Harry Potter and the Rise of the Phoenix

Chapter One ~ The Prisoner

I'm slipping off the edges.

I'm hanging by a thread.

I wanna start this over again.

~Simple Plan: Untitled

A young man wandered the wet streets of Little Whinging. His emerald eyes sought out others his age having fun with their friends. The young man noticed everyone on the street, but he only stared at other teens, and only when they were in groups. As for those that noticed him, they saw a loner. But few actually did; he wasn't the type of person you noticed. If anything, he was the sort of person you look at once, and then look away, embarrassed for him. He was almost always muttering to himself. His clothes were old and worn, hand-me-downs by the look of them. He was pallid looking and extremely thin, under-weight even.

The man had shown up on the streets just two days ago. He was most often seen on the streets around Privet Drive, and mothers there told their children to stay away from him. He looked dangerous. He looked insane. He looked to be haunted by something, if not several something's. They weren't far off, though this young man would never hurt their children. He didn't hurt kids. He was only dangerous to his enemies. Harry smiled ruefully. He had many enemies, every last one of them out for his blood.

Voldemort.

That one name made Harry's blood run cold. His destiny was tied to that monster's life or, rather, his death. Only one of them would survive, and Harry had a hard time believing he would be the one to do so. Just last month he had been a 'guest' of His, and He had made sure Harry knew who was in charge. How could Harry possible win a fight against that monster?

Harry turned into the play park where he and his friends had arrived in Little Whining almost three days ago. The park was filled with parents and children. It had been a rainy summer here in little Whinging, and the kids were taking advantage of the brief pause between rain showers. Parents steered their children away from him, but Harry didn't care anymore. Many of the adults knew he was the Potter boy, the boy that had spent the past six years at St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. Now, he finally looked the part. Dark bags surrounded his eyes, giving him a haunted look. Which made sense, seeing that Harry was haunted. After that one night of sleep on Sunday night, Harry's nightmares had returned. There were no visions, for this Harry was thankful. He didn't know what he would do if he saw a Revelry. It wouldn't be good, whatever the reaction.

Harry took a seat on one of the now empty swings and started to swing. He pumped his legs, trying to reach the sky. That was one thing Harry needed. He needed to fly, but that wasn't feasible. Not while he was in Little Whinging. He needed to get somewhere where the Muggles wouldn't see him. Harry stopped pumping, feeling too depressed to expend the energy. The swing lost momentum, until, finally, it stilled, and Harry watched the kids climbing on the jungle gym at a safe distance from him. A little girl was picking flowers, well, more honestly, weeds. Harry smiled, the girl had such innocence.

The thought reminded Harry of Fawkes. Why hadn't he felt the peace that normally accompanied that song? What had changed in him? Harry didn't think he had crossed any lines toward being an evil and power-hungry wizard. He had read a disturbing quote in Fantastical Beasts and Where to Find Them. The phoenix song seemed to "increase the courage of the pure of heart and strike fear into the hearts of the impure." Well, the song had caused only a deep sadness in Harry; he felt neither fear nor courage.

The little girl ran to her mother and gave the woman the weeds. The mother smiled and the girl laughed with happiness. She ran back to pick more weeds. Harry smiled once again, before his thoughts returned to his problems once again. This caused his face to fall into a tortured and depressed look.

He hadn't heard anything from his friends. Sure, it had only been two days, but Harry had written them several times already. Harry had expected to receive replies instantly. Hadn't they learned their lesson from last year? He was angry with them. He was so alone.

"Sir," a small female voice said to get his attention.

Harry looked up and saw the little girl standing in front of him. He glanced at the mother and saw that her back was turned to watch the girl's brother. "Yes?" Harry replied with a smile.

"I want to give these to you," she said with a seriousness that didn't belong in the voice of one so young. "I think you lost your mummy, 'cause you look like I did when I lost mine." Harry smiled and took the offered flowers from the innocent little girl.

"Then who's that?" he said, motioning to the woman he had thought was her mother.

"My aunt," she said simply before the woman started yelling at her.

"Mary, get back here!" The woman surged forward, to protect the little one from the dangerous man. Harry smiled at the young girl.

"You should go," he told her. The girl, Mary, nodded and ran to her aunt. Hugging Mary close, the woman started to scold the little girl, but Harry couldn't see why. The girl had shown him the first act of kindness in two days. He stood, smelling the flowers, and left the park. Mothers let their children swarm to the now safe swings. He walked the streets until he arrived at number 4 Privet Drive, his prison for the past two days.

