's your leg?" Remus asked, stopping for the second time to allow Harry to catch up.

"Hurts a bit..."

"I'll go slower," Remus said with concern.

"Thanks."

"So... today. We're going to Diagon Alley on the Knight Bus, that'll take about an hour. Then I thought we could get breakfast at The Leaky Cauldron while we wait for the shops to open, then we do all the shopping. After lunch I thought we could go out into Muggle London to buy you a suit for... for the funeral."

"Sounds good," muttered Harry.

The walked the rest of the way in silence, the only sound was the dull thud of Harry's cane on the floor. He limped slowly down the stairs to the Entrance Hall and over to the castle doors.

"I'll get it," said Lupin, moving ahead to the doors and flinging one of them open.

Once outside they proceeded to move down the steps and onto the drive. It was still pretty cold outside; the sun was just rising, which was casting a pale light on everything. The grass was still heavy with dew and the clouds were low in the sky. Looking across to the lake, Harry could see the giant squid gliding gracefully over the surface.

"Cold morning," Remus commented, throwing out his wand arm.

"Yeah..." muttered Harry, as the giant purple Knight Bus appeared before them.

The doors opened and out stepped Stan Shunpike, still as pimply as ever.

"Welcome to the Knigh- Oh 'ello, Neville," said Stan with a wink.

"Hi, Stan," replied Harry, as he and Lupin got on the bus.

"Where to today, lads?" asked Stan.

"Diagon Alley, the Leaky Cauldron."

"That'll be one Galleon, twelve Sickles," said Stan.

Remus handed over some coins, whispered something to Stan, and then ushered Harry into some seats near the door. They sat down and with a small bang, the bus was rattling down the M1.

"Gave Stan a little extra coin. We should be there in about ten minutes," Remus said quietly, mindful of the other patrons on the bus.

"That's good; I can't stand all this bumping," Harry winced as his leg was knocked back and forth.

Ten minutes later the Knight Bus pulled to a stop outside The Leaky Cauldron. Harry and Lupin descended the steps of the bus, muttered a thanks and goodbye to Stan and made their way to the pub.

"Actually," said Harry, "can we go to Gringotts first?"

"Sure... this way then."

Harry followed Remus down the empty street of Diagon Alley. All the stores were closed, not due to open for another hour or two. The street was deathly quiet and Harry found himself gripping his wand inside his robes. But the walk to Gringotts was uneventful and they were soon being let in by the goblin at the door. The bank was as busy as if it was midday; all the goblin clerks were counting Galleons or examining jewels. Harry and Remus began walking over to a free goblin.

"Does this place ever close?" asked Harry.

"No, it's open all day, everyday. Except for Goblin holidays, that is."

Harry nodded and then wondered what a Goblin would celebrate. "Oh wait, Remus... I- I don't have my key... it was in my trunk."

"Not to worry, those keys are magical. If it was destroyed a new one would have appeared here."

They reached the counter and the goblin looked up from what he was doing. "Yes?" he said.

"Mr. Harry Potter is here to make a withdrawal and currency exchange," Lupin stated.

"Ahh... Mr. Potter," the goblin said, turning to Harry. "Yes... we have your new key here." The goblin clicked his fingers and a small golden key appeared in his hand. "Here you are. Now a withdrawal, how much do you wish to withdraw?"

Harry thought for a moment, he decided to get enough to last well into the school year. “Oh, I'd say about two hundred galleons, plus another fifty converted into Muggle pounds please," said Harry.

"Very Well. The mine cart doesn't run this early in the morning, but I will remove the money from the safe on this floor and the galleons will be deducted from your vault later today, okay?"

"Fine."

The goblin lowered himself from the chair and disappeared behind the counter. He walked over to the vault in the far corner of the room. He returned five minutes later carrying three bulging galleon packets and a roll of Muggle pounds. "Here you are Mr Potter, two hundred galleons and fifty converted into Muggle money, which is three hundred and fifty pounds with the current exchange rate. Please sign here."

Harry signed the withdrawal parchment and collected his money, putting the bags safely inside his robes (with difficulty). I need a wallet, he thought, as he and Remus turned and left the bank.

After walking (Harry limping) back up the road to the Leaky Cauldron, Lupin and Harry entered the pub. It was the same as ever... dark and shabby. A few wizards were sitting in a corner passed out on the table and an old witch was drinking something that looked like pure smoke, and other than that the pub was empty.

"TOM?" shouted Lupin. "ARE YOU THERE, TOM?"

Tom the Innkeeper came bustling through the back door of the bar. He appeared holding a copy of the Prophet. "Ah... Lupin, have you heard? The Potter boy's alive."

"Yes, Tom, I know... in fact... Tom, say hello."

Harry, who had previously been standing behind Remus, limped out. He saw Tom's face widen in shock and do a sort of a little jumpy thing.

"Hello, Tom," laughed Harry.

"M- Mr. Potter," stuttered Tom.

"Could we get some breakfast, Tom?" asked Remus.

"Oh... Of course, come through to the parlour... are bacon, eggs, and sausages fine?"

"Fine, Tom," Harry and Remus replied in unison.

Sitting down at the wooden table in the parlour while Tom went and got their breakfast, Remus and Harry discussed topics that they were unable to in the openness of the pub. This small backroom was well protected against eavesdroppers though.

"Tom's a member of the Order, by the way..." whispered Lupin.

