Red Tide Rising

Harry was very careful to avoid his aunt after her breakdown. The idea that Snape had killed his grandparents was horrible, but Harry realized he wasn't very shocked. He was angry, yes, but he knew that Snape had been a Death Eater, and he knew what happened to Muggle-borns families. However, Harry had found a new depth to his hatred of Snape, a depth he didn't want to share with Ron or Hermione, or even Dumbledore. Harry had a feeling that, for all of everything Dumbledore knew, Dumbledore didn't know Snape had killed Harry's grandparents.

A week after Aunt Petunia's breakdown, Harry was brewing the Polyjuice Potion. He had sent Hedwig back to Hogwarts with the classes he would take that year, and he was finally finished the homework Snape had set. His Herbology essay was nearly finished, and he had begun his Care of Magical Creatures work.

It was just before breakfast when Harry entered the kitchen to add the next ingredient to the Polyjuice Potion. He leaned over the stove, sniffing the putrid smelling cauldron. It gave Harry immense pleasure that the vile odor of the Polyjuice Potion turned Vernon and Dudley off their food, and he was almost sad that he should be done that afternoon.

Stirring the cauldron three times before adding the shredded skin of Boomslang, Harry took a bit of satisfaction that the Potion looked like it was correct. Brewing Potions properly was so difficult Harry would feel a certain amount of respect for Snape, if he weren't a complete arse.

The Daily Prophet arrived, and Harry sat down to open it just as Dudley bounded into the kitchen. The foul scent emanating from the cauldron caused Dudley to gasp and stop dead in his tracks.

"Jeez, Harry, can't you stop that smell?" Dudley begged.

But Harry was not listening. Harry was staring at the headline of the Daily Prophet, which read:

Azkaban destroyed! Inmates escape!

For half an hour, Harry read and reread the paper. He vaguely realized that Aunt Petunia had placed tea and toast in front of him. His mind was reeling.

"Delores Umbridge fired, replaced by Susan Bones... Arthur Weasley asked to return to Magical Law Enforcement Department as Head... Special Aurors brought to destroy Dementors... Dumbledore calls for a redoubling of efforts... How could this happen?

"Because they were stupid!" Harry shouted out loud. He coloured a bit when he realized no one had any idea what was the matter.

"Bad news?" Dudley asked snidely.

"Malfoy's father and several Death Eaters, including Bellatrix Lestrange, who killed my godfather, have escaped. Yes, that's very bad news." Harry peeped outside. It was a beautiful day; the sun was already beating strongly. Harry got up and closed the curtains.

"God knows what'll happen now," Harry muttered, shoving a piece of toast into his mouth and chewing. The phone began to ring. "I'll get it."

"Harry?" Hermione's voice asked. "Harry, have you heard?"

"Yes, it's horrible," Harry said.

"Yes, it is. Harry, I've been asked back to Headquarters..."

"What? What do they need with the Order, now? Everybody is on alert."

"Their worried about spies in the Ministry, I suppose. Listen, Harry, this is a strange time, and strange things are being asked of us. Of me, and of you. Harry, you have to stay with your relatives, at least a bit longer. Dumbledore wanted me to remind you."

"You've spoken to Dumbledore? When?"

"Last night. He came to my house and asked me to Headquarters, something important I'm too do. He thinks you and I can go to the Weasley's for the last few weeks of holidays."

"What are they asking you to do?" Harry asked. He wanted to demand she tell him, but that was not the tack to take with Hermione.

"I can't tell you, Harry. Not because I've been sworn to secrecy, but because I won't know until I arrive. I don't even know what it's about, or who'll be with me."

"Okay, I understand. And yes, I'll stay here. At least until things become unbearable," Harry promised.

"There's a lad."

Another week passed, and Harry's Hogwarts letter arrived. Harry had finally, after three attempts, managed to brew the Veritaserum so that it looked proper, although he had little faith it would work. After the Potion was brewed and it waited to mature, there was very little for Harry to do but read all his textbooks again. They were exceptional only in the fact that Harry had, somehow, managed to cram all their facts into his brain.