"Where have you been, boy?" Vernon asked, not yelling as he normally would. Thia's warning held some weight, or maybe it was the other witches and wizards that had agreed with it.

"Walking," Harry replied shortly, before climbing the stairs to his room. Harry didn't eat with them anymore. He fixed his own food at breakfast time, something more at tea time, and then late in the night after the Dursleys were asleep.

There had been little contact between his relatives and himself since Harry arrived. Of course, this was mainly due to the fact that Harry avoided the times that he would normally see them. It had turned out that Aunt Petunia had put up a brilliant display of a change of heart. The truth was that she loathed the idea of having Harry in her house. It went both ways at least. Harry was counting the days. In 11 days, Order members would arrive and whisk him away. Any longer then that, and Harry vowed to throw a royal temper tantrum the second he was within hearing distance of the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizarding.

Harry opened his door and saw Hedwig sitting in her opened cage. Harry walked over, but he was disappointed to see that there wasn't a message attached to her leg. "Why are they doing this to me again?" Harry asked the bird. She hooted in understanding. Harry stroked her, trying to calm his mind.

Sure, he couldn't expect miracles from Ron, who was probably the worst pen pal out there. But, Ginny or Hermione... One of them should have sent something back. For Merlin's sake, Hermione was still writing Krum every other week. (Behind Ron's back, of course.) But Harry wasn't Krum.

He needed to hear from them. He needed a letter. No, he'd take a short note, just like last summer. Otherwise, it wasn't all that different from being in the Malfoy Manor. He was a prisoner in his own "home." Harry started muttering to himself, his dark thoughts coming out in full force.

"Just ignore me, see what that does. I need to hear from them. Hell, Ginny is somewhere out there laughing." He could tell she was happy through the link between them, caused by his parents' rings. "She's having fun without me. Who cares about Harry. Just let him be miserable at the Dursleys'. Just leave me here to rot, just like I was rotting away at Malfoy's. But this is worst. This is my friends keeping me here. People that are supposed to care about me. Not Death Eaters out for my blood. Not Him trying to torture every bit of me." Harry turned and punched the wall.

Over and over he hit the wall, until it and his hand were smeared with blood.. It only caused Harry to pause for a second before he started at the wall with his other fist. The knuckles on his right hand were cut and bleeding. Harry just ignored it. He had bled a lot the past month and a half. He was used to it now.

"Why'd they just leave me here?" he asked the room rhetorically. "Alone!" he shouted, his voice filled with grief and desertion. "So bloody alone!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, tortured by the sights he had seen that day. Those teens had looked so carefree and happy. None of them realized that on his young shoulders rested the fate of the muggle and magical world. What would happen if he just gave up...

Harry stopped hitting at the wall. Where'd that come from? he asked himself. Never had he actually considered giving up. Not even when He had the Cruciatus Curse on Harry for upwards of ten minutes. There had always been a small flame of defiance burning. And now this. This was what finally broke him.

Harry had to admit that he was a broken person now. Sure, he hadn't left Malfoy Manor unaffected, but he had been fixable. Harry knew that there was only a slim chance for redemption now. He was so close to just dying and letting the world sort out its own problems. Let Dumbledore save the world himself. Harry didn't want to be the man's pawn any longer.

Harry started punching the wall with both of his fists, remembering the techniques Bryant had drilled into his head. Over and over. Right, left, right, right, left. Left, right, left, left, right. Over and over. He lost himself in the pain and the repetitiveness of the motions.

"What the bloody hell are you doing to my wall?" Uncle Vernon screamed at him, nearly knocking the door off of its hinges. Harry stopped and turned his tortured eyes to meet his uncle's. Vernon stepped back a step, thrown off by the look in them. They were... Well, last summer Vernon had thought they had been dead. This summer, it appeared that not only was the boy dead on the inside, but spending his time in Hell. But any pity Vernon had had for the boy left when his eyes fell on the damage Harry had done to the wall. "What the effing-"

"Get out of my way," Harry said, pushing the man out into the hallway. Harry walked down the stairs and out the front door. He had spent more then enough time inside. He cut across the lawn and jumped over the stone wall. Harry's feet took him along his normal haunts. He tuned up his senses, not wanting to be caught off guard. He wasn't heading back to the Death Eaters any time soon. Not if he could help it; and he could.