"Tom!” Harry exclaimed. “Why?"

"He sees a lot in this pub, he's valuable to our side."

"Oh...” Harry sat in silence for a moment. “I didn't know that the Prophet knew I nearly copped it."

"Yeah... the story got out somehow... but it appears they've only just learned you're alive, isn't that odd? Considering you’ve been back amongst the living for five days."

"Probably thought my death would sell better," said Harry.

Harry turned as the door opened and Tom returned with plates of food and mugs of juice. "That be all, gents?" he asked.

"Actually could we get two rooms for tonight please, Tom," Remus said, placing some gold in the barman’s hand.

"Of course, numbers three and four are free. I'll have them set up now, excuse me."

An hour later Harry and Remus made ready to go, they said a brief goodbye to Tom on their way out and were soon back on Diagon Alley. The street was now teeming with wizards and witches. All the shops had opened and everything was in full swing.

"Where to first then, Harry?" asked Lupin, mindful of Harry's cane.

"I think I should go buy a trunk, to put everything-"

Harry stopped talking and turned to his left, he had seen something out of the corner of his eye, and sure enough there, in the middle of the street was a giant canary. Behind the canary was a shop that wasn't there the last time he'd been in Diagon Alley... Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"Oh! Come on," he said to Remus, feeling a rush of honest cheer. "We have to go in there."

Harry and Remus crossed the street and entered the shop. It was full of people bustling around and buying Fred and George's products. Harry's first impression was of a giant red box, all four walls were painted flame-red and the ceiling looked as if it was actually on fire, the wallpaper was one of burning flames. He walked around the shop looking at all the various items for sale. Fred and George had really branched out on some their products.

"HARRY! OY, GEORGE, ITS HARRY, GET OUT 'ERE."

Harry turned and saw the two Weasley twins make a beeline for him through the throng of customers and exploding products that littered the shop.

"Hi, Fred, George," he said, nodding to the twins.

"Harry, mate, how are you? Glad you’re alive. We knew they'd never get you... but you had us worried."

Fred and George gave Harry a look that said that it was his own fault for being attacked.

"How's business?" Harry asked, looking around the store.

"Business is booming!" said George. "Galleons are rolling in, we've already bought premises in Hogsmeade, and we're working on something very special that'll make us a fortune."

"Really, what?" asked Remus, standing back as one of the many customers started sprouting carrots in their hair.

"Hello, Professor Lupin, we didn't see you there," Fred said.

"Sorry but we can't tell you what we're working on, but you'll find out soon enough at Hogwarts... maybe at Christmas... but if not then, definitely before Easter," George said.

"Promised Dumbledore we'd keep it a surprise," Fred said.

"Everyone will love it though. What are you doing here anyway, Harry?"

"Oh... I'm here to buy a few things, long day ahead of us... as a matter of fact we'd better get going."

Fred and George nodded, slapping Harry on the back. "Okay, drop by anytime... and look out for us next Hogsmeade weekend."

"Should have the new shop up and running by then. Oh, Harry, take some of these."

George handed Harry a small white bag full of little round silver balls. Harry took them cautiously. "What are they?" he asked.

"Invisibility Balls, eat one and you turn invisible for two minutes. They were going to be our new product but Dumbledore said they'd come in handy for the Order... so he bought our entire stock of them. Told us it would probably be better if we sold them only to him, said they would be too useful in the wrong hands."

Harry nodded. "Thanks, I'll see you soon."

"Take care, Harry."

"Don't go falling off any more broomsticks," laughed Fred.

Harry and Lupin exited the shop and walked back out on to Diagon Alley. They continued down the street until they came to the Wizardry Supply store. Inside Harry re-bought some of his lost possessions. He and Lupin emerged ten minutes later carrying a new trunk, cauldron, dragon hide gloves, potion phials, and a set of brass scales.

"It's going to be difficult carrying all this around," said Harry. "Especially with my cane."

"How about you put everything inside the trunk and I'll take it back to your room at the Leaky Cauldron. You can do whatever else you need to do and I'll meet you there for lunch, sound good?"

Harry thought for a moment and then nodded. He felt as if Remus was putting a lot of trust in him by letting him roam free around the Alley. "That sounds great; I'll see you in a few hours, Remus."

Remus nodded and started levitating the trunk up the street back to the pub. Harry turned and looked around. Where to next? he thought.

He decided that Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions was closest and began to limp towards her shop, but on the way something else caught his eye. It was a place he had passed many times before, but never really considered going into. Why not? he thought, and began limping over to Cecilia's Cutting Shed and Piercing Palace.

Harry entered the hairdressers and was immediately knocked back by the strong smell of incense burning in the shop. It reminded him heavily of the Divination tower at Hogwarts. The walls of the shop were covered in pictures of wizards and witches showing their new haircut or piercing. There was a large mirror on the far wall and several chairs with hairdressing and piercing equipment next to them, cabinets lined the walls filled with studs and rings for piercings, and there was also a desk with a small witch standing behind it, reading a magazine.

Harry limped over to the woman. She had waist length blonde hair that seemed to change shades of colour as she moved her head. Her face was heavily pierced in every place imaginable (eyebrows, nose, ears, tongue, lip). He approached the desk.

"Er..."

The woman looked up. "Hello, can I help you?"

Harry stared at her for a moment and then ran a hand through the mop of hair on his head. "I- I was wondering if I could get a haircut."

