Turas Fada

Chapter One

The summer sun beat mercilessly down on the teenage boy sitting on the edge of the roof of number four Privet Drive turning his jet-black hair into a little toaster oven on his head. The boy was not thinking of anything as amusing as toaster ovens, however; he was much too busy moping. Now this is not to say that he was a moper without a cause. Harry Potter had numerous reasons to mope, or pout, or sulk, or whatever else he felt like doing. His godfather, Sirius, had died a few weeks ago saving Harry, because Harry had been an idiot and gotten himself lured into a trap by his archenemy Lord Voldemort.

Ol' Voldy, as Harry might like to call him if he had not been such a serious threat and a bother, was the other big cause of Harry's problems. Sure, they had been enemies for ages but it was not until the other day that Harry had learned that he was actually going to have to murder or be murdered by him, there was a prophesy and everything.

Murder is a hard concept for any decent person, which Harry was, to wrap their minds about. Dying is a rather hard concept for anyone at all to deal with. Not only that, but now it was certain that the fate of the entire wizarding world, and perhaps the non-wizarding world as well, lay in his hands. Because he was the only one who could kill Voldemort, and if Voldemort was not killed, and was just allowed to go flouncing around killing people at will, well, death and destruction would be the most appropriate words to describe what the state of things would be.

All of these thoughts would have been a lot easier to handle if he were actually fighting Voldemort and could just let his trusty Gryffindor courage kick in and do all the work for him. Unfortunately, Ol' Voldy was off somewhere in hiding after the trouncing Dumbledore had given him the night Sirius died, and he, Harry, was stuck once again at Privet drive, all alone with his torturous thoughts. It is next to impossible to be brave in a subdivision.

These gloomy thoughts were what was occupying the mind of the Boy Who Lived as he stared moodily at the ground, some six or seven meters below his dangling feet. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a girl walking down the sidewalk. His mind was too numbed with grief to do more than notice, though. Until the girl turned up the Dursleys' front walk and then stopped to stand right under him, looking up at the bottom of his trainers. This was odd enough to snap Harry out of his depressed daze. He leaned over the edge of the roof to peer down at the girl who was staring up at him. He blinked in surprise.

"Lavender?"

"Hallo, Harry." It was indeed Lavender Brown, a girl from Harry's year at Hogwarts. They had always gotten along fine, but he could count the number of times he had had a real conversation with her on one hand...one imaginary hand.

"Um...why are you at my house?" Harry knew he sounded rude but he was rather shocked, Lavender was one of the last people he would have ever expected to randomly appear at the Dursleys' house, of all places. His friends had never even visited him here. Well, unless you counted the time second year when Ron had shown up outside his window in a flying car to rescue him from his prison-room or fourth year when he had busted through his fireplace to pick him up, but Harry really didn't consider those as visits. Harry realized he was rambling, to himself, and with difficulty pulled his mind back to the girl standing below him.

"Well...." Lavender trailed off and looked down at her shoes. She was silent for a minute as she shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and readjusted the straps of her knapsack on her shoulders. Finally, just as Harry was beginning to think Lavender had gotten hit with some wacked up memory spell and lost her mind, she looked back up, straight into his eyes and said, speaking very rapidly, "I need your help." And to his surprise, Harry saw a tear glisten in the corner of her eye.

Startled Harry looked closer at Lavender. Like a true hero, a crisis completely wiped the fog of depression from Harry's brain. Lavender's long brown hair was pulled back into a tight pony tail, her face was completely free of cosmetic charms and there were purple circles under her eyes so dark that Harry could see them even from the roof. She was always dressed so neatly, but today she was wearing an old Weird Sisters t-shirt with a faded pair of jeans that had a large hole in the knee.

"Lavender, what's wrong?" Harry asked, now seriously concerned.

"Do you think you could come down here so we could talk?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," he replied, feeling oddly embarrassed for getting caught sitting on the roof. He stood up and walked over to the tree that was the ladder to his retreat and shimmied down. As he got closer to Lavender he noticed her eyes were slightly red and puffy, as if she had been crying a lot recently. He also noticed that he had to look down to see this. Odd, he remembered Lavender being about the same height as him. Now the top of her head barely reached his chin, she looked small and afraid and Harry suddenly felt very protective.

"We'd better go inside," Harry told her, and she nodded and followed him silently into the house. "The Dursleys...my aunt and uncle and cousin...are gone right now, but they'd freak out if they came back and saw me talking to another wizard in front of the house where all the neighbors could see. They're rather paranoid, the Dursleys." They had reached his room by that time and as he told her this while opening his door it occurred to him that this was the first time he had ever had a girl in his room before. This seemed like some sort of momentous occasion, he scanned the room to make sure it wasn't too messy and said a quick little prayer of thanks that he didn't have any underwear lying around.

