Dialogues

...WITH AN AUROR

In a few short minutes Harry would turn 16 years old. Upon the desk in front of him lay an open textbook from which he had been trying to read for the last two hours while waiting patiently for his faithful owl, Hedwig to return. Due to the amount of studying he had done however, Harry's eyelids were slowly becoming heavier and heavier and he was beginning to lose focus. 'I mustn't go to sleep,' he kept saying to himself, 'I can't go to sleep. I have to read. Besides, I should have presents to open soon.' He forced his eyes to snap open and refocused them upon the pages of 'Fighting the Dark Arts'.

During the few short weeks after his trip to Diagon Alley with Professor Dumbledore Harry had spent as much time as possible reading through the books he had bought. He had found most of them extremely interesting, although he would try to avoid admitting that to Hermione Granger when he saw her next! Then again, maybe his interest in them had something to do with his dull, dreary surroundings - the books were a reminder of who he really was and where he really belonged. He had learnt the theory behind stronger and more effective shield charms (always useful), he had slowly memorised as many new attack curses and spells as he possibly could (never too many of them), and he had even decided to explore other forms of magic - reading a little book titled 'Wandless Magic?' as a start.

He had picked it up out of sheer curiosity in Flourish & Blotts, but Dumbledore had then been strangely insistent in Harry buying it. Unfortunately the book reiterated mostly what Harry already knew: that wandless magic could only be achieved during heightened moments of stress or emotion, and therefore was something highly unpredictable and virtually uncontrollable for the vast majority of wizards. Still, hadn't Harry controlled his wandless magic while groping for his wand when attacked by the dementors last summer? Or had the wand tip only lit up with his panicked exclamation of "Lumos" because he had been extremely near his wand when he had done it? Either way, this art was one Harry was determined to master if possible. Besides, Dumbledore had been quick to explain to Harry that wands had not always been used as the foci of a wizard's magic, and that, with practice, wandless magic was controllable if a witch or wizard was powerful and dedicated enough.

The most valuable textbook Harry had bought though was undoubtedly 'The Workings of Magic', which went into great detail about the many theories behind the existence of magic, how wizards controlled their power, and how such power could be focused and increased. It was a big doorstopper of a book, but Harry had found it most interesting regardless and had begun to really wonder why it wasn't provided as a set text at school.

As Harry determinedly continued to read one of his many new books, waiting as patiently as possible for midnight to arrive, he nevertheless couldn't prevent his thoughts from drifting...

*****

After the warnings given to them at Kings Cross the Dursleys had allowed Harry a certain amount of freedom. He hadn't been starved or locked up; they just mostly ignored him, allowing him to do what he wanted as long as he didn't get in their way. This state of affairs was only improved upon after Professor Dumbledore's visit when Harry had found out he was allowed to perform magic outside of school.

In fact, Professor Dumbledore had begun to arrive at Privet Drive once a day, every day, at two o'clock. He would apparate directly to Harry's room (now that he knew which one was his) and would spend the next two hours tutoring his protégé. The first ten minutes or so they would just sit down and talk - Harry detailing any passages he had read that he found especially confusing or interesting, and Dumbledore calmly and simply imparting over a century's worth of experience and knowledge. Also, Harry took the opportunity to put into practice all the different spells and shield charms he had read about. Harry was particularly excited though to be learning how to apparate a year early, but thus far Dumbledore had refused to allow any practical attempts and instead insisted that Harry read up on it first. This was mostly because Occlumency was paramount and extremely tiring for the young wizard. Learning to block Harry's mind took up most of their time together, but Dumbledore kept reminding his student that it was an extremely technical and obscure branch of magic and was bound to take time. Slowly but surely, as Harry's nightly meditation began to improve so did his performances in the afternoon when attempting to throw the Headmaster out of his mind.

Harry's determination to succeed played a large part in his improvement mentally. Physically, his improvement had a large part to do with Dudley. Harry's former whale of a cousin was turning out to be quite a boxer. Obviously years of bullying his freak of a relative and every other little kid he could get his chubby hands on had bizarrely paid off! All the fat blubber that had previously hung off him in great, greasy waves was quickly transforming into muscle. Muscle or not though, Dudley was well aware that Harry had saved his life a year ago, not that he ever even considered thanking him! So, although he hated his cousin as much as ever, when the scrawny little freak came a-knocking on his door, asking warily if he could train with him for the next few weeks, Dudley had quickly agreed. If the freak actually wanted to spend three or four weeks as a willing punch bag, who was Dudley to refuse?

