“What the bloody hell –”

He groaned, and rolled on his side. He could smell ash and cinders, along with a smoky smell that seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it...

“Harry, are you all right? Harry?”

“I’m fine,” Harry grunted, shaking his head quickly, trying to clear his senses. Fleur was already scrambling to her feet, her cloak covered in soot and her eyes wide with a mixture of astonishment and fear.

“Can you stand?”

His trainers scrabbled against the slick cobblestones, and a second later, Harry had pulled himself to his feet, his robes and cloak in disarray and covered with dirt. His eyes went wide.

“Oh fuck –”

Ollivander’s had been gutted. Flames licked the splintered timbers, and Harry could hear the crash of a breaking beam inside. The windows had been completely blown out, glass strewn around the street. Whatever explosives were used, they sure as hell were powerful… and concentrated. There’s virtually no collateral damage, and probably no casualties… except –

“Damn it, Ollivander’s likely in there!” His wand was out in a second, but Fleur’s hand was on his arm faster.

“If he was a wandmaker, those who destroyed his shop would not risk his loss,” she replied in a low voice. “If he was as talented as they say –”

“They would have taken him alive, as many wands as they could, and then blown the place,” Harry finished darkly.

“Death Eaters?”

“Most definitely,” Harry growled. “Damn it, they’re already moving –”

“It’s Potter!”

He turned quickly, his wand already going up, but it was too late. Suddenly, he was conscious of the noise – the screaming, the shouting, the hatred –

“He blew up Ollivander’s shop!” the heavy-set man from the ice-cream parlor shouted, pointing a finger at Harry, his eyes wide with a blend of shock and rage. “Arrest him!”

Harry’s own wand snapped up, but Fleur was faster, hitting the first three attackers with jinxes before they could even take a step. Screams erupted from the crowd, intermixed with shouts of rage and rustling as wands were sliding up. More were coming… circling around them. We’ll be outnumbered fifty-to-one, Harry thought, a sick sensation filling his gut.

Suddenly, he felt Fleur’s hand slip into his and squeeze tightly, even as a dozen wands were rising into the air. He felt her spin away from him, and redoubled his grip even as light was blossoming from the wands –

A second later, he stumbled against the wall that had appeared out of nowhere. To Harry’s shock, it appeared that Fleur had Apparated them out – directly into a tiny changing room that was thankfully unoccupied.

“What the hell –”

Fleur swore in French. “Not as far as I had hoped… merde!”

“Where are we?”

“Change room for Twillfit & Taddings, I think,” Fleur muttered quickly, stowing her wand and carefully readjusting her cloak. “You said your contact was here –”

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect –”

“Only one to a change room!” a surprisingly bellicose female voice shouted, and Harry could only raise his wand as a richly dressed stout lady appeared outside the open door. “I don’t tolerate that sort of behavior in my shop, young lady –”

“Stupefy!”

Harry turned to Fleur in amazement as the woman toppled to the floor. “That was a quick draw,” he said, impressed. “I thought I was going to have to curse her.”

“I didn’t just get into the Triwizard Tournament on good looks, Harry,” Fleur replied coolly, sliding her wand back in her cloak pocket as she cautiously stepped into the hall. “And besides, you know you can’t cast any spells without the Ministry detecting them –”

“Right, I know, and that’s why I let you take those three outside Ollivander’s,” Harry replied tensely. “Come on, we need to find my contact and fast. That fat man was with Kemester when they were hunting for me earlier.”

“He’s with the Ministry?” Fleur asked, her eyes widening. “Do you think –”

“If Kemester’s not down here with his full search party in a few minutes, I’d be surprised,” Harry replied grimly. “Any idea how big this place is?”

“Fairly large – it’s one of the best clothing retailers in Diagon Alley –”

But Harry was already moving, pulling a mirror out of his pocket and looking carefully into it. “Nymphadora!”

