Howdy folks, and thanks for the kind reviews, I really appreciate it. I’ve not yet totally decided on pairings in this story, as most of them right now are still in the crush phase. Although I do have to say that Remus/Tonks is pretty likely (and they’ll certainly be given more than the few mentions that the canon story gives them), and that Hermione has had a crush on Ron for a long time in canon, and that Ron has recently started to reciprocate her feelings. Also, canonRon confuses me in that he seems to have spots where he acts more mature than Hermione, who oftentimes doesn’t give me the feeling that she’s matured much beyond the bushy-haired, bossy know-it-all we first met of the Hogwarts Express, but then reverts back to a jealous prat. I’m going to be attempting to write the mature Ron who has instances where he reverts back to childish behavior, as even adults can, when pushed. Harry, however, will be more mature than in canon. Why? Because he suddenly has the memories of a 60-year old man. Granted, the combined emotional age of Harry and Voldemort in OOtP was slightly less than six, but Tom’s had Harry’s experience to propel him to a decent level of maturity – even if he is teasing and sarcastic to poor Harry – and Harry, without Voldemort breaking into his head constantly (and yes, it happened a great deal more than you may think in OOtP, I think) is able to be the funny, smart, caring person he should have been from his parents’ personalities and the constant companionship of a mature adult who can nip tantrums in the bud. Anyway, enjoy!
An old war memorial featuring the several names, likely the local casualties unwilling to be forgotten by time, decorated the sparse town square of the deserted village. Old stone benches surrounded the memorial, where in prior days townsfolk would sit and rest during their day of shopping, read out in the sunshine, or greet each other as they passed.
The silence was shattered with a ‘pop’ and the sudden arrival of two strangers. Both figures appeared nonplussed at their unique mode of arrival, and the taller looked around a bit before setting off in a direction; the shorter following him even before he uttered a, “This way, Harry.”
Harry, having never Apparated before – though he instantly knew by the crushing, squeezing sensation that it was, indeed, Apparition – committed to memory the sensation and focused on the knowledge that sprung up from a past life on how to perform the magic himself; it would be a useful skill, after all. Dumbledore looked down in surprise at how well Harry seemed to take to the unfamiliar magic, and smiled.
“So how was your first experience with Apparition, Harry?” The aged Headmaster asked.
“Well, Professor, I find the experience no more nauseating than either a portkey or Floo travel.” Dumbledore smirked, knowing Harry’s difficulty with both forms of transportation, and nodded slightly. Harry took a moment to take in his surroundings. The surplus of green all around the village was not uncommon in Britain, and he could find nothing indeed that indicated either to himself or Tom that this was a place of some importance.
“Er, Professor? Where exactly are we headed?” Harry turned to Dumbledore and asked.
“Welcome to the charming little village of Budleigh Babberton, Harry.” Dumbledore said as they climbed a steep street past an inn with no lights on and a few houses that were mostly dark. The clock on the church tower indicated that it was nearing seven o’clock. Harry waited for Dumbledore to clarify their purpose in visiting this lovely village, but Dumbledore seemed disinclined to elaborate, so Harry posed the question.
“We are here to visit an old friend, and convince him to once more take up the teaching position which seems to find itself vacant.” Dumbledore said. Harry had no idea why Dumbledore had saved this trip for Harry’s presence, but kept quiet; Tom’s instincts made him more apt to discover the reasons on his own than ask Dumbledore. He very much wanted to know just who Dumbledore had found for a Defense Professor (and the likelihood of their attempted assassination of himself). They turned left abruptly at a narrow street lined with a few houses and continued walking as Harry contemplated an attempt at a conversation. He was about to open his mouth when they turned once more to face a neat stone house with a nice garden in front of it. Harry instantly noted that the front door seemed to have been blown off its hinges, and instinctively drew his wand as he searched the sky for the Dark Mark, which was not present. Dumbledore too, had drawn his wand; Harry noticed that his hand was shriveled and blackened – had that been the result of a curse from the Ministry battle? Harry forced the thoughts from his mind and focused on the situation at hand.
“Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear.” Dumbledore started. The gate flew open as the Headmaster approached, and Harry followed him as he swiftly closed the distance to the door. Pushing it open gently, Harry and the Headmaster both cast beams of soft light upon the darkened house with their wands. Entering a door to the left, they emerged upon a scene of ruin. An elegant grandfather clock stood smashed – had a body been tossed into it, or was it a spell off its mark? Casting a silent revealing spell to discover what had caused the carnage made the whole scene more interesting. A bludgeoning curse had damaged the clock, a Flinging Hex had tossed a piano – an impressive feat, actually, another bludgeoner had destroyed the chandelier that lay smashed on the floor. Cutting hexes littered the cushions that spewed goose feather down all around the room. And most mysteriously, the thick red liquid on the wall radiated magic, but no particular spell. This was not the work of Death Eaters. There were no Unforgivables, no signs of torture, and that was certainly not human blood coating the wall. If there had been a struggle, as it appeared, the Death Eaters would not have tossed around schoolboy hexes. When Harry noticed the transfigured armchair, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. Dumbledore, too, seemed to have notice something amiss with the scene.
"Well, Harry, it is certain that something horrible happened here." Harry resisted the impulse to scream 'FAKE!', and took another moment before responding.
"There seems to be a missing body. And if the sheer volume of blood on the wall is any indicator, then a missing corpse. Perhaps the body was taken as part of a new army of Inferi, as the Ministry seems to think likely. However...I'm not convinced." He said determinedly. Dumbledore nodded slowly and went over to the suspicious armchair lying on its side. Harry almost smirked - he knew Dumbledore couldn't have missed that. Dumbledore poked the armchair with his wand, and it reverted to a red-faced man of portly stature, who immediately adjusted his monocle.
"I say, Albus, no need to be so rough with the wand, there! Almost had you convinced, didn't I? Say, what tipped you off?" The man asked. He wore rather expensive robes of dark green velvet with silver fastenings and an elegant silver pocketwatch chain emerging from the left breast pocket. Harry immediately recognized him, but elected to keep this knowledge to himself, seeing as how he had no legitimate way to know Horace Slughorn without Tom's knowledge.