"Certainly," she smiled. "Follow me."

She led Harry over to the large mirror on the wall and placed him in front of it. "Now stand here and look into the mirror," she said.

Harry did so and watched his own reflection for a moment, nothing seemed to happen. "Why ar-"

"Right now, let’s see," said the mirror. "How about this?"

The mirror shimmered and Harry's reflection changed. It was still him but with a new hair style, he now had a spiky gel effect in his hair.

"No I don't think so," said the mirror. "Try this one."

The mirror shimmered again and this time his hair style was... nothing. He didn't have a single hair on his head. The woman next to him gasped when she saw the scar on his bald head, but she quickly recovered.

"No, no, no," laughed the mirror, "what was I thinking... here, try this one."

The enchanted mirror shimmered for the third time and the style that came out suited him perfectly. His hair was short on the sides and didn't cover his ears, it was shorter on top as well, pushed back and up. He no longer had his fringe covering the scar, it was visible to anyone who looked but that didn't matter, he liked this style and so did the mirror. He would no longer look like a frightened little boy with his hair sticking up, but his own person, and a lot older.

"Yes... that's the one, I always get it right in the end," the mirror said, sounding pleased with itself.

"You like that one... Mr. Potter?" asked the witch carefully.

"Yes," said Harry, realising that this would be the first time he had a haircut he actually wanted.

"Very well, sit down over here please."

Harry sat down in a leather chair while the woman pulled out her wand and muttered a spell. Scissors appeared out of the end of the wand and she began to cut his hair. It was all over in ten minutes, the hairdresser’s hands a blur on his head. When she was finished, Harry looked into the normal mirror and smiled slightly. His hair looked exactly like it had in the enchanted mirror.

"Thanks," he said. "It looks great."

"It suits you," the hairdressing witch replied, smiling politely.

Harry got up out of the chair and grabbed his cane; he limped over to the desk and handed over three galleons to the witch. After saying his thanks and goodbye, he turned to leave but something caught his eye in one of the glass display cabinets. On a velvet pillow, in the centre of a large wooden framed case was a small golden earring. It was in the same shape as the creature on the book Hagrid had sent him for his birthday, a lion with wings. It hung on a chain with only a few links, so that it would dangle down about a centimetre from his earlobe.

"You like that one?" asked the young witch who had appeared behind him. "I picked it up off a tradesman in Egypt, the animal there is a Griffin."

"A Griffin..." Harry whispered to himself. He felt drawn to the animal but he couldn't think of a reason why.

"Do you want me to pierce your ear?" the sales witch asked.

Harry thought for a moment. He would never have imagined getting his ear pierced, the only lads at Hogwart's who had were Dean, because of his Muggle background and Seamus, because he had lost a bet to Dean. He was about to decline but the ring drew his gaze, he couldn't help it. "Yeah... and I'd like that earring."

"That is a nice choice, pure 24 carat gold, the man in Egypt said that it had some magical properties as well, but he didn't know what they were... anyway... twelve Galleons and it's all yours."

Harry emerged from the shop twenty minutes later sporting his new haircut and earring. He continued on to his original destination of the robe shop. On his way, he couldn't help but notice all the people that were staring at him and talking in hushed whispers.

"Look dear, it's Harry Potter!"

"Why's he got that cane... what happened to his leg?"

"Harry Potter, over there..."

"He looks different from his picture."

"I can see the scar."

"Poor dear... was nearly killed by You-Know-Who just the other day."

Harry was used to these whispers by now, having already endured six years of them. But today there seemed to be a lot more of them. The only reason he could come up with was that his scar must be really noticeable now he had no hair covering it. He also noticed all the looks he was getting from the young female population of the crowd.

"HARRY? Harry, is that you?"

Harry looked over at the entrance to Madam Malkin's. Standing there was Angelina Johnson. Harry had played Quidditch with Angelina on the Gryffindor House team for all his years at Hogwarts. She was an excellent Chaser.

"Hello, Angelina," he said, limping over to her. "How are you?"

"I'm fine... but look at you, you look great,” she exclaimed.

"Thanks," said Harry, feeling himself blush. "What are you doing here?"

"I work here at Madam Malkin's," Angelina replied happily. “It’s a job,” she shrugged.

"That's good... I'm here to buy some new robes, actually."

"Ooohhh!" she said excitedly, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him into the shop. "Here let me get your size." Angelina pushed Harry onto a stool and started taking his measurements, when she measured his leg he gave a small wince of pain.

"Er- Angelina, could you be careful round my leg... it's a bit sore."

Angelina nodded. "I wondered about that cane, what happened?"

While Angelina continued measuring him and pinning up his robes, Harry told her the story of his fight with the Death Eaters, leaving out some of the finer details. When he had finished she looked up.

"You’re so brave, Harry," she said simply.

Harry sighed. "Brave? Nah... I was scared stupid, it was luck that got me through to Hogwarts, just luck," he said seriously.

"Luck... did luck get you through all the dangerous things you've done at Hogwart's these past six years? You killed a basilisk for Merlin's sake!"

"Well I-"

"No it didn't. You're a powerful wizard, Harry... and a damn good looking one," she said, kissing him on the cheek before blushing profusely. “Well... er... I'll just go wrap your robes."

"Okay..." replied Harry dryly, as he stepped down off the stool.

