The War for Souls

Chapter 1--A Summer Job

A white owl fluttered down across the darkening landscape of Surrey, and swooped toward a particular house in a particular block of the town of Little Whinging. The owl passed unnoticed through the streets of the suburban enclave until she finally alighted on the windowsill of the back bedroom of Number Four, Privet Drive. Inside, a teenaged boy pulled open the window to allow the owl inside. Had any of the neighbors been outside on the warm summer evening and watching this display, they might have found it rather bizzare. For Harry Potter, the boy in the window, it was all too normal, and yet all too unwelcome.

Harry was a wizard, an almost-sixteen-year-old wizard who attended Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry in the Highlands of Scotland, where he had just finished his fifth year. But that was far from the reason that Harry sat in his room, listlessly feeding owl treats to the bird that had now entered the room. Two weeks earlier, Harry's godfather--the sole parent that the orphaned boy had remaining--was killed in a battle with dark wizards in the Ministry of Magic. Worse still, he was only there because he was trying to save Harry from the evil Lord Voldemort. Worse even than that, Harry should never have been there himself.

Voldemort had tried to murder Harry when he was a year old. But the Killing Curse had backfired on the Dark Lord, destroying his body, and leaving Harry with a scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt. Through this scar, Harry had a mental link with Lord Voldemort, and could often see his thoughts. Unfortunately, Voldemort had also discovered this, and used it to lure Harry to the Ministry of Magic by sending him visions of Sirius Black, his godfather, being tortured there.

So Harry had gone, against the advice of his friends, and now Sirius was dead to show for it. Harry didn't really blame himself for Sirius' death. And, although his headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, had tried to take the blame on himself at the end of the term, Harry didn't really blame him, either. One look at the lone tear rolling down the aged wizard's face had melted Harry's heart. Dumbledore was like a grandfather to him, and in many ways, had always been much closer to a parent figure than Sirius ever was.

Harry did blame Lord Voldemort, and he did blame Bellatrix Lestrange--Voldemort's servant who had fired the curse that killed Sirius. On a lesser level, Harry blamed the whole Ministry. For a year now, ever since Voldemort had been reborn into his body at the end of Harry's fourth year, the Ministry had been denying that fact.

It's always the innocent who are the first to suffer. Harry could hear the voice of Firenze the centaur saying that in his first year. And it was true. Cedric Diggory was innocent. He was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time, the "spare." And he was dead. Sirius was innocent. He had spent twelve years in the wizarding prison of Azkaban for a crime he never committed, and had died before his name could be cleared.

These thoughts and memories whirling in his head, Harry took the rolled parchment that was attached to the owl's leg, and opened it.

Dear Harry

I know you probably aren't in any mood to listen to this, and I know I'm the last person you'd want to hear from, but you're getting it anyway. I would've sent a Howler, but I think that would have upset those worthless Muggles even more, and made it harder on you there.

When you pulled me out of the Chamber, I was a wreck. I had attacked several people, including my brother's girlfriend and my other brother's best friend, with a basilisk. I had, totally through my own doing, become embroiled in a diary of You-Know-Who's, and let him take over. On top of which, the boy I idolized had nearly died trying to save me. I wanted to crawl back into the Chamber and let that damned snake eat me.

Then there were the nightmares. For months I couldn't sleep. Every time I tried, I saw his face. I saw that bloody basilisk. I saw you kill it, and I saw it bite you. I saw the look on my parents' faces when they found out what I'd done. It was awful. But they stopped. And they stopped because I forced myself to believe what you had told me in the Chamber.

It wasn't my fault. Older and wiser wizards than me had fallen for Riddle's spell. It was Riddle's fault.

Well, Harry, take a lesson. Cedric and Sirius are dead, there's nothing you can do about it. They won't come back. I can't give Colin and Hermione back an entire term, and you can't bring back Sirius. You were fooled by Voldemort, twice. Once he fooled Dumbledore himself, and the other time he fooled the whole Ministry of Magic, so don't feel like you're any more to blame. Get over it, get on with it. We don't have years to wait for you to snap out of this funk you've been in since the Tournament.