At least he received decent gifts for his birthday. Ron sent him a practice Snitch, which reminded Harry of his father until he pushed that thought from his mind. Hagrid sent a load of Treacle Fudge and a new cage for Hedwig. Hermione sent him a book. Little Known Spells, Curses, and Charms, by Maleficent Etah. Lupin and Dung and Tonks sent him a funny little card that happily sang 'For He's a Jolly Good Fellow' over and over and over. The Weasley twins sent him a bag of pranks that Harry wasn't foolish enough to touch.

On August 1^st, at breakfast, something unexpected happened. While reading the Daily Prophet, Harry reached for the last piece of bacon on his plate, only to have Dudley whisk it away from him.

"Hey! Give that back!" Harry roared.

"No, you scrawny little twit," Dudley replied. Harry lunged for the bacon, and felt his face contact Dudley's fist.

The pain was just too much. Harry had heard his nose snap, and he could feel the blood running down to his chin.

"Good show, Dudders!" Uncle Vernon applauded. "Broke his nose, I'd say!"

His eyes screwed up and began to water as he concentrated on making it stop!

"Ahh, is poor little Harry hurt?"

Oh, let it stop, let it stop! Harry begged. Please, just let the pain go awa- huh? The pain had suddenly stopped, and Harry's nose no longer felt broken, and he could feel no blood.

Quickly, so that his Uncle and cousin would see exactly what had happened, Harry snapped his face up proudly. "Oh, no. I was just humouring you, Big D." With that, and the lovely disbelieving faces from his relatives, Harry bounded up the stairs to his room.

Inspecting his face in the mirror, Harry saw that his nose really was just fine. He prodded it, and felt nothing but a bit of pressure. The sides of his nose weren't even bruising!

Concentrating on his hair- No! That retched scar!- Harry imaged his skin smooth and pale. He kept concentrating, not even allowing himself to blink.

Hours went by, Harry was sure. He was about to give up when, finally, his scar faded into skin. Harry, aghast, stepped back and looked at himself.

Brushing his hair from his forehead, Harry gazed at the boy looking back at him. His forehead was smooth and there was no lightning-bolt shaped scar. A sick feeling racked Harry's body, as he felt... lonely. His scar had been his constant companion since his parent's death. His scar connected him to Lord Voldemort, the man he would one day have to kill. His scar embodied everything Harry Potter was and had become.

Stumbling back from the mirror, Harry collapsed on the bed. He was beginning to panic, not quite sure what to make of his- er, ability. Jumping up again, he returned to the mirror. His scar was back, looking as innocent as it always did. Harmless, really, for something that was so evil.

Concentrating on his hair this time, he tried to make it lie flat. He imagined his hair falling properly around his head. He imagined it looking neat and well kept. Slowly, but much more quickly than with his scar, his hair began to obey him. For the first time ever, Harry's hair looked like Aunt Petunia always wanted it to.

Again, Harry fell back on the bed. He felt a growing sense of dread. What had Tonks called her game? Metamorphmagus? Pink hair, violet hair, red hair, gray hair. Long nose, short nose, snout nose, Snape's nose.

It was time for dinner. Harry had to think of a way to write to Tonks, without giving away too much of what had happened. He knew owls were still being intercepted, and Voldemort, he was sure, would love to know of this new gift.

Checking in the mirror, and forcing his hair back to its regular state of messiness, Harry ran down the stairs for dinner. All throughout dinner Dudley and Uncle Vernon kept glancing at Harry as if to check for bruising.

After doing the dishes, Harry announced he'd be back in a few hours. No one seemed to mind much, and he made his way over to Mrs. Figg's house on Magnolia Crescent. Knocking on her door, and checking behind him to see if anyone was watching, Harry waited for her to answer.

She didn't. Instead a man in his early thirties did.

"Can I help you?" The man asked, staring down at Harry with an expression of helpfulness on his face.