The month before Harry's birthday had therefore been quite eventful, what with daily visits from the headmaster and learning to box and lift weights and such with Dudley. On top of this he was also being fed properly by the Dursleys for the first time ever. Despite his slight appearance Harry was easily capable of packing in large servings of food (five years of being the best friend of Ron Weasley tended to have that effect) and Dudley had decided that if Harry was going to train with him, he was going to have to follow his eating regimen too, which was now much better controlled due to his new found dedication to the noble art of Boxing. There was nothing that Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon could do about this unexpected situation, except grudgingly go along with it, for two reasons: one, they didn't want to incur the wrath of any of the freak's kind that had threatened them at the train station, or for that matter the freak himself now he could perform magic at home; and two, in no way did they want to upset Dudley.

Harry had also decided to go for an early run every morning, setting one of Dudley's old toy alarms to wake him up at six o' clock (once he'd managed to fix it that is!). He could have easily taken a leaf out of his cousin's book and use the treadmill in the basement instead, but Harry liked the fresh air in the morning. Plus it gave him an excuse to get out of the house. Of course he never really needed the alarm to wake him up - nightmares had him snapping awake far, far earlier than necessary.

At first Harry had run alone, but then he began to have company. It wasn't Dudley though - the great bullying git had never been a morning person. No, Harry had suspected there would be an order presence continually watching over him under invisibility cloaks or some such, and he was proven correct the third day into his morning routine, when one of them decided to join him on his run.

Harry had quietly proceeded through the house so as not to wake his relatives at such an early hour. As he softly closed the front door behind him someone spoke. "Wotcher Harry!"

He immediately went for the wand in his back pocket, spinning around to face the source of the greeting.

"Tonks?" he asked slowly to the witch sat on the low garden wall, her hair dark purple and cut short today. He kept his wand steady, pointed directly at her.

"Easy Harry," Tonks said slowly. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"Yeah well," Harry continued, "I've learnt not to be too careful."

Tonks nodded her head slowly. "You're beginning to sound like old Mad-Eye. Constant vigilance! " she barked in a perfect imitation of the retired auror.

Harry kept his wand trained on the young woman though. "Yeah and what did Moody do when you lot came to get me last year?" he asked with his eyed narrowed in concentration.

"Please, don't remind me!" Tonks said, pulling a face - not literally though. "He did that disgusting thing with his eye, and then had us flying detours on broomsticks when it was bloody freezing."

Harry smiled for the first time and finally lowered his wand. "Hello Tonks."

"Are you satisfied now Harry?" Tonks said standing up. "Or do I have to do this?" And as she spoke she scrunched up her face and her nose began to lengthen.

Harry chuckled softly. "Its alright, I believe you Pinocchio."

He then paused to take in what Tonks was wearing now that she was no longer sat on the wall. She was dressed like an athlete: a yellow vest and blue shorts that were both very flattering and a seemingly brand new pair of bright, white running shoes, although they had probably just been cleaned excessively. Harry couldn't take his eyes off of her long, shapely, tanned legs though - her shorts were very...well...short...and she wasn't wearing any socks, which when put together seemed to enhance the effect very nicely.

"Hey! No gawping!" Tonks hissed, sounding annoyed.

Harry's attention was snapped back to the present, and realising that he had been caught staring, he began to blush like a Weasley. He muttered a quick apology, suddenly finding something interesting to look at on the ground at his feet.

Tonks began to laugh. "I'm only joking Harry. I was just testing to see if you were like any other teenage boy, that's all." With a quick wave of her wand she lengthened the shorts to a more respectable length, or at least to a length she regarded as more sensible which meant there was hardly any change at all. "Besides, be glad you're attention was on my lovely legs and not... these." She pointed unceremoniously to her breasts, which began to enlarge like they were being pumped up like balloons, stretching the yellow vest to impossible levels.

Harry's mouth dropped open and he found himself having to be brought back to reality once Tonks had reversed her actions. The young auror snapped her fingers and beamed proudly. "Yep, typical male."

Harry blinked at her, then scowled. "That's not funny Tonks."

"I beg to differ. I just wanted to see whether I could get a...er...rise... out of you."

