The War of Shades

Chapter 15 - Head Boy

When the time approached that he was expected at the Dursleys, he walked over to Privet Drive. Harry found the door locked when he got there. He figured one day wouldn't hurt, so he surreptitiously pulled out a wand and whispered "Alohamora" to open the lock magically. He quickly put the wand away.

"Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, I'm home!" he called.

'Did I just say that?' thought Harry. This place had never seemed like a real home before, at least not since he had learned that most children were not treated at their homes the way he had been before last year.

"How'd you get in, you thug?" grated Aunt Marge's voice from the parlor. "I locked that door myself."

Harry smiled sweetly at her and said, "Picked the lock, of course."

Harry went upstairs, shaking his head. Really what was she to think of him when she was fed such malarkey as he just had told her. Well, not malarkey exactly, he realized: opening a lock without a key is pretty much picking the lock, whether you use a wand or a set of lock picks. His way was just more elegant.

Rather than deal with Aunt Marge's drone, Harry immediately headed out to the back yard to do yard work after putting his things away. Aunt Petunia followed him out into the yard saying loudly that she'd better show him exactly what needed to be done, since Vernon was not home yet.

Quietly she grumbled to Harry, "Of course, he's not home. Even he's gotten tired of the old bat. She used to be unpleasant, but being here three weeks already, she's been impossible." Then she said less negatively but with more concern, "we were told you were asked to help train people to fight HIS allies - is it that bad?"

"You've seen the Dark Marks on telly, haven't you?" said Harry and she nodded. "We've been able to stop most of the attacks, so you can imagine how bad it could be."

"But Harry," she whispered again, "Are you that good at it that they ask you to train even the adults?"

Harry shrugged. "They asked me; I do what I can."

"Well, then, should you even be here?"

"It maintains my protection, and that's still critical until I learn what I have to do to meet him."

Then seeing Marge standing in the kitchen door, Petunia shouted at him, "... and see to it that you rake up every bit of the hedge trimmings when you're done. No more of your usual lazy job!" But before she turned away, she winked at him

The variety actually felt pretty good to Harry. He enjoyed doing simple muggle things. After he had finished the hedge, Uncle Vernon came out, shouting "Let's see what kind of a butcher job you've done on the hedges now, boy!" He winked at Harry and pulled open his coat to show Harry a tube wrapped in birthday wrap paper. Harry's eyes widened slightly and he grinned so that Marge wouldn't see. He didn't care if he got anything expensive, but it would be so nice to get something that wasn't stupid. After he finished the hedges and the raking, he hurried in to wash up before dinner. He found that the present had been tucked out of Marge's sight behind his pillow. It was marked, "Do not open until July 31." This was getting exciting.

During dinner he smiled vacantly at Aunt Marge as she said all manner of critical things to and about him. He thoughtfully gave her things to criticise him for - chewing with his mouth open, using his napkin as a bib, blowing his nose at the table - on the tablecloth, and on and on. It became an in-joke for Harry to see if he could make the Dursleys laugh out loud as he did things to rile Marge. Dudley often faked coughing spells to cover laughter.

Finally, Harry got some more salad from the large bowl and then proceeded to use the tongs to reach inside the back of his t-shirt and scratch.

"Nngh!" he groaned, "ever since I started getting these massive pimples on my back, they've been so itchy. Oh - aah - got that one."

Harry withdrew the tongs as Marge stared at him, mouth wide open, finally silenced. Harry reached to put the tongs back into the salad bowl and Petunia snatched them out of his hand, barely able to contain herself anymore.

"That's quite enough, young man. If you cannot be civilised, then you will retire to your room and work on your summer assignments."

Harry made a show of grouchily removing himself from the table. When he was sure Aunt Marge couldn't see it, he winked at Petunia; she had to bite her lip to keep from losing control.

