Several Miles from the Sun

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: HARRY'S SECRET KEEPER

Harry slept in the next morning, and no one bothered to wake him, knowing he needed his sleep, and accepting Kingsley's vague explanation as good enough until Harry would tell the story himself. The household was quiet that day; Ron had left, albeit angrily, to help his mother back at the Burrow with the preparations for Bill and Fleur's wedding. Kingsley had retired to one of the guest rooms for a nap, taking the day off from the Ministry. Hermione was making an attempt at knitting a jumper for Ron and Harry (and possibly Regulus, but she kept that a secret). Regulus, who everyone thought had barricaded himself in his room once again, was actually in Harry's, sitting in a chair and staring across at the sleeping boy, like some disturbing guardian angel.

There would be no meeting of the Order that day. It was a hot day, which provoked cold lemonade and a cool nap, but it was also a day that mocked you, because you had too much to do instead of relaxing. It was almost twenty past three when Harry finally woke up, rubbing his eyes and fumbling for his glasses. The blurry image of someone sitting on the other side of his room came into focus, and he looked at Regulus suspiciously.

"Sleep well?" Regulus asked.

"Were you watching me sleep?" Harry said, unconsciously lifting the sheets to his chin.

Regulus rolled his eyes. "Kingsley left about an hour ago. He's going to bring Tonks around tonight," he said, getting up and stretching. "Molly left some cold meat and jacket potatoes for you. There's also a nice pitcher of blueberry juice your girlfriend made."

"Ginny's not my girlfriend," Harry muttered, finally getting out of bed. ("Who said Ginny?" grinned Regulus.) "I--I brought a book with me. I think. I don't remember much about last night. There is a book, right?"

Regulus nodded towards the desk, where a book had been placed. The book looked so ancient, it seemed to be fading away. "Hermione said we shouldn't read it until you awoke," he explained, sounding like he had tried.

"Is Hermione the only one here?" Harry asked. Upon Regulus's nod, he said, "Do me a favour, go get some of that leftover lunch and bring Hermione. I need to tell someone about what happened last night."

Regulus obeyed and was back in twenty minutes with Hermione trailing behind him, balancing a tray stocked with food. She smiled at Harry, giving him a hug, and tried to make him as comfortable as possible.

Harry helped himself to a bit of the meat and potatoes, before relating the experience he had gone through with Lucius. He carefully detailed the library he had been in to Hermione, asking her for an explanation. "What I don't understand," he said, "was why Malfoy's mind was all books, while my memories just sort of jumped around."

Regulus snorted.

Hermione looked thoughtful, wetting her lips with her tongue, before answering, "Well, Malfoy must have what is called an 'organised mind', Harry. It means he has everything piled up, not, as you put it, jumping around. From what I've read, it happens when most people have little to worry about--which I suppose is the case when you're in Azkaban. Also, teenagers are the opposite, our minds are always spinning about," she said.

"You're lucky," Regulus said. "If Malfoy's brain had been having little spasms, you probably never would have found what you were looking for."

Hermione looked at the book in something akin to fright. "It worries me that you took that, Harry. I mean, you just took it. I don't think that's happened before. You shouldn't have--Malfoy might suffer--" She trailed off uncomfortably.

"I don't think the potion would have let me take it, if it was dangerous to do so," Harry said.

"The Felix Felicis makes you do stupid things," Regulus muttered. "Anyway, have you tried bottling the book? It looks like a good breeze would annihilate it."

"Can you actually bottle it?" Hermione wondered. ("I hear you can bottle kittens these days," offered Regulus.) "That's another thing. Who's ever seen a memory as an object? It's always mist, isn't it?"

Harry had emptied the pitcher of blueberry juice and he stared at it pensively. "All right, bottle it, Hermione," he said.

"What, with that? That's not even a bottle!" she objected.

"Well, pitcher it, then," Harry said. "Go on. I feel too weak to do anything today."