Harry cast his eyes over "his" neighborhood and noticed those who where there to guard him. Harry rolled his eyes. He truly was a prisoner. Even his friends sent guards to watch his every move. Harry spat on the ground. His friends. If they were true friends they would be here, helping him. Not somewhere else having fun while his mind slowly destroyed itself without them! Did Ginny really love him?

"I'm not sure what's going on, but I still love you. Please know that no matter what happens I will always love you." That's what she had written. Did she really mean it? How could she? Harry kicked a nearby can as hard as he could. Ginny was still giddy. He could still tell that. What the hell had her so happy? Without permission, the memory of one of the nightmares Harry had during his stay in the Manor came forward. Ginny making out with Draco. Harry cursed. He hoped that she wasn't snogging someone else. He needed her. He needed her in so many ways.

He had almost killed her. How could he make Ginny his forever? She deserved way better. It was his fault that her father was dead. It was his fault that she had spent all of June feeling deserted and depressed. With that thought, Harry realized that he deserved this stay at the Dursleys'. He had deserted her and now he was being punished for it. It was a sick way to punish him, but punish him it did.

With that thought, it started to rain. Harry just kept walking. He deserved this anyways.

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Harry opened his eyes and groaned. He was still in his cell in Malfoy Manor. He glanced toward the floor near the door and saw that his food plate was empty. He felt disappointment at the lack of food; as much as he hated eating moldy food, it was better then nothing.

Harry heard the metallic click that signaled the unlocking of his cell door. It scrapped open on rusty hinges and Harry flinched internally. Visitors, he thought to himself sarcastically. In stepped five Death Eaters. Harry swallowed hard when he realized who they were: Bellatrix, Nose Picker, Wormtail, Scarface, and Healer. Harry couldn't think of a worse combination. Bellatrix and Nose Picker were the two worst torturers among the Death Eaters. Wormtail reminded Harry of the betrayal of his parents and their death. Scarface was an expert at using his words to hurt. Healer's presence was a promise of a long and painful visit.

Bellatrix stalked forward and stopped scant inches from Harry's face. She pulled back her right leg and jerked it forward. Harry flinched away from her foot having been expecting the kick. But the kick never came. Instead the five people were laughing at Harry's reaction.

"He's becoming a jittery Mudblood, now isn't he?" Scarface managed to get out between his laughs. "There used to be a time when he wouldn't even flinch if you put the Cruciatus on him. Now look at him." The others laughed as Nose Picker started to torture Harry with magic.

Harry didn't even notice when they switched. Pain was pain, it didn't matter who was dishing it out. He didn't have the concentration to figure out who was casting the spells, the pain was that overwhelming. Every so often, they would stop to allow Healer the time to heal him. Harry grimaced, even if he was horrible with the spells, at least Althea had trained him better then Healer. Given a wand, Harry could do a much better job then Healer was.

"Crucio!" Bellatrix cursed, falling back on her favorite spell. The other Death Eaters waited a few moments before telling her to stop the spell. Bellatrix let the spell linger a few moments more and then ended it.

"You know better then to use that spell, Bella," Nose Picker scolded her. "If out Master knew-"

"But he won't find out," Bellatrix told him arrogantly.

"If you break the boy's mind, He'll know," Scarface added. "When will our Lord let us kill him?" he asked looking at the pathetic form of Harry Potter.

"When He tires of the entertainment the boy provides," Healer answered, healing a few of Harry's worst injuries. "I just hope I get a chance to torture him. It's agony watching you all have fun and then have to heal him. So what if I'm a healer by profession, I hate the job."

Harry rolled over and looked at them. "Wha-what day is it?" he croaked out, his throat raw from screaming.

"If you don't know the days of the week yet, Potter, I'm not going to teach you," Scarface sneered at him.

"What do you want then?" Harry asked. There normally weren't so many Death Eaters in his cell at one time.

"Besides enjoying your wonderful company?" Bellatrix answered cruelly and with a quick spell that briefly caused Harry's insides to twist up into a knot. "We are supposed to tell you something." Harry glanced up at Bellatrix, not really liking the tone of her voice. She was way too happy.

"That whore of yours, the Weasley girl," Scarface started, but he stopped when Harry growled.