Harry had already finished his assignments, but needed to research how to counter cheering charms. Not that he expected them to be used in a battle, but he couldn't let Tonks get away with that again. Not surprisingly it was not a topic commonly addressed in defense books. Before Harry knew it, he heard the bonging that announced midnight. His curiosity having grown through the night over what they might give when they were not antagonistic to him, he leapt for his present from the Dursleys. All his magical friends were holding his gifts until he returned to the Manor. Harry pulled open the wrapping paper and found - a cardboard tube. "A cardboard tube!" he said.

He heard Vernon behind him at the door, "Look inside, you silly wizard!" Petunia and Dudley were standing at the door smiling. Apparently Marge was already retired for the night.

Harry poked his finger in the tube and a piece of stiff paper came out. He unrolled it and found a large photograph. It was a muggle photograph, so it didn't move, but it showed Aunt Petunia and his mother in the center facing each other at angles, each holding a baby lovingly toward the camera, and behind each were their respective husbands, with their hands affectionately on their wives' shoulders.

"We didn't have many photos taken together, Harry," said Petunia quietly, "we really weren't very comfortable with their world. This was taken at your grandmother's house, a few months before she died, a year before your parents were killed. We were both so pleased to be able to show Mum that she had grandchildren. And of course, when she wanted to take a picture, none of us could say no."

"We couldn't give you anything valuable, well, of monetary value. Dumbledore always told us that, and most of the time we didn't much feel like it," said Uncle Vernon, "but we thought you might like this."

Harry turned to them with tears streaming down his eyes. "I have never, ever felt so much a part of a family as right now. Thank you so very much."

Harry could not get to sleep right away, even though he knew the morning run would come early. He took out parchment and quill and wrote to Hermione and Ron. He thought a second and addressed the letter to Ginny as well. He told them all about the picture and how it made him feel connected to his parents and grandparents. He realized that he had no pictures of his grandparents, though he had seen the photos on the wall as he grew up. He mentioned in his letter that he needed to ask Aunt Petunia if he could have duplicates made of several of them. When the letter was finished he rolled it up and retrieved Hedwig from her cage.

"Ready for a flight?" he asked and she hooted. "Of course, you are, Hedwig, my beautiful girl. You're always ready for a good flight. This is addressed to Hermione, Ron and Ginny, but I want you to deliver it directly to Ginny. She'll share it with the rest, but that'll let her know I was thinking of her. Oh, now don't be jealous, Hedwig. Nobody can take your place with me." She hooted again and ruffled out her feathers. "Right then," Harry said, "Off you go."

Harry was torn when the alarm went off the nest morning. He felt so at home that he wanted to just roll up in the blankets and stay in his comfortable cocoon. But then the thought intruded on him, as it had for more than a year, that if he wanted this and all the other things he valued to survive long, he had to prepare to meet whatever challenges may come. So he got up and ran.

He had felt very good, though, despite the short sleep, as it had been a particularly sound sleep. He ran farther than usual, but took no more time. He was most of the way through his shower, when his scar began to hurt again, and he realized that another attack was imminent. He threw a towel around his waist without even tying it and ran out of the bathroom toward his room, running into Aunt Marge as he did.

"Lowlife," she muttered, "probably just getting to bed." Ripper growled, and then went back to sleep in her arm.

Harry locked his door and grabbed some parchment to write down the locations. Then he tried to call Remus by mirror. He got no response and then he glanced out the window and saw that there had been a full moon, which was only just now, soon after daybreak, setting. So Harry called for Professor Dumbledore, who answered promptly.

"Harry, another attack? Give me the details, then we'll talk."

Harry described everything he knew and Dumbledore put down the mirror for a few minutes while he notified the aurors.

"Squads have been dispatched, Harry. Other than that, how are things? I can see you are keeping fit."

Harry had forgotten that he had come straight from the shower. "Oh sorry about that, Professor," he said, pulling a t-shirt from a drawer and pulling the towel across his lap.