Angelina returned five minutes later carrying four brown packages, wrapped and tied with string. Harry followed her back around to the counter, through a long stand of robes and past a family of four.

"That'll be sixteen galleons, Harry."

Harry handed over the coins to Angelina. He was just about to leave the shop but she came running around the counter and put a hand on his shoulder.

"What-" he said, but stopped when he saw tears in her eyes.

"Harry, I... I'm scared," she said quietly.

"Scared?"

"Of the war... of- of... You-Know-Who."

And to that Harry didn't quite know what to say. If truth be told he was a little scared too. But he realised why she was telling him this. She thought he wasn’t scared of Voldemort. "I know this must sound stupid to you... but-"

"It doesn't sound stupid to me..." Harry interrupted her quickly. “I'm scared, everyone is scared, but that's what Voldemort wants," he ignored the squeak of fear and continued. “We can't let him see that fear though... he'll use it against us..."

Angelina was now sobbing against his shoulder. "Will- will you fight him, Harry?" she whispered desperately.

"Yes," he said strongly, thinking of the prophecy. "I will fight him... I will."

"But what if you die?"

"Then I'll die... but I'm not going to stand back and let him take over. I can’t stand aside while he kills innocent people."

Angelina stopped crying and looked up at him. "You are brave, Harry... you're the bravest person I know." She kissed him on the cheek again and turned and headed into the back room, leaving Harry standing there.

For a moment Harry stood in silence, watching her retreat. "You'll be all right," he said to himself, before turning and leaving the shop.

Outside the sun was dazzlingly bright and hot for the beginning weeks of autumn. He looked at his wristwatch and with a small surprise realised that he had been in the robe shop for more than an hour. It was eleven thirty and he was supposed to meet Remus at the pub in half an hour. I better hurry and buy my books, he thought.

Harry made his way up the street to Flourish and Blotts and entered the shop. The bookstore was much the same as ever, the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books of all shapes and sizes. He was the only customer. Harry limped over to the sales assistant, the pain in his leg worsening; he had been on it too long and needed to rest.

"Hi," he said to the sales assistant.

"Can I help you?" the man asked without looking up at Harry. He was reading one of the many books in the store.

"I need these books please," Harry said, as he passed him the piece of parchment with the book names on, which had been written by McGonagall.

"Okay..." the man drawled looking up at Harry and then doing a double take as his eyes flickered to his scar. “Right away."

Harry sat on a chair while the man searched the store for his books. He returned some twenty minutes later carrying them and apologised for taking so long.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said. "But we usually put all Hogwarts books away once the term has started."

"That’s all right," replied Harry. "How much?"

"For these eight that'll be... nine galleons, five sickles."

Harry paid the man and left the store. He was glad he had no more stops to make, the bag with his robes and books in was really heavy and he had started to feel the strain in his arm. He began to walk up the street to the Leaky Cauldron, but something happened then that, in the months to come, would seem like nothing more than an everyday thing…

The bright autumn sun had dimmed, as if it was about to set, but it was only twelve in the afternoon. He didn’t notice it at first but then the cold set in. Harry felt them before he saw them. His entire body had gone cold and he could hear his mother's last words in his head. No, he thought, not here... not now... don't let them come.... Harry choked on the cold and looked around; nobody else seemed to be affected yet. Some had pulled their cloaks closer around themselves, but that was all.

And then it happened. Out of the immense darkness thirty or so Dementors appeared. Harry fell to his knees clutching his chest. He was so cold. As the high pitched laughter filled his head, he dropped his bag and pulled out his wand. Looking around he could see that the Dementors were now affecting other people on the street. Several people fell to the ground, some screamed.

Harry watched as the Dementors blocked off the street from both sides, trapping fifty or so people between them, casting a section of the street into an impenetrable darkness. About twenty Dementors coming from the left, a dozen to the right. Harry was one of the people trapped. Fighting against the cold he raised his wand, and thinking of the happiest thought he could come up with, he shouted:

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Nothing happened, not even a silvery wisp issued from his wand. He frowned and shook his head to clear it. Come on he thought. Happy thought... Ron, Hermione..

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Harry's Patronus burst out of the end of his wand. Immediately he regained himself, felt the warmth seeping through his entire body... but he couldn't savour it for long. "Over there," he pointed. The stag galloped through the air, leaving a silvery trail in its wake, and over to a group of five Dementors who had lowered their hoods to five people below them. The stag knocked the Dementors away, sending them backwards and into darkness, where they disappeared.

"Good, now that way, Prongs," Harry managed, shaking his head to keep his mind clear.

Prongs leapt through the air, leaving another whispery silver trail behind him, and into another group of Dementors. Harry directed him back and forth; so far no one had been hurt.

"Is that them all?" asked Harry to himself, as the street began to brighten with the Dementors retreat. But no... He could still faintly hear his mother’s screams, he turned, where-

Harry stopped abruptly and felt his heart skip a few beats in his chest, cornered against the front wall of Flourish and Blotts was a family of four. The same family he had brushed past in the robe shop only half an hour ago. A witch and wizard and two young children, no more than six or seven. The parents were trying to push their children behind them, to safety, but to no avail. Four Dementors were leaning over them, their hoods already down ready to administer the fatal kiss.

"NO!" shouted Harry. "PRONGS, THERE, NOW!"

