Red Tide Rising

Christmas was not going to be a joyous event. Harry, escorted by Gryffindor, made his way through the Forbidden Forest; the other students had left the night before- Harry leaving now would allay suspicion. Hermione had left for Headquarters as she had more work to do with the Runes parchments, and time was an enemy. Ron had returned to The Burrow for Christmas, working with Fred and George at the shop and visiting with Charlie, who was in from Romania after the Reserve had been placed under quarantine, from the Dragon Pox. Charlie had been on leave at the time, rallying the Slovenians for the fight against Voldemort.

Actually, Harry didn't mind going to Privet Drive for Christmas; he was getting quite used to things like this. He still wished he were going to Sirius's, or even his own home with his own parents, but going to Privet Drive wasn't much more than an inconvenience. And a bit of torture, of course, but that was to be expected. He was not going because he had no other choice- Dumbledore had asked him to go, not told him too- he was going because it was the right thing to do. And it wasn't as if he was confined to the house for an entire summer, or even the entire holiday. The Weasley's would pick him up on December 31^st, for their New Year's Eve party.

Gryffindor wasn't in a particularly cheerful mood, either. "Damn weather," she grunted as she trudged along in the shin deep snow. "You'd think it would make up its mind," she continued, as the rain fell. "But no! Weather has to make our lives miserable."

"I'm not sure weather really cares one way or another, whether we're happy or not, Professor." Harry was completely over Gryffindor's refusal to teach him Potions. It had been a stupid idea anyways, and Snape was treating him almost as well as he treated the Hufflepuff's. Harry couldn't hope for much more.

"Of course weather doesn't care whether you're happy, Potter. It's to busy making me miserable. D'you know I grew up in a desert? Stupid weather," she muttered again. "Tonks will met us in Hogsmeade, she'll come with us to Surrey."

Tonks was waiting, after all, but with a snowball aimed perfectly for Gryffindor's face. Gryffindor tackled Tonks, screaming, and the two women rolled around for a few moments, until Gryffindor gained the upper hand and piled snow down Tonks' robes. Leaping quickly out of the snow, Gryffindor flung her wand hand into the air and with a loud 'crack' the Knights Bus burst into sight.

Stan Shunpike stepped off the bus and began his speech, but broke off when he saw Gryffindor and Tonks, laughing and brushing snow off themselves. Glancing at Harry, he did a double take. "Neville! Good to see you mate. Good to see you're not a nutter no more."

"Stan, you know my name's not Neville," Harry said.

"Yeah, I do; but that one-" he pointed at Tonks, "-She threatened me last year."

"Right then, three tickets, Little Whinging, Surrey, please," Gryffindor said, tossing a bunch of coins at Stan and stepping onto the bus.

On the top level, Gryffindor seated Harry in a corner seat and sat down with Tonks, three seats ahead of him. They faced each other, Gryffindor facing Harry, and though Harry knew they were protecting him, he also got the distinct impression they were ignoring him. They seemed friends, and from the giggles they kept issuing, they were talking about boys. That's how Parvati and Lavender always sounded, anyways, when they were chatting about boys. Leaning forward, Harry could just hear what was being said.

"You are coming to the party, on New Year's?" Tonks was asking.

"Well, I've been asked, at the least, but not very enthusiastically. Molly never did like me. Thinks I corrupted her baby boy, Charlie."

"That was you what did? Thanks, mate," Tonks said with a raunchy laugh.

"Well, hello Nymphadora!" Gryffindor scored. Tonks reached out to smack her, but Gryffindor leaned out of reach. "How is dear Charlie, anyways? Haven't seen him since Hallowe'en."

"Yeah, Charlie said he'd seen you. With Malachi," Tonks said in a leading voice.

"Well, of course with Malachi. And Scratch."

Tonks made a nasty sound in her voice. "Bastard."

"I wouldn't let him hear you call him that, Tonks. He doesn't take kindly to it, since he thinks you mean something more than his personality."

"Fine. He's not pleasant, Gryff."

"He just has bad timing, Nymphie. So, about you and Charlie?"