The room was fairly bare. He had never felt any particular desire to make his place at the Dursleys' feel like his, especially since he constantly wished it was not. Most of his things were still packed in his trunk, the books and things he used on a regular basis were piled haphazardly on his desk, and Hedwig's, currently empty, cage stood on the nightstand in the corner of the room along with his alarm clock. The only thing on the walls was a Quidditch Moves calendar he had gotten at Hogsmeade last year, featuring a different Quidditch move for every month. Harry had been especially pleased that his birthday month, July, was the Wronski Feint. He had kept a calendar to mark down the days until he went back to Hogwarts every single summer since that very first one, when Hagrid had brought him his letter and he had found out he was a wizard.

"Nice room," Lavender remarked off-handedly as she glanced around then went and flopped down on the end of his bed. Harry pulled his desk chair over next to the bed and sat down, straddling the back with his arms resting on the top.

"Okay, so now can you tell me what's wrong?" he asked, trying his best to sound comforting since Lavender looked badly in need of comfort right now.

"The Dark Lord, he...he took my family!" And to Harry's horror, she started to cry. He reached over and attempted to pat her hand reassuringly, but was pretty sure he had failed since Lavender just cried harder. After a few minutes Lavender's tears had abated somewhat and he ventured to ask another question.

"What do you mean? Why? Where did he take them?"

"I-I don't know! I got home from school and they were all just gone! And the house was a wreck! I owled everyone I could think of but no one had seen them for at least a week. I looked all over the house for any kind of clue to where they might have gone and I found this." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded square of paper, which she handed to Harry. Unfolded, the paper looked like an official document. It was written in fancy calligraphy and read:

This is an official order of arrest for the Brown Family- David and Maria Brown and Children, found guilty of Acts Unnamed on this day, the 14th of May, by the Dark Council. They are to be taken into the custody of the Dark Lord immediately.

Mouth open slightly in shock, Harry handed the letter back to Lavender, who took it and folded it carefully before returning it to her pocket.

"I'm so sorry," Harry said, sympathetically, "but what do you want me to do?" he asked, trying his best not to understand what he saw only too clearly. But he had enough problems already....

"Please," she said, lifting her watery blue eyes up to look pleadingly at Harry, "help me find them!" Harry's heart dropped, he had so much to worry about, he didn't need anything else...but it wasn't in him to say no to someone in need, that's part of what made him a hero after all.

"Okay."

*****

The sound of the Dursleys' grandfather clock chiming midnight could be heard faintly drifting up from the living room through the floor to Harry's room where he lay in bed under the covers wide awake and fully dressed. Harry listened for a moment holding his breath but after the chimes died away the house was completely silent. He heaved a sigh of relief; the Dursleys had finally gone to sleep. They had gotten home from their dinner party at ten and Harry had been pretending to be asleep for the past two hours, waiting anxiously for them to go to bed. Now he sat up, put his glasses back on and, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, called softly to the other side of the room, "They're asleep; you can come out of the closet now, Lavender." He heard a slight chuckle and some rustling around inside his closet before Lavender opened the door and stepped into the room.

"Are your aunt and uncle really so homophobic that I had to wait until they went to bed before I announced that I'm really gay?" she asked grinning.

"No, it's just they don't like wiza...hang on...what? You mean you're...huh?" Harry stammered, shocked. She rolled her eyes.

"It was a joke, you know, 'come out of the closet' means you're gay?"

"Oh, oh yeah, sorry."

"I hope I'm not going to have to explain these things to you all the time, it really takes something away from a witty comment when you have to explain it." Lavender's spirits had improved remarkably since Harry had agreed to help her and they had formed a plan of action. A very tentative plan of action, mind, but it was a plan, or at least the beginnings of one. It mostly just consisted of leaving the Dursleys' that night and then deciding what to do after that, but it was something and that seemed to be what Lavender needed right now, to be doing something.

"You know," she said, grinning deviously, "I bet I'm the envy of every teenage girl in the wizarding world right now."

Harry waited for her to elaborate, but when she obstinately refused to he finally gave in.

"Why?"

"Because I can answer the boxers or briefs question about Harry Potter!"

Harry blushed a deep crimson and stammered something incoherently, looking in horror at his open closet door. She let him carry on like this for a few seconds with an amused look on her face before finally ending his torture.

"Not really, you don't keep your underwear in your closet."

A flood of relief swamped Harry for a moment, delaying his indignation.