Tonks’ voice came back clear and strong a second later. “Harry? What the hell is going on out there? Sounds like some kind of riot’s going on outside –”

Harry’s head snapped up – he had heard the voice coming from two places at once. And that means she’s within hearing distance. “Nymphadora, where are you?” he called

“I’m changing!” Tonks shouted back, her voice slightly muffled and distinctly irritated. “Damn it, Harry, I thought you weren't going to blow anything up this time –”

But Harry was already moving down the aisle of change rooms, stopping outside Tonks’ door. “Are you decent?”

“When am I ever?”

“Do you have clothes on, at least?” Harry asked exasperatedly.

“Yeah, but –”

“Can you unlock the door, Fleur?”

Fleur cocked an eyebrow. “Harry…”

The sound of shattering glass split the air from inside the shop, and Harry heard several shouts. Damn it, they’re here!

“Nympadora, hurry up!”

The lock on the change room door clicked, and a disheveled Tonks came into view, a perplexed expression on her face. “What happened –”

“I’ll explain when we get back to Headquarters,” Harry said tersely, turning to Fleur. “I know you can Apparate, so get home and don’t tell anyone you saw me, avoid eye contact whenever you’re thinking of me, and for god’s sake burn any letters I send you after reading them. Can you do that, Fleur?”

Fleur took a deep breath. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Harry.”

“That makes two of us,” Harry muttered, gripping Tonks’ proffered arm tightly. A second later, there was a crack and all three of them Disapparated.

* * *

“Okay, listen up!” Reed Larshall shouted over the screaming din around him to his small squad of Hit Wizards. “We need some order here if we want to catch Potter before he escapes with his accomplice! Dwight, Ryans, Samuel, Lassion, you four form a cordon and barricade this section of the alley. Barkley, Anderson, and McArthur, you three search the buildings to the left of the crime scene. Cameron, you take the building on the right. Clyvis, you and your boys take care of the fires and search the wreckage for anything we can salvage before we have a larger inferno on our hands, and will somebody get a Patronus to Experimental Charms to get these explosives identified!”

“Sounds like you need backup,” a smug voice said from behind Larshall. The heavy-set Hit Wizard took a steadying breath and turned to face Sanders, even as another group of Hit Wizards Apparated in behind him.

“Stop being a smartass, Sanders, I’m not in the mood for this,” Larshall snarled. “I sent an emergency Patronus to MLE, and all they managed to bring is you?”

“I’ve got my men, and you’re gonna need a lot more than four to hold back a cordon, especially when the Prophet starts swarming,” Sanders snapped. “What the bloody hell happened here, anyways?”

“There was some sort of controlled explosive in Ollivander’s. I was following Potter on Kemester’s orders – got a tip that he’d been sighted in the alley, so I followed him out of Fortescue’s and was about to move in when this happened!” He gestured furiously at the flaming wreckage that used to be the wandmaker’s shop. “He and his accomplice Disapparated before my Anti-Apparition jinx could settle over them, but chances are they couldn’t have made it far.”

“But why would he blow up the best wandmaker’s shop in Britain?” Sanders asked incredulously. “That’s just plain insane, Reed! The Prophet’s going to have a field day with this! Do you have any definitive proof that it was Potter who blew it up?”

“That’s why I’m trying to get those explosives identified!” Larshall shouted as a bang issued from one of the Hit Wizard’s wands. “We’re going to need more backup if we want to restore order here! Can you get a Patronus to Bones? I don’t think I can muster the happy memory right now –”

CRACK.

“Reed, you’d better start talking, and you’d better start talking fast,” Kemester growled, his voice getting louder with each second. “You can start by telling me how the bloody hell did Potter blow up Ollivander’s!”

“Sir, it came out of nowhere, nobody could have seen it coming!” Larshall yelled back. “You think I could have foreseen Potter blowing up an entire shop to throw off my pursuit?”

“He flew into the slipstream of a Muggle aeroplane to throw off pursuit before!” Kemester snarled. “And why wasn’t I notified on the first wave?”

“I could respond to that by asking why the hell you even sent Larshall after Potter anyways!” Sanders roared. “Scrimgeour closed the case file, Kemester!”