"Don't you dare call her that!" Harry yelled. The five started to laugh at him.

"Why, what are you going to do about it?" Wormtail asked him sarcastically. "We just call it like we see it."

"To continue," Scarface said, gaining control over his laughter. "Our Master wishes us to inform you that your whore is dead. Along with her blood traitor of a brother and the mudbloods they were staying with."

Harry stared at him, this couldn't be true. Scarface had to be lying. They couldn't be dead. It just couldn't be. Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Tonks had to be alive. They couldn't be dead.

"Look at that, the Mudblood's crying," Scarface choked out. His laughter was uncontrollable. "And he's the one that killed them, under the Imperius. This couldn't be more perfect."

Harry's scream of denial, turned into a scream of pain as Bellatrix stepped forward to torture him some more. Harry twisted and writhed in agony and then...

Sat up straight in his bed at the Dursleys'. It wasn't much better then Malfoy Manor, but at least there were no Death Eaters. He untwisted himself from the sheets and walked over to the window. He stumbled once or twice, unsteady on his shaky legs. The always opened window was letting cold, moist air into his over heated room. Harry heard angry muttering coming from across the hall. Great, Harry thought to himself, I've gone and woken them up again.

Harry might not have had any nightmares Sunday night, but he had had a few last night. He had woken up screaming then as well, and Uncle Vernon was not pleased.

"I don't care what those freaks say they'll do!" Vernon's voice carried loud and clear into Harry's room. "If that boy wakes me up once more, I'll wring his neck!"

"Vernon!" Aunt Petunia shrieked, surprised. "You will do no such thing!"

"Fine!" he shouted back, immaturely. "I'll toss him out!"

The argument continued, but Petunia had hushed him so that Harry could no longer pick out the words. He wouldn't complain if his uncle tossed him out, but Harry had a feeling that Dumbledore might not be pleased.

"Who cares what that old man thinks," Harry muttered. "Maybe I should just scream like a banshee and get myself kicked out." Harry turned to look at his bed, realizing that he could never disappoint Dumbledore that much. He wouldn't be getting any more sleep this night, even though he was exhausted.

Harry sighed and checked the clock. Four AM. He had a few hours until the Dursleys got up for the day. It was the perfect time for breakfast.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You woke up screaming again," Dudley taunted him in a tone much like Scarface's. "You're not very brave."

"Shut it, Dudley," Harry snapped angrily. He was sitting on the bench in the backyard, staring at the hedge where he had first seen Dobby. Harry decided to ignore his cousin as the boy continued to mock him; that is, he was until Dudley mentioned Ginny.

"Who is she?" Dudley asked curiously. "You scream about her a lot."

"Bugger off," Harry muttered, feeling his short temper burning out. He didn't feel like talking about his nightmares with Dudley, and he definitely didn't want to discuss Ginny with him either.

"Why'd you almost kill her?" Dudley pushed. Harry had the distinct impression that Dudley wanted a confession of guilt.

"You wouldn't understand," Harry mumbled, as he stood up.

"Oh, but I do," Dudley countered. "Attempted murder is a crime you know. Do others know, in your world I mean?"

"Yes, and like I said, you wouldn't understand." Harry started to walk out of the yard. It was high time to be getting out of here. The conversation was straying very near his kidnap and he really didn't want to talk about that, not to anyone.

"How'd you get out of that?" Dudley asked, knowing he had hit a nerve. "Did you threaten them too? Telling them that your friend, Voldie- what's his name?"

"Voldemort," Harry answered in a low monotone. Dudley should have known not to push him further, but he did anyway.

"Did you tell them that you'd have your pal Voldemort kill them, like he killed your parents for you?" Dudley sputtered out between laughs. Harry came to a sudden stop and turned to face his laughing cousin. He was fighting this war so that Muggles like this fat piece of lard didn't have to know more then he did about the danger they were in.

"Dudley, understand this, and I will not repeat it again, he is not my pal," Harry said in a slow growl. "I did not threaten them. I can't tell you what happened because it's against wizard law to tell a Muggle more then the basics. I didn't kill Ginny and I hadn't even meant to kill her. Now-Bugger-Off!"