The stag burst across the street at an amazing speed, but it was too late. Harry could tell Prongs would never reach them in time. He watched as the Dementors sucked the souls out of the parents and their children. It was a hideous, scarring sight and all happiness left him. Prongs faded away as the Dementors let fall the bodies of their victims. It then truly hit home at Harry that they were at war.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Harry looked to his left; someone other than him had just conjured a Patronus. He watched as a silver wolf attacked the Dementors and sent them into the darkness, where they truly belonged. It was as if someone had flicked on a light switch; the sun returned in full force amidst the screams of people on the street. Several pops were heard as someone pulled Harry up by his arm.

"You okay, Harry?" asked Remus, regretting his decision to let Harry wander around Diagon Alley alone.

"Remus- you- you cast that Patronus?"

"Yes that was mine... if only I'd gotten here a minute earlier though," he said, looking at the soulless family.

"What happened, Lupin?" asked a familiar voice.

Harry and Remus turned around on their heels quickly. Standing behind them was Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was flanked by five or six other Aurors. They stood impressively in their white robes, wands drawn and eyes narrowed.

"Dementors, Kingsley..." said Lupin sadly.

"D- Dementors here! In Diagon Alley..."

"Yes, Harry here fought them off with his Patronus, but still..."

Kingsley looked down at Harry for the first time. "Are you okay, Harry?" he asked.

"I'm fine, but..." Harry trailed off and looked over at Flourish and Blotts, where the four soulless victims lay.

Kingsley followed his gaze and sighed. "Huh... Dawlish, Atherson... please go see to that."

Two of the Aurors broke away from the pack and walked over to Flourish and Blotts. A crowd of people had gathered now and several were applauding Harry for what he did. But Harry didn't want to stay.

"Remus... can we go?" he whispered, leaning heavily on his good leg. The pain in his injured one was becoming unbearable.

"Of course, Harry... come on." Remus picked up Harry's bag and cane. He passed the cane to Harry and they began to leave, but Kingsley called back to them.

"You saved a lot of lives today, Harry," he said. "I'll make sure the Ministry knows what happened." Kingsley turned away and tried to make the crowd disperse.

Harry and Remus walked back up to the Leaky Cauldron in silence. They dodged all the questions from the people in the bar and Tom rushed them into their private room in the back.

"I'll go get some lunch," said Tom.

Harry sat down at the table in silence, thinking about the children who had lost their souls to a war that shouldn’t have to be fought. He was horrified and angry. The world truly was at war, and he was on the front lines. Two separate attacks in a week, and he had repelled both of them, but not without incident. Two families had been destroyed this week.

"Harry," Remus began, "do you-"

"I wasn't quick enough," cut in Harry, remembering all the painful memories of the past week. God it had been eventful...

"You saved a lot of people from being Kissed-"

Harry jumped to his feet. "BUT THEY WERE ONLY KIDS, REMUS," he shouted. "THEY BARELY HAD A CHANCE AT LIFE BEFORE-"

Remus Lupin knew how Harry felt, he’d felt this way himself more than once recently. "We are at war, Harry! There are always casualties... always. It was horrible in the first war. People you had known your entire life just being cut down. Your best friends joining him..."

"So that's all that family was,” Harry spat back, lashing out at anyone. “A few casualties of war!"

"No," said Remus calmly, though he was just as angry as Harry.

Harry sighed and covered his face with his hands. “Why can’t I just have some peace for once?”

"Igitur qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum," said Remus quietly.

Harry looked up at this, confusion mixed with grief in his emerald eyes. “What does that mean? Was it a spell?”

Remus shook his head. “It’s Latin, Harry. It means, ‘He who wishes for peace, let him prepare for war.’”

Harry grew quiet, the guilt of it all coming back to him in a fresh wave. "If I was only faster. It's just like when Sirius-"

"NO," shouted Lupin, grabbing Harry by the throat and throwing him back up against the wall. Harry cried out as his leg banged against the wall. "Listen to me very carefully, Harry," he said, looking up into his face. "You - are - not - to - blame - for his death, nor are you responsible for the lives of that family... If you’re going to blame anyone, blame fucking Voldemort."

Lupin let him go and Harry slid down to the floor coughing. Harry had never seen Lupin so enraged, it was scary. He could see the wolf behind his eyes. He always seemed so in control, but he’d lost it at the mention of Sirius. It was a long moment before anyone spoke but then Tom, who had previously gone unnoticed, standing in the doorway, said something.

"Er- I've... I've got your lunch here, lads... I'll just pop it on the table and -er- go."

Once Tom had left, Harry looked up at Remus. "You're pretty strong," he said.

"Yeah... one of the pros of being a werewolf," he said bitterly.

"Oh... Look, Remus I-"

"It's all right, Harry... don't worry."

In the silence that followed, he and Remus came to an understanding that neither had to put into words. After a moment had passed Lupin spoke. "We better eat some of these sandwiches," he said.

Harry and Lupin sat at the table and began to eat, they talked normally, and Lupin made a few jokes about his hair. "By the way, Harry, nice haircut," he laughed.

"Shut up... I like it," said Harry.

"No I really do think its good..." he said in a near serious voice. “Goes well with the earring," he finished laughing.

"Oh, sod off.”

Lupin stopped laughing and his manner turned serious. "You still want to go into London this afternoon?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Yes..." he finally said. “I do need to buy a suit."