Kemester threw a murderous glare at Sanders before turning back to Larshall, struggling to contain his temper. “All right,” he growled, “we don’t have enough here to track Potter yet, but this attack came at a fortunate time. Potter is planning to go back to school, and that means we can intercept him en route to Hogwarts, considering he likely considers the school Dumbledore’s sanctuary.”

“You’re suggesting hitting the Hogwarts Express,” Sanders said suspiciously.

“That and the platform at King’s Cross, and if that doesn’t work, taking him at Hogsmeade,” Kemester replied icily. “But for now, we need to make sure we have enough solid evidence to get Potter arrested. I want an analysis of the debris, I want witness reports, I want anything and everything relating to Potter since he set foot in Diagon Alley!”

“We still don’t have proof he was the one who blew up Ollivander’s –”

Sanders didn’t get a chance to get out another word before Kemester had seized him by the collar and slammed him bodily into a doorpost of a nearby bookshop. Larshall could only swallow hard at the look of seething fury on his superior’s face.

“I’ve had enough,” Kemester growled, his eyes blazing, “of your insolence, Sanders. You will follow my orders and get me my information. Go to Scrimgeour or Bones if you want, I don’t care, but with a crime of this magnitude, Potter’s going to pay. Is that clear?”

Sanders threw Kemester a disdainfully rebellious look, but he nodded. With a disgusted scowl, Kemester shoved Sanders away from the door and clenched both fists.

“Larshall, when the fires are out, you and I are going to search the debris.” He slammed his fist into his palm. “I’m getting proof this time, and Potter’s not getting away with this. Not if I have anything to say about it”

* * *

“Harry!” Sirius exclaimed, turning in his seat at the kitchen table, shoving the Prophet and his half-eaten breakfast aside. “You’re back early… what –”

But Harry wasn’t even listening – his gaze was focused on Lupin as he circled around the table towards him. “Professor, I need to talk to Sirius and Tonks alone – now.”

“But what –”

“Harry, you don’t need to do this,” Tonks said in a low voice.

“I need people I can trust,” Harry growled, “and considering I came within a bloody hair of –”

“You can tell Remus what happened, Harry,” Tonks said, an exasperated edge coming into her voice. “He’s going to hear about it anyways, especially considering how bad the hit was –”

Sirius went still. “A hit? What hit?”

“Tonks, I don’t think –”

“Dumbledore’s going to find out about it anyways,” Tonks interrupted tiredly, leaning against the wall as her hair shifted from pink to a deep purple, “and it’s better that they hear it from you.”

“What the hell happened?” Sirius demanded.

Harry took a deep breath. “Someone hit Ollivander’s. Blew up the shop.”

Both Sirius and Lupin were on their feet. “What?”

“Likely Death Eaters,” Harry replied, pressing both palms against the table, “but it’s not like anybody’s going to believe that.”

Sirius swore under his breath while Lupin drew his wand and muttered a few words. A second later, something silvery that looked suspiciously like a Patronus zoomed out of Lupin’s wand and streaked up the stairs.

“Who was that to?” Tonks asked warily.

“Dumbledore,” Lupin replied haggardly, shock still etched across his face. “He needs to hear about this, at least before he hears it from the Prophet. So that’s what the Death Eaters were preparing for…”

“And a damn good hit it was,” Harry growled, as he dropped into a chair. “They probably kidnapped Ollivander before robbing the shop and setting the explosives. And the timing…” He shot a glance to Tonks, and he knew she understood. The timing was perfect… too perfect. Somebody must have tipped them off, but who?

“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t get hurt,” Sirius said, wiping his brow with relief. “I mean, Voldemort does consider –”

“Hang on a second,” Lupin said sharply. “Harry, why were you in Diagon Alley today?”

Harry threw his godfather a furious look. Sirius blanched and nearly put his hand to his face, but at Tonks’ glare, he lowered it.

Turning back to Lupin, Harry shrugged. “I was handling my shopping. Supplies for Hogwarts, new books, you know…”

“I thought Dumbledore said that Molly was going to be handling that,” Lupin said suspiciously, although there was more concern in his voice. “And you know better than anyone that without backup… it’s not safe, Harry –”

“I was with Harry, Remus,” Tonks replied tiredly. “I was also the one who got him out of there before the Ministry showed up.”