"How's Malachi settling in?" Tonks redirected. Gryffindor shrugged. "Charlie says you two nearly dated, back before you left Ireland."

"We did?" Gryffindor asked, truly perplexed.

"That's what Charlie said. Malachi was going to ask you out, but then you just left."

"I didn't know that. We were close friends, though, before I turned seventeen and left Inishtogue."

"Yeah, so is he trying it out again? Bet he is, bet he's trying real hard!"

"So, Charlie and you?"

During this discussion, which had Harry's mind juggling priorities, the Knights Bus had been bursting in and out of neighbourhoods around the nation. Finally, the bus stopped in Little Whinging, just a block away from Privet Drive. Giving a one-handed salute to Stan and Ernie, Harry handled Hedwig's cage as Tonks, Gryffindor and he exited the bus.

Gryffindor and Tonks seemed to know where they were going, and one dog on Magnolia Cresecent, a particularly vicious one as well, actually wagged his tail and crept up to Tonks for a pat. "Made friends last summer," Tonks said as she patted the dog. Walking up to Number Four, Privet Drive was like a sick joke to Harry. The house and lawn were decorated for Christmas and for competition with the other houses in the neighbourhood. Even with lights and a giant nativity scene the Dursley's house seemed to announce that horrible people lived within.

"When will they learn?" Gryffindor asked. "Honestly, it's a lawn, not a helicopter landing pad. And that's the baby Jesus's birth scene, not a Las Vegas casino."

Hesitantly, Harry knocked on the front door. No one answered. "Do they know I'm coming?" Harry asked, and Tonks nodded. "Just open it, then." The Dursley's were not going to co-operate, although why they wouldn't answer the door was baffling. Tonks uttered the spell, and the door opened. "Hello?" Harry called as he entered the foyer.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were in the Living Room, watching the news. "Didn't hear you knock," Petunia said.

"Sure you didn't, Muggle," Gryffindor said. "Listen up, then, as I'll only be saying this once: This boy is to have no trouble while he's here, alright? He's here because your lives are in danger-"

"Because of him!" Uncle Vernon roared.

"Did you interrupt me?" Gryffindor asked curiously. "As I was saying, your lives are in danger because a monster wants you dead. Harry has nothing to do with the situation, only the timing. So, you will not harm him, bother him, yell at him, ask him to clean up, ask him to shovel the drive, and you will not, I repeat, will not allow him out of the house, under any circumstances, until the Weasley's come New Year's Eve."

"Professor, no one told me I'd be confined to the house all holiday," Harry protested.

"Does it make a difference, Potter?" she asked. "I expect you to follow orders, Potter, and to do as you're told. It's necessary. There will be people around, should you require assistance, and a large contingent of Auror's will be watching the house on Christmas Day," she continued. At Aunt Petunia's ugly gasp, she turned on her. "Oh? Sorry, does it bother you that people are giving up Christmas with their families to keep you safe?"

Aunt Petunia's face went ashen and she shook her head.

"Gryff, are you all right?" Tonks asked.

"Oh, it's the weather. Gods, but I can't I have a nice, warm Christmas, just once?" Gryffindor asked as she sat on the couch. With her wand, she conjured a tea set and began pouring tea. "Want some?" she asked the Dursley's.

"No, I want you freaks out of my house! This is a magic-free zone!" Vernon bellowed, making a box-shaped gesture with his arms.

"Here I am, offering you a cup of tea, and you yell at me? Call me a freak? That's not very polite, Dursley. I am a guest in your house."

"Professor, actually, we broke in, remember?" Harry asked, very amused at the situation. Gryffindor was, very effectively, poking fun at the Dursley's. Outside, a motor died. "Who's that?" he demanded, pulling the curtain back. "Oh, it's Dudley and Piers. Wands away."

Dudley and his friend pounded into the house and walked into the Living Room. "H'lo," Piers said, sidling onto the couch beside Tonks, who looked highly revolted. Harry could see her hand twitch towards her wand. "What's your shirt say?" Piers asked, in an attempt to lean towards her chest. Tonks pushed him away.