And I won't wait that long.

Love from,

Ginny

Tears welled up in Harry's emerald green eyes as he read. He had always thought of Ginny as a sweet, innocent child. He had, indeed, saved her from Voldemort three years ago, but even afterwards, it never registered that she might have gone through exactly what he had been suffering for the last year. "Well Ginny," he said to himself, "you do have a knack for bluntness."

Another thought occurred to him as he read through her letter a second time. Harry could barely believe that this was the same girl who stuck her elbow in the butter dish and ran upstairs red-faced when he visited her before his second year. And here she was, lecturing him. And accurately, too, he thought bitterly. After I told her she was too young to go to the Ministry with us. As he thought back to the horrid, frantic night of his final exam two weeks ago, it was as though he was the character in Dudley's cartoon--the one who needed a light bulb to click on above his head before he saw something that should have been obvious to him. She's only a year younger than me! Maybe not even. I don't know when her birthday is. Harry silently cursed himself for thinking too hard about his best friend's sister, and closed his eyes to try to get some sleep.

It was two days before another letter arrived for Harry. This one came on the wing of an owl Harry found slightly familiar., and Hedwig took great offense to the intruder sharing her water dish.

Harry,

You have every reason to hate me. I know what I did, and I know you know. I can only beg for your forgiveness, and for you to listen to what I have to say.

The Ministry is not stable. Everyone here believes you now. But I'm afraid that several more questionable individuals are using this as an excuse to rise in the ranks of the Ministry. I have been transferred out of the Minister's Office as a result, and am now working as an assistant to Madam Bones in Magical Law Enforcement. However, I still have managed to discern the existence, but unfortunately, not the nature, of a plot.

A certain well-connected individual has used his connections to avoid justice, and is again well-placed here. I understand that, under his auspices, certain tampering with your guardians may take place. Be careful, Harry.

Percy Weasley

P.S. You may remember Penelope, who was a year behind me at school. She and I are engaged, and will be getting married on August 20. I would be honored if you would come.

Harry stared at the parchment for a moment. His first impulse was disbelief. This was a joke, Percy wouldn't have written him. Then he looked at the owl. "Hermes?" he said tentatively, remembering the name Percy had given his owl. The bird cocked its head and hooted affirmatively, earning an even darker look from Hedwig.

Harry snatched parchment from the spindly desk in his room and penned a rapid letter. He copied the sense of Percy's missive, and dashed off a note to anyone who would respond begging for advice or confirmation. He tied it to Hedwig's leg, and whispered instructions. "Anyone at Grimmauld Place, okay, girl?" He practically threw the bird out the window, then turned to the other owl. "Sorry, nothing for you yet. I'll send something later." Hermes spread his wings, and took off after Hedwig.

Remus Lupin shook his head to clear the sleep, and twisted around again to get more comfortable. He was sitting under an invisibility cloak in front of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, and it was three in the morning. This summer, the Order of the Phoenix had insisted--or, more properly, Mad-Eye Moody had insisted, that someone keep guard at all times, to prevent any incursions on the headquarters of the Order. Ever since Sirius had died, the headquarters--which was actually his ancestral house--was of uncertain legal status. Sirius had a will, which left it to the Order, but until he was cleared by the Ministry, it couldn't take effect. So Moody was paranoid as usual, and that meant that Remus was sitting up all night, watching the empty square in front of the Ancient House of Black.

It was fortunate that he was, however, as he saw the snowy owl swoop down over the square, heading straight for the front steps of the house. In an instant, Remus recognized the bird, cast off the cloak, and stood straight up, calling her to him. Hedwig alighted on his arm, and he removed the hastily scribbled note.

"Moody, we have a problem," he whispered towards his chest, and Mad-Eye's voice rose sleepily out of the phoenix pin on his robes.