“Damn good thing you did,” Sirius muttered grimly, “and given how well the Department of Magical Law Enforcement jumps to conclusions, they probably would assume that Harry set off the explosives!”

“Ahem…”

“Not you, Tonks – hell, not even most of the Department,” Sirius hastily corrected. “But you’ve got to admit that it’d look suspicious as hell, and I know some people would try to exploit that…”

Harry and Tonks exchanged glances. Closer on the mark than you think, Sirius, Harry thought uneasily, especially considering if Kemester’s there, they’ll be running on that premise for their investigation…

“Then why did you go in the first place, Harry?” Lupin asked, frowning with increased concern. “I mean, you only put yourself in danger by going there… I mean, Molly could have handled the shopping, she wouldn’t have had a problem getting money for you and –”

“Nobody besides me is going to be touching the gold in my vault until I’m certain of its security,” Harry replied evenly, staring up at Lupin cautiously. “Or until I figure out why the Potter vaults were sealed.”

Lupin frowned. “Potter vaults? Harry, you’re not making any sense –”

“In fact,” Harry interrupted, getting to his feet, “I was planning on asking you about that, considering you were close friends with my father before he was killed –”

“They thought I was the spy, Harry, I wasn’t nearly as close to them as you might think –”

“Come on, Lupin, you’re telling me you don’t know anything?” Harry asked exasperatedly. “Considering how close you were to James, I’d be shocked if you didn’t know anything regarding this – and considering how incomplete the file is, I’d take anything.”

Lupin was going pale now, and breathing fast. “I didn’t take James’ money, if that’s what you’re implying. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Hang on, I never meant to imply that,” Harry replied quickly, raising both his hands. “Hell, given the way that werewolves are treated in the Wizengamot, you would have been lucky to get legal counsel. I’m just saying that if you do know something, it’d sure as hell help us out right now – I mean, don’t you want to help?”

Lupin clenched both his fists, and for the first time in Harry’s life, he could see the shadow of the wolf behind his former professor’s eyes. “Are you accusing me –”

“Whoa, nobody’s accusing anyone, Moony!” Sirius said with surprise, disconcerted by his friend’s apparent hostility, “What’s going on here – we’re only trying to help Harry here –”

Lupin clenched his teeth. “I don’t know everything.”

“I’m not asking for everything, Professor,” Harry replied, exchanging a questioning look with Sirius and Tonks – what was going on with Lupin? “I’m asking for some very basic details, which shouldn’t be difficult to provide… unless you’ve been forbidden, that is?”

Lupin said nothing, his eyes still fixed on Harry. Sirius and Tonks exchanged shocked glances.

“Remus?” Sirius asked quietly. “Did Dumbledore –”

“It wasn’t him this time,” Lupin said in a very low voice. “Although I think he knows.”

“He probably didn’t want the problem on your hands, Harry –”

“Good logic, Tonks, but Dumbledore isn’t the concern here,” Harry replied with a frustrated snort. “Besides, it’s not like I’d get any information out of him –”

“So is it me you’re interrogating?” Lupin asked scathingly. “I’m sure James would have appreciated that of you.”

“Don’t drag his name into this,” Harry retorted, his patience waning. “Who is ‘forbidding’ you from telling me the truth about this?”

“I had no choice, Harry,” Lupin said quietly.

Harry exchanged another glance with Sirius, who seemed about to make a heated comment, but his godfather said nothing, and motioned for Harry to keep talking. “Okay, fine – then who’s forbidding you from telling me what you know?”

Lupin took a deep breath. “You threw him out of the house only a few days ago.”

* * *

“Although I appreciate your hospitality, Lucius, you must understand the great danger of this… encounter.”

“I’m completely aware,” Lucius Malfoy replied icily, drumming his fingers lightly on the desk as Severus Snape stared out the high-arched window at the edge of the office. A light drizzle was falling, and the window was etched with moisture, the only other light from a few candles lit on the walls.