"It says I don't like buggers staring at my chest," she growled. "I'll go check around then, Gryff?" Gryffindor nodded, sipping a cup of tea with happiness.

"Why don't you boys go into the kitchen while I have a little chat with Mr. And Mrs. Dursley?" Gryffindor suggested. Piers was reluctant to leave, but Dudley seemed more than happy to abandon his parents to a person he knew was a witch. "You too, Potter," Gryffindor said in a no-nonsense voice that reminded him eerily of Professor McGonagall. And Hermione. And Mrs. Weasley. Quickly, he disappeared into the kitchen.

"Hey, Harry, who's that bird with the tits?" Piers demanded the moment Harry entered. "She's gorgeous, not like that other hag with you."

"Hey! Don't you talk about Professor Gryffindor like that!" Harry shouted. He could forgive Piers's comment about Tonks's chest- even he'd had a few fantasies- but he wouldn't allow him to insult Professor Gryffindor. Sure, she wasn't pretty, in a conventional way, but she wasn't a hag, certainly.

"Whatever, Potter," Piers said, a little undone at his reprimand. He went to the fridge and got a drink. "Got a girlfriend, Harry?"

"No," Harry replied shortly. Who has the time for a girlfriend?

"Don't worry, then, Harry. Girls don't like short, skinny lads like you. They like blokes like Big D and I," Piers said, draining some soda into his mouth.

"Yes. You've a real way with the ladies," Harry said dryly.

Tonks came into the kitchen and began rummaging in the drawers and cupboards. After a long look into the refrigerator, and a trip outside to the garden shed, she returned and sat at the table. "Clean. Unnaturally clean."

"What's your name, then, bird?" Piers asked Tonks. He was leering at her in a particularly stupid way, trying to seem as tall as he could while leaning against the cupboard.

"So, Harry, have a good holiday. Get some rest, mate, you look peaky," Tonks said, standing and ignoring Piers. She gave Harry a clap on the back and left the kitchen.

"Slag!" Piers hissed the moment Tonks's footsteps had stopped echoing.

"Sod off, you bugger!" Harry shouted, leaping to his feet. His fists, clenched, wanted nothing to do with his wand. He wanted to tear Piers apart, limb-by-limb.

"What's the matter, Potter?" Piers sneered. "She's just a girl."

"Just?" Harry asked. "Just? Tonks is not just anything!" He wanted to do even worse things to Piers now. It wasn't just Tonks and Professor Gryffindor; over the summer, Piers had been drooling over Ginny and Hermione. Had he said things like that about Ginny? He was about to leap on Piers- the very idea that he had said anything about Ginny making him crazy, never mind Hermione- when Professor Gryffindor, Uncle Vernon, and Aunt Petunia entered the kitchen.

"Going to kill him, Potter?" Gryffindor said with a laugh. "Toss the little bugger out, Dursley."

An awkward moment later Piers left in a huff, realizing that Mr. Dursley wasn't going to say anything. They could here his car revving, before it peeled off into the sunset.

"Good," Gryffindor nodded. "Well, Harry, good-bye. Tonks'll see you at the New Year's Eve party, as may I. Until then, what are you to do?"

Harry recited the mantra Gryffindor had pounded into their brains over term. "Head down, eyes everywhere. Do what you must. Move quickly, die quietly."

"Right! Well, except try not to die," Gryffindor smiled. "There's a lad."

Christmas was not going well, even by the dismal standards Harry had been setting for a Christmas with the Dursley's. He didn't do much but eat and sleep, two things he rarely got to do at school. He got a few letters from Ron, who told him that the joke shop was mad at Christmas, and Hermione, who told him things were going badly for her as well. Krum had broken up with her, citing that she never had time for him. Harry couldn't imagine Krum breaking up with Hermione, but he did accept Hermione's words about the matter: "He can take his ego and shove it. I'm too mature for him, that's what."

