Harry Potter & the Second War

Harry laid his quill down on the table for the fifth time that night. The blank paper that sat across from him on his desk was illuminated softly by the glow of his table lamp, but no inspiration as to what to write on it came. He looked back over at Hermione's letter that was waiting to be answered next to him. It had been her sixth one sent. Harry's glance shifted over to the pile of letter, some of them unopened, stacked next to Hedwig's cage.

Harry didn't know what to do. He had been sent letter after letter, most from Ron and Hermione, a few from Remus, two from the Twins, updating him on the business successes of their Joke Shop, and even one from Tonks, but all of them were left on his desk not replied to. It was not that he wanted his friends to worry about him. It was just that he couldn't really face them at the moment. Any sentence he wrote to Hermione or Ron looked wrong to him. He couldn't say he was doing well because he wasn't. He couldn't talk about his summer vacation because there was honestly nothing important to say.

The Dursleys, Harry was rather relieved to note, had been more then suitably intimidated by the warnings Mad Eye had made to them regarding their treatment of him over the summer at their house. They had started making a habit of not talking to him and avoiding him when they could. Dudley was so scared that the usual appearance of Harry was enough to send him tip-toeing out of the room, as if making noise might provoke Harry to call the Order of the Phoenix in to hex him.

It wasn't all that great feeling as if he was the only person in the household whenever Harry ventured downstairs, but then again, at least they were leaving him alone and letting him eat what he wanted to now. It was one of the few things that were good about the summer: being able to eat crisps and drink soda in front of the still dieting Dudley.

Harry picked up his quill again and looked thoughtfully down at his paper. Perhaps he could tell Hermione about that. She had, after all, been one of the people providing him with food for the previous two years. It would be good for her to hear that he was finally getting something better then celery sticks.

Harry dipped his Eagle Feather quill into its ink well and started to write out a sentence:

Hermione -

Sorry for not answering back sooner. I've been busy.

Harry frowned at that. No, that was a lie. He hadn't been busy. All he'd been doing was sitting around the house and watching the News Stations on TV. He balled up the paper, got a new one, dipped his quill again, and tried once more.

Hermione -

Thanks for the letters. I'm glad to hear about your trip to the States coming up. I hope it all goes well for you.

Harry looked approvingly at the letter so far. Yes, that wasn't sounding so bad. He stooped over the paper more eagerly and continued:

You might be pleased to know that the Dursleys are letting me eat whatever I want now. The Order's threat seemed to have scared them all pretty well.

Harry frowned slightly. Would it be too dangerous for him to mention the Order of the Phoenix? Hedwig might be intercepted. Just then a burning pain erupted from his scar. Harry winced, dropped his quill, and rubbed his fingers on it wearily. It had been hurting nearly nonstop now, ever since the night Voldemort had been discovered and Sirius had...

His hand that had been massaging his scar curled into a fist. He hit his forehead hard in an attempt to drive out the horrible images from the Department of Mysteries. He forced himself to focus his attention back on the unfinished letter in front of him, but it looked too happy to him now. It was all too casual. Surreal. He felt as if he was betraying his Godfather by writing to Hermione as if nothing had happened. A familiar anger took him. How could everyone be so calm about this? In all the letters addressed to him, not one mentioned Sirius. It was as if his memory had been erased. Even Remus, Sirius's closest friend, didn't say anything about him. Were they all doing it for his sake, or had they all really forgotten what had happened in the Department of Mysteries - how she had killed him?

Hermione's letter was crumpled in his hands before he had any second thoughts. Bellatrix Lestrange had been her name. The faded photo that had been sitting in Kreacher's den appeared in Harry's mind. Dark and heavy lidded, she possessed some of the same physical distinctions Sirius had had. The idea of it only infuriated Harry more. 'Aaaaah.... Did you love him, little baby Potter?' her voice taunted in his mind. Harry wondered vaguely what Hermione's reaction would be if he told her that he had cast an Unforgivable Curse. He didn't even know how he had done it. In his fourth year, the fake Moody had said that the Cruciatus curse required a lot of power behind it, but all Harry had felt when he cast it was inexpressible anger. It hadn't been enough though. According to Lestrange, 'righteous' anger wouldn't hurt people for long.