Hermione made a sound of disgust and approached the book tentatively, holding out her wand in one hand and the jug in the other. She knew that moving memories was an easy thing, consisting only of guiding the memory into a recipient, in case it found another place to rest. Her fingers hovered over the book and, taking a deep breath, she opened it.

A swirl of mist rose from the pages. It looked harmless, and Hermione carefully used her wand to move it towards the pitcher. Regulus clapped in appreciation. As the mist settled in its new home, the book seemed to shimmer before disappearing completely.

Regulus suddenly frowned, his shoulders drooping slightly.

"Brilliant job, Hermione!" congratulated Harry. "I'll have a look at it later." He yawned. He was about to add something, but there was a persistent knock on the door. Harry frowned, giving permission for the person to come in.

Trelawney stumbled in, her robes trailing behind her. Her glasses were placed askew across her nose, and her wild hair looked tousled. "You!" she cried, pointing at Harry. "The planets have aligned in your favour! They speak against the Dark Lord, and they speak against his followers. The Chosen One they have called!"

Professor Trelawney had knelt by Harry's bed, taking his hand in hers. "They have spoken of you for many years, Chosen One," she continued, her voice thick and her breath smelling of sherry. "They call for you!"

"Oi, get out of here, you great old bat," Regulus snapped, moving to grab her.

"You must listen!" Trelawney pulled Harry to her. "You cannot play your game alone, Chosen One. You are missing a piece, your equal, your mirror. Without him you cannot move forward. Are you the Chosen One, Hodur?"

"Hodur?" Regulus demanded. "How did we go from Hodur to Harry?"

Harry had remained silent, and he stared mesmerised at Trelawney. "He will lead you to darkness, but darkness is but a tunnel," she said.

"Who's he?" Hermione asked, her voice hoarse.

"He... he is not the Chosen One," Trelawney muttered. She stood up, let go of Harry's hand, dusted off her clothes, and marched out of the room, as if nothing had happened.

"I--I--what just happened?" Harry demanded.

Hermione was still clutching the pitcher, her fingers white. "She said you were missing... a piece? A person. There's someone we need? Someone we haven't noticed we need?" She stared at Regulus.

"Mad old bat denied Potter his Chosen One title, didn't she?" Regulus asked, ignoring Hermione's inquisitive looks.

"No," she answered. "She kept calling Harry the Chosen One. She said this other person wasn't the Chosen One. But that's silly. Only Harry is, so obviously anyone else wouldn't be." Hermione frowned. "Hodur? Does that sound familiar to you, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "Trelawney was probably just drunk. Ignore her. We need to focus on getting the Horcruxes."

-!-

"Knew I'd find you here," Ron said, pulling off his jumper. He had just arrived, and was looking extremely peaky and in need of a break.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "This is my bedroom, Ron," he said smartly.

Ron grinned lazily and jumped onto Harry's bed. "Yes, well, that's why I knew I'd find you here, isn't it? Look, I know you're upset about the whole Hodur thing, but you can't let it get to you."

Harry, who had been sitting at his desk, playing with a crumpled-up piece of paper, frowned. "Why shouldn't I? Do you think I want people to be more fanatical about me? Or that Scrimgeour will be breathing down my neck next time I step out of Chadwick? Or what about that mad glint in Hermione's eye whenever this religion thing is mentioned?" Harry slammed both fists on the table angrily. "Fuck it, Ron. They're trying to make me into a bloody God."

Ron didn't seem to know what to say. He had scooted to the edge of the bed, and was trying to smile reassuringly. After a while he said, "We'll get through this, Harry. It's not important."

"It's easy for you to say," snapped Harry. "You're not the one in the spotlight." He immediately regretted the words, remembering Ron's tendency to get jealous, and indeed the remarks had hit hard, for Ron had flushed an angry red.

"Right, I know. I'm not the Boy Wonder," Ron said breezily. "I can never be as good as you are."

"That's not what I meant," Harry said, "and you know it. I'm sorry."