"Okay, we'll go after lunch. But first I have to go owl Dumbledore, tell him what happened. I'll be back in a minute."

Lupin left the room, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. I should have been faster he thought. I will be... this is the last time. Enough death.

Harry ate his sandwich in silence. After he had finished, he limped up to his room and put his robes and books in his new trunk. By the time he'd hobbled back downstairs Remus had returned and was waiting by the door that opened up on to London. He had transfigured his robes into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Harry thought he looked very irregular.

"Hang on, Harry; before we go out let me transfigure your robes."

Harry stopped at the door as Lupin transfigured his black robes into black jeans and t-shirt.

"That'll do, let’s go." Remus opened the door to Muggle London and stepped through, followed by Harry. "Right then," he said. "Where do we go?"

"I- I don't know. I think maybe we should head to the Strand, it’s the big shopping area in London."

Harry and Lupin followed the signs to the central business district of London, and soon found what they were looking for, a respectable enough men’s tailor. They entered the shop and looked around. It was very posh and very clean, and Harry felt out of place in his plain jeans and shirt. A very snobbish looking man approached Harry and looked him up and down before speaking.

"May I help you... sir," he said in a tone that clearly stated he didn't think they should have been in his shop.

"Yeah, " said Harry, more than a little annoyed. “I'd like a suit please... something for a funeral."

The man paused before speaking and his eye's flicked over to Lupin. "Very well... follow me."

"I'll wait over the road in that coffee shop," whispered Lupin, who didn't like the funny looks he was attracting from the people in the shop.

"Okay... I won't be long."

Harry followed the sales assistant into a back room; the walls of this room were lined with plain, black suits. There was no one else in the room apart from a little man with a tape measure.

"Do you see anything you like?"

Harry surveyed the dozens of suits on the wall. He didn't know what to look for, so he just pointed to one suit hanging next to the door.

"Very good, sir..."

The man with the tape measure was now measuring Harry. After five minutes he pulled out a pen and paper and started making notes. This went on for another ten minutes.

"I think we should try a fourteen, Frank," said the tailor.

The snobbish man called Frank nodded and disappeared into a row of suits looking for the correct size. He emerged triumphant two minutes later carrying the right one. He handed it to Harry, who started to put it on but ran into some trouble when he removed his jeans and tried to pull the pants past his sore leg. This was the first time Harry had actually had a good look at his wounded leg, and it wasn’t pretty. There was a big, deep purple bruise running the length of his shin right up to the knee. A rough scar also followed this path up his shin. The tailor had noticed this too.

"Jeez... that’s a nasty looking thing. What happened to your leg?" he asked.

"It's a... er... football injury," lied Harry.

The tailor seemed to accept this and returned to his work. A few minutes later Harry was looking at himself in the mirror. It looked good. He didn’t have very broad shoulders, he never had, but they filled the suit well, and it was the right length at the cuffs and not to tight around the middle.

"Would you like this one, sir?" asked Frank.

"Please," said Harry.

Harry changed back into his jeans and shirt, while Frank wrapped his suit. He came back through to the counter as Frank pressed some buttons on the cash register.

"That will be one hundred and fifty pounds, sir."

Harry unrolled his roll of Muggle money and handed over the bills. He picked up his suit bag and left. Remus was sitting across the road reading the afternoon edition of the Prophet. Harry sat down at the table and ordered a cup of tea.

"Everything go alright, Harry?" Remus asked as he sat down.

"Oh yeah... fine."

Lupin sighed. "Hmm... they got this out quick."

Remus handed Harry the copy of the Prophet he had been reading. "One of the people you saved was a reporter," he said. Harry began to read.

DEMENTOR'S ATTACK DIAGON ALLLEY

You-Know-Who makes first move in war
Ian Lighterman

Earlier today Dementors appeared in Diagon Alley,
presumably on You-Know-Who's orders, and attacked
shoppers who happened to be in the Alley at the time,
myself among them. The street grew dark as they arrived,
and several people fell to the floor as their power took
hold. There were at least thirty Dementors that swooped
down upon those trapped. Hoods were lowered to many
people, but just when hope had fled, a ray of light shone
through the darkness.

Harry Potter, 'The Boy Who Lived', had cast his Patronus
charm to drive the Dementors away. The Patronus charm
is a piece of highly advanced magic that many wizards
have trouble conjuring; it is the only known way to drive
off a Dementor. Potter's Patronus took the shape of a stag
and charged down the Dementors. Sadly the dark creatures
did claim four victims. The Robertson family, well known for
their contributions to St. Mungo’s, was cornered against
Flourish and Blotts and lost their souls.

But Mr. Potter has again proven his courage in the face of
danger. Dozens of witches and wizards owe their lives to
him today and would like to see that he receives
proper recognition for his heroism.

The article was complete with a picture of Harry taken that day in Diagon Alley after the attack. It showed Harry talking to Kingsley, with Remus next to him. He put the paper aside.

"They've made me out to be a hero..." he sighed.

"You did do a very heroic thing," argued Lupin.

"I was just there at the right time."

"Fifty people would have lost their souls had it not been for you. You are a powerful wizard, and you do seem to have a knack for fighting the Dark Arts."

Harry nodded. "I suppose I do."

"Of course you do. Now, are we done shopping for the day?"

"Actually I want to buy some normal clothes. You know like shirts, shorts, jumpers, and jeans."

Remus drained his cup and nodded. "Okay, let’s go."