"My dear Horace, it was the lack of a Dark Mark that first indicated to me something was remiss. Had it been an actual Death Eater attack, they surely would not have forgotten that. Though I must say that the blood on the wall was rather convincing and nerve jarring, Horace. What species was it?" Dumbledore asked while peering down at the former Professor over his spectacles.
"Of course, the Dark Mark. Wouldn't have had time anyway, though. Only got two minute's notice from the perimeter charm – I was sitting at my table without even my wand, rather foolish looking back on it. It was dragon's blood, of course. No better substitute for creation of a scene like this - it spatters quite convincingly. Expensive though, and that was my last bottle; though I might be able to salvage it." He withdrew a large flask and, with a wave of his wand, the blood leapt off the wall and filled the flask. He seemed to examine it severely for a moment before corking it and replacing it in his robes.
"A little dusty, but good for at least one more use. If you don't mind assisting with the clean-up, Albus?" The Headmaster nodded and drew his wand, waving it synchronous with Slughorn's in broad sweeping motions as the room righted itself to a pre-disastrous state.
"It's good to see you again, Albus," Slughorn said sincerely as he shook the Headmaster's offered left hand, "but what brings you by? Down on your luck and looking for a place to hide? Or, has your old age finally started to catch up with you?" Slughorn asked seriously with a glance at his right hand.
"I daresay it has somewhat, Horace – I am not the spring chicken I once was. I have come to offer you a respite from the life of an outlaw, in fact. But first, let me introduce a guest who happened to be with me tonight. Horace Slughorn, meet Harry Potter. Harry, Professor Horace Slughorn." Slughorn's eyes widened and a delirious smile spread on his face at the mention of Harry, who he had yet to sight.
Oh, very clever Albus. Horace, after all, absolutely couldn't resist the temptation to add the great Harry Potter to his collection. He'd be the prize piece, in fact, replacing even those Quidditch stars. Tom seemed to know quite exactly why Harry was invited for this trip.
"That's former professor, Harry my boy. Would you like some tea?" Horace conjured up three cups at Harry's nod and gave them to his guests. "Well, I must say that it is certainly an honor - I'd hoped, someday, to be able to meet you. I knew your parents ever so well, of course; particularly your mother, bless her soul." He vigorously shook Harry's hand and seemed to never want to stop. Harry extricated his hand after a few moments and smiled at the Potions Master.
"The pleasure's all mine, sir. I really thought that faked destruction was real; I'm glad you're all right." Harry said. And it was true, after a fashion. Without Tom, he certainly would have.
"Ah yes, well I've been in hiding for a year now, and I've prepared a few death scenes to put into action at a moment's notice. I've been moving from house to house - this one's owned by a pair of muggles vacationing in the Canary Islands for two weeks - on the run, you know, from You-Know-Who." Tom thought this information very interesting indeed, and both he and Harry grabbed at explanations for why the Dark Lord would be after Slughorn.
"Is he coming after you, sir?" Harry questioned innocently. His progressing Occlumency was really helping him imitate innocence, among other things, and was quite handy at lying.
"Coming after me, particularly, no...no reason at all for that to happen," Tom directed Harry's attention to the sly half-glance that Horace gave Albus before continuing, "never liked to get mixed up with that sort, don't you know? No...but, as one of the premier Potions Masters in England, I'm bound to be a target, aren't I?" Harry, staring in his eyes, realized he was lying. Truthfully, Harry knew just how Horace Slughorn was mixed up with Tom Riddle - the old man was likely one of the few who remembered Tom Riddle back when he was just a brilliant student - but something in Slughorn's eyes indicated to Harry that his words rang false. Harry gave Slughorn a noncommittal "Hmmm" as Tom explained what had happened.
Ah, that was Legilimency, Harry. A well-Occluded mind, as yours is beginning to become, can begin to use an opponent's eyes to pick up lies, and later surface thoughts. It means that you are doing well.
"Of course, Horace. Lord Voldemort would love nothing more than to you’re your considerable talents to coercion, torture, and murder. And that, Horace, is precisely why I am offering to you the sanctuary of Hogwarts castle. Nowhere is safer than from the influence of Lord Voldemort." Albus interjected. Tom seemed to chuckle about this, saying, Well, I wouldn't go that far, Albus. Voldemort does indeed fear you - you are a powerful wizard, his only competition in that aspect, really, in addition to being exceedingly clever enough to figure out what he was up to. However, a concerted attack plan on the castle is not something I'd put past Voldemort. Tom certainly respected Albus, and Harry caught a feeling of what may have been glee at someone having figured out his old persona's game. While Voldemort certainly didn't appreciate competition, it seemed that Tom liked pitting the cleverness of his past self against others. Harry could only hope that Voldemort didn't actually want to storm Hogwarts, but Tom was right: if enough variables swung to stack the deck in his favor, Voldemort would attack Hogwarts to get to Dumbledore and Harry.
"Now Albus, I know that Tom always respected you and your power. But the temptation might be too great - you'd leave him no choice. No, I rather think that I am safer on my own here. My refusal of your offer still stands, Albus, and I'd thank you to not manipulate me to get what you want." Might as well ask him to stop breathing, Tom added. With a mental smack to the back of his head, Tom stopped; he did have a point, however - Albus very much liked to control situations.
"Very well, Horace. Before Harry and I depart, may I use your restroom? That tea does seem to fly right through my old system." Horace nodded and directed him down the hall. Harry started examining various wizarding photographs that Slughorn had set upon the mantle. Thanks for everything Sluggy - Gwenog Jones, Holyhead Harpies. To a dear friend and mentor - Damocles Belby.
"Are these all from former students?" Harry asked, knowing quite well that they were undoubtedly Slug Club members.
"Oh yes, Harry. This one's from Gwenog Jones of the Harpies - gives me free tickets any time I like, the dear girl. And of course Damocles - he has a nephew at Hogwarts now, I hear, invented the Wolfsbane; only a nudge in the right direction from me and his career certainly shot right up. He's a fine Potions Master now, we've collaborated a bit. Owner of Honeydukes Ambrosius Flume over here, Harry. I set him up with an interview with old Ciceron Harkiss, who I'd known for years, and he's sent me a barrel of chocolates every Christmas." Tom, seeing an opening on Horace, urged Harry.
"But how do they send you things, if you're in hiding? I mean, surely you've charmed the owls to not be able to locate you..." Harry began.