“Then why did you call me?” Snape asked, his sallow voice echoing slightly as he turned back towards Malfoy. “I have no desire to be here, even despite our… cordiality.”

“You have somewhere to go?”

“I suspect Dumbledore is trying to keep an eye on me,” Snape replied evenly. “He has his hands full as it is, but I suspect he has been endeavoring to keep an eye on me. Of course, such an action takes his eye off of other things, as you well know.”

“The Dark Lord was quite pleased with the attack on Ollivander’s, and from Avery’s report, it sounds like it was a complete success.”

Snape cocked an eyebrow. “You have good information, Malfoy. Wasn’t that attack supposed to be executed a half hour ago?”

“Avery’s timing is getting better,” Malfoy replied smoothly. “After all, he’s none too eager to feel the Cruciatus for his failures. And the attack has reportedly had a surprising development.”

“Oh?”

“Potter was spotted not meters from the explosion.”

Snape gave a humourless chuckle. “What a coincidence. I doubt anybody could have predicted that. Unless, of course, the Dark Lord planned for Potter’s name to be further smeared.”

“It certainly plays into his hands, especially with the way Dmitri Kemester has been behaving,” Malfoy said with a smirk.

“Are you paying him off now?”

Malfoy did give a brief laugh then. “Hardly,” he replied. “Why would I waste my money? Kemester’s more than willing to track Potter and make his life hell – I have no need to interfere.”

“So should I assume your hands are clean, then?” Snape asked speculatively.

“None that involves you, Severus.”

“Then why, exactly, did you call me over here?” Snape asked sharply. “I’m not stupid, Malfoy – if you want something, out with it.”

Malfoy calmly folded his fingers as he looked at Severus from his chair behind the desk. “It’s about my son.”

Snape snorted. “I thought it would be about that.”

“You heard his assignment –”

“Of course I did,” Snape snapped, “and so did you. And you know that the Dark Lord has expressly forbidden me from interfering. He also informed me that it would be likely you’d seek me over this, considering my proximity to Draco.”

“The Dark Lord is wise,” Malfoy said smoothly, “but I fear that my son does not yet fully comprehend his wisdom.”

Snape crossed his arms over his chest. “Explain yourself.”

“Draco is… dissatisfied with being relegated to a secondary position in his mission,” Malfoy said slowly. “He feels it will harm his political power base within his house.”

Snape was unmoved. “And?”

“He has a point. Even though he will be a prefect this year, he knows that the Dark Lord’s favour is more of a bonus than any school position. He does not understand why he has been delegated to a subordinate role.”

Snape snorted with disgust. “He should be grateful that he received any job from the Dark Lord at all.”

“Agreed, but he wants command.”

“It would not be in his best interests,” Snape said slowly and clearly, turning back towards the window. “I cannot interfere, as you well know, but it would be wise on your part to inform Draco that his position is far better than that of Theodore Nott’s.”

Malfoy cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Do you know the type of mission that the Dark Lord gave those two?” Snape asked.

Malfoy nodded. “I do, Severus, but –”

“And do you remember the means in which he provided them in which to carry out said mission?” Snape continued, his tone becoming icy.

“Yes, but –”

“Then you should know by now, Malfoy, that your son has indeed found favour with the Dark Lord, despite his minor role. I would reserve my pity for Nott.”

Malfoy narrowed his eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because, in the end, Draco will be the one to take credit for the Dark Lord’s success, the one to take the reward when things are successful and to stand behind if the mission fails,” Snape replied smoothly. “Nott is a scapegoat, yet intelligent and ambitious enough to complete his task with expediency.”

He touched the window, tracing a line down the thin film of moisture. “Of course,” he continued idly, “completion is often as much of a curse as it is a blessing.”

* * *

“And you couldn’t recognize any of the faces, Harry?”

Harry shook his head adamantly. “No, Professor, I did not. The window wasn’t exactly clean, and I’m nearly positive that the Death Eaters inside were wearing masks. I wouldn’t have been able to recognize them even if I was closer.”