"What?"

"Letter from Harry. You should take a look at this."

"Be there in a moment." And indeed, seconds later, the old Auror was standing with Remus on the sidewalk, looking over Harry's note.

"Well?" said Remus.

"Not to be trusted," growled Moody. "But, all the same, can't be too careful. I'll put a watch on Potter again."

Remus struggled with thoughts for a second. "Alastor, tell him this time. We can't afford to have him out of the loop."

Moody nodded wordlessly and disappeared with a pop.

Harry woke to find Hedwig sitting on the windowsill, waiting for him to greet her. "Hey, girl. Got something for me?" She hooted happily and stuck out her leg. It was a letter from the Order, specifically from Remus Lupin.

Dear Harry,

Thank you for alerting us. We're putting a guard back on your house just in case, until we can verify the information. Be careful.

Remus

Harry glared. The last thing he wanted was a guard put back on him. He was hoping he wouldn't have to deal with that this summer. But, he thought, it was a good idea, and it would save him having to risk a hearing like last year. So, he resigned himself to being watched, and sat down to read his summer homework.

The students in his year had been given very little summer homework after their O.W.L. exams, as there was little or no certainty that they would take any of the same classes in their N.E.W.T. studies. Harry had, however, been given reading assignments in Transfiguration and Charms. Flitwick and McGonagall obviously had a great deal of faith in his scores--more than he had himself, truth be told.

After about an hour of reading on the theory behind human transfiguration--as well as some memorable mistakes--Harry figured he had had enough of it, and pulled out a sheet of parchment. For the next several minutes, the only sound in the bedroom was the scratching of a quill as Harry began his first letter of the summer to his friends.

Strange how things go, he thought. Used to be I had no one to write to, now I can barely keep up with it all.

The first letter Harry wrote was to Ginny Weasley. It was only right, he figured, as she had already sent him a letter.

Dear Ginny,

Don't kid yourself. I love hearing from you. And don't ever think that you're not just as much my friend as Ron and Hermione. And Nev and Luna, come to think of it. I don't know whether you think you owe me for the Chamber or not, but if you did think that, trust me, you've paid in full.

I hope I get out of here soon. The Dursleys are just ignoring me (yes, that's an improvement), but it's damned lonely. I'd much rather be there with you guys.

Harry paused. He had no idea how to finish the letter. He could just sign his name, but that would seem too businesslike. He could put a simple "Love," but that might seem too forward, and he didn't want to lead her on. He could put, "Your Friend," especially as he just called her that in the letter, but...Wait, this is Ginny. Why am I...

He cursed himself mentally for being so introspective, and penned a quick conclusion.

Love,

Harry

Then it occurred to him that she might know something about the unusual letter he had received recently.

P.S. Got a letter from Percy. Do you know what's going on with him?

Harry rolled up the letter and sealed it, tucking it aside. One down, four to go.

Harry wrote for most of the rest of the day. By early evening, Hedwig was eyeing the stack of letters apprehensively, somewhat intimdated at the notion of delivering all of these letters to all of these recipients. "Well, girl, three to OSC," he said. As soon as he did, he realized that he had no earthly clue where Neville or Hermione lived. Odd, I've known them for five years and still don't even know the area of the country they're from.

"BOY!" Uncle Vernon's shout from downstairs alerted Harry that he was home.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," he answered, slowly walking down the stairs.

"Boy, you think those freaks threatening me can keep you from working?"

"No, Uncle Vernon."

"Good. Starting tomorrow, you're going to help Dudley with his training. He needs someone to help him with his weights and the like, and a sparring partner."

It was the last two words that struck Harry. Uncle Vernon wanted him to return to a life as Dudley's punching bag. "Um...Uncle Vernon...uh...wouldn't it make more sense to have someone spar with Dudley who knows how to box. You know, wiz--my folks...well...we have other ways than punching."