Harry pushed back his chair and turned off his lamplight, plunging his room into darkness. Every second he spent at Privet Drive made him want to leave it even more. He was too bored. Having nothing to do caused him to think too much, and thinking too much caused him to fall even more into depression. Alone, his mind was allowed to freely wander, and Harry had enough problems as it was sleeping, with the nightmares that continued to plague him. They switched from the Graveyard and Cedric's death to the dimly lit corridors of the Department of Magic where Sirius fell through the veil and died, and ended always with the triumphant faces of Lord Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry had tried to drain his mind every night before falling asleep like Snape had told him, but either his mind was just too active or his will just too weak.

As his eyes adjusted more to the dark, Harry looked over to the unanswered stack of letters again. It looked oddly higher in the moonlight. He would maybe try to tackle a few of them tomorrow when he had had some rest.

Getting up, he shifted through the various mess littered on his floor. He hadn't had the motivation to clean any of it up yet. He went over to a calendar that was nailed up on his wall. It was one of the only wall decorations he had. Taking a red marker hanging from its side, Harry marked out another day on it.

It was mid-July now. Professor McGonagall had said that they would be receiving their O.W.L.s sometime during the month, but Harry had gotten nothing as of yet. The suspense was beginning to build up in him. He seemed pretty confident that he had gotten an 'Outstanding' in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but that was about the only thing he was sure of. In Divination he would be surprised if he had even managed an 'Acceptable', it didn't really bother him as much as Potions. Potions was what really had him worried. In order to qualify for a career as an Auror, he had to somehow achieve at least five N.E.W.T.s, and Professor McGonagall had already told him that one of the classes needed was Potions, which he could only continue in if he had somehow managed an 'Outstanding' in his O.W.L.s, something which Harry doubted extremely.

Harry walked over to his bed and got in, pulling his covers up over him and staring dully at the ceiling of his room that he could barely make out. He tried emptying his mind, but every time pictures of Sirius and Lestrange appeared unwanted. What he wouldn't do for one of Madam Pomfrey's Sleeping Drafts like she had given him his Fourth Year at Hogwarts. At least then he could be able to spend a night without worrying about unwanted visions and nightmares. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to focus on a sound in the room. It was completely silent except for the occasional noise of a car passing. He kept listening for a while, until finally, unbidden, sleep took him.

____________________________________________

Harry woke up the next morning feeling, if anything, more tired then when he went to sleep. He had had a fitful rest and kept on going in and out of the dream world. The third time this occurred, his mind had finally shut down, and he dreamed again of the graveyard. Constantly, in his ears, Voldemort's voice was shrilly taunting, 'bow to death, Potter' and a crying image of Cho was berating him, yelling 'How can you be so insensitive when you saw him die! I suppose you just want to forget about it all!' He had awaked shouting as the body of Sirius fell limply through the veil again. The cackling laugh of triumph from Bellatrix Lestrange followed him even after he had awaked.

It was almost noon by the time Harry made it downstairs to the Dursleys. Usually his Uncle Vernon would've been pounding angrily on his door if he hadn't been up a good three hours ago, but apparently he was too worried about what Harry might report to the Order of the Phoenix to carry on the tradition. Harry tromped down the stairway and over to the kitchen for something to eat. He was surprised to find Aunt Petunia there. She had a bag of groceries in arm and was in the process of setting it down when he had come in. She looked up, and there was a papery crashing sound as she knocked the bag over. Apples scattered out of it and onto the floor, letting out small, sharp thuds when they hit.

Harry automatically stooped down to gather them up for his aunt. This made him come within reaching distance to Aunt Petunia, which seemed to scare her. She backed away from him quickly and said nothing as he put the apples back into the bag.

Harry straightened and looked over at her. Her arms were crossed and she was chewing on her lip, causing him to frown. Harry still didn't know quite how to act around her anymore. The atmosphere between them had changed somehow. He wasn't sure exactly what was to be meant by it. The memory of her opening up for once and revealing her knowledge of some of the Wizarding world was still fresh in his mind even if it had been a whole summer ago. He had been meaning to ask her about it again- about how much she knew- but now that he knew who sent her the Howler, he had no excuse to bring it up. Also he had a feeling that she wouldn't have said anything even if he asked. Whenever she saw him, she seemed as if determined above anything else to pretend he wasn't around. It was even worse when Uncle Vernon was there because Harry'd be sent furious glares throughout her whole discomfort. Never had Harry ever felt so unwanted in his life. He wished for the hundredth time that he could talk to Sirius again.

With this thought, the familiar dark weight on his chest returned again. Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly before going to the fridge and opening it.