Ron shrugged, getting up. He towered over Harry. "Harry," he began uncomfortably, "you know that no matter what, I'll always be your best mate, right? Even if I'm not as good as you at Quidditch or spells or as intelligent as Hermione--"

"Yes, you are," Harry murmured.

"But I'll always be there for you," continued Ron, ignoring him. "You know I'll always protect you."

Harry grinned. "Well, you are my Secret Keeper. I expect some protection in return."

Ron ruffled Harry's already lively hair. "You idiot, I'd sell your location for the prize of a good broomstick."

"Just a broomstick?" Harry demanded, and they both broke into laughter.

Hermione froze outside Harry's room. Her fists clenched in undesired surprise, as she thought, "Ron is Harry's Secret Keeper? Ron?"

-!-

It had been almost midnight when Hermione was woken by a large bang, an explosion that seemed only far enough to let her know the house was still standing, but probably not the neighbourhood. She grabbed her wand and threw on a blue bathrobe, which had been laid by her bed for such circumstances. She didn't bother to turn on her lights, only creep into the hallway. A smell of smoke had wafted through the house. Something was burning.

Harry had rushed down the hallway, and they bumped into each other. He grabbed onto her shoulders, staring at her.

"Harry, what happened?" Hermione asked.

"There was an explosion. I think it's a few houses down. The Dark Mark, didn't you see it?" He looked ready to say more, but Ginny had just appeared, looking grim.

"Ron's not in his bed," she said, her voice had already taken on a slight edge of despair. "I went to check, but he's not there!"

"What?" both Harry and Hermione pushed Ginny aside, running to check on Ron's bedroom themselves.

The bed was unmade, as if Ron had left in a hurry, and the pair of trainers he usually left thrown by the door, were missing.

"He must have gone out, the idiot!" Harry exclaimed.

Tonks and Regulus had run up to their floor, both in equal states of having been just woken up. Tonks looked at Ron's room, frowning, as Regulus peered out the window. His face was hidden by the shadows, but more than one person felt they saw a delighted grin.

"You can't go out there, Harry," Tonks said. "Those Death Eaters are probably on a random raid, but we can't risk them seeing you. You're all protected while you're in this house."

"But Ron's out there!" Hermione snapped, the urgency in her voice. Why weren't they going to find him? Ron was so important! Was she the only one who knew that Ron was Harry's Secret Keeper?

For a brief second, images of Peter Pettigrew flooded Hermione's mind. She shook them off angrily; Ron was not Pettigrew. He would never be a traitor. She was just bitter about not knowing.

Tonks was already transforming. Her bubblegum pink hair turned black, her height shortened and the colour of her skin darkened. She turned to Regulus, saying, "Make sure they stay here. You hear me, Harry? I need you to wait here."

And then she ran off.

Hermione moved closer to Regulus, seeking some sort of comfort. Harry looked furious, clenching his fists. Ginny wrapped her arms around herself, lifting her chin defiantly. "Let's go to the kitchen," she said, taking Harry by the elbow. "We can wait for Tonks and Ron to return. Ron will probably want a sandwich."

-!-

Tonks stuck to the shadows of the houses as much was possible. It wasn't an easy task; the previous explosion had brought the Muggles out of the bed, turning on lights and coming to see what had happened. Please go back to your beds, Tonks pleaded.

The Order should be on their way, but until then, Tonks knew it was important to only find Ron. If he had been captured, Harry's life would be running on a thick wire. The smoke was making it hard to see, and it caught up in her nostrils, making it difficult to breathe.

The Death Eaters were having a merry old time, making the Muggles whiz in the air and do cartwheels. Tonks prayed that she wouldn't come across her aunt or uncle, although the thought of facing Snape made her slightly giddy with revenge.

There was nothing left of the house that had been in the explosion, other than the garden. The Death Eaters had moved on to terrorise the neighbours, who had come to assist, and Tonks tried to block out the screams and pleadings.

She dodged into a hedge that separated two houses, taking a deep breath. She watched through the leaves as two men in black walked past her, laughing and swearing. She was about