"Oh, of course. Well, They all sent those things before I went into hiding. Of course." Horace did look slightly reminiscent at this.
"Wow, that must've been tough, to give up all of that for a life on the run. So, um, Professor, I mean Mister Slughorn, can you tell me about my mum?" Harry asked. Tom knew it was a good topic, but Harry earnestly wanted to know about his parents.
"Lily? Wonderful girl. Vivacious and charming young witch. A brilliant student, too, one of my favorites, though of course teachers should never really have favorites.” Horace gave Harry a broad wink at this, as though intimating that Harry would be surely among Horace’s favorites if he were still teaching. Which, he was quite certain, he would be. Imagine my surprise when she was a Muggle-born!" Harry's mouth hardened at this, and he interrupted.
"Well I don't think that makes much difference. One of my best friends is a Muggle-born, and she's the brightest in the year by far!" At least until I show up with all of Tom's knowledge...hmmm, that may be problematic. Harry considered.
"Oh, of course, Harry. I didn't mean to imply that there was any sort of natural inequality. It's just that children of wizarding parents get a bit of a head start and sometimes are a little better adjusted to the material than Muggle-borns. Take your father, for example. Who, I am sure you have heard, you are a spitting image for! Truly, Harry, if you were a prankster like your father, it wouldn’t be at all difficult to convince everyone that you were the ghost of James! But enough of that! As I was saying, I don't believe that Minerva was able to teach him a new trick until his fourth year - brilliant Transfiguration student. Would've been a Master candidate for certain, maybe after Minerva's job! But your mother, Harry, she came to Hogwarts and, quick as you please, just picked up the material. Stayed far ahead of her peers throughout school. Oh, I do miss dear Lily, so." Horace started tearing a little, and dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief he pulled out.
"Well, sir, I'm sorry to hear that you won't be coming to Hogwarts, then.” Harry began, but Horace interrupted.
“Well, Harry, much as I’d love to teach – though these old bones don’t get around like they used to! – Working with Albus would be virtually declaring my alliance with the Order of the Phoenix!” Harry wondered just how Slughorn knew of the “secret” Order’s existence if he hadn’t been at all involved, but kept that to himself.
“Really? Because most of the teachers certainly aren’t. And none of them have ever gotten hurt, either. If you don’t count Quirell, but he was possessed by Voldemort and I kinda was responsible for his death. And Umbridge, too…but I was kinda responsible for that too. Plus she insulted the centaurs to their faces while surrounded by them. Anyway, I'd have loved to hear more about my mother, and I'm certain you'd be a brilliant instructor. And, Hogwarts is safe, after all. Voldemort's tried nearly every year to have some plot to get me, and between Dumbledore and I, he's not ever met with much success. With Dumbledore around, Hogwarts is pretty much the most secure place outside of a Gringott's high security vault." Horace seemed to consider this a moment. Harry didn't really like that Slughorn seemed to be after his fame, but Tom realized, and told him, that if he was going to be burdened with the fame in either case, he'd might as well use it to his advantage when possible.
Albus strode out of the bathroom, With impeccable timing that I'm sure had nothing to do with a listening charm, Tom wryly interjected, and smiled brightly at Harry.
"Well, Harry, let's head off to our next destination, then. Horace, I'm sorry that I won't be seeing you this term and to have bothered you, but I do wish you the best." He grabbed Harry's arm before Horace spoke up.
"Now, Albus, let's not be too hasty. After all, I have heard of the legendary safety of Hogwarts," he passed what he must have thought was a sly wink at Harry, "Alright, alright, I'll come back." Albus glanced at Harry with a knowing smile.
"But I'll want a raise - I've spent years since the '70's doing valuable Potions research and collaborations, not to imagine the rate of inflation since then. Dirk Cresswell over in the Goblin Liason Office – a job I set him up with an interview with, by the way – was just telling me about it in a lovely letter I received not too long ago. Now that I’m coming back out of retirement, I just might have to write to Dirk to see how well he’s faring…" Albus chuckled and agreed, and showed Harry out the door. Walking along the path back to the town square, Harry spoke up.
"Rather sly of you, Headmaster, using my celebrity and his affection for my mother to recruit him." While not mad, Harry certainly didn't appreciate it.
"You just happened to be along, Harry, and this was a necessary errand. He is an excellent professor and he certainly may be correct about Voldemort wanting him. You know of the delicate position that Severus enjoys." It was a smooth line, but Harry knew that was not why Voldemort wanted Slughorn. Slughorn was the only man on this Earth who Voldemort had intimated his desire to create seven Horcruxes, and if Albus knew how many Horcruxes Voldemort made, he might begin inroads to their destruction. Tom rationalized that, while Albus may just have needed a Potions Master - had something happened to Snape? - that it was more likely that he suspected this information and knew it was likely that Slughorn knew something. Tom was once his favorite student, just as Lily Evans was, and was closer to him than any other member of the staff. Of course, Tom had manipulated the stuffing out of him just as he had every staff member other than Dumbledore himself, but he still respected the Potions Master.
"However," Dumbledore continued, "I will say that Horace used to make collections of prized students, and I suspect that he will make inroads to include you in that collection. You would be the crown jewel, I suspect. The ‘Boy-Who-Lived’, and now, I hear, ‘the Chosen One’." Harry rolled his eyes and laughed at this proclamation, which merely echoed his own suspicions of Slughorn’s intents. He was quite the most Slytherin person without evil intent that Harry had ever heard of – though Tom knew a good many, of course.
"I got that feeling from him, Professor. I know that he only sees my fame, and is thinking of how it can benefit him, but he still seems nice. It's good to have my name work for me, instead of having people like Snape - Professor Snape, I know - only hate me for it." A fleeting thought about Snape gave rise to the notion that perhaps Tom's influence, which had saved him from scowling at a man who only saw a celebrity, would put an interesting spin on Severus Snape’s attitude too.
"Horace is a good man and an excellent teacher, Harry. O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. results and enrollment dropped significantly when he left. But he is certainly a man who grants favors and remembers them, and he does enjoy a good bit of creature comfort. But come, we must get you to the Burrow, where I am sure Molly will have an entirely too large of a meal prepared for you to devour." Dumbledore held out his left arm again - reminding Harry that he needed to ask what in the world happened to his right hand - and 'popped' away once Harry grabbed it.