Last year an action like this would've been out of the question. To go through the refrigerator without the Dursley's permission was an unspeakable sin for Harry, but since they had all been too busy treating him like an unwanted piece of furniture and ignoring everything he did, he figured he might as well take it to his advantage a bit. They hadn't objected to him doing it yet, anyway.

Harry rummaged around a bit and took out some left over ham from dinner the night before, deciding to make himself a sandwich. He turned around and opened one of the drawers to get a knife.

Aunt Petunia was busying herself with putting up food, trying her best to avoid any part of the kitchen Harry was resigning. Harry shot a glance back at the kitchen table as he smeared mayonnaise onto a piece of bread. He noticed a shoebox on it. Probably new shoes for Dudley, he thought with a pang of bitterness.

Harry had bought himself a pair of shoes at Hogsmeade last fall, but those were wearing out fast. Already the first hole had appeared at the heel. It was only a matter of time until he would be forced to resort to walking around the house in socks again. Getting out a plate, Harry carried his lunch over to the table and sat down to eat.

He had only gotten to his first bite though when Aunt Petunia spoke.

"Those are for you," she said.

Her voice seemed really loud to Harry even though the words had been spoken at almost as a whisper. He choked a bit on his food. "Pardon?" he coughed.

Aunt Petunia looked swiftly over her shoulder at the window. "The shoes," she impatiently. She nodded her head over to the innocent looking box in front of Harry on the table.

Harry blinked at his aunt then at the box. He put down his sandwich and hesitantly reached over to it. The box was slightly heavier then he had anticipated and he hurriedly bent his elbows and put it down in front of him. He glanced at Aunt Petunia again, who was chewing her lip and watching. Bracing himself, he opened the lid and peered inside, moving bits of white paper that the shoes came wrapped in out of the way.

His hands dropped to the sides of the box. They were not only shoes but also brand new ones. His aunt and uncle had never ever, in all of his years of living with them, given him anything new, especially something that was as nice as these. Smelling of rubber, Harry took one of the pair of sneakers out and inspected it more closely. It was white and the label read his size.

When had he ever told Aunt Petunia his size? Harry put the shoe back in the box confusedly.

"I had to guess your size," his aunt said stiffly. "You'll have to make do with them if they don't fit. I'm not going back out to get you another pair."

"Er, thanks," Harry said, not sure how else to respond.

"You can just throw the ones you have on away," his aunt continued. "And don't think I'm doing this for any other reason then just to keep up a good face to the neighbors. Don't want them gossiping that we're in financial trouble or such." She stole another glance out the doorway.

Harry was tempted to mention the fact that they hadn't cared any last summer when his toes were sticking out of his last pair but held it back. He took off his old shoes, replacing them with the new ones from the box and laced them up. They pinched his feet a little, but he could probably break them in. He opened his mouth to say thank you again, but Aunt Petunia had gone over to the sink, turned on the water loudly, and was scrubbing fiercely at a pan.

Harry left the kitchen and went into the living room to catch the updates on the news. He had made it his solemn duty to check it every day two to three times to see if Voldemort had made his appearance in the Muggle world. As of yet, no suspicious reports had been made that would hint at it. Harry guessed that he was still buying his time and waiting until his forces were bit stronger before launching an attack on the non-Wizard community. He had already started making his move in the Wizarding world. In the Daily Prophet, news was still a buzz over an attack on Gringotts a week ago by four Death Eaters. A small number of Goblins had been wounded in the skirmish as the Death Eaters took out the Muggle-Wizard Money Exchange counters and destroyed all the Muggle currency stored there. The whole attack had cost Gringotts many thousands of galleons worth in damage. Sources seemed to suggest that they had had insider help.

Harry went over all the facts in his mind to make sure he remembered it all. It wasn't too hard to figure out why Voldemort had attacked that section of Gringotts. It must have irked him a lot knowing Muggleborns and Muggles alike were free to buy and sell in Diagon Alley. Hermione's parents had been there once or twice themselves, and Bill had talked with Mr. Weasley more then a few times about the Muggle money traffic increasing considerably in the last decade. They had just been in the process of adding in a second vault when the attack had happened.

Harry sat down on the couch with the remote and started flipping through the channels until he found the news. The weather forecast was on at that moment with the weatherman predicting rain for most of the next week. Harry sighed and got more comfortable on the couch, allowing his eyes to shut for a moment. Minutes slipped by, and Harry was just starting to nod off when the News Special about studies in chimp behavior ended. A picture of a middle-aged man with untidy blonde hair and an icy frown appeared on the screen followed by three others below him. Harry blinked sleepily at their faces.