Two hours later Harry made his way up the stairs to his room at the Leaky Cauldron. He had purchased a lot of new clothes, mostly black things to go with his robes. After placing all the clothes in his trunk, he went back downstairs to join Remus for dinner.

They were once again in the private back room for dinner. When Harry entered he saw that Remus was in deep discussion with Tom, but they broke away once they saw him.

"Harry," said Remus, a little surprised as he shoved a piece of parchment into his pocket. "Didn't hear you come in."

Harry looked from Remus to Tom. Whatever they were talking about, he wasn't meant to hear.

"What's for dinner?" Harry asked, ending the awkward silence and pretending he hadn't seen anything.

"Steak and mash all right?" asked Tom.

"That'll be fine, Tom," Remus replied, throwing two logs onto the fire. “Mine’s rare. Harry?”

“Medium, please.”

Tom left the room to go and fetch their dinner. Harry and Lupin went and sat at the table next to the fire.

"Steak is okay, isn't it?" Remus asked him.

Harry was staring into the flames and turned to look at Remus. "Oh yeah, it's fine."

"Good."

"Listen, Remus, I've been meaning to ask you all day... what are the other members of the Order up to?" Harry whispered anxiously. "What's happening?"

Remus frowned in thought. "Well..." he said, and it appeared he was choosing his words carefully. “I'm not sure actually. Mundungus is watching Death Eaters, but I don't know where Tonks and Moody are. Dumbledore sent them away on a mission while you were in hospital."

"Do you think they're okay?"

"Oh I'm sure they're fine... Dumbledore would've heard if something had happened."

After dinner, Lupin and Harry spent the rest of the evening playing chess. When Harry finally surrendered to Remus' suicidal knights, it was well past eleven. He said goodnight to Lupin and left the room just as Tom came in.

Harry knew he should have gone up to bed, he knew he shouldn't have listened, but he did. The door was ajar and leaning close, he could hear what was said.

"You really think he'll try to recruit him," said Tom, with an edge of fear in his voice.

"It's looking more and more likely..." sighed Lupin. "Especially after what he did in Diagon Alley today. He keeps proving himself as a really powerful wizard."

"Do you think Harry... will-"

"No, Tom, I don't think Harry would ever join Voldemort," Remus replied truthfully.

That was enough for Harry. He turned and limped through the hall and up the stairs to his room. Blowing out the lamps, he lay down in bed with only his thoughts for company. So Voldemort wants me now, he thought. A week ago he nearly killed me... I’ll never join him...

Harry quickly fell asleep with these dark thoughts clouding his mind.

"Crucio," cried Harry.

A figure of a woman on the floor in front of him screamed in pain. The woman was Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry stopped the spell and spoke to Bellatrix in a voice that wasn't quite his own.

"You have learned your lesson I think," said Voldemort/Harry.

"Yes... yes, master," moaned Bellatrix.

"That is twice you have failed me this week. You will not fail me again, will you?"

"No my Lord... no."

"Good, now tell me what went wrong in Diagon Alley."

Bellatrix handed Voldemort/Harry a copy of the Prophet, with the article about the attack on the front. He read it.

Voldemort/Harry turned away from Bellatrix and walked over to a table in the corner of the room. Sitting on a perch next to the table was a large, black eagle with dark eyes and a blood red beak. Voldemort/Harry picked up a quill and began to write on a piece of parchment.

Harry awoke with a start, hundreds of miles away. It was in the early hours of the morning. He sat up in bed and pressed his hand to his scar, which was still burning, though not badly enough for it to bleed. He tried to remember the dream but the pictures were slowly slipping away. He could remember a woman being tortured... Bellatrix, and he could remember a black eagle and Voldemort writing a letter...

Harry leaned back down in bed and continued to think, but it wasn't long before he drifted off to sleep again.

That morning he woke early. The first rays of sunlight were streaming through his window and all was quiet. He checked his watch, it was seven thirty, the funeral was in two and a half hours. Harry collected his suit and cane and got into the shower. Twenty minutes later he emerged clean shaven and wearing his suit. As he tried to straighten a few creases in his suit using the mirror, there was a knock on the door.

"Coming to breakfast, Harry?" called Remus.

"I'll be right there, Remus,” he replied, his stomach doing flips from the anxiety.

Harry listened as he heard Lupin's footsteps fade away. Now that the funeral was so close, the enormous feeling of guilt had started to form in the pit of his stomach, and he didn't think he could eat anything. Five minutes later he had descended the stairs and was limping down the hall to the back room. His stomach was in knots when he entered the room. Lupin was sitting at the table reading the Daily Prophet and smiling.

"Harry," he said. "Guess what?"

Not really in the mood to guess, Harry shrugged. “I give up...”

"It says here that you're tipped to receive the Order of Merlin, Second Class, for what you did yesterday in Diagon Alley."

Harry didn't quite know what to make of this. He didn't really care. "Oh... that's... that's good."

"Is everything okay, Harry?" asked Remus.

"Yeah, I'm fine," lied Harry. "Er- what time we leaving?"

Remus stared at him fro a moment. “I'm sorry, Harry but I'm not coming. I've been called away on work for the Order. Apparently Voldemort is up to something around Stonehenge, maybe. I'll take your trunk to Hogwarts and then I have to go away for awhile."

"How am I going to get to Little Whinging and back?"