In addition to being dumped, she hadn't managed to see her parents yet, though she hoped to go home for Christmas Day, at least. Harry thought it funny; Hermione wanted to spend time with her family, but couldn't, while Harry was forced to spend time with his. The parchments Hermione was translating were of no use, she said, and she was nearly ready to kill Bill, who was perennially cheerful about the next parchment being 'the one'. "The only thing that keeps me going is the fact, plain as day, that soon I'll be facing the Killing Curse as well, I'm sure. I'll just have to redouble my efforts," she wrote. Harry thought it chilling, Hermione resigning herself to the Killing Curse, whether or not she was working furiously to find a counter to it.

Most of the time, he thought about something Piers had said, about Harry not having a girlfriend. Sure, he was short and skinny, though not so skinny as hungry, but that had never stopped girls from liking him in the past. Certainly he wasn't like Ron, who was taller and stronger than most of the boys in their year, and he didn't have Ron's low voice. But, Ron didn't have a girlfriend, either, although that might be because he couldn't decide who to date. According to Ron, every girl had some quality or feature that made her beautiful, even Millicent Bulstrode. "Half the girls make me think dirty thoughts, with a glance. The other half make me spout poetry."

"So, how do you choose one to date?" Harry had asked, laughing at the stupid grin Ron had been wearing at that moment.

"I look for the one who makes me want to spout limericks," Ron had answered, and with Seamus they walked into McGonagall's classroom, reciting the much-loved limerick about the girl who loved broomsticks. Gryffindor had lost thirty points for that.

Harry didn't think like Ron, though. Some girls were beautiful, and some weren't. Millicent Bulstrode was a cow, and so was Pansy Parkinson. Megan Jones was pretty, but she was vapid and annoying and simpering, and though not a cow, she was not beautiful. That's just what was. Ron was an oversexed nutter, thinking Bulstrode had redeeming qualities.

Some girls, on the other hand, like Lavender or Susan Bones, were beautiful. Lavender was gorgeous, and sweet, if a bit silly, but she always made Harry feel good when he talked to her. Susan Bones, though, was a different sort of beautiful; she had a pair of copper eyes, which mixed with her streaky blond and brown hair, made her look mysterious. She was the top Hufflepuff in their year, she could challenge anyone in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and she struck fear in the heart of many players on the Quidditch Pitch as a Hufflepuff Beater.

Unfortunately, other lads had figured this out about the girls. Lavender's lad, Curtus, didn't seem to be going anywhere, and Ron was currently working on Susan (Harry wasn't going to bother in that case). There was another girl he liked, but he wasn't insane. Ginny was completely off limits to him, being Ron's sister, and anyways, she was his friend. But, she was sweet in a stubborn way, and she wasn't a little girl anymore, with a little girls crush on a 'hero'. If Harry could think of a way to date her without incurring the wrath of the entire stock of Weasley brothers, Ginny would definitely be worth it.

On Christmas morning, however, Harry had other things to think about. Voldemort was supposed to attack today, and Harry, having slept all day on Christmas Eve, woke just after midnight and made his way downstairs, wand in hand. Checking to make sure the doors were locked- not much good that would do, but it gave a certain sense of safety- Harry wandered into the kitchen to make a sandwich. Aunt Petunia was already in the kitchen, though.

"Aunt Petunia," he acknowledge as he made his way to the breadbox. She glanced at him, and she seemed very tense. "Aunt Petunia, everything will be fine. This will probably be the safest place in England by sunrise."

"Yes, I'm sure. But you've never lived through an attack, you don't know what it's like," she whispered. "I have, I do. It's terrifying, and-" she broke off at a sound from upstairs. It was just Uncle Vernon going to the washroom.

"Actually, I have survived an attack. Several, actually," Harry said as he slid butter around his bread. Turning to rummage the fridge for meats, he continued. "Not sure how I've managed to stay alive, really, except for luck and this need to return here and torture you all for the summer."

Aunt Petunia managed to smile at that. The kettle boiled, and she made two cups of tea, putting to much sugar in Harry's. He didn't complain though, nearly touched that she would have bothered. He knew, however, that her kindness meant something: She wanted to talk to him about magic.