"Nothing to be embarrassed of, Harry. Everything is pretty much the same in that regard from person to person. My only interest would be in your health."

"Of course, Professor. It just seemed odd, once I realized I was undressed."

Dumbledore smiled. "Happy birthday, Harry. It seems like only yesterday that you were born. Of course, at my age, it would seem a short time. And now here you are an adult as the wizarding world reckons things."

"Thank you, Professor. Let me show you what my aunt and uncle gave me." He reached for the picture.

"I hope it wasn't valuable - that's part of the protection."

"It is to me," said Harry. He held up the photograph.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, getting a catch in his throat, "I can see where it would be. But monetary value is our concern, and since it has only sentimental value, they have done well. They have been surprising me, of late."

"Same here, Professor," agreed Harry, "ever since you talked with them two years ago, they've been changing remarkably."

"I'll confess to having given them a potion to make them more receptive to my discussion, but anything I gave them would have worn off within hours. I have no ready explanation for this behavior. I'm aware of the training, and I'll assume that you would have told me of any other significant developments, so I'll turn to some business I have at hand. Letters are being prepared. I need to designate Head Boy. It is yours if you would like it."

Harry stared blankly a second and then spoke, "You mean, I could be Head Boy, without having been prefect?"

Dumbledore nodded once.

"Just as my father had been?"

Again Dumbledore nodded once.

"The acknowledged leader of the students."

Once more, Dumbledore nodded once, and then spoke, "It is recognition of the place you have assumed among your peers. All but a very few look up to you and would follow your lead through almost anything. To inspire hundreds of teenagers to get up before 5 a.m. every single day for over a year to go running in the pre-dawn Scottish Highlands cold is quite a feat. And yet they all do it because you do it."

Harry looked down. "And they have done it without me being Head Boy."

"Yes. Does that sadden you?"

"No. It makes me realize that for me being named Head Boy would be kind of hollow, a distraction even. I haven't wanted to admit to myself that I am a leader among the students, not in the sense of telling anyone what to do, but in setting the pace and the example. And they have been brilliant, inspiring me in turn to work even harder, that I may be worthy of the respect they give me. There are others who would fill the role of Head Boy better. I prefer the title Coach - it fits me. I don't need the recognition."

"It might go to Mr. Malfoy."

Harry shuddered. "If that is who you think should have that authority, then I will trust that you have your reasons."

"Right then, Harry. Who would you recommend for Head Boy?"

"Either Ernie McMillan or Ron Weasley. As much as I would like to favor my best friend, I can't say that either would be better or worse in the position."

"Very well, Harry. Mr. McMillan will be Head Boy. You are right in your assessment. Both would be exemplary, but we try not to have Head Boy and Head Girl from the same house, if it can be sensibly avoided."

"Then Hermione ...?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"That's wonderful. She deserves it; she's such a wonderful student."

"That she is, but that is not the basis for my choice. She has grown into a true leader as well, from being quite the loner when she arrived at Hogwarts. And I attribute that growth to your influence."

"I thought I was slowing her down by pulling her away from studies."

"If you didn't interfere with her writing ever longer essays, I am afraid I would have a rebellion among the teachers."

"But what if I had accepted?"

"Very few would have criticized selecting the two of you - and I would not alter my decisions based on such opinions."

"May I tell her when I get back to Longbottom Manor?"

"No, but only because if you knew in advance, it would be obvious that I consulted with you before making the selection."

"And to do that would allow people to guess that Head Boy was offered to me and turned down. And that would cheapen it for Ernie."

"Precisely. You are really developing an understanding and empathy for people. I don't think I have ever been more proud of one of my students."

"Thank you, Professor. That's the second priceless gift I've received today."

"But don't let it go to your head, Harry."

Harry smiled, "I won't."