"Er- yes. Is Mrs. Figg here?"

"Oh, no. Sorry, mate, but she's moved to live with her daughter somewhere in Lancaster. Sorry."

Harry walked back to Privet Drive; still glancing around and behind him, looking for something to indicate someone was there. In the alleyway where Dementors had attacked Dudley and him, Harry actually stopped and asked that they show themselves. No one answered.

Great, he thought. Just when I need someone from the Order to be tailing me... no one!

Returning to his room to construct a letter to Tonks, which hopefully wouldn't give away too much of what was going on, Harry hesitated.

What if it was nothing, just a little something every wizard could do? But, it wasn't; Tonks had told him you had to be born with the gift. And what if everyone understood exactly what he was talking about, and then Voldemort found out? Well, he had to try to tell Tonks. He hadn't told anyone about being a Parseltongue and hearing the Basilisk, and people had nearly died.

Finally he decided to go ahead and write the letter.

Dear Tonks,

Thank-you very much for your and Lupin and Dung's birthday card. I got some nice gifts; jokes from the twins, a book from Hermione, a practice Snitch from Ron, and a new cage for Hedwig from Hagrid. My cousin gave me a broken nose, but it's all better now.

So, what colour is your hair today?

Harry.

Sending the letter with Hedwig, Harry felt certain no one but Tonks would figure that message out. Now he could only wait.

Harry spent two days practicing in his room, coming out only to eat or shower. Hedwig had returned with no answer, but Harry kept practicing. Soon he could, if he tried really hard, change any part of his appearance. Once he managed to gain several inches in height, but Harry realized you had to think of everything when changing your appearance; without larger feet, he had toppled over and received a nasty headache.

Two evenings after Hedwig had returned, there was a horrible catfight outside Harry's room. Glancing down into the fading twilight, Harry saw two black cats attacking a ginger-haired tomcat. His eyes struggling to focus, Harry gasped, and tore out of his room, past a put out Aunt Petunia, and into the yard.

"Get off!" Harry screamed, kicking wildly at the two black cats. His foot contacted with one, sending it straight into the second. They both backed off a bit and began hissing violently at Harry, their fur standing on end and their tails straight in the air.

Without taking his eyes off the black, spitting cats, Harry stooped to pick up an injured ginger-haired, bandy-legged cat. Stroking his fur carefully, Harry backed up and into the house, never letting his eyes wander from the red eyes of the attacking cats.

"What's that?" Aunt Petunia demanded. "You're not bringing a bleeding bloody cat into my house!"

"This is my friend Hermione's cat, Crookshanks. He's hurt," Harry said simply as he marched up the stairs and into his room. He busied around, washing Crookshanks injuries, and than managed to talk Aunt Petunia out of a bowl of milk. As Crookshanks happily lapped up the milk, Harry noticed something sticking from his collar.

"Hello, then. What's this?" Harry pondered as he removed it. It was a tiny, rolled up piece of parchment with a dab of red wax sealing it. Curious, Harry fingered the wax, then leaped back when it melted and the scroll enlarged while unfurling.

Dear Harry,

I hope this gets to you without any trouble. Your letter to us with Hedwig made it fine, but we're trying to be more cautious. I'm not sure what you said, but your letter speeded up the plans for your 'extraction', as Moody calls it. They've decided to remove you on the fifth, at noon. Be ready. I can't wait to see you!

Harry spent the morning of the fifth packing. He had checked and double-checked, and he had everything. His Potions were stoppered tightly and rolled into socks so that they wouldn't spill or break. His books and essay's were all stored away. His robes and uniform and cloaks were neatly packed. Hedwig had been sent ahead, but without a letter.

He had told his Aunt and Uncle the evening before that he'd be leaving, so when noon came around, and Harry was thumping his trunk down the stairs to the hallway, they had made themselves scarce. However, Dudley had his friends Piers Polkiss and Gordon Howell over, and they were making trouble.

"Friends, you? You're a freak!" Piers had laughed as he sat on Harry's trunk just as Harry tried to lift it. "Bit weak, aren't you, freak?"