Indeed, she did stutter around a bit, before finding her voice. "I know it wasn't kind, keeping the truth from you, that you were a wizard. That wasn't my choice, though, it was Vernon's, and at first I agreed. It took a long time to get over your grandparents death, and your mothers as well, and as long as I couldn't mention magic, I didn't need to think of it." She paused and moved towards the window, staring out at the moon, just as she had during the summer. "But, the pain lessened, soon enough, and I wanted to tell you and Dudley about your grandparents... They were wonderful people, you understand, far too good to be killed by magic."

"You said Professor Snape killed them?" Harry asked. "What happened?"

Aunt Petunia returned to the table and grasped her cup in her hand, so hard it looked she might shatter it. "Early June, just after Dudley had been born, I had taken him to visit my parents in Bristol. Lily and your father, they had just gone into hiding, and our parents were upset. Lily was pregnant with you, and they were afraid-" Aunt Petunia's voice cracked. "They were afraid they would never see you." She began to cry, and Harry had no idea what to do.

"It's alright, Aunt Petunia, you don't have to tell me, if you can't."

"No! No, you deserve to know. I've told Dudley, this summer, after you left, although I'm not sure he understands, not like you will," she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. Eyes that had always seemed cold and mean before, now seeming haunted. "We were eating dinner late as Dudley had been screaming all evening and we had given up on eating with him asleep. The moon had just risen, and the clouds..." again she began crying. "Papa always called Lily and I his Moon Maidens," she explained brokenly.

After a moment, she managed to continue, although Harry wasn't sure he wanted her to. He had heard stories like this before, but always second-hand, from Neville, or from Ron or someone else who knew someone who had a story to tell.

"The door suddenly exploded, and three- things with hoods burst in. They didn't speak; just one raised his wand and killed mum and Papa. It was horrible, I was clutching Dudley to my chest and he was screaming, and I was screaming and mum and Papa were dead- I knew they were dead. And I was begging them, those monsters, not to hurt Dudley, begging them-" her voice, hollow and scraping against her throat, ended, as her eyes closed in the horror of memory. "The one who had killed my parents raised his hood and his face came into view. Sallow, with a hooked nose and eyes that bled with hate- but what caught me most was how young he was, barely old enough to be out of school, not any older than Lily and her friends. Barely older than my Dudley is now."

Harry didn't need to imagine what a young Snape looked like. "He was raising his wand to kill me, as well, and Dudley, when another one caught his arm. He said, 'Our orders were to kill the Mudbloods parents, no one else, Snape.' And with that two turned and left. Snape though, he leaned down and told me in that horrible, cold, exhausting voice to tell Lily that Severus said hi."

The kitchen was silent, except for Aunt Petunia's sobbing breathes. Harry was sitting as still as possible, trying not to run out of the house and scream, and keep screaming until he went back to Hogwarts and killed Snape. After a few minutes, Aunt Petunia left the kitchen, still crying, and made her way upstairs. Harry remained in the kitchen, trying to unsnarl his lip. He had promised Snape he wouldn't tell anyone, but that was when Harry had thought Snape had always been the cold, crisp bastard that he was now. He hadn't known about the emotion, the hate and the obvious zeal he had employed to kill his grandparents, as if in revenge. But then, maybe it was revenge.

Hours later, after the sun rose and Dudley had unwrapped all his presents, it seemed Ron's prophecy had been wrong. Or avoided. Harry wasn't sure. He pulled in a good bit of presents, but nothing really spectacular. It was nearly noon when a warning knock echoed through the house and a draft entered the Living Room. Dudley gave a squeak and dodged behind the couch as Harry drew his wand and ran into the corridor. There, in the foyer, were Kingsley Shacklebolt, Adam Scratch and a woman Harry didn't know.

"It's alright," Harry called into the Living Room. "What's going on?" he asked as the visitors shut the door and locked it with a Charm.

"I'll check upstairs," said the woman, and she took the stairs two by two.

"Hi Harry," Scratch said. "Bad news. Seems the attack on this house was a decoy. Death Eaters are attacking people around the country. Nearly forty deaths already, and we expect that to double by nightfall." Scratch said this in such a matter of fact way, Harry would think he didn't really care. "I'm not even supposed to be here- on my hols, you know- but what with Auror's being needed everywhere, I volunteered."