They reappeared next to the wooden sign proclaiming the residence "the Burrow", and Harry wondered why they appeared so far from the house itself. Tom's answer was that the wards likely would either prevent Apparition altogether or, more likely, set off an alarm if anyone Apparated within the perimeter of the wards. A silent revealing spell while he grasped his wand showed Harry that Tom was indeed correct, and a rainbow shell surrounded the Weasleys' home; it appeared that they were quite well protected indeed, and Harry thought that between Bill, a curse-breaker and warding expert for Gringotts, and Dumbledore, who was in charge of the Hogwarts wards, the house no doubt had every available protection placed upon it.
"Now, Harry, we have a few items of a personal nature to attend to, so why don't we take care of that before we intrude upon Molly's legendary hospitality." Albus began pleasantly as he and Harry slowly ventured toward the Burrow.
"Alright. First, what happened to your right hand?" Albus looked at his hand and sighed, "Oh, you noticed that, did you? Well, that, I am afraid, is quite the thrilling tale that would take some time for a proper telling. I will share with you that story when we can find that time together, Harry." Harry nodded. As Albus looked at his hand, he noticed a crude gold ring set with a cracked black stone. An eerily familiar gold ring and black stone, had it been whole. Tom had turned white as a ghost when he realized what it was, and the danger of such an item. Tom also knew why Albus' hand was blackened and burned. Albus had gone after the Horcruxes – or at least one Horcrux. And that curse…maybe Tom’s information was faulty. Surely it wasn’t quickly making its way to rot Dumbledore’s heart as it should have been – surely Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the age, had found a way to stop the dreadful curse whose effects Tom knew so well, effects that caused him to snicker when he’d read. Harry forced his gaze away from the ring and tuned back into Albus, who had started to speak a moment before.
"-Sirius' will. He left you everything, Harry. So, this means that you add a modest amount of gold to your bank account and take ownership of all his material possessions. Including Headquarters. I must ask your intentions for that place." Albus continued. Harry considered. With Grimmauld Place being the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, Harry couldn't exactly sell it, no matter how much Sirius hated the place; indeed, it seems that the only option Harry could think of that Sirius would have approved of was to turn the place on its head and live there.
"I'll keep Grimmauld Place, sir, but I want to clean it up. I think Sirius would have wanted that. And of course, you're welcome to have Order meetings there."
"That's very generous, Harry, thank you. However, we have temporarily vacated the premises upon Sirius' death. You see, with ancient wizarding households, there are often charms to prevent ownership from passing to a non-blood relative." Harry grinned; if those charms existed, he was pretty certain that they'd be all over the Black family mansion. "Without knowing whether or not you are the true owner, we may be walking into a trap laid by Bellatrix Lestrange." Harry showed little reaction to the name, though he still hated her. He and Tom had spoken many times of the woman, and Harry was even able to feel some pity for her, just like he did for young Voldemort.
"Fortunately, there is a simple test to determine ownership. Kreacher!" Dumbledore called. With a BANG!, Kreacher materialized with an evil sneer on his face. Harry's eyes narrowed at the sight of the traitorous little elf. Tom knew exactly what Voldemort would have done to such a creature, and had to chastise Harry when he came up with a similar idea.
"Kreacher won't, won't, WON'T! Kreacher is Mistress Cissy's elf now. Blood traitorous filth spewing muggle-spawn!" Kreacher lay on the ground banging his fists and feet in a temper tantrum still spewing vile insults. Albus prompted, "Give him a command, Harry."
"Kreacher, don't move and shut your insolent mouth." Kreacher lay exactly in the position, with one arm and leg each up in the air, and glared maliciously at Harry.
"Well, that answers that question. It seems that the house and its elf have indeed passed to you. Congratulations." Harry didn't feel that there was much to be excited about, as inheriting a house in disrepair and an insolent evil house elf were not apt to bring him much joy or satisfaction. Tom, however, assured him that both could be very useful. Harry could see how Tom managed to make the best of being torn from his body and left as a spirit with no resources with his attitude; Tom was driven like Harry had never been, and entirely willing to seize unexpected resources and creatively use them. He had certainly done it when he’d stumbled upon the Founders’ belongings before making them into Horcruxes.
“If you don’t mind my saying, Harry, I think that you’re taking all of the events since the Ministry rather well. I believe that Sirius would have been astonishingly proud of you.” Harry would likely have broken down without having talked with Tom about this before, but he was able to carry on and fondly remember his godfather.
“Sirius certainly wouldn’t have wanted me to mope around and carry on about his death, or crack up and never get over it. I have to live every day like it’ll be my last because, for him, it was. But when that day comes, I’ll be sure that no Death Eater around me lives to brag about how I went down; and now I just have to make sure I can live up to that statement.” Harry finished coldly.
“Spoken like the true son of James and Lily Potter and most assuredly the beloved godson of Sirius Black. And now, on a regrettably related subject, I understand you have been taking the Daily Prophet?” Harry nodded affirmatively, and Dumbledore continued, “Then I’m sure you’ve heard the flood of information about your battle with the Ministry.”
“Yeah, funny how they got it in one, eh?” Dumbledore smiled, but added, “Yes indeed. But it is important to note that they only think you are ‘the Chosen One’ and only two people here know the true wording of the Prophecy. You have kept it to yourself?”
“Yes sir, but I was wondering if I could possibly tell Hermione and Ron about it.” Harry was determined to keep his friends clued in on everything – except the presence of a psycho in his head that even he still sometimes wondered whether wasn’t just him being crazy – because he did not want to lose his dear friends.
“I think that a wonderful idea, Harry, and one I was going to recommend myself. To hide this from them would do them a great disservice. On a related note, it is my wish for you to take private lessons with me this year.” Harry, and Tom, gasped at this unprecedented development.
“Private – with you? Lessons?” Harry said stupidly. Tom applauded in his head for that judicious use of articulation.
“Indeed, Harry. I think it time I take a more active role in your education.”
“What will I be learning, sir?” Tom ran through the plethora of options, and only stopped when he started listing off Dumbledore’s many languages and Harry yelled at him.
“A little of this, a little of that…maybe a few other tricks.” Harry was quite interested in learning what “tricks” the ancient sorcerer had up his sleeve.