Dumbledore continued pacing around the table where Harry was sitting, his thick brows furrowed deeply with thought. “Do you believe that the Death Eaters consumed themselves in the blast? A suicide attack?”

“Voldemort doesn’t have the resources," Mad-Eye Moody scoffed from his spot at the end of the table. “And he’s never done it before, even during the first war unless they were under the Imperius.”

“Desperation?” a stately-looking woman that Harry knew only as Emmeline Vance asked curiously. “He doesn’t exactly have a lot of resources.”

“He’s got the prophecy, and Voldemort’s smarter than that,” Sirius growled from his spot across from Harry. “Nah, I reckon if the Death Eaters died, it was intentional. He’s probably trying to cull his ranks down a bit, get rid of the chaff and fodder he doesn’t need or want – or who would betray him.”

“A good point, Sirius,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully. “And you did not see Ollivander anywhere, did you, Harry?”

Harry shook his head. “Didn’t see him once.”

“What about wands in the window, or along the shelves? Did you see any missing?”

Harry frowned. “It happened really fast, Professor… I honestly don’t remember. The shop exploded after I took a few steps past the doorway, I didn’t really get a chance to see a lot of details inside before it went up in flames.”

“Was a Dark Mark launched?” Shacklebolt asked suddenly, his eyes flashing. “Did the Death Eaters mark their attack?”

“Nothing was reported,” Dumbledore replied, scratching his chin, “but that is not surprising, given Voldemort’s likely desire to lie low.”

“So what do we do now?” Lupin asked grimly, his eyes fixed on Harry, who was acutely aware of his former professor’s gaze and trying not to show it.

“For now, I will attempt to reiterate to Fudge that the Death Eaters are indeed active and that Voldemort has returned. Unfortunately, given recent circumstances at the Ministry, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement are keeping the entire situation under extremely tight security, with clearance only given to those chosen by Fudge himself.”

“And the odds are that you, Albus, won’t get clearance.” Elphias Doge remarked, his wheezy voice raspy, yet mixed with a mixture of amused disgust.

Dumbledore sighed. “Fudge does not trust me like he used to, Elphias, despite all my attempts to remedy the solution.”

He’s not the only one, Harry thought bitterly.

“And it does not help that my best Aurors are already assigned to HAIT, and will not be able to participate in this investigation either,” Dumbledore finished heavily. “And that means our sources of information will be precariously limited. Kingsley, if you could call in any favours…”

Kingsley gritted his teeth, but nodded once with agreement.

Dumbledore then turned to Harry. “Did you manage to procure all of your school supplies, Harry?”

Lupin must have told Dumbledore my story… or at least what he knows of it, Harry thought to himself. And from the looks of things, Sirius doesn’t look too happy about it either way.

He met his godfather’s hard-eyed gaze, and let out his breath.

“Yes, Professor,” he lied.

“Good,” Dumbledore replied. “Now Harry, I must ask you to remain here until you leave for Kings’ Cross. Voldemort has already shown himself willing to attack in broad daylight, and you would present a rich target.”

Harry slowly got to his feet. “I wasn’t even planning on leaving, Professor. May I be excused?”

“Go ahead, Harry, the meeting’s over,” Dumbledore replied kindly, but Harry was already climbing the stairs and heading towards the drawing room. When he opened the door, he not only saw Tonks, pacing by the window, but Fred and George carefully examining the glass cabinets by the wall.

“Meeting’s over,” Harry said tightly, shutting the door and locking it behind him. “Tonks, what are –”

“Harry, they need to be here,” Tonks replied, her voice deadly serious. “Is Sirius on the way up?”

CRACK.

“I bloody swear, I’m going to kill Remus –”

“Sirius, get a grip,” Tonks snapped. “Look, I know neither of us is too happy that Snape has some sort of hold on him, but reserve your anger for someone who deserves it. Remus was just doing what he thought was right by keeping quiet.”