Chapter 16 Good-bye, Aunt Marge

Harry's workouts during his birthday were tinged with sadness, as he realized that there was a very substantial chance he would never be back to these places again. No matter what happened during the school year, he was reasonably sure he would be moving on afterward - if there was to be an afterward for him. And that thought as well was difficult, as he had really given so little thought in the past couple of years to doing something after school. Even when he had career counseling in fifth year, his notion to become an auror was mostly just something to say, just as when he was five and said he would become a fireman. Fighting had never given him pleasure, not the way playing quidditch or coaching the DA had.

In the late afternoon after his other workouts were over, Harry decided that he would go for a walk around Little Whinging so he could see all the places he remembered from growing up. He had horrible memories and some which weren't really so bad after all. He wanted to make peace with his memories, both good and bad. He made a point of taking his wands and his mirror with him, just in case.

When he returned, Marge too seemed to sense the passing of an era - she would no longer have the chance to bully Harry Potter. As he came in the door, she confronted him. "So there you are, skulking about, vandalizing the neighborhood, no doubt, without even the decency to help your poor Aunt Petunia about the house, though she has provided meals and a roof for you all these years!"

"I know you heard me ask her if there was anything she would like done before I left, Aunt Marge," replied Harry tiredly.

"Don't you take that tone with me! They might put up with it, but you'll not talk to me that way. You need to learn to talk proper to your betters," she went on.

"I'll keep that in mind when I'm speaking with my betters," Harry said quietly.

"What!? You despicable oaf!" Marge then turned to her bulldog. "Ripper! Sic him!"

Ripper continued to sleep at the foot of the stairs, where he had parked himself most of July.

Harry shook his head with resigned pity for her, and then turned to step over Ripper and go to his room. Marge spied the mirror and snatched it out of his waistband.

"Where'd you steal this from? - looks like an antique."

"Give that back, Marge," Harry said low and stern.

"AUNT Marge to you, buster, and I asked you a question."

"It's mine. My godfather gave it to me two Christmases ago."

"Liar! Now answer me before I call the bobbies - where'd you steal this from?"

"It's mine," he said with a growl.

By now, Aunt Petunia had heard the dispute and was coming out from the kitchen.

"Oh, yeah, then why do you carry it?" said Marge.

"I use it," said Harry.

"Liar! I see that hair! You haven't used a mirror to do anything with that in years."

"It's mine - GIVE IT BACK!" Harry roared.

Marge flung the mirror toward the fireplace.

"ACCIO MIRROR," yelled Harry, and the mirror flew to his hand.

Marge stared in amazement, then peered suspiciously at him. "How'd you do that?"

"I reached for the mirror and grabbed it."

"No, I mean making it come to your hand so that you could grab it?"

"You're mistaken," said Harry, "I've just got quick reflexes. I jumped over and grabbed it."

"Liar! I saw that mirror change course in mid-air."

"Of course," said Harry, "I grabbed it and it changed course when I had hold of it. You just missed it because you weren't expecting someone to have such quick reflexes."

"That's what I saw, Marge," added Petunia, "you've got to figure that a boy his size who can last in boxing with Dudley has to have developed good reflexes."

"Exactly," said Harry.

"Harry," said Petunia, "I've got the rest of your clothes cleaned for going back to your boot camp. Take them upstairs and we'll fold them together."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," replied Harry. He went through the kitchen to the laundry room and grabbed the stack of dried clothes there. He carried them upstairs, with Petunia close by him to keep Marge from doing anything further. When they got upstairs, she closed the door.

"Harry, you did that without a wand! How long have you been doing that!?" she asked incredulously.

"Oh, for a long time. Like, erm - the last time Aunt Marge visited," replied Harry.

"Yes, but that was just you losing your temper. This was controlled. I know from your mother that that is usually very limited. She did very little without her wand."

"It's been getting better over the past couple of years. I've worked at it. You never know when you might be without your wand."

Just then they heard Vernon and Dudley coming in the front door. Marge squabbled at them about the mirror, but Vernon shrugged it all off. As Harry turned to pick up another shirt to fold, he saw Hedwig fly up to his window and, finding it closed, wheeling around to find another means to get to her master and her cage.