“Now, Harry, I must tell you two more things before we part. Firstly, I wish for you to carry your Invisibility Cloak with you at all times henceforth. Even at Hogwarts, even at night; it is best to be prepared,” Harry wondered just what Dumbledore expected him to prepare for, but far too many sinister ideas popped into his head to continue that line of thinking, “And, secondly. The Burrow has been afforded the very best security that the Ministry of Magic and myself can offer. Some of these precautions are rather inconvenient for Arthur and Molly – such as having their post delivered, sorted, and screened at the Ministry – but they tolerate them without complaint because they only care the utmost for your safety. It would not be kind to impose on such hospitality as has been offered by sneaking away; the precautions are for your own protection from the very real threats you have experienced.” Albus said sternly.
“Alright, that’s no problem, I wouldn’t do that to the Weasleys. But I have one request, sir. I need to be prepared for subsequent Death Eater attacks and, seeing as how adult wizards are present, I know that my usage of magic cannot be detected. I would like for some of the Order members, maybe Tonks, Lupin, Kingsley, Mad-Eye, those kinds of members, to give me some dueling practice. Just to keep me in shape over the summer. Draco Malfoy, for instance, always brags about the private tutoring he receives every summer while ‘those Mudbloods’ are forced to put away their wands. Personally, I find it the worst sort of Pureblood legislation.” Albus peered at him curiously, and Harry knew exactly why. Only one other student, at least that Harry knew of, had ever talked to Professor Dumbledore, then as Deputy Headmaster, about this piece of “Pureblood legislation” and how it would detriment the magical growth of the adolescent orphan. He had not batted an eye when he denied Tom Riddle’s request.
“Alright, Harry…perhaps we can give this a bit of a trial run. But no using your wand at any other time; you know how dangerous another trial could be for you.” Harry had to use every bit of his Occlumency to stop the grin from hitting his face at Dumbledore’s wording.
“Absolutely, sir, thank you.”
“Well, Harry, let us not deprive Molly Weasley of your anxious stomach any longer.”
“Go on ahead for just a moment, sir. I need to have a little chat with my new elf.” Albus nodded, though his face was worried, and stepped inside the back door; Harry knew that he’d be eavesdropping in case of attack. Truthfully, Tom would do the same thing in his place, and Harry was beginning to see the wisdom in such behavior.
"Kreacher, come here." Harry called in a cold voice. It was time, Tom decided, to deliver exactly what Kreacher didn't expect from Harry - a proper pureblood. Kreacher came, still not speaking from Harry's earlier command.
"Look at me, Kreacher. You are no longer the servant of an empty house. Do you understand me? I will not have you crawling around like an embarrassing maggot while you are my elf. And that wretched rag you wear! Do not mistake me for freeing you - I am transfiguring your same rags into something more befitting my servant." With a few waves of his wand, Harry cleaned Kreacher's filthy rag and transfigured it into a collared robe. Tom knew that house-elves who were favored would wear their owner's crest, but Kreacher was certainly not favored.
"Master did not put a crest on Kreacher's outfit?" Kreacher asked in the most respectful tone Harry had ever heard from the vile thing. Apparently he was buying Harry’s act hook, line, and sinker; Harry decided it was time to push the envelope.
"No, Kreacher, for you have not yet convinced me of your competence at any task set to you." To house elves, this was a terrible insult, Tom knew. It sounded as though it was the type of thing to send Dobby into tears and self-punishments. Kreacher looked as though he was getting ready to punish himself.
“Cease that immediately!” Harry called quickly, “Do you think I want a cripple elf, or your filthy blood on my robes? Do not presume that, elf! You are mine, and until such time as I feel you deserve it, you shall not presume to assign your own punishments. Now get back to my new house and clean it so that I may entertain proper guests. You may be used to living in squalor, but I am a Potter, and I expect that house to be representative of such a fine line.” Harry called out in a drawl, pretending to be Draco Malfoy boasting of his wonderful family. Truthfully he was having a bit of fun at fooling the elf.
“Master is a Potter? But they is related to the Blacks!” Kreacher started tearing up and got on his knees, “Oh, forgive me, Master, I knew not that Master was such a fine, strong wizard from the Black family. Kreacher is so sorry for the way stupid Kreacher behaved. Kreacher did not know!” Kreacher’s tears threatened to fall, but he was not quite as emotional as Dobby always was.
“You are forgiven this time, Kreacher. And I expect quite a lot more respect from you in the future. Blood purity is important, yes,” Harry almost gagged while he said that, “But is not loyalty to one’s family also important? For it was cousin Bellatrix who killed Master Sirius; Sirius, despite any quarrel, did not seek Bella’s death. She has betrayed the family, and I intend to blast her off the family tree. Also, you are to treat all of my friends and any guests I have in the same manner you treat me, unless a command they give is questionable, and then you may ask for my direction. For now, Kreacher, return to Grimmauld Place – I expect it to be immaculate when I choose to inspect it.” Kreacher bowed deeply and disappeared with a much softer noise than he’d made upon his arrival, and Harry promptly broke out in a fit of laughter. Tears in his eyes, he found Professor Dumbledore with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk beckon him inside.
“What did you think, sir? Do I make a fine young pureblood scion?” Harry puffed out his chest in a rather Napoleonic pose.
“The epitome of class, Harry. For a moment you had me worried, you know.”
“I know, sir, but I’d rather have a willing house elf than one who fights me at every turn and does nothing I ask – or willingly betrays me, as Kreacher did. I just thought it easier to use my name, which is pureblood. I didn’t know the Potters were related to the Blacks, though.” Harry said.
“Yes, I believe Sirius mentioned that the Blacks had intermarried with many of the pureblood wizarding families. Wizarding Britain is a rather small world, you’ll find, and purebloods, particularly purebloods intent on maintaining their purity and not inbreeding, often have rather few choices on marriage partners.” Harry was rather dismayed to realize who all this made him related to: Bellatrix, Narcissa, even, ugh, Draco; though knowing that Sirius was also a cousin brought a smile to his face. That and questioning just how inbred the Malfoy line must be.
Before they’d left the washroom, a voice Harry recognized as Mrs. Weasley’s called out, “Who’s there? Don’t take another step!”