"- Officials reported the break out last night around one o' clock in the morning." The convicts' names were shown below their pictures: Antonin Dolohov, Walden McNair, Rabastan Lestrange, and Lucius Malfoy. "-If spotted, the Police warn that they could be armed and---"

Harry leaped up from the couch and knelt down right in front of the screen, not daring to believe what he was seeing. He rubbed his eyes fiercely to drive off the sleepiness and stared.

"--Local residences are advised to contact authorities immediately through the hotline number if they have any information regarding their whereabouts." A eight hundred number flashed at the bottom of the screen.

"In other news, Zoologist Tony Kemble...."

The pictures of Malfoy's and the other faces faded from the screen but remained alive in Harry's mind as he turned off the TV shakily. His immediate impulse was to get up and write a letter to Ron and Hermione, but then a sudden feeling of shame came over him as he thought back to all the letters stacked on his desk. How could he have been so stupid to ignore them like he had? He knew he had to see them at Hogwarts. Hermione would maybe be able to understand him, but he was sure Ron wouldn't. How could he convey to him just how sick he felt in the stomach talking about such frivolous things, especially after all that he had seen and found out. The words of Dumbledore concerning his prophecy hadn't left him. He hadn't told Ron and Hermione because he wasn't sure they should know. Can Ron and Hermione really understand something like that? That he was a marked man, doomed to kill or be killed? It seemed too hard for even him to swallow. And now the Death Eaters had escaped. Harry had read in the Daily Prophet that their hearings were to be held this very weekend. The question of how they had done it was eating away at him in his mind. Sirius would know. But then he remembered that Sirius wasn't alive anymore to tell him.

"Is....everything alright?" questioned his aunt from behind him.

Harry blinked and pushed back his thoughts. He turned his head to look at his aunt.

She was standing in the doorway of the family room holding a damp kitchen towel and watching him apprehensively. Her eyes were wider then usual, and it was the second time Harry had made direct eye contact with her like this. He must've appeared strange to her, Harry realized, off in a daze, facing a blank TV.

He scooted away from the TV and got up from the ground. "Four Death Eaters have escaped from Azk.... from that prison in... you know... my world," he said calmly, choking back the word 'Azkaban' so not to upset her more.

Aunt Petunia's bony face went paler. The word 'Death Eater' seemed to have registered somewhere in her mind. "Escaped?" she asked breathlessly. "But I thought that those, those things guarded it."

"Left it," said Harry with a shake of his head. "They joined up with Voldemort."

Aunt Petunia's expression was hard to read. She made a shifty-eyed glance at all the windows around them as if to spy around and see if any of them were prowling outside her house. She opened her mouth to speak then closed it, looking torn.

She was interrupted from making a decision of whether or not to say something when the doorbell rang. Both Harry and she jumped at the loud, unexpected noise. For a moment they just stood there, waiting for the other to break the silence.

"I'll go get it," Harry offered, sliding his hand in his pocket and gripping his wand for reassurance.

He walked past Aunt Petunia and went towards the entrance hall. The doorbell rang again, and Harry felt a creeping sense of foreboding. It wasn't Uncle Vernon. He wasn't due to be home from work until five, and even if he did come home early, there would be no point in ringing the doorbell of his own house. Harry thought of more possibilities. The neighbors, perhaps? Dudley's friends? But Dudley was already gone for the day. Miss Figg, maybe? Or perhaps a salesman.

Harry silently scowled himself. He was being silly. Did he really think that escaped Death Eaters or Voldemort would be waiting for him? As if they'd bother ringing the doorbell and ask to be let in? Besides, Dumbledore had promised him that his Aunt and Uncle's house was one of the safest places.

Harry reached the door and took a deep breath before looking thought the peek hole.

An elderly woman with tightly curled gray hair that wore a purple hat shaped like a porkpie was standing outside the door, rummaging though her purse. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and reached for the door handle when the woman pulled out a wand.

"Alohamora!" she said clearly.

Warning bells exploded in Harry's mind. He pulled out his own wand as the door went swinging open, nearly clipping him in the chest as he jerked back out of the way. He backed up and tripped over the tassel of one of Aunt Petunia Oriental rugs as the old woman advanced. She stretched her arm out towards him as he fell sharply to the ground, dropping his wand. It went rolling away and out of his reach.

Harry's scar pounded into his forehead. Was this sensation going to be the last he ever had? A pain in his scar and then the rushing wind of death? What about his Aunt Petunia? He had to warn her to run. He had to--

The gnarled hand of the old woman clasped over his wrist and Harry was pulled roughly to his feet. "Wocher, Harry," she said merrily as he stared up into her twinkling, currently green eyes. "Been having a fun summer?"