"Dudley," Harry warned, an evil note to his voice. He had no idea how his 'extractors' were arriving, but he imagined a few Memory charms would be necessary. Would anyone really care if he gave Piers a jolt?

Just then a horn from outside sounded. Piers and Gordon bounded up to the door and opened it, ready to bully whoever had arrived.

"Blimey, would you look at them?" Gordon said under his breath. Harry, fearing the worse magical contraption, peered out between their bodies.

"Harry!" Came five voices.

Ron, Ginny, Hermione and the Weasley twins were getting out of a rather nice convertible. Ron had grown several more inches since the end of June, and he appeared to be growing into a smaller Hagrid, complete with the beginnings of a beard. The twins, still identical, had a look of prosperity on them that was nearly ruined by the look of mischief in their eyes. Ginny had cut her hair into a chin-length bob that made her seem older, and actually very pretty, when mixed with a confident walk Harry hadn't noticed before.

But Hermione looked the most changed. Her once spare, thin body had changed to a nicely rounded figure. Her face, once thin to the point of emaciation, had a new fullness to it that bespoke of the time to eat proper meals. Her hair, which usually was bushy, was today falling softly in controlled, glossy waves. It was also a brilliant shade of red.

"Hermione! What happened to your hair?" Harry cried with a laugh. Hermione ran towards him and enveloped him in a large hug.

"Those two pranked me!" She said in an irritated way. She glanced over Harry's shoulder, twisting a rather graceful neck, and spotted Dudley and his friends. "Erm, hello?"

"Hello," Piers said in a voice that hadn't quite reached the end of puberty. He was standing as tall as he could, which was still several inches below average, and his chest was pushed out to ridiculous limits. Ginny giggled softly.

"Hey Gin, Ron!" Harry said as they too pulled him into a familial hug. Fred and George clapped him on the back.

"Your trunk inside, Harry? We'll fetch it," Fred said as he pushed Piers roughly out of his path. "Oh, hello, Dudley. It's been awhile, hasn't it?" Dudley turned a sickly shade of green, probably remembering the Ton-Tongue Toffee incident of two years ago.

As Fred and George went to retrieve Harry's trunk, conversation stopped. Ron, Ginny and Hermione stared pointedly at the Muggles, trying to will them back in the house. However, Polkiss seemed quite content to leer at Ginny.

"So," Harry started. "How've your summers been?"

"Oh, fantastic!" Hermione said. "So much to tell you. But we've got to get going, I should think. We're to stop at Diagon Alley first, at the twins shop, before we go to Head- er, Grimmauld Place," she said, finishing with a glare at Dudley and his friends.

Fred and George came out with Harry's trunk and stowed it in the auto. "Just a rental, you know," Fred told Harry.

"Come on, ickle ones!" George called, and without a good-bye to the Muggle boys, Ron, Ginny and Hermione fled into the car.

"They're creepy!" Ginny complained.

"Yeah, sorry about them. Well," Harry amended, "they're not my fault, really."

The car pulled out onto the road and, with a wild screeching of tires, roared off the street. "Charmed the thing so the wind wouldn't ruin the girl's hair. They hate it when the wind ruins their styles," George said from the front. Hermione and Ginny exchanged bewildered and exasperated looks.

"So, then. What's been going on? Why are all of you still at Grimmauld Place?" Harry asked.

"Well, Mum and Dad are still in the Order, though we're back The Burrow this summer. Just that we spend a lot of time at Headquarters, preparing stuff and making sure things are ready for meetings," Ginny said. "Then we're sent straight home as soon as anything exciting might happen. Hermione gets to stay there and even attend the meetings."

"Yes, and they aren't as exciting as you seem to think," said Hermione. "My job is mainly translating old parchments of Ancient Runes. That's really exciting, and I get to discuss all my theories with Bill."

"And she's starting a newspaper," Ron interjected.