"Floo, you're going to take floo powder to Arabella Figg's old house, its empty. And from there you can go to the church on Rawlinson Street, that's where the service is. And then back to Arabella's house and floo to Hogwarts. The fireplace in Gryffindor common room has been configured to allow you, and only you, access."

"Oh... where are you going?"

"Can't tell you that, Harry... Dumbledore's orders."

Harry gritted his teeth. It was his job to kill Voldemort, you think someone would tell him something. "Hmm... I had a dream about Voldemort last night," he said.

Lupin looked up, the paper forgotten. "What happened?"

"Not much really, I saw him torturing Bellatrix Lestrange and then he learned about how I stopped the Dementors, and then he began to write a letter to someone but I didn't see who, and then I woke up."

"Was there a big, black eagle...?" Lupin asked quietly, apprehensively.

"Yeah... yeah there was."

Lupin sighed. "Hmm... that's the bird he uses to send recruitment letters to people."

Harry's eyes widened. "Recrui- for the Death Eater's?"

"Yeah... we know he's sent at least two hundred and seventy-five since last February. There's probably more we don't know about."

"How many Death Eater's does he have?" asked Harry.

"Only he knows the exact number, but we think it's somewhere in the region of two hundred."

"Two hundred!"

"Yeah..."

"Why would so many join him?"

"He doesn't just send you a letter and let you decide. If you refuse... he'll come after you, and your family. So you either join him or die... people have been disappearing for a few months now."

"Can't the Ministry do anything?"

"People are too scared to come forward... it's starting to get like it was sixteen years ago."

For the next couple of hours Harry didn't say much. He was, as he had been doing all week, reflecting on the past. Sirius was most prominent in his mind, as was the dream where he had spoken to him. He wasn't sure if it was real, could it have just been a dream. A coincidence maybe... or was it something deeper. The feeling of guilt had increased as Lupin handed him a pouch of floo powder a few minutes later.

"Now, I don't know when I'll see you again, so this is goodbye for awhile. Enjoy this year... I know it got off to a bit of a rough start... but do try and stay out of trouble."

"Okay, Remus I'll... I'll see you around," said Harry, as he stepped into the fireplace. "What do I say?"

Lupin smiled sadly. "Just say 'Little Whinging'. There will be a few members of the Order nearby in Little Whinging for protection, but they’ll stay under invisibility cloaks. Just stay safe."

Harry nodded, he’d leave them be. "Bye, Remus," he whispered, throwing down some floo powder. "Little Whinging."

The world blurred and in no time at all he was in Mrs. Figg's living room. His eyes immediately flicked to where he knew her body had been. He shook his head, and in so doing, noticed all the soot on his suit. He pulled out his wand and performed a cleaning spell, not caring much about the Statute of Secrecy right now. He glanced one last time at the chair and then exited the house, hearing the ruffle of an invisibility cloak as he went.

Outside on the street Harry looked around. It seemed that years had passed since he had fallen from his broomstick and broken his arm on this very street, in reality it was less than a week. He didn't hang around though. It was nine forty-five and he had fifteen minutes to get to the church.

The church was five streets over and as Harry walked, he began to feel more and more nervous. The journey to the church was over much sooner than he had expected, and he found himself standing at the gates, watching people make their way into the building. Harry recognised some of the people. There was Aunt Marge, whom he had blown up three summers ago, Dudley's gang was present, and there were several people he'd met over the years from his Uncle's side of the family and drill company.

Harry remained standing there as everybody went inside and the doors were closed. No one noticed him. He couldn't bring himself to go inside, though, not with the guilt he was feeling. He stood there for an hour as the service went on. After what seemed like five minutes to him, the doors opened and out walked the procession, followed by three coffins on the shoulders of eighteen pallbearers, six to a coffin. Harry wiped away a few desperate tears, cursing Voldemort and his fate.

He followed the coffins down the empty street to the cemetery, and again watched from afar as they were placed in the graves and the Reverend gave the final words. Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust. Once the service was over, the crowd started to break up and leave. It had ended just like that. Some of the procession lingered to pay their last respects, but the coffins had been confined to the shallow earth. A few cried as they placed the first dirt and a rose into each grave, and Harry let fall a silent tear.

Time seemed to speed up for Harry and when he next looked at the graves, the grave diggers had begun to fill in the three holes and fifteen minutes later they too left, their work done.

Harry limped over to the three tombstones and looked down in silence; it was a long time before he said anything. Standing guiltily over the three separate brown rectangles of fresh dirt. He sighed with remorse and regret.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered. “This is my fault... all my fault." Tears began to roll down his cheeks. "He killed you because I was there... I'm sorry..." Harry fell to his knees before the graves. "I won't let him get away with it... he will pay... I promise you that."

Harry pulled out his wand and muttered a small spell. Flowers shot out of the end and he pulled them off, laying them before the graves.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered finally, before turning away.

The walk to Mrs. Figg's seemed to take hours. Finally, Harry arrived and entered through the door. He wanted nothing more than to get out of here. Away from the grief. He walked towards and into the fireplace.

"Hogwarts, Gryffindor Common Room," he said, throwing some floo powder to the ground.

The world blurred and he lost site of Mrs. Figg’s living room, as the deafening sound of the floo pounded in his ears. Harry didn’t know it then, but that was the last time he would ever set foot in Little Whinging, Surrey.

*~*~*~*