Realization dawned on Harry as he recalled the time Tonks had helped escorted him last year from Grimmauld as an old woman. The fact that she was a Metamorphmagus and able to change her appearance at will had escaped his mind until now. Harry let out the breath he had been holding back without knowing it and smiled for the first time in ages at Tonks.

"Hello, Tonks," he greeted.

Tonks grinned back at him and shut the door behind her. She went over to retrieve his wand, which had fallen behind the umbrella stand by the door and ended up knocking it over. "Oops, sorry about that." She set the stand back upright, retrieving the stray umbrellas that had spilled out and putting them back in. "Here's your wand, love," she said, tossing Harry's wand at him. "Might do well to not be so clumsy with it."

Harry caught it in the air and tried not to roll his eyes. A lecture on clumsiness just didn't seem the right one for Tonks to be giving him.

The horsey face of his Aunt Petunia appeared from the family room as she peered at them. Seemingly deeming old lady Tonks as not threatening, the rest of her appeared, minus the kitchen towel. With the familiar brisk, aloofness that she usually possessed whenever someone like Miss Figg was over at her house, she approached Harry and Tonks calmly. She looked Tonks up and down. Her eyes strayed for a particular while on her porkpie purple hat.

"May I help you?" she asked Tonks.

Tonks caught Harry's glance for a moment and both of them tried not to laugh. If Aunt Petunia had only known who Tonks was without the disguise, she would've acted much differently. "Actually, you can," she said. "If it would be alright with you, I'd like to speak with Harry here for a while alone outside."

Aunt Petunia stiffened. "Outside? Why? Do you know each other?"

"More or less. Yes."

This seemed to confirm Aunt Petunia's suspicions. "You won't be drawing any attention to yourselves, will you?" she demanded, her meaning clear.

"If you mean use magic, no, I don't think so. Wizards and witches aren't allowed to do magic in broad daylight around Muggles. I just came to chat with Harry for a bit."

Aunt Petunia looked at Tonks as if she had just uttered a string of filthy words. Harry couldn't help but wonder what it would've been like if his Uncle Vernon were there at the moment. To hear three words that were forbidden to be said in their house since Harry was a baby would've caused him a huge shock, no doubt. Aunt Petunia, however, was just looking like she had swallowed something rather green and slimy and was trying hard not to spit it out.

"Don't worry, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, wanting to reassure her, fearing that she might throw Tonks out if she said anything else about the Wizarding world. "We'll keep our voices down."

Aunt Petunia looked as if this wasn't very believable to her and she'd much rather refuse to let him, but clearly the lack of the usual support of Uncle Vernon made her uneasy. She gave a forced bob of her head to Harry, which he could only deduce to be a yes.

He turned towards the door, which Tonks opened for him, kicking over the umbrella stand again as she did. "See you around then," he said to his aunt.

Once outside, Tonks began to briskly stroll down the Dursley's driveway with Harry following after her. When they got onto the sidewalk and began to make their way down towards Magnolia Crescent, Harry decided to break the silence.

"So where are we going?" he asked.

"To the park," answered Tonks as she straightened her hat, "to meet up with Remus."

"Professor Lupin?" Harry felt a leap of joy in his chest. "How's he doing? Is he alright?"

"No, not really. He's been up the walls about you, in fact; nothing but fretful for the past few weeks," Tonks stated matter-of-factly.

Harry frowned. "Why's that?"

Tonks gave him an exasperated look. "Don't play innocent, Harry. Didn't we tell you to write to us every three days? You're lucky that Dumbledore was so insistent that you were left alone, or Remus would've stormed the place by now. Right insensitive of you to not write to us to tell us you're alright, especially with all the Death Eater activities popping up. Remus has been worried sick. You're all that he has, you know, now that Sirius is gone."

Harry had the decency to try and look ashamed, but he didn't really feel it. After all, he was under no obligation to have to write to them. Was it so wrong that he wanted to be left alone some? He hadn't asked Professor Lupin to worry about him. Surprised at his own contempt, Harry pushed these thoughts aside. "So how's the Order doing?" he asked.

"Oh, everyone's fine, I guess. The war's been keeping us all busy, Dumbledore in particular. It's a lot easier now, though, with the Ministry behind us. Cornelius has practically given Dumbledore full reigns to do as he pleases. Bout time the old prat got some sense."