"But believe me, I looked." Then she smiled sweetly at him and began looking around for her knapsack. With a moan Harry fell back in despair on his bed. It was looking like he had gotten himself into way more than he had bargained for.

*****

Half an hour later, Harry and Lavender were lying side by side on two squeaky cots hurtling along the streets of London towards Diagon Alley. It had taken a relatively short time for Harry to pack his knapsack with everything he thought he would need for this rescue mission: a few changes of clothes, his cloak, his wand, and invisibility cloak and his Firebolt, shrunk to a convenient travel-size. Then he had opened the window and helped Lavender to climb down the trellis next to his window that had served him as an escape from the oppressive Dursleyness of Privet Drive for a while, many a time. They were going to go to an inn in Diagon Alley, make a better plan, and buy some supplies before setting off on their quest.

Harry had wanted to fly, but Lavender had claimed that that was too conspicuous (personally Harry thought she was just afraid of heights) and had flagged the Knight Bus instead, so here they were. Harry was lying on his back on the itchy starched sheets, with his hands behind his head staring absently up at the ceiling which was covered with peeling posters of an old '70's wizard rock band, Harrison's Broomstick. The shaggy haired musicians gyrated around the poster in their sequined cat suits in a very amusing fashion.

"So why exactly did you come to me for help. I mean, no offense or anything, but we're not exactly the closest friends, why not go to Parvati? Or Seamus, for that matter? Aren't the two of you dating?" He could hear the springs of her bed creek as she turned onto her side to look at him.

"Well..." she said, considering, "Parvati's great, but she would be absolutely no help at all on a rescue mission. And Seamus and I broke up about a month ago, we're "still friends" and all, but things are rather awkward between us, if you know what I mean. As to why you...why any one else? It's the Dark Lord who took my family, and you're Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Who else could have any chance of rescuing my family? Fighting the Dark Lord, isn't that just sort of what you do?"

"Oh." For the first time since Lavender had appeared on Privet Drive that afternoon, Harry's own grief came washing over him. Helping Lavender with her problem he had been able to forget his own for a little while. But now...the sharp pain in his heart was back and felt as fresh as if he had just discovered that Sirius was dead and the weight of the responsibility of what he must do settled down on him like a cloak, threatening to suffocate him. It occurred to him that helping Lavender save her family might just be rushing him on to his fate.

Lavender seemed to sense some of what he was feeling. She sat up and reached across the aisle to lay her hand gently on his shoulder.

"I forgot," she said, "I'm sorry. And, just for the record, that's not the only reason I chose you." She did not elaborate and Harry was in no mood to pry, but he was strangely comforted by her touch, and the empathy he heard in her voice. The pain inside him seemed to retreat, locking itself in a little section of his heart and allowing him to function like normal. They stayed in that position, Harry lying on the bed, Lavender with her hand resting on his shoulder, for several minutes. Gradually Harry began to feel like a normal human being again, and he sat up too, brushing his hair out of his eyes with one hand. Lavender stared intently at his forehead, and Harry flushed slightly. Having people gawk at his scar was always uncomfortable, but he was starting to get used to it whenever he met strangers. Lavender had known him for five years, though; surely she had seen it enough times to no longer be awed by it.

"You know, I was thinking," she said, Harry nobly resisted the urge to say 'uh-oh.' "With that scar you're awfully noticeable."

"Tell me about it," Harry muttered.

"This trip might not be one that the whole wizarding world should know about. I've got some cosmetics in my bag, I could cover it up, if you wouldn't mind?"

"Um, yeah, sure," he said, trying his best to suppress the horrified shriek that was threatening to escape from his throat at the idea of wearing make-up.

"Good." She rummaged around in her knapsack for a minute and finally brought out a little sequined pink bag, Harry let out a moan of horror. "Come on, it's not that bad. Just move your hair off your forehead, there's a dear." Then she took out a few tubes and brushes and went to work on Harry's forehead. "You know, I could easily put on a little eyeliner for you if you'd like, it would really accentuate your eyes, and they're such a nice pretty green. A little shimmer powder on your eyelids too, might be nice." For one horrifying moment Harry thought she was serious and the rest of the trip flashed before his eyes in one big humiliating blur of sparkly eye make-up.

"There, done!" Lavender sat back and examined her work with a satisfied air. Harry let his hair fall back onto his forehead. "With your hair that long you couldn't have really seen your scar anyway." Perhaps she could see in Harry's face that he was about to start making the long list of excuses for why he had not gotten around to getting his hair cut, because, before he could say anything, she said, "No, I like it." Then she promptly lay back down on her bed with her back towards him, leaving Harry feeling like he had just missed something.