Dudley was staring at him, mouth wide open. Harry turned away and continued on his walk. Thankfully Dudley didn't follow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry opened his door that evening and flopped onto his bed. He had spent the whole afternoon walking the neighborhood thinking about what Dudley had said. It had been raining on and off all day, but it had started to pour just recently. Harry had planned on just continuing as he was, but Shacklebolt came out of his hideout. In his deep voice, Shacklebolt told Harry to head back to Privet Drive before he died of a simple cold. Harry had a hard time not laughing at that. A simple cold would only kill him if He gave it to him.

Hedwig flew in through the open window. Landing on her perch, the snow white owl shook her feathers dry. Harry saw that she hadn't returned with a letter. He felt his temper rise as he stared at her. It wasn't her fault and he wasn't mad at Hedwig. He couldn't be angry with the only creature he knew loved him. She flew over to him and landed on the boy's shoulder. She hooted softly and nipped his ear affectionately. Hedwig knew how alone he felt and Harry appreciated her small amount of comfort.

Harry's mind returned to the night before. Whether he liked it or not, he'd be having more nightmares tonight and whether he liked it or not, he'd wake up screaming. Uncle Vernon would not be happy with that. Harry wanted to take the Dreamless Sleep Potion, but would he be allowed to? Maybe he should ask... but who? If he asked Thia or Dumbledore or anyone else, they'd go to the Potions Master. Should Harry just ask the man himself? Did he dare?

Harry rolled his eyes, exasperated with himself. He had just spent three weeks as a prisoner in Malfoy Manor; why would he be scared of his ex-Death Eater teacher? With the decision made, Harry moved to his desk to write the note, Hedwig flying to her perch to continue preening her feathers. Writing the note was much easier said then done.

Twenty minutes and several pages of paper later, Harry finally had a note to send Snape. He read through what he had written:

Professor Snape-

I was wondering if I could take a Dreamless Sleep Potion tonight or tomorrow night at the latest. I have had a hard time staying asleep at night and my relatives do not appreciate the screams.

Thank you for reading this and responding. Send a note and/or the potion with Hedwig, she'll get it here the fastest.

-Harry Potter

Harry wasn't thrilled with it, but it would have to do. He sealed it shut and wrote the man's name on the front. "Here, Hedwig," he said, walking over to her. "Could you take this to Snape tonight? Stay for a response and hurry home." Hedwig hooted an okay and held out her leg for Harry. He attached it and carried her over to the open window. Feeding her an owl treat, Harry let her fly away. He watched her fly, shivering as the cold wind blew into the room.

No matter the weather, Harry would never close that window. Hedwig was the only creature within eyesight that loved him. Harry was sure the older Weasleys and Thia took turns guarding him, but they never came out to say hi. They were close by and yet so far away. At least Hedwig came in to visit him.

Listening to his stomach growl, Harry turned from the freedom out his window and back to the reality of his prison cell. He would need to make sure all three Dursleys were asleep before he could dare sneak down to make supper. Listening at their doors, Harry heard their snores.

He silently crept down the stairs, jumping over the stair that squeaked. He entered the kitchen and quietly went through the cupboards looking for ingredients to make his meal. Finding noodles, sauce, and sausage, Harry decided to make spaghetti and meatballs. He set a pot of water on the stove and turned the burner on high. Harry couldn't wait until the end of the month. He'd turn seventeen and then be able to use magic without worrying about being underage. Harry sat at the table to wait for the water to boil and as always his mind wandered.

Last night's nightmare had seemed so real that Harry half expected to find bruises and half healed cuts. He felt a shiver run down his spine as that thought reminded him of Healer's death. Sure, the others had spent hours reassuring Harry that it wasn't his fault, but it was. His actions started the chain of events that led to Healers death. Had Harry not pinned him to the wall with the arrows, Healer would have been able to dodge the Killing Curse. He as good as killed the man.

Harry thought back to his chat with Dudley. The boy was annoying and was only trying to get him in trouble. But, what would happen if the Dursleys told the Muggle police about the events that occurred during the battle in Malfoy Manor? Would Dumbledore be able to come to his rescue before they arrested him? Harry could easily picture himself being questioned by a Muggle inspector, but being unable to answer. If he answered, magical law enforcers would swoop in and arrest him for that and send him to Azkaban. Harry didn't want to meet any dementors. He didn't want to find out what new memories those creatures would bring to the surface.