"Did you hear about the Death Eaters escaping?"

Tonks smirked. "Of course. It's one of the main reasons why Remus and I are here. Can't say too much though; might be overheard. We'll talk more about it when we reach Remus. Speaking of which, that should be him now. Should've known he couldn't wait like a good boy."

A dusty haired man in a tattered gray coat was walking towards them from the park. Upon seeing them, he quickened his pace and reached Harry before he was quite prepared, and took him up in an embrace.

Harry, having been devoid of human contact for nearly a solid month now, was very taken back by this unexpected display of affection. He also was surprised to notice that he was to Lupin's shoulder now. He wondered how he had grown so tall so quick. When Lupin let him go and backed up, his hands on his shoulders, Harry suddenly felt a sickening wave of guilt at the hurt expression on his face. Lupin waited for a while to speak, allowing Harry to squirm uncomfortably under his reprimanding gaze.

"Well," Lupin said at last. "I'm waiting for an explanation about why you didn't answer any of my owls."

Harry avoided his eyes and looked guiltily at his new shoes. "I, er." He felt his face burn. All the reasons and explanations he had practiced in his mind seemed to slip away from him as soon as he tried to put them together. "It's complicated."

"So Dumbledore said it would be," Lupin stated dryly, eyes still glued accusingly on Harry. "But no matter how complicated your reasoning is, it gives you no right to create such unnecessary problems for the Order like you have. Mad Eye was all for sending out a full Wizarding Squad to get you, I'll have you know."

"Now don't exaggerate, Rem," Tonks suddenly piped up. "He only suggested sending a full Wizarding Squad, and that was before Dumbledore told us to leave Harry alone for a bit. You were the only one having kittens about the whole thing."

"Did I ever mention that you talk to much, Nymphadora?" Lupin quipped, sending a glare her way.

"Quite often," Tonks said coolly. "However, the heart wrenching lecture that you have, no doubt, been practicing on all month, really should be held off until we get to the Burrow and away from prying eyes."

"We're going to the Burrow?" asked Harry loudly, not daring to believe his ears.

Tonks winced and put her finger to her mouth in warning. "Not so loud, please."

"Do you have the Portkey ready?" Lupin asked grimly.

"Right here, Remus." Tonks patted her pocket with a wink. "You sure you can handle the aunt long enough to get his things?"

"I think I'll manage it," Lupin said confidently.

"Guess we'll leave it all to you then." Tonks reached into her pocket and pulled out an old, cracked pair of glasses. "Don't hang around too long. The anti-Apparating barrier's going up at six."

"Don't worry. I'll be fine," Remus soothed. He looked over at Harry again. "I will be seeing you at the Burrow soon, Harry, and don't think you've skived out of trouble yet. I still have quite a few things to talk to you about."

Remus turned and nodded his head at Tonks. "See you around, Tonks."

"Take care, Remus," Tonks said.

She waved merrily as the werewolf left them, heading towards Privet Drive. She didn't take her hand down until he was out of sight.

"Guess we'd better be off then," Tonks stated. She looked around them for any Muggles and pulled Harry by the sleeve behind a mailbox of a house with a 'For Sale' sign in front of it. The broken glasses in hand, she pulled out her wand and tapped it twice. The silver frames along the glasses glowed gold as she held it out to Harry. "Take this, will you, Harry?"

Harry hesitated.

"Don't worry, it's not set to go off for another three minutes. I want you to look at something first."

Harry took the glasses as Tonks felt around her pockets for something. She pulled out a faded piece of paper with familiar loopy writing on it.

Ottery St. Catchpole

Devon, U.K.

The Burrow

"Hurry up and memorize it," Tonks commanded as she handed the note to him and took the glasses back. Harry stared at the note, wondering why he was doing this. He already knew, after all, where the Weasleys lived. Or did he? The address suddenly looked new to him. He quickly scanned and memorized it.

"You good?" Tonks asked after a little while.

Harry nodded, reciting the words in his head. Tonks snatched the paper up in his hands and ignited it with her wand. Soon all that was left of it was a few flecks of ashy remains on the pavement.

Tonks pulled Harry's arm towards her and peered at his watch. "We have about a minute left. Get ready now." She reached over and held onto the glasses in Harry's hand. Time went slowly and Harry's palms started itching with sweat. He was resisting the urge to wipe them on his jeans when he felt it-- the familiar jerk in his navel and the sudden whoosh of the world falling behind him as he sped off with Tonks towards the Burrow.