“Love to know what Snape has on him – or hell, why Professor Lupin won’t even talk to us about it,” Harry replied with frustration. “All this time… through all of third year, and I had meeting with him privately for months, and he didn’t say a goddamned thing either way –”

“Probably scared that Snape had the teeth to back up the blackmail he was using to Remus quiet, and given their proximity…” Tonks shrugged. “Hell, he would have been scared that Snape could have slipped him some nightshade in his Wolfsbane Potion… or worse, botch it altogether.”

“Well, when I get my hands on Snape, I’m going to make him explain himself before I slit his traitorous little throat –”

“Sirius, that’s enough,” Tonks replied worriedly, pulling out her wand and quickly muttering a few charms around the door.

“Besides, I want to be there to help when you do it,” Harry added darkly.

“We have bigger problems on our plate than Snape right now,” Tonks replied uneasily, throwing a quick glance at Fred and George, who were looking somewhat astonished by the dark looks on Sirius and Harry’s faces. “I got some new information from Magical Law Enforcement when I went in this afternoon – and it’s not good.”

“Kemester’s already involved, I’m guessing,” Harry said bitterly.

“Not explicitly,” Tonks replied carefully, “but most of the members of the task force worked with Kemester during the last investigation, and think that you’re the prime suspect. Worse, they’ve now got evidence to back it up. You were the closest person to Ollivander’s when it blew up, you were already trying to evade MLE pursuit when the explosion occurred, and you fled from the scene of the crime when confronted.”

“Blimey, Harry,” Fred said with astonishment, “you do get yourself in some sticky situations.”

“And it gets worse,” Tonks replied grimly. “They couldn’t find the person you were meeting – thankfully, I don’t think anybody got a clear enough look at her face during the encounter – but they did manage to identify the explosives used to blow up Ollivander’s.”

She turned to Fred and George. “The magical traces mostly match those found at Gringotts.”

Harry’s mouth fell open. “How… that’s impossible!”

“Our fireworks don’t even have that much firepower!” George protested. “We couldn’t blow up a building with them even if we tried!”

“Mind you, we haven’t tried,” Fred added, “but the fact remains the same.”

“You said ‘mostly’ match, Tonks,” Sirius said with a frown. “How different are they? How clear of a correlation can be drawn?”

“A pretty clear one, Sirius,” Tonks replied heavily. “Any impurities within the traces could be blamed on chemicals required to amplify the fireworks to be dangerous.”

“So the question now is how the Death Eaters got their hands on the chemicals to make the explosives,” Harry finished, clenching both his fists as he turned to the twins. “I heard from Ron that you’ve been running a mail order service out of the Prophet – sell any of those fireworks?”

“Not in the numbers they’d need to pull off a stunt like this,” George replied with a shake of his head.

“Besides, those fireworks were still primarily experimental anyways and not for sale yet,” Fred added. “We just wanted a trial run.”

“Then how did the Death Eaters synthesize a chemical so quickly?” Harry growled, putting a hand to his forehead to try and stem the headache already pounding there.

Fred frowned slightly. “Well, they’d need a high concentration of a similar solution –”

“And it would need to be super-concentrated to produce that kind of blast –”

“And perhaps if someone had access to the previous traces, a lot of equipment and materials, and was really good at breaking down and analyzing components, then I guess they might –”

“And note we say might – it took us a load of trial and error to get them even close –”

“ – They could be replicated,” Fred finished with a shrug. “It’s a possibility.”

“And not one that implies anything good for us,” Sirius finished. “There’s a leak in Magical Law Enforcement – somebody must have stolen a copy of the traces from the Gringotts explosion –”

“Probably in transit from Experimental Charms,” Tonks noted disgustedly, “when they were under less security.”

“And we’ve got another thing we can blame Snape for now,” Harry spat, “considering he’s probably the only one with enough expertise to synthesize an explosive from just traces. Just bloody perfect.”

“Did you manage to hear anything about what the investigation is planning on doing to get Harry?” Sirius asked, both hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.

“Nothing that I could hear, but it’s pretty obvious what they can do,” Tonks replied bitterly. “There’s only one place where they can both confirm Harry’s location and take him before he reaches Hogwarts –”

“And that’s the train,” Harry snarled. “Damn it, I’ll be a sitting duck!”