"Good thing, too. We need to keep the Death Eaters on their toes. Not sure if Dumbledore got bad information, or if there's a leak in the Ministry," Shacklebolt said, his voice carrying from the kitchen, which he was inspecting. "We had to pull quite a few of the Auror's guarding the house to free them to go elsewhere. We don't figure You-Know-Who still plans on attacking here, but all this could be a decoy to draw us away from the house, too."

"How many are left?" Harry asked, feeling a little dense. People were dying, and Shacklebolt thought it was a decoy?

"Eight, of an original twenty. Three inside, five outside," Scratch said. "It's good though. If the attacks are a decoy, then they've wasted time setting an attack on this house with our old defenses, and they can't be sure, yet, what we've got now. Buys us a bit of time. Damn cold out there, though," he prattled as he pushed Harry into the Living Room and pulled Dudley out from behind the couch. He patted Dudley down, and beckoned to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon that they too should stand for a pat down. Harry watched curiously as Uncle Vernon's face turned that hideous shade of puce as he allowed Scratch to pat him down.

"When'd the attacks begin?"

"Just an hour ago, really. Took us by surprise, the damage they've managed so far. Just goes to show how badly prepared the people are. The information kits the Ministry distributed were useless shit, really. 'Charm your doors locked at night.' Rubbish!" Scratch said in an annoyed voice.

"Shut up, Scratch," said the woman as she returned downstairs. "I helped set that pamphlet. Just because people are wizards doesn't necessarily mean they can do anything more than basic magic, you know."

"Sorry, Fletch. Oi, Harry, this is Kate Fletcher, the head Auror on this assignment," Scratch said.

"Hi," Harry said, shaking her hand. She seemed to be sizing him up. "I know, you thought I'd be taller?"

She grinned. "No, you just look remarkably like your father. Except the eyes," she said. "By the by, I've seen pictures of you, from Molly and Arthur, so I knew what you look like."

"Are you related to Dung?" Harry asked, and Fletcher rolled her eyes and nodded her head.

After the house was defended with Charms and whatnot, things Harry didn't even understand, though Scratch went out of his way to explain everything as best he could, even suggesting books Harry should read, everyone settled into the Living Room. Kingsley Shacklebolt walked Aunt Petunia back and forth between the Living Room and the kitchen, as she was cooking Christmas dinner. Dudley at first complained loudly that he wanted to go upstairs and play video games, but shut it quickly when Fletcher gave him 'the stare', as Scratch called it.

Uncle Vernon sat in his favourite chair, watching the telly and ignoring the intruders. His face never returned to a proper shade, and Harry was a bit concerned about his blood pressure. Harry and Scratch sat on the floor, playing Exploding Snap and drinking soda. When Harry asked if this was how things usually went when they were securing a building, Scratch nodded.

"Yeah. You wait, and wait, and wait, and finally the action starts, lasts a few minutes. Then you file a thousand pages of paperwork, in triplicate, and they send you out again. If you're going to become an Auror, invest in a good library, a deck of Exploding Snap, a portable Chess set, and the like, because its an awful wait."

"You'd rather be out there all the time, Scratch? Because, if I remember correctly, you work for the International Confederation of Warlocks," Fletcher said. "Your little more than a bounty hunter for wizards who've committed commercial crimes."

"I'm not, and you know it. You're just jealous that you trained me and I make more than you." Fletcher looked like she was going to say something angry, but the phone rang. Scratch picked up the extension, which had been resting on a side table. "Dursley's, Scratch here," he said, and Harry saw the look of horror Uncle Vernon got at the idea someone he knew may be talking to a wizard. "Who's asking? - oh, hello, Hermione. Yes, he's here. Have you heard the news? No? Well-" Scratch explained what was going on. "So don't answer the door unless you know who it is, and carry your wand with you at- oh, your uncle and aunt are there? Good, put them on." Scratch had the telephone ripped from his hands by Fletcher.