The water started to boil over and Harry rushed to take it off the stove. He cursed loudly as the boiling water bubbled onto his left hand. Harry calmly set the pot of water down on a burner that was off and turned the other burner down. Then he walked over to the sink and ran cold water onto the burn. Harry's right hand inched toward his wand, but he shook his head. There was no way he'd get away with using magic to heal such a simple burn. Even if the spell Althea had taught him was a simple charm that had no extra little flares to it. It was hardly worth doing something illegal.

Harry turned off the water and placed the pot back on the heat. He poured in the pasta and added some olive oil to keep them from sticking. He opened the sausage and started to brown it in a frying pan. He let the sausage cook a bit and poured the homemade sauce into a sauce pan and turned the heat onto low. Harry was sure that Aunt Petunia didn't make the sauce. First, he was positive that she didn't know how and second, because its label read: Arabella Figg's Secret Sauce. Harry smiled as he thought about the little old Squib. What he would give to be able to eat her sauce at her house. Anything to get away from this prison. Anything to spend some time talking to someone that not only knew about his world but belonged to it as well.

Harry threw the cooked meat into the sauce and checked the noodles. They weren't quite ready yet. Harry scowled as his stomach growled yet again. He had gone days without food while he had been captured. However, his body had gotten used to getting three square meals a day while he had been with the Weasleys at Hogwarts. He was still getting three meals a day, but at odd hours of the day. Harry didn't mind the cooking, but sneaking around the Dursleys was getting a bit annoying.

Harry glanced at the simmering sauce; it was ready. Harry put some bread in the toaster and checked the noodles once again. They were perfectly cooked. He strained the water and placed the noodles back into the pot before setting it back on the now cooled burner. He added a bit more oil and then frowned. He had made enough noodles for him and the Dursleys just out of habit. His toast popped, so Harry buttered it while thinking about his dilemma. Maybe his guard was hungry. He didn't know if they would be allowed to come in and eat, but it was worth a try.

He opened the kitchen door and looked out into the rainy night. Spotting the red head of a Weasley, Harry called out to the person. "Hey, whichever Weasley is out there, want some spaghetti and meatballs?" Harry was glad no Weasley could turn down a meal, for one of the twins bounded out of his hiding spot.

"Heya, Harry," the twin said, arriving on the back step. "I'd love some food. Let me nip over and get Fred and Thia, and then we'll eat with you."

"Are you guys allowed to?" Harry asked quietly.

"What Dumbledore doesn't know, won't hurt him," George replied. "Thia is furious at him right now, but you should get her to say why. It'll be fun seeing her get all worked up again." And with that George left the step, heading for the front at a nice easy lope. Harry put down more toast, not really believing his luck. He would not be eating alone this night. Smiling, Harry started to set the table and get all the food ready. There was a soft tap at the door and Harry let the three in. They said hi and then sat down to eat. The first few minutes were rather silent as everyone served themselves and tried the food.

Fred was the first to break the silence. "Gees, Harry, this is good." Harry shrugged off the compliment. "When did you learn to cook like this? I thought Ginny said you couldn't."

"I've had to pick things up," Harry answered, uncomfortable with the conversation. "Seeing that I've had to cook some meals for the Dursleys in the past. As for Ginny. We were having so much fun being clueless, that I didn't want to show off."

"You'll make a nice little wife some day for some lucky girl, Harry," George said with a laugh. Fred joined in, but it took a second for it to sink in for Harry.

"If I'm lucky," Harry started, but realized that Ginny's brothers, her older brothers were the ones he was talking to.

"You'd be lucky to be a wife?" Fred asked slowly. "Is there something we don't know 'bout you, Potter?"

"Anything that Ginny needs to know 'bout?" George continued.

Harry just smiled amused, and then thought about that. Of course there was something she needed to know. There was a lot, but not what the twins were implying.

"What do you think, Thia?" George asked the woman next to him. "Should Ginny be worried 'bout Harry's gender preference?"

Thia laughed, but shook her head. "I'd seriously doubt she needs to worry about that. You saw them kissing at Christmas." The twins growled at the memory, but Harry knew they were just teasing. These two had gotten over it probably before Ron had.

"Back to my spaghetti," Harry said with a small grin. "Does Ginny like spaghetti?"

"She loves it," Fred muttered. Harry smiled. "So your uncle made you learn to cook?" Harry nodded. "Our mum tried to make us learn, but we never found the drive to, she was so good as it was."

"Well, your mum doesn't get angry in the same way as Uncle Vernon," Harry replied darkly, ruining the mood.