*****

Harry stumbled blindly along the dark streets of Diagon Alley, relying solely on Lavenders eyes as she guided him through the twists and turns of the deserted cobbled street, her slender hand gripping tightly to his. Before today he would not have dreamed of allowing himself to be totally dependent on Lavender like this. He would have felt sure that she would steer him straight into the first wall, but Lavender was proving to be a lot less ditzy than he had always thought. In fact, he was actually enjoying her company. They had decided that the Leaky Cauldron was too public a place for them to risk staying at, so Lavender was taking him to a little inn she knew of. The reason Harry could not see was that Lavender had judged his glasses to be too recognizable and had insisted he take them off. Unfortunately, she had not been able to remember the spell to fix Harry's eyes so he had to remain in a fog until they could get to the inn and look up the spell. Lavender, Harry reflected, was not nearly as useful to have around as Hermione.

At the thought of Hermione, Harry felt a small pang. He had been too busy so far that day to think about her or Ron, but now that he did he missed them terribly. It did not seem right to be adventuring without them.

"We're here," Lavender's words broke Harry out of his reverie, "The Poodle's Potion. A stupid name, I know. My mom comes here with her girl friends for their girl time." Lavender paused and took a deep shuddering breath. Harry guessed she was thinking about her mother and tried to think of something comforting to say, but before he could she shook her head resolutely and continued. "The old lady who owns it's as blind as a bat, though, so we should be safe."

The cozy little room she led him into smelled strongly of flowers and the lamps, which were covered in orange lampshades, lit the room with a warm glow. A little stuffed pink poodle sat next to one of the many puffy pink armchairs that dotted the room. At least Harry thought it was fake, until it bounded over to him, yipping excitedly, and started drooling on his leg. He shook it off, wondering why on earth anyone would want to turn their dog pink. They walked over to the reception counter where Harry could just make out an old woman with eyes framed in huge, thick, black-rimmed glasses and her head topped in an abundance of tight white curls, some of which appeared to still have the rollers in them.

"Hello, Mrs. Davenport!" Lavender said in her kindest grown up voice. "How are you this evening?"

"Fine, fine," the old lady replied amicably, in a sweet, high-pitched voice. "And how are you, dear? My, my, isn't it awfully late for two pretty young ladies to be wondering about all alone?"

Lavender squeezed Harry's hand warningly to keep him quiet.

"We're just fine, Mrs. Davenport," Lavender told her, tactfully ignoring the old woman's last question. "We were wondering if we could have a room?"

"Of course, of course! Right away! Now let's see, I believe the Forget-Me-Not room is free, if that would be all right. Yes, here's the key, it's room number 9."

"That would be perfect! Goodnight Mrs. Davenport!" Lavender took the key and led the way down a narrow hall at the back of the room.

"Goodnight, dears! You girls sleep tight!" Mrs. Davenport called after them.

"I knew my hair was too long," Harry grumbled.

"Mrs. Davenport's just blind," Lavender reassured him. "Besides, I already told you I like it. Ah, here we are." Lavender let go of Harry's hand to unlock the door, and then guided him inside and turned to lock the door behind her. Harry immediately sat down and fumbled around in his knapsack for his glasses. Finding them, he slipped them on and the room jumped suddenly into focus.

The walls were a light blue, the floor was covered with a thick blue shag carpet in a slightly darker hue, and the light fixtures on the walls were covered in miniature blue lampshades. The white bedspreads on the two identical little twin beds were liberally sprigged with blue forget-me-nots and the nightstand held a big vase filled with the same flower.

"Well," said Harry sarcastically, "I certainly can't tell why they call it the Forget-Me-Not room."

"Argh! Boys!" Lavender cried, exasperatedly and plunked herself down on one of the beds. "It's cute!"

"Okay, whatever you say, it's adorable," Harry told her reassuringly. Throwing his knapsack in the corner he sat down on the foot of the other bed and pulled off his trainers, tossing them into the corner as well. Then he took off his glasses and sat them on the nightstand and crawled under the soft, springtime smelling sheets, fully dressed.

"You're just going to sleep with your clothes on?" Lavender asked him incredulously.

"Yep. It's late and I'm tired, why not?" Harry mumbled sleepily.

"Oh, I guess you're right," Lavender said, sounding slightly surprised. With a little shrug she went and blew out all of the lights then followed his example and got into bed with her clothes on. She lay in silence for a little while, staring at the dark shape of Harry across from her.

"Goodnight, Harry," she whispered softly, "and thanks." But Harry did not answer. His breathing was regular and deep, he was asleep. With a small sigh Lavender rolled over and shut her eyes.