“We can’t rely on the Order for help this time,” Tonks said worriedly, running a hand through her short hair. “Hell, some of them might suspect that Harry actually rigged all this, and if we asked for protection, they’d want to know why the investigation was after you the first place –”

“This is all running on the assumption, Harry, that you are not an arsonist,” Fred added brightly.

“Tends to be a good assumption to make,” Harry replied with a snort.

“That’s what you think,” George muttered.

“The point is that we need some way to protect or shield Harry while he’s on the train,” Sirius said, his tone a mixture of thoughtfulness and frustration. “But it’ll have to be something quiet – nothing to attract their attention…”

“A disguise?” Harry asked, cocking an eyebrow. “I don’t think I can hide under my Invisibility Cloak the entire trip, particularly if they’re searching the train.”

“But most Aurors have magic that can get through disguises!” Tonks replied with a frustrated huff. “And I don’t even know what the Hit Wizards are using these days…”

“Then it’ll have to be something new, improvised,” Harry said quickly, scratching his chin. “We don’t have a lot of time, but we could cobble something together. Tonks, you got top marks in Concealment and Disguise in Auror training, right?”

“Yes, but the Aurors will expect anything from their –”

“But you’ve got talents they don’t,” Harry interrupted, a crafty expression moving onto his face. “You’re a Metamorphmagus – how did you learn to use your talents anyways?”

Tonks frowned. “There were a few books, Harry, but most of that you won’t be able to use –”

“But there is some, right?” Harry asked persistently.

“They’d be back at my mother’s, but I could get them,” Tonks replied, her hair shifting colour with her confusion. “Harry, what’s this all about?”

But Harry was no longer listening. “I need to come up with something to throw the Aurors off – something new, a combination of magic that might just throw them off long enough. If there are any Metamorphmagus techniques or magic that I can use…”

“I could help here, Harry,” Sirius said suddenly.

“Sirius, it’s too dangerous –”

“Not even that,” Sirius replied, a grin growing on his face. “This house is one of the largest repositories of magic outside of Diagon Alley or one of the other old family manors. There might be something in my father’s room that could help us out, considering Narcissa stole the rest of the family library that wasn’t already purchased or ‘donated’ to Voldemort’s cause back in the First War.”

“You think there could be something?”

“My father didn’t sell or donate everything, I know that,” Sirius replied thoughtfully. “He kept some of the more powerful spellbooks and possibly some of his casting components, but you know some of this magic I’m talking about could very well be considered Dark magic.”

Harry blew out a short breath. “Well, the risk is only mine, really – and I’m willing to take it, if it works. What about you two?” he asked, turning to the twins. “Have any disguising or concealing magic?”

Fred and George exchanged a shifty glance.

“Possibly,” Fred replied.

“Although most of it is still on the drawing board or in the experimental stage, you realize,” George added.

“What he’s trying to say is that if we have anything,” Fred finished, “it would likely be unstable, and probably risky to test.”

“Will you be willing to give it to me?” Harry asked, taking a deep breath.

Fred and George exchanged another glance.

“Well, we do need a tester…”

“And we don’t need to pay him, which would certainly be a plus…”

“And he’s already willing…”

“Well?” Harry asked impatiently.

They both looked up and gave identical shrugs. “We’ll see what we can do,” Fred promised.

“But don’t rely on us to come up with anything big, Harry,” George added seriously. “Pressure’s not good for the creative process.”

“That’s all I needed,” Harry replied wearily. “Thanks.”

When the twins left the room, Tonks turned to Harry.

“You trust them?”

“What choice do I have?” Harry returned bitterly. “They’re intelligent and creative – they might come up with something.”

“That’s taking a big risk,” Sirius warned. “You’ve got to be careful here – we could be messing with some dangerous magic, and we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Believe me, Sirius, I know,” Harry muttered, his eyes clear, “but I’m getting to Hogwarts if it’s the last thing I do, and Kemester’s not stopping me this time.”