"BOY! Are you threatening me? Or Dudley?"

"No, sir, just--"

"Good. Tomorrow, I want you working with Dudley. Oh, and that gutter in the back needs to be pinned up again. And you might see if your Aunt needs anything done." He went on, muttering about how he couldn't let Dudley do any chores that might interfere with his training, and Harry tuned him out. Nope, no effect at all.

Harry shrugged as Uncle Vernon finished, and started back up the stairs to his room. "Oh, no you don't!" he heard, and slowly turned around again. "There's one more thing. I know your type probably doesn't use money, but I won't have you freeloading off of us anymore. I've arranged a job for you at a packing company. You start on Monday, and I want to see twenty-five quid a week out of it. On top of that, we'll see how much you cost us."

"But, Uncle Vernon, I can't leave. The--" He broke off. Uncle Vernon didn't know about the protection spells. Oh, well, just have to work with it. "If that's all, I have to finish some letters to my friends." Uncle Vernon turned appreciably pale, and Harry hurried back up the stairs to send off his mail.

Harry reached the end of the week without incident. He hadn't had much time for letters, as Dudley's training had taken a fair share of his time, and Uncle Vernon had set him to work on the back gutter as soon as he could. By the time Monday rolled around, and with it, his first--and hopefully only--Muggle job, the contents of Percy's letter had all but slipped his mind totally. In fact, when he left the house under the watchful eye of Uncle Vernon at seven that morning, he had even forgotten that the Order would be on guard outside.

Of course, it didn't take long to remember that someone was there, as he heard a dull thud, and the shrubbery shook as an invisible someone toppled into the hedge. Tonks, thought Harry. And I'm going to be chased all day by furious Order members.

Of course, Uncle Vernon didn't notice Tonks tumble through the hedge. He was far too busy inveighing against his target of the morning. Today, it seemed, the Labour Party had enraged him with some proposal regarding employee relations. Harry tried to block him out as he spouted his rage against "the PM and his Commie crooks."

Uncle Vernon was so loud this morning that he didn't notice the unusally loud apparition noise--or what Harry was certain was one--as they emerged from the car in front of 'Greene and Donne, Ltd., Movers.' Vernon went on inside and introduced himself to the foreman, and Harry turned to where he thought the noise had come from. "Tonks?"

"Not hardly, lad," came Mad-Eye's gruff voice.

"You going to watch me all day?"

"Unless you'd like to risk another one of those hearings, I think I'd better." Harry snorted, but nodded his approval, and went on inside.

Uncle Vernon had apparently changed his invective from the Prime Minister to Harry, now, and was informing the foreman that Harry was lazy, shiftless, irredeemably criminal, and probably a drug addict as well. Then he turned to Harry, and informed him that he had the job thanks to a deal between Grunnings and the moving company, and that if Harry dared to mess up once, he would make everything that happened in the first eleven years of his life seem like a walk in the park.

The foreman, Harry was relieved to see, was basically ignoring everything Vernon had to say, and looked at Harry with only mild interest. "You on crack, boy?"

"No, sir."

"Okay. Go through here, talk to Sandy. She'll get you set with your training."

Sandy was a middle-aged woman who looked rather like a dark-haired Mrs. Weasley. She showed Harry through into a nother room, and set him down to watch what seemed to be an interminable series of videos.

Mr. Weasley would love these, Harry thought as he watched the fourth in the run of short movies. So far he had been taught how not to lift a box, how to lift a box, how to interact with customers, and was now learning what exactly constituted harassment of fellow employees. It was with a slight interest that Harry realized that virtually everything that Draco Malfoy did would be considered harassment in the Muggle world. Lucky for him he'll never even meet a Muggle.

Harry was allowed to break for lunch, then sent back into the room to watch his fifth video, which seemed somehow to be about a potato. He wasn't entirely sure what a potato had to do with moving boxes--or teamwork, which was supposedly the point of the video--but there it was. For some reason, he thought Grunnings probably didn't have training videos about potatoes. Harry just couldn't see Uncle Vernon going in for any of this. Maybe this is what he was grumbling about this morning.