"When I get my hands on your uncle," Thia started, but Harry cut her off.

"You won't do anything to him," Harry told her. "He can't help what he is. How long have you been watching me?" Harry said, changing the conversation to something he wanted to know about.

"Since you were newly orphaned," Thia answered. "Well, more accurately, about a month after your parents died. I was... er... indisposed for most of November with a few things."

"Like the lack of a trial for Sirius?" Harry ventured.

"That and several people turning their back on an old friend," Thia answered and took a large gulp of milk. "I never would have believed you if you had told me that Remus would have believed that Sirius was the spy. But he did along with all of the Order. I was furious. I had become a rather influential Auror by that time, and I made my anger heard. Of course, they thought it was just the complaints of a wife that didn't want to know the truth." She stopped and released the napkin she had been strangling.

"Wasn't it boring... watching me, I mean?" Harry asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer or not.

"Of course," Thia responded. "But then I would see you, and it would remind me of your mum and dad and Sirius, and than I wouldn't have traded my job for any other. You're as good as my godson, Harry, and if I couldn't be in your life personally, I was going to make sure rogue Death Eaters didn't kill you while you were here."

"Where'd you meet Bryant, Druce, and Althea then?" Fred asked, joining the conversation.

"Well, those stories are still confidential," Thia answered with a smile. "While Harry was at Hogwarts, and out of my protection, I got to have a little fun. Let's just say, it involved a lot of fighting, running, protecting, attacking, etcetera, etcetera. I do owe my life to all of them though and they owe theirs to me as well."

"You're teaching this year, right?" Harry asked hopeful. His hopes were shattered when Thia sighed.

"The Ministry asked me to take over the Auror department," Thia answered. "Helscin Harthtorn, the old head, died in a battle while you were... away." Thia didn't like the cloud that passed over Harry's face when that was mentioned. She had known many people who had survived imprisonment with Death Eaters. Very few were sane.

"You're going to take it then," Harry said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I had to," Thia responded and Harry realized that she already was the head. She had been wearing an Auror robe at the Battle in Malfoy Manor, as Harry liked to call it. "This way, the Order knows for certain that the head isn't a Death Eater. I think Dumbledore has already found a replacement. Not sure who, that man is so tight lipped about that since Moody was captured. I'm gonna come up to train with you though, not that that makes up for it."

Harry shrugged. "You're right; you had to take the job. I just wish you could stay. You and Remus were the best teachers we've ever had." Thia smiled. "Speaking of the man, have you heard from them?"

"Yeah right," Thia said with a laugh. "Those two must be the worst pen pals in the world. We won't hear from them until they arrive in Grimmauld for the first meeting after they come back."

"What are we calling Tonks, now that she's a Lupin?" George asked, helping himself to his third helping of noodles. "This is really good."

"I have no idea," Thia said, answering his question. "I think she wants to stick with Tonks, 'cause it's more of a nickname in her head, then a last name. I know she was joking with her dad that she was going to change her legal name to Tonks Nymphadora Bobette Lupin, but I'm not sure if she did or not."

George laughed, spraying milk all over the table. "She wouldn't really keep Bobette, would she?"

Thia had to laugh as well. "Yes, her mum named her. I guess Tonks and her mum were close, until she died in the first war. It's one of the few things that connects her to her mother."

Fred shook his head, still laughing. "Still... Bobette?"

"Don't ask me where it's from," Thia laughed. "Tonks hates even the mention of her names, let alone talking about them. Maybe I should talk to Ted about them. He might tell me something."

Silence fell as they tried to think of a new topic of discussion. Harry had loads of questions for Thia about herself, but he didn't dare ask them. He didn't want to mar this memory with conversations that might occur if he did.

"Will you guys get in trouble for eating with me?" Harry finally asked, realizing that the food was almost gone.

"Dumbledore will never find out," Thia answered, her mouth tight with anger. "Shacklebolt and Arabella are on guard right now, and they feel the same way as we do about your... visit here. What's the matter, Harry?" Thia asked, concerned, for Harry had paled completely.

"Don't say visit like that," Harry said in a very strained voice. He had heard Death Eater after Death Eater call his imprisonment with them a "visit" in that very same tone.

"Why?" Fred asked, confused.

"Because," Harry replied, pushing memories down. Nose Picker completely bored. Bellatrix's complete enjoyment. Wormtail's betrayal and aid. Draco Malfoy taking advantaged of the situation. Voldemort... "Just don't."