“It is I, Dumbledore, bearing Harry Potter.” Mrs. Weasley ran out from the kitchen, where she must have been, and called out, “Dear me, Albus, you gave me such a fright! You said to expect you rather later than this!” Mrs. Weasley, in an old grey robe and a stained apron, came out wielding a rolling pin and her wand, and led them through the door to the dining room that contained quite a few familiar faces.
“Well, our visit took less time than I expected,” he shot Harry a smile, “Is there room for two more here?” The room had to have been magically enlarged since Harry last visited, for there was no way that the table could have fit in the room’s previous dimensions. A massive spread filled the table and Harry sat down between Ron and Fred – maybe George – who both clapped him on the back as greetings were shouted all around. It seemed to be just between missions for the Order, and many were spending the time catching up here at the Weasleys’ table.
At the head of the table, Professor Dumbledore took the empty seat – Mr. Weasley must have been working late – and started chatting amicably with Mrs. Weasley. Hermione, seated across from Ron, shot glances at Harry once every few seconds, it seemed. Ginny beside her, across from Harry, smiled warmly at him. Down the table, Harry spotted Bill in his manly ponytail and sporting a dragon fang earring, as always. Next to him – very closely next to him, in fact – was a stunningly pretty blonde who seemed to light up the sky with her smile and tinkling laugh; Harry violently cleared his mind and shook off the allure of the Veela. Fleur and Bill Weasley? What was Fleur doing in Britain? Harry had not given much thought to the French part-Veela since the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but it was good to see her again, with or without her charm’s influence. On the opposite side of the table sat Remus Lupin, who looked worse than ever – sleep deprived, greyer, and roughshod, an empty seat, and then Tonks on the end, across from an empty seat next to Fleur. Harry waved at Lupin and Tonks after greeting Fleur with a smile; neither Lupin nor Tonks seemed particularly responsive to his waves. Harry realized with a jolt that they were the two besides him that were closest to Sirius. Tonks was his cousin – a more direct cousin than Harry. Harry felt sure that they were taking this worse than he was – Lupin was all alone, after all; last of the legendary Marauders. But why would Lupin and Tonks be sitting separately? Tonks was isolated from the entire table by either a seat or the table itself. She seemed to be merely poking at her food; in fact, Harry noticed that not even her hair, normally a bubble-gum pink or neon orange, was bright. It was a rather mousy brown color that Harry thought was likely natural. Her face, oftentimes shifting into an animal snout for the enjoyment of others, was its usual pretty heart shape. Harry noticed he was staring when she glanced up and looked him in the eyes.
So lonely without him. He’s right there…
The thoughts came unbidden into his mind so clearly and suddenly that Harry fell back out of his seat onto the floor. Fred grabbed his hand with a laugh and pulled him back to the table. Harry, not wanting to invade the minds of his friends, kept his gaze firmly on the delicious baked chicken and vegetables that Mrs. Weasley had prepared. After a long supper of jokes, boisterous laughter, and smiles from everyone, it seemed, except Remus and Tonks, it was finally over and several people, including Harry, were in the kitchen helping Mrs. Weasley with the dishes. With Tonks, Bill, and Fleur all present – Harry didn’t want to turn down a potential dueling partner just because a few years ago she hadn’t been too fancy, after all – he brought up the subject of Dumbledore’s agreement. Mrs. Weasley was immediately against the idea.
“Oh no, Harry, don’t be foolish. We mustn’t violate the law! With Arthur’s new promotion, we couldn’t be seen flouting it like that. No, that is a terrible idea.” She said, turning back to the dishes as though the discussion ended. Tonks rolled her eyes playfully and for just a moment Harry caught a glimpse of the old carefree, vivacious auror he’d known before; he decided that he would bring that auror back kicking and screaming if need be.
“Oh come on, Mum. You-Know-Who’s been after Harry for ages now, and I think it’s pretty awesome that he got Dumbledore to agree to supervised use of magic. I’d love to help you out, Harry; I’m pretty busy at work, but we should be able to keep you pretty busy if you get enough of the Order in on this.” Bill interjected.
“Yeah, I’ll let Shack know about it, Kingsley, you know, and I’m sure he’d help you out. A Master Auror – how’s that for a training partner, kid?” Harry thanked her graciously and they finished up washing the dishes. As Tonks made to leave – notably without speaking to Lupin; hadn’t they always got along well before? – Harry made sure to give her a hug and let her know again how much he appreciated her help. She looked a bit oddly at him when he first initiated the hug – he wasn’t known for that sort of thing, after all – but tousled his hair and left with a bit of a grin. When he turned around, he found himself full of French part-Veela, who enveloped him in a tight hug and kissed both of his cheeks.
“’Arry Potter, eet is so good to see you again, non? But Merci, ‘ow you have grown! My sister, Gabrielle, she asks about you constantly, ‘Arry. She has a bit of a crush on ze Boy-‘Oo-Lived, I zink. Of course, you are her savior, non?” Harry was constantly using his Occlumency to great effect – living with Fleur might be very useful for practice.
“That’s great Fleur, I forgot to mention how great it was to see you again. I’m glad to hear that Gabrielle’s doing so well, tell her I said, ‘Bonjour’.” Fleur’s laugh tinkled again as he continued, “And thanks again for volunteering to duel some with me, I think it’ll be a good time to catch up.”
“Oh, ‘Arry, you do not have to invite me, I know that I am not ze best at dueling, and you really wanted ‘zat Tonks and my Bill.” So Harry had guessed right about her and Bill. Looking into her eyes as she said this, he almost heard a voice.
No one really wants me around here, Harry, though it was nice of you to offer. Harry thought that her thoughts had a decidedly French feel to them, as though he were hearing French and just understood it. But he was confused – was she having problems with Bill?
“Oh nonsense, Fleur! I think it’ll be great training for both of us, then. It might be nice to actually survive more than one curse before landing on my backside as I’m sure will happen when I’m fighting aurors, though I’m betting you’re a lot better than you give yourself credit for.” She seemed to brighten the room, literally, as she erupted into a smile. Harry seemed to have cleared her out of her little funk.
“Oh, ‘Arry, you are too kind. I would love to ‘elp you, of course!” She turned around and nearly skipped out of the room, leaving Harry in blissful silence for the first time all night. This, of course, was an invitation for Tom to disrupt it.