"Octavius, hello," Fletcher began, and she reiterated the 'situation'. After a few comments about Christmas and their children, she hung up. "Hermione says happy Christmas, Harry."

"Thanks," Harry replied, a bit undone that he didn't get to speak with Hermione. The doorbell rang. "What now?" Harry asked, exasperated at the continual interruptions in- wait, what did he care if someone wanted to interrupt?

"Some twat," Scratch said from the foyer. The doorbell rang again. "Well, Muggles, someone come tell me if you know him." Aunt Petunia, who was the least cowed by the presence of wizards, identified the intruder as Piers Polkiss. Scratch let him in.

"Just came to say happy Christmas, Duds, and to see what you got," Piers said, glancing strangely at the people assembled in the Living Room. "Who're they?"

"Family," Harry answered.

"Even him?" Piers asked, pointing at Kingsley Shacklebolt. Shacklebolt raised a menacing eyebrow.

"Yeah, he's Aunt Petunia's older brother," Harry answered with a small grin. He wasn't sure who lost colour more quickly, Aunt Petunia at the thought of being related to Shacklebolt, or Shacklebolt at the idea of being related to Aunt Petunia.

"Best if you leave," Fletcher said. "We're just catching up on family things. Very boring," she promised.

"Er- yeah, alright. Call me later, Big D." After he left, Scratch relocked the door.

"No more visitors, alright?" Shacklebolt said. "Don't care if it is Christmas."

"I must say, you're all being incredible slack. It's as if you don't care what happens to my family," Aunt Petunia said.

"Don't, really," Scratch said, examining the Christmas tree. He accidentally dropped an ornament that broke. "Whoops," he said. "Well, it was ugly anyways." Aunt Petunia gasped; Dudley had made that ornament in class. "Haven't you got anything good to do here?" Scratch complained.

"Scratch, shut up," Fletcher warned. "No one's amused by your spoilt self."

"I am," Scratch said. "So's Harry. We bonded a few weeks ago."

Hours later, Scratch and Fletcher were still bickering back and forth. Even Dudley was rolling his eyes in annoyance. Dinner was over, and the Auror's were expecting an all clear soon. A knock on the door brought forward Remus Lupin.

"Hello, Harry. Petunia," he said in a biting voice. Bad blood there, Harry mused. "The attacks have subsided. Seventy-nine dead, over four hundred admitted to St. Mungo's. Twenty Death Eaters were taken prisoner. Those who knew about a possible attack on this house say the plan was scratched when Harry came here for Christmas. We'll hold a guard, Mad-Eye heading it, but it's strictly Order members. The Ministry is out."

Sighs of relief came from everyone in the room, even the Muggles.

"Seventy-nine died?" Harry asked. "That's a lot," was all he could say.

"Er- not really, Harry. Back before, the daily average was about fifty, and that was just regular operations. This was an orgy of pent-up brutality," Fletcher said. She turned to Remus. "How's Gracie?"

"She's fine. Had a great day with the Weasley's, I heard," Lupin said. He turned to Harry. "We'll leave you now, but the Weasley's will be here to pick you up on New Year's Eve. Be ready around three, okay?" With that, and cursory, exhausted good-byes, the weary warriors left the Dursley's house.

After that, Harry just went to bed. He was exhausted, upset that so many had died, worried that things may become like it was, with fifty dying a day, and oddly disappointed that nothing had happened. It didn't make sense that the entire country had had combat, but Privet Drive, with the biggest prize of all, would have been left unMarked. He felt almost let down, because he'd wasted his whole holiday just to hear Fletcher and Scratch argue.

For the next few days, the Daily Prophet was so thick it took enormous owls to deliver it, and that was without the Arts & Leisure, the funnies, the weather, the sports and the classifieds, and most frightening, without adverts. The world really had gone mad.

Screening the list of dead and captured, there weren't many names Harry recognized. Stan Shunpike, dead, 24. Harry nearly cried at the death of such an absurd person. Antonin Dolohov was captured, which made Harry's teeth set in grim satisfaction, remembering the slashing motion of the Death Eaters wand, and that he had nearly killed Hermione. Harry had the unpleasant job of telling the Dursley's that Mrs. Figg was badly injured in an attack on her daughter's house in Lancashire; her daughter and son-in-law died. Cuthbert Mockridge, a liaison with the Goblin's, also died; the Prophet attributed the attack on his family to progress made in the campaign to freeze all suspected Death Eater bank accounts.