"Mm-hmm! I asked Professor McGonagall, and she said it'd be all right if I had people from every House participating. So, in September, the Hogwarts Hornblower starts up," Hermione jabbered. "I've already signed you up to help with layout, nothing glamorous or time-consuming, because you get enough attention and you'll need to study," she continued primly.

"What of you, then? You don't need to study?" Ron demanded.

"And why start a newspaper? You hate the media!" Harry pointed out.

"Well, I don't hate it. The media plays a large and integral part of our society. It keeps us connected to each other and allows us to communicate. Unfortunately, in Britain the entire legitimate media is wrapped in The Daily Prophet and the Wizards Wireless Network. So, I decided to start up an alternative for people who want to read a different opinion. My opinion, and those who'll write for me."

"And, don't forget to mention that the proceeds go to SPEW," said Ron.

"Yes. I've changed my tack with S.P.E.W.- Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare, Ron, not a nasty term for regurgitate. Instead of trying to free them one Elf at a time, I'm going to fundraise and raise awareness- through the Hornblower- and then petition the Ministry for small reforms. Once everyone is comfortable with those changes, I'll petition for larger ones, until House Elves are as free as they can be."

"And," Ron continued, "she's dating Viktor Krum!"

"What?" shouted Harry so suddenly that the car swerved dangerously close to another vehicle. "Your dating Krum? Why? When?"

"Well, yes, I'm dating Viktor. He's playing for Chudley, so I'd think Ron would be happy. But then," she said, with a clever hint in her voice, "perhaps he already knows how the season will end."

"What?" asked Harry, completely baffled. "How could Ron know that?"

Hermione shot Ron a reproachful look, at which Ron ducked his head and muttered something. When Harry asked him to repeat what he had said, Hermione and Ginny prodded Ron in the ribs.

"I didn't tell you earlier, because I don't want you to think I'm a freak." Ron began, not quite looking at Harry. "But, at the Ministry, in that Brain Room, you remember the brain I Accioed?"

"Yes," Harry said slowly.

"Well, remember how Madam Pomfrey was worried about lingering damage, and all that?"

"Ron? Are you alright?" Harry asked, feeling a bit of panic.

"I'm fine, yeah. But the brain belonged to some Prophet, two thousand years ago."

"Er- yes?"

"And-" Ron began and then stopped. He seemed unwilling to continue.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "The brain got a firm hold on Ron, and know he can predict the future!"

"Can't!" Ron shouted as a two year old would. "I can't predict the future! I see events that may happen, if other events take place. I have to continue with Divination now, Dumbledore insists! Lot of bother, this sixth sense."

"Oh, you love it!" Fred piped up from the front seat.

Harry thought for a moment that he'd heard wrong, but finally had to realize he hadn't. Ron- the Prophet? Harry took a deep breath to steady himself and give him an idea of what to say.

"Fantastic! Now I'm not the only freak walking around Hogwarts!"

"Yeah, you two were made for each other," George said with a laugh.

In a daze, Harry turned a bewildered eye toward Hermione. "I- I can't believe your dating Viktor Krum!"

Hermione gaped, then glared at him. "Ron's known he was a Prophet since three days after- well, since then, and your upset I haven't told you, yet!, that I'm casually seeing a boy you already knew I was almost seeing?"

"Well, not upset," Harry defended. "Just amazed."

Hermione threw her hands in the air, and turned to mutter with Ginny. "He's good for one thing, though, Harry," said Ron while reaching into his pocket. "He gets us ticket's to see the Chudley Cannons almost all the time. See!"

Shortly, they were walking past the brick wall behind the Leaky Cauldron and onto Diagon Alley. The sights and sounds and smells of the street brought Harry back to the first time he'd walked through the brick wall, when he'd been only just eleven, not sixteen, and had thought his life was going to be fantastic from that point on. Odd how quickly that had changed.

In a moment of panic, trying to regain that euphoria and just stretch his legs from the long car ride, Harry tugged Hermione's hair and ran away from her. Ron and Ginny and the twins joined in, until an all out war was going on.