There seem to be quite a few problems in the Order, Harry, and I suggest we investigate them thoroughly. After all, Fleur, with the French connections she undoubtedly has, could be a useful ally, and it would be in the Order’s best interests to discover just what has her so upset. And Tonks and Lupin, though I think that may just be a friendly ear like I was to you – it seems to be very effective to just scream away grief. Tom certainly was right about how it had affected him – he’d nearly turned Dark! Well, not really, but he’d wanted to put the Cruciatus on Bellatrix even after he attempted and failed at the Ministry.
Harry walked out of the kitchen to find Lupin sitting a bit away from the Weasley children, who were listening to the twins talk about their new shop in Diagon Alley. Harry sat down next to him, and realized he was cradling a Firewhiskey and staring at the liquid in the glass. Tom had some memories of that substance. Harry realized that Remus was probably remembering all the times he’d drank with Sirius and his dad.
“So, how’ve you been, Professor?” Stupid question, Harry, how would you feel if Ron just kicked it? He mentally berated himself. Lupin smiled sadly and looked Harry in the eye. Harry almost wanted to look away, but his curiosity seemed to control the muscles in his neck.
“I’m holding up, Harry. It’s not been a good time for me, with the upcoming moon just a week away now.” Lies. One image and one emotion flashed in his mind: Tonks and agonizing heartbreak.
“Tonks?” He blurted out, and then his eyes widened with shock and he covered his mouth with his hand. Lupin looked bewildered.
“Wh-Dora?” He looked around, but didn’t find her. Harry lowered her voice and continued, thinking on his feet.
“No, she’s not here. I just…noticed that you two didn’t speak at all tonight, and usually you’re at least friendly. And I was just hoping that you two weren’t fighting or anything, or laying blame about Sirius’ death. Because I loved Sirius and I know him. Well, maybe not as well as you, but…He loved the both of you, and he wouldn’t have wanted you two to fight over anything related to his death. I know how hard it must be for both of you, but its easier to get it over with together than apart.” Harry just soldiered on despite Lupin’s open-mouthed shocked look, and then finished. He was almost certain that he’d hit the nail on the head with this one, and wanted to fix the rift between his friends.
“Uh…No, Harry, that’s not it at all. We know Sirius went out exactly the way he wanted to – fighting his evil cousin, which was a hobby of his – and…no, that isn’t why we aren’t speaking. We just had a bit of a disagreement.” At Harry’s insistent look, he continued, “Well…it’s silly, really. Dora just had a bit of a silly crush on me, and well, you know.”
“No, I don’t have any idea, really, what is the problem with having a pretty, smart, talented girl crushing on you?” Harry raised his eyebrow.
“Well, Harry, that’s exactly it – she’s just a girl! Good heavens, I could nearly be her father!” Harry stared incredulously and just laughed.
“Be her father? Have you checked your math right? Just because you’d barely started puberty at the time doesn’t mean you could be her father!” Harry continued laughing.
“Now Harry, I’m serious,” Harry interrupted with, “No, you’re Remus.” Remus stopped suddenly for a full two seconds, burst into a wide grin for the first time all night, and began laughing softly. This laughing got progressively louder until Remus had tears running down his face; all of the commotion coming from the other side of the room stopped when the werewolf, who they hadn’t seen laugh since summer began, positively crack up in hysterics. When his bout was nearing completion, he cackled out,
“I’m sorry, Harry. But Sirius used to make that damned joke CONSTANTLY. Oh, how it used to annoy your father and I. Oh good heavens! And you know what? That’s the first time the bloody joke’s ever made me laugh! Oh, I hope Sirius had been flirting with some dead blonde wherever he’s at and missed it, because when I kick it, the first thing he’ll say is, ‘You finally laughed at a serious/Sirius joke!’” Harry, too, smiled and laughed at the mental picture. No one else seemed to have quite gotten it, except perhaps Ginny who smiled sweetly. The twins continued their story and Harry’s “audience” became just Lupin again.
“As I was saying, Harry, there is quite a substantial age difference between Dora and I, and there could never be anything between us.” Harry’s passive legilimency screamed lies to him, and Tom’s influence kicked in.
“Oh, well then you won’t mind if I go after her then.” For just a moment, in Lupin’s eyes, Harry got the picture of a wolf – no, a werewolf – tearing him limb from limb. It disappeared and Lupin grew even more sad and withdrawn.
“Oh…well, no, Harry. I guess Sirius always used to go after older women, too…” Lupin seemed about ready to get up and leave, so Harry grabbed his arm grinned.
“I was kidding, Remus. Totally kidding. But I could tell from your reaction – I thought you might turn into a werewolf early and gobble me up – that you were definitely NOT okay with the idea. So, you like her. She’s crushing on you. Go out with her.” Harry delineated.
“Harry, its definitely not that simple –”
“Remus, it is that simple. IF you give the relationship a try, and your…senior citizenship,” Remus raised an amused eyebrow, “gets in the way, then you gave it a try, had fun, and can continue on as friends. If it DOES work out, then you were being stupid.” Remus looked into Lily’s eyes – When did he become the ghost of his mother? – the thought tore through Harry’s mind causing him to grin and finally agreed that the argument was good.
“But, really, Harry, I’m quite poor, as you know –”
“Then I’ll sign over my Gringotts account.”
“And…well, I’m a dangerous creature, after all…”
“And I’ll brew Wolfsbane for you every month.”
“I just can’t get one over on you, can I?” Remus smiled at the boy.
“No, because you know you’re just being stupid. Does Tonks know that you’re an old, poor werewolf with a lot of self-confidence issues?” Harry questioned.
“Yes, of course. I don’t have self –”
“And yet she still likes you? Well, she sounds crazy to me, but I guess you can go ahead and steal her out from under me; make it quick, though.” Remus smirked at that most definitely James comment and nodded.
“Fine, I shall…attempt to make amends with Nymphadora. And when did so much of your parents’ personality get passed on to you, Harry?” Harry smirked at the compliment.
“I’ve done a bit of growing up this summer. Speaking of, Dumbledore agreed that I can duel with skilled members of the Order this summer regardless of bogus Ministry legislation, so dear Dora and I will kick your butt as your first date. Then when you make up and get all lovey-dovey, you two can team up for another helping of defeat at my wand.” Harry said while grinning. He wasn’t quite serious – he was fairly certain he get stomped by the two adults, but it was only harmless boasting; he ignored the fact that he’d never done it before.