The young teenager grasped immediately at what she was getting at and cringed with embarrassment. He floundered and stuttered, having no idea how to get out of the situation he found himself in.

Tonks on the other hand was enjoying every second of making Harry act his age for once, of making him turn bright red in embarrassment. She needed it. After all, Sirius Black had been her favourite cousin and she felt the loss as much as Harry. She decided to take pity on the poor boy. "I'm sorry Harry," she said, moving towards him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "I just needed to take my mind off things a little, you know."

Harry didn't respond, so Tonks took his silence as some form of acceptance. It would have to do for now. "Anyway, I don't think any red blooded male could stop themselves from staring at someone as stunningly beautiful as me!"

Harry snorted all of a sudden.

"Are you trying to imply that I'm not beautiful Harry Potter?" she said slowly, threateningly.

"No...er...course not..." Harry stammered, "Your very nice...er...I mean attractive...and...and...er ..." He trailed off, blushing redder than he ever had before.

Tonks burst out laughing. "Oh Harry, forget about it. I know you weren't calling me ugly or anything. I'm a Metamorphmagus remember - I can take any appearance I want. Within reason of course."

"Any appearance?" Harry asked, an impish grin rapidly evident.

Tonks had seen that look too many times from members of the opposite sex, a look she had grown to hate. She knew full well what he was implying. "Don't get any ideas!" she said sharply.

It was now Harry's turn to chuckle. It was such a rare feeling for him - it had been a heck of a long time since he'd seen or done anything to make him laugh.

Tonks knew she'd been had, but was inwardly thrilled despite of it. She would never have thought that Harry had it in him to pull a fast one the way things were at the moment, what with Sirius dead and him being locked up with his horrible muggle relatives, and yet here he was beginning to laugh and joke with her. Then again, she'd always been able to bring the funny side out of people - she supposed it was just in her nature to do so.

Looking closer at him though, she knew he was having a hard time of it. He might have been laughing right now, but the humour wasn't extending to his eyes; they were almost lifeless and surrounded by dark heavy lines. She had heard the rumours from other members of the Order of the Phoenix of what Harry had to put up with - especially during the summer months with the Dursleys - but looking at him now he didn't seem starved or mistreated. In fact, he looked physically healthy for a change, although still a little too scrawny. Perhaps the open threat made at Kings Cross had achieved something. Maybe the stupid muggles were actually feeding him properly for a change like normal, nice people.

"There's that smile again." Tonks said brightly, when Harry had stopped laughing. "You know you've got a really nice smile Harry. Too bad we don't see it more often."

Harry didn't know how to respond to that; he was embarrassed once again, but in a nice way this time. His cheeks flushed crimson as it dawned on him for the first time: 'Tonks is flirting with me!' Then he quickly revised his thinking: 'She's flirting with me to cheer me up - there's a difference!' Finally he found his voice and muttered a "Thanks," not really knowing what else to say.

"You're welcome Harry," Tonks replied with a wide smile. "Now are we going to go running or not?"

Harry jerked his head back up in surprise. "What?"

"Well why else would I be waiting outside your house at a quarter past six in the morning dressed like this?"

Harry smiled coyly. "To impress me?"

He was expecting her to shrug his comment off, but Tonks was a step ahead. "Did it work?" she asked.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise at the audacity of the question. 'She really is flirting with me!' he thought for a moment, but then realised she was still trying to get one up on him. He wasn't going to allow that, so he dramatically made to check her out from head to toe, toe to head, and nodded strongly. "Yeah. It did."

Tonks shook her head in shock. "You cheeky bastard!" she chuckled. "Now come on, I'm here for a morning run, and nothing else."

Harry did the best impression of Dudley pouting like a spoilt brat that he could muster. "Oh, all right. Follow me," he added with a smile.

Tonks turned to follow but she was trying to come to terms with what she had just seen. For a moment, right at the end there, she had seen something about this famous young wizard for the first time. It wasn't the pout (although it was a bloody good one!), nor was it the smile when it came (the widest she had seen from him yet). It was his eyes. Behind those god-awful glasses, those vibrant green eyes had lit up out of the blue. Just for a moment maybe, but Tonks had seen it - a hint of what Harry would be like without all the guilt, without all the worry, a glimpse of a Harry Potter without a care in the world.