Days passed, and while there were ongoing attacks, the casualties weren't as bad as on Christmas Day; five dead on Boxing Day, seven on the twenty-seventh, eleven on the twenty-eighth and ninth, and six on the thirtieth. On the thirty-first, when the Weasley's picked him up, Harry was in a fairly normal mood, no longer fazed by the cruelty visited on so many people.

Ron and Mr. Weasley came by in a Ministry car, which was packed with Auror's. It took them to a house in a nearby neighbourhood, from which they Flooed to The Burrow at a pre-arranged time. The security and exact timing of it all impressed Harry very much; Mr Weasley told him that the entire Floo Network had been shut down for a few seconds while the party traveled, except for the route they took.

At The Burrow everyone was happy to see Harry, and he liked that. Ginny waved from the stairs where she was reading a book, and Bill, Fred and George joked around with him for a few minutes before they left to get their dates. Charlie, however, was the happiest to see Harry.

"That bugger Ron's been driving me mad. All he wants to do is play Chess, and I haven't managed to win a game against him since he was ten," he explained. "Besides, I've got to go for a few minutes."

"Picking up Tonks?" Harry asked innocently, and protested his innocence quite loudly as Charlie put him in a headlock and rubbed his head with his knuckles. The evening was off to an excellent start.

"Damn women," Charlie muttered as he laced his boots. "Don't know why I bother with her, really. Chirpy, that one, and clumsy too." Just the same, Charlie reappeared- over an hour later than he said he'd be- with Tonks in tow. Although they didn't appear overly friendly, Harry didn't suspect they were fooling anyone, though, since he felt rather uncomfortable walking between the looks the two were giving each other. Adults are so obvious. Not like Harry; he'd been covertly chatting Ginny up all night. He'd even managed to touch her arm without any Weasley male being the wiser, although they were all busy with their pursuits at the moment.

Susan Bones was at the party with her parents, and Ron had taken the opportunity to show her 'around', which apparently meant upstairs where there were no adults. Fred and George had brought their dates, a set of pretty brown-haired twins named Carrie and Sharrie, who seemed to like giggling a lot. But they were very pretty. Bill had broken up with Fleur in the fall, and already had a new girlfriend, Andrea, who had red hair and was well received by Mrs. Weasley.

Hermione wasn't lacking for company, either, because there were several boys just older than them at the party. Hermione was constantly introducing Harry to "Elden," or "Theodore," or "Jason," or one of a dozen posh looking boys with good accents and better jobs. He didn't recognize any of them, and he didn't like the way "Jason" seemed to treat him as if he were intruding. "Oh, look, Hermione, Oliver Wood's here. Let's go chat, shall we?" Hermione had given Harry a 'look', and he had made his way to Oliver on his own. Not that he minded, really, since Ginny seemed happy to talk with him.

Professor McGonagall was there, as was Sprout, O'Neill and Flitwick. Professor Gryffindor came at ten to twelve and disappeared with a bottle of beer into a corner. Harry had been about to go and say hi when Professor O'Neill held him back. "She doesn't like parties much, gets anxious around so many people, Potter. As well, her team lost an important hockey game today. She's like to bite your head off." It seemed he was telling the truth because Professor Gryffindor sat in the corner by herself, looking rather apprehensive at the crowd. Bill's girlfriend introduced herself and backed away very slowly. Professor O'Neill, Tonks and Charlie, who seemed to know her best, made sure her beer bottle was replenished but left her alone. When the countdown started, though, Professor O'Neill made his way over to her, obviously hoping to cheer her up with a traditional kiss. Harry smiled at how obvious the adults were, turned, and realized he was facing Ginny.

"THREE- TWO- ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!" All around them, people were kissing.

"Er- er!" Harry grunted, then finally came to his senses and kissed her.