“You’d better call her Tonks before she kills you, and you’re on. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to run away with my tail between my legs to Dora’s apartment.” He grabbed Harry in a tight hug and sincerely said, “Thank you so much, Harry. For everything. Really.” With one last smile, he clasped Harry’s shoulder, said his goodbyes to the others, and Disapparated with a light ‘crack’. Congratulating himself on a night well spent, he cheerfully climbed the stairs up to Fred and George’s old room – they’d been sleeping in the shop’s upstairs, but failed to notice two people following him.
“Alright, Harry, you can stop the act.” Spinning around whipping his wand out, he let out a long breath when he realized it was just Ron and Hermione. He slid his wand back under his left sleeve and smiled at his two best friends – friends who’d turned suddenly pale at the end of his wand.
“Gosh, you two nearly scared me senseless! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“Sorry, mate…er, when’d you start doing that?” Ron asked, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.
“Oh…guess I got into the habit this summer. Kinda wears on you, thinking the next time you spin around it’ll be Voldemort and his Merry Men coming to surprise you.” He said jokingly with a grin. He thought back to how he’d have never joked about that in anything but a dark, sarcastic manner before now. When he’d been home alone, practicing magic and training hard constantly, he’d had little chance to really embrace his lighter perspective on life – well, besides joking with Petunia about poltergeists that were actually invisible Harry’s. Perhaps Voldemort’s dark presence had stunted his personality more than he’d believed; he certainly thought he was a lot more fun to hang around, now.
“Harry, come sit. Now, really, how’ve you been holding up?” Hermione gently led him to a chair and sat on the desk near him, Ron a few feet away.
“Really, Hermione, I’ve been doing really well. I mean, of course, it was hard at first, but I’ve talked it out and thought about it. It’s tragic, of course, but it happened, and nothing can change that, and Sirius wouldn’t have wanted anyone to mope around no matter how it happened. So, I think I need to make the best of the time I have here, and make him proud of me when I see him again.” Harry said sincerely. Hermione considered this, teared up, and grabbing him violently in a hug and buried her face in his shoulder. With a worried look to Ron, who shrugged cluelessly, Harry just patted her back gently.
“Oh Harry! We were so worried about you! And you wrote back letters and sounded okay but I didn’t know for sure and I thought for sure you wouldn’t be okay and I felt so guilty that I didn’t try harder and I thought for sure that you’d be miserable here and it’d be all my fault and I’m so glad you’re okay!” She continued her backbreaking embrace, so he decided to hug her tightly too.
“It’s okay, Hermione. I’m glad you’re alright too, I was pretty worried about that curse you took back in the Ministry. And you had every right to be worried about me, I’m not so sure why I’m alright, I just really do feel okay.” She sniffed a few times and looked at him with a watery smile, and wiped her eyes.
“Oh, I was being so silly. I was just worried how you were taking everything, and then the awful Prophet article…” Ron seemed to grow nervous, but Harry smiled and casually itched his back as he performed a wandless silencing charm all around the room; it wasn’t perfect, but he didn’t expect intruders.
“Well, the Prophet has it just about right, I reckon, so why get upset?” His friends’ faces dropped in disbelief.
“What are you talking about, Harry…that Prophecy got smashed and no one heard it, remember?” Hermione began slowly.
“Yeah, but Professor Dumbledore was the one who heard it to begin with, so he took me into his office and showed it to me. It says that I’m the only one who can kill Voldemort.” Ron looked flabbergasted and Hermione looked like she rather didn’t know what to do, so she stood chewing her lip anxiously. Ron summed it up nicely with a, “Bugger!” Causing Harry to smile and chuckle.
“Haha, yeah, well, I thought that too. It’s not like its unexpected, though. I mean, really, he’s been coming after me every year since school started, I rather expect he wouldn’t stop suddenly until he gets me, you know? So really, nothing’s changed except I know it for certain.” Glancing at Hermione, Harry was certain she was going to crush more of his vertebrae until she slowly nodded and smiled, clearly holding back tears.
“Well you’ll just have to get it over with quickly and train up to get him, then, Harry. We have N.E.W.T.s to study for soon. But since we have no summer homework…I know there are a few good defensive books that we can owl order from Flourish and Blotts, so I’ll go ahead and get them and we can start going through them together to look for useful spells. And once we get to school we’ll both be able to help you train up some, you know. I’ll just go and fetch and fill out that order form I left in Ginny’s room…I had a few other books I wanted too…” She departed and left Ron alone with Harry.
“You sure you’re all right, mate? I mean…bugger…You-Know-Who!”
“You mean to bugger You-Know-Who? That just isn’t right, Ron!” Ron turned white with a shade of green while Tom snickered, Trying to get him to admit he’s gay first? No, after I see the interaction, he’s definitely after the brunette. Harry replied, The brunette’s name is Hermione, which you know just as well as I. And I’ve sorta suspected that for awhile now, Tommy boy.
Of course, you get around your friends and get all bloody chipper. Tom grumpily thought. Harry grinned.
“Sorry about that Ron. Look, why don’t you go after Hermione there, I think she’s going to need a shoulder, and mine’s still a little wet.” Harry clasped Ron’s shoulder and smiled encouragingly.
“Yeah, she just gets emotional over people she cares about. When she worries about you, you know she cares – bit like Mum, really.”
“Yeah, and you know what they say about girls who are similar to a guy’s mum…” Ron blushed furiously and strode off to Hermione and Ginny’s room . Harry took out his playing card deck-sized trunk and wandlessly enlarged it – a new spell he was quite happy to be successful with and changed into his pajamas after canceling the silencing charms around the room.
Remembering both his promise to Dumbledore and the fact that Fred and George had likely left a few spare enchantments around the room, he focused very hard on a wandless revealing spell. After nearly five fruitless minutes he was able to conjure up the spell, and, to his surprise, only a few splotches of ghostly color highlighted some objects around the room. One of the floorboards near the set of bunk beds – likely where they hid things, a desk drawer as well as something inside of it, and telescope sitting on the desk. He shrugged, safe enough as long as he kept to the bed, and set his glasses on the nightstand. He spent about ten minutes with a totally cleared mind and sank into bed for another blissful night of undisturbed rest.