"I'm sorry, Harry," Thia finally said. She really was surprised at how thin his mental walls were. He always seemed to have something up, whether he knew it or not. But now, his thoughts were very obvious to someone who knew even a little about Legilimency. She really needed to start working on the shield with him.

"Don't mention it," Harry said, still trying to regain his balance.

"How's your summer been?" George asked without thinking. Fred hit him seconds later.

"Not at all like I'd planned," Harry responded with a thin smile. "I had expected to spend most of it with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, but I guess there's been other people making my plans." Just then Hedwig flew into the kitchen from upstairs. "Hey girl, whatcha got there?" She landed in his lap and Harry removed the attached package. It was from Snape. This just had to come now didn't it, Harry thought to himself. He didn't want the others to know about this. Even if Snape did end up telling the Order or even just Dumbledore, he didn't want everyone knowing. He probably should have mentioned that to Snape.

"What's that?" Fred asked leaning closer to look at the name. "Blimey, that's Snape's handwriting."

"Why's Snape sending you packages, Harry," Thia asked shrewdly. Harry knew that she knew something was up. He sighed; he wouldn't be getting out of this.

"I asked for a potion," Harry answered.

"Why not ask Madam Pomfrey then?" Thia asked after Harry didn't continue.

"Because I asked for the Dreamless Sleep Potion, and he's the only one that can give it to me now," Harry answered, getting ready for the questions that would be coming. Only they never came. Harry looked at the other three and smiled faintly. These were great friends.

Harry could tell they wanted to question him, but they held themselves in check. Fred busied himself with dishing up the last of the noodles. George was extremely interested in the painting hanging on the wall in front of him. Thia was staring straight ahead, fighting back her anger. She knew what being here was doing to him.

"How are Ron and Hermione?" Harry finally asked. "Why aren't they writing?"

"You know Dumbledore's take on owl post," Thia responded with a shrug. "I'll see if I can get him to let me deliver mail to you." Harry shrugged.

"How's Ginny?" he finally asked. The twins exchanged a look. "What's got her so happy?"

"Nothing," Fred answered quickly. Harry thought a bit too quick.

"Nothing at all," George agreed. Harry noticed that neither was meeting his eye. Harry felt his blood run cold. Why would they lie to him like that? What had Ginny so happy?

"Harry, what happened to your hands?" Thia exclaimed, pointing at his burn.

"The water boiled over and it got wet," Harry replied with a shrug.

"Give me your hand and I'll heal it," Thia commanded him and Harry listened. With a short spell, the burn was healed and Harry felt the tingle of pain recede.

"Thanks."

"Now, how 'bout those knuckles?" Thia said, pulling Harry's other hand closer.

"I got in a fight with the wall," Harry replied with a shrug. At least that's what it was supposed to be, but with Thia holding both of his hands, it didn't quite turn out. "I think I lost." Fred and George smiled at the joke, but Thia frowned.

"If you have to fight with inanimate objects," she finally responded, "then pick something that isn't so hard. Pillows work great." She healed his knuckles and let go of them. Harry shrugged in response. He was getting tired of being with people and wanted them to leave. They must have sensed that and Thia stood up. "We need to go," she told him. "Next shift arrives soon, and we need to be in place when they do." Harry nodded.

"Good to see you, Harry," George said, shaking the boy's hand. "Hang in there and show these Muggles that they can't get you down." Harry nodded with a weak smile on his lips.

"Thanks for the meal, we missed mum's today," Fred said, shaking Harry's hand just like George had.

"See you around," Thia said with a smile. "I'm thinking we'll have an Occlumency lesson on Friday. How's that sound?"

"Not sooner?" Harry asked hopefully.

"I'm sorry," Thia told him, absolutely meaning it. "But I have to work." Harry nodded. He had expected that.

"'Night you guys," Harry said, showing them out the kitchen door. "Thanks for eating with me."

"No problem, Harry," Fred responded. "That spaghetti was great." Harry nodded in agreement and waved as they disappeared into the wet and stormy night.

Turning back into the house, Harry sighed. He was alone once again. Hedwig hooted softly, as if to remind him that she was here as well.

"I know, girl, but you're just not Ginny," Harry told her, picking up the bird and carrying her upstairs. "I wonder what she's up to."