"Oh, no," said Harry, "I meant to tell her to stay with my friends."

Hedwig found entrance through the parlor window and flew right past Marge, grazing her hair.

"AND THAT'S ANOTHER THING!" roared Marge, pounding up the stairs and bursting into Harry's room, as Hedwig took her perch. "No decent person keeps an owl as a pet. Only a freak would keep a creepy night creature like that as a pet. You've got to mend your ways, boy!"

Marge then shoved Harry backward and he fell on his bed. Marge opened the window with her left hand, while grabbing Hedwig about the neck with the right. She threw Hedwig violently out the window, yelling "Go, bird, return to the forest where you belong!"

Hedwig had other ideas and after ruffling her feathers in flight a couple of times, she soared back toward her home and the boy she loved. Marge made to grab her again, but her wrists were suddenly grabbed by slender hands with a very firm grip.

"NO!" shouted Petunia, wrenching Marge's hands back away from Hedwig. "YOU'LL KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF OTHER PEOPLE'S PETS AND THINGS. HARRY LIVES HERE AND HIS THINGS WILL NOT BE DISTURBED! AND THE OWL HAS BEEN A LOVELY GUEST HERE - ALWAYS CLEAN - UNLIKE A CERTAIN SMELLY INCONTINENT BEAST YOU INSIST ON IMPOSING ON THIS HOUSE!"

"PETUNIA!" yelled Marge, "HOW DARE YOU MOLEST ME! AND HOW CAN YOU BE SO IRRESPONSIBLE AS TO CODDLE THAT BOY IN HIS WEIRDNESS!? IT NEEDS TO BE STOMPED RIGHT OUT OF HIM!"

"I'LL TAKE HIS WAYS OVER YOURS ANY DAY, MARGE. JUST LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

Just then Dudley called from downstairs. "Mum! Ripper's just soiled the carpet again!"

Petunia's eyes blazed, as she made for the door. "We'll eliminate that problem once and for all!"

"No, you won't, Petunia," yelled Marge, shoving her sister-in-law against the wardrobe as she ran to get to Ripper first.

Petunia was close on Marge's heels and as Marge got to the head of the stairs, Petunia's anger got the better of her and she gave Marge an enormous shove, sending her flying headfirst down the stairs, clearing them all as her face headed directly for the floor, as well as the enormous mound of soggy steaming excrement Ripper had left.

"WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA" shouted Harry from the top of the stairs, wand drawn, stopping Marge no more than an inch from colliding with the floor. Her legs were waving in the air like a hydra's tentacles, and her skirt flew down around her torso, disturbed only by her flailing arms. She was screaming incomprehensibly.

Petunia put her hand on Harry's shoulder, "Thanks, Harry, I don't know what came over me. I didn't want to hurt her. I wouldn't even have hurt Ripper."

"Glad to do it, Aunt Petunia, I know you didn't want to injure her. That was really brilliant the way you told her off upstairs. I hope you understand that I'll have to get a wizard in here to modify her memory. I'd do it myself, but I may be a bit clumsy with it yet. I don't want to do any damage."

Harry called Remus on the mirror while Petunia went down to explain the need to Vernon and Dudley.

"Harry, another attack?" asked Remus. Harry noted how bedraggled Remus looked from the werewolf transformation and the wolfsbane potion he must have taken.

"Not the kind you're thinking. I had to use magic on my aunt and we need a Ministry Wizard to come and clear her memory of the incident."

"Harry, did you lose your temper with her again? I thought you were working on that."

"No, that's not it, Remus. She was falling down the stairs and I stopped her before she hit the floor. See!" Harry turned the mirror so that Remus could see the scene.

"Aarooo!" howled Remus painfully and then began laughing, "Don't ever show anyone anything like that without a proper warning, Harry. I might have gone blind. You know you don't have to leave her like that - no wonder she's screaming."