The rest of the day went by rather the same. Harry watched a lot more videos, learned what could and couldn't be legally transported on the company's lorries, discovered more than he ever wanted to know about hazardous chemicals, and then was told to fill out a stack of forms the size of his Potions text. That went alright, until Harry was told to produce his birth certificate. That was a problem. Harry wasn't sure if he even had a birth certificate. He told Sandy he would try to bring it the next day, and they sent him home.

"Moody?" he said as he got into the parking lot to wait for Uncle Vernon. There was no answer. "Anyone here?" Still there was no reply. This isn't good.

Percy's warning flew to his mind. Certain tampering with your guardians. What if this was what they were doing? Get me away from Privet Drive so that I can be vulnerable.

Just then, Harry heard the pop of someone Apparating in, and spun to face the source of the noise. "Put that away, Harry. No need to hex me." Remus Lupin pulled off the invisibility cloak, and smiled at Harry.

"Professor Lupin? Why weren't you here earlier?"

"Shift change, Harry. Moody had to come back and tell us where you were. We've had two people on you since this morning. What are you doing away from Privet Drive?"

"My Uncle insisted I get a job. He set me up with something here. I guess he wants me to pay my way in the Muggle world now."

"I think I need to have a little talk with Vernon," said Lupin. "And I'm not your professor anymore, so please, call me Remus."

"Do you think you could get me home, Pro--Remus?"

"Well, perhaps it might be best to wait for your Uncle. As soon as he picks you up, I'll apparate to your house and wait for you there." Harry nodded glumly. He had hoped to avoid the evening ride with Uncle Vernon.

Harry and Remus sat on the steps for a few more minutes before the ex-professor spoke again. "Are you holding up okay?"

"I suppose," said Harry slowly. "Merlin, I miss him, though."

"I know. I know. It seems hard to believe he's gone."

"If I had just listened to--"

"Don't, Harry. Sirius died because he stood up against Voldemort, not because of anything you did. We should be proud of him. He did the right thing, not the easy thing. And that makes him a hero."

"Is there much chance of clearing his name?"

"Not while Fudge is in office. Right now, he's desperately trying to salvage his term, but..."

"But?"

"Well, I best not talk about it here. You'll know soon enough. No," he added quickly, catching the anger rising in Harry's eyes, "I'm not hiding things from you. It's just not something to talk about outside Headquarters."

"What's happening with that, now that Sirius is...well...you know."

"Harry, you have to be able to say it. He's dead. He's up there, wherever it is, with James and Lily, and he's not coming back. As for Grimmauld Place, well...he left a will, but unless he's cleared it becomes inoperative. And then his nearest relative inherits."

"Bellatrix?"

"Ah, no. Sadly, the old pureblood families have built in requirements for male offspring to inherit. So, unless Sirius or Regulus had a son we don't know about, that means--"

"Malfoy."

"Exactly. We're being very--"

"Remus, get under the cloak! That's Uncle Vernon's car!" Remus never finished his sentence. He ducked under the invisibility cloak, and watched as Vernon pulled up, screaming for Harry to hurry into the car.

Harry heard the faint sound of Remus disapparating as he closed the car door, and listened to Vernon ranting on about more governmental figures for most of the ride home. "Uncle Vernon," he ventured when the large man took a break to breathe.

"What, boy!"

"They need my birth certificate at that place. Do you have it?"

"Of course we do! How do you think we enrolled you in school all that time ago. Petunia will--what the bloody hell is that?"

They had rounded the corner onto Magnolia Crescent, and could make out the tops of the houses on Privet Drive. Over one of them--one which Harry knew was Number Four--was a sight that made Harry's stomach drop. A giant green skull floated in the air, with a red snake lolling out of the mouth like a hideous tongue. The Dark Mark.