Suddenly the twin's laughter stopped, and Harry turned to see why. Not ten feet away from them, wearing a look of both disgust and envy, was Percy, and he was chatting with Marcus Flint. Glancing up from whatever he was pointing at, Marcus saw the group and nodding at Percy before disappearing into the crowd.

"Hello, then," Percy said, stepping towards them. "How are your summer's going?"

"You'd know if you weren't such a prat," spat Ginny with an ugly look on her face.

"Adult choices, Gin. I heard you made prefect. Congratulations." Ginny glared angrily at Percy but managed to incline her head in acknowledgement.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" Fred asked rudely.

"Shouldn't you?" Percy returned rudely.

"Only just picked Harry up from those dreadful relatives," George said.

Percy settled his gaze on Harry. He paused a moment, and said, "Hello, Harry."

Harry wasn't sure what to say. The conversation to this point was cold, much colder than anything he associated with the Weasley family, and it made him uncomfortable, not because he was looking in on a family argument, but because he was part of a family argument. He had no idea what to do.

"Er- hello, Percy. Work good?" he asked lamely.

"Fine, yes. Were making some really headway now that Delores Umbridge has been fired." He paused, and continued. "How's Dad liking the Law Enforcement Department?"

"Says he wishes it weren't necessary," Ron said. "You know how much he hates all the pressure."

"Yes, well, we all have to buckle down now that You-Know-Who's returned," Percy said pompously. "I have to return to work. Tell mother I said hello."

"Tell her yourself!" Fred and George yelled after him. Turning to Harry, Fred said, "He's always been a bit absent-minded. The mark of a true politician, Dad says, is when they can completely forget they ever had a different opinion."

"I wanted to ask, actually, why they asked your dad to Head the Department?" asked Harry as they walked on towards Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

"Oh, Dad used to be deputy Head, in the last war. He switched afterwards, you know, everyone agreed he deserved a bit of a break. Too bad, though, that he fell in love with Muggles!" Ron explained as he pulled open the door to a shop. A rather loud shop.

"Is this it?" Harry said, stepping inside and instantly ducking as an explosion tore through the place.

"Yes, welcome to Fred and George's humble joke shop," Ginny said while righting a fallen display. The place was full of jokes and sweets and the Weasley specialty: mayhem. Kids were running around, filling bags full of stuff that was quite possibly dangerous, if their rapturous expressions were anything to go by. Harry was about to inspect a softly glowing ball when Ginny warned against touching it. "It makes you float about for a few minutes. We haven't the time now. Mum wants you three to get your books today. Have you your list?"

Harry nodded absentmindedly as he wandered about the store. Ron had drifted behind the counter to help Katie Bell, as they were both working there during the summer. The place had an odd vibe to it, the same odd vibe the Weasley house had; one of vitality and fun and care. It was a mad house, but it was cunningly organized in a way that was comfortable and relaxing.

Or was relaxing until another explosion ripped through.

"Probably time to leave," said Ron after he'd helped Katie with the worst of the line-up. "This place never clears out completely, we're always kicking people out at closing. Looks like your investment turned out."

Harry, Hermione and Ron stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine and walked towards Flourish and Blotts. Harry pulled out the booklist and glanced it over. "This is mad! Advanced Guide to Transfiguration, Standard Book of Spells: Level Six, Advanced Potions, Theory of Potions, Advanced Guide to Herbology, Abraxan to Yetis: A Guide to Caring for Magical Creatures, Encyclopedia of Defense, A Manual for Defense Against the Dark Arts Tactics and Theory, and hey, this was in the Room of Requirement, The Dark Arts Outsmarted. That's really a lot!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yes, well, I've got Arithmancy, History, Astronomy, and Study of Ancient Runes to add to that. Honestly, my parents can barely afford all these books," Hermione said, lugging a huge tome from a shelf.

"Mine neither, although it's easier with only Gin and I at school," Ron said while searching for his Divination books. "Ugh! I can't believe I'm stuck with Trelawney again!"