"Well, that," said Harry with an impish smile, "and the fact that I stopped her face one inch from the floor, but there were two inches of dog poo on the floor. She has her nose sticking in it and she can't move her head without smearing it all over herself."

"Harry!" scolded Remus, but with his own tone of amusement.

"Oh, alright, then," said Harry, and with a wave of his hand, she rose higher, and with another wave she was turned rightside up. Harry took out a wand and pointed it at her face and said "Scourgify," and the mess on it was removed. As she was still screaming, he then said "Silencio," which allowed her to go through all the efforts of screaming, but without sound. Then he pointed at the mess on the floor and said "Scourgify," and the mess there was completely eliminated.

Petunia knelt down where the mess was and examined it closely. "Oh, Harry, it's like new." She had tears in her eyes, as she gazed up the stairs toward him. "Could you possibly do the other areas where Ripper made a mess?"

Harry looked in the mirror to Remus. "Can I?"

Remus shrugged. "You're an adult now, big fella: do it if you want. I'll be going now. I'll send a memory specialist immediately. Happy birthday, Harry!"

"Thanks, Remus. I'll see you first thing in the morning, if I don't have to call sooner."

Harry went about the downstairs with Aunt Petunia, scourgifying all the spots she could find, a number of which Harry knew could not be blamed on the dog, but he didn't care. While he was doing this, the memory wizard arrived and modified Marge's memory. She went into a very deep sleep.

"That'll last a couple of hours or so. Nothing to worry about. It's a big stress to have your memory modified."

"Thanks," said Harry and the Dursleys, just before the wizard disapparated.

"So, Harry, "said Vernon nervously, "I thought your kind had rules against a youngster doing magic like this."

"Oh, yes, we do, but I'm not underage now. The law applies to those under 17."

Vernon blanched. "I have feared this day, Potter. I thought the age might be 18. I just didn't know. I'm afraid we treated you very poorly for quite some time. I'm sure you have wanted to settle things once and for all for a long time. I know we can't stop you, so go ahead and do what you have a mind to."

Harry still had a wand out. He approached Vernon with a crafty look on his face.

"Yes, indeed," he said, "you have been quite beastly at times."

Then he threw his arms as far as he could around Vernon. "But I couldn't harm you. All is forgiven. I know it was your fear of magic making you act that way. I'm just so glad these past two summers have been so much better."

Then Harry hugged his aunt. Dudley wouldn't let him hug, so they shoved each other playfully.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'll miss you all very much."

"Don't go, Harry," said Petunia. "Don't go. You're safe here. Wait out the war. Something will happen to bring it to an end, and then you can return to that world."

Harry closed his eyes. "I cannot tell you how tempting that is. But right now I do not need that temptation. I couldn't live with myself if I left the battle to others, especially as I've been asked to help them prepare to meet Voldemort's supporters. It would be as shameful and wrong of me to turn my back on them as anything could be. And besides, the war won't just blow over. Voldemort believes I am his primary threat, and I've realized that this is so. Eventually the war would find its way here, and the sanctity of this home would be no more. Among my friends I have allies, who will help me stand up against him. I must get back to them."

Harry went upstairs and packed his things. He made sure Hedwig was okay, which she was, except for a few broken feathers which he carefully trimmed. The sun was going down, so he told her she could go get some dinner while he ate with his family. Then he stroked her before launching her out the window. He went downstairs and had dinner with the Dursleys, with much of laughter and tears.

When they were done, he cleaned the kitchen magically. Petunia was thrilled, but she still had that look she always got when the place was not quite clean enough. Then he went upstairs to gather all his things and return to Longbottom Manor. Marge was waking. He looked at her and realized he no longer felt the animosity that used to roil him.

"Good-bye, Aunt Marge," he said, and then he went up the stairs, laid hold of his things and Hedwig's cage, with Hedwig in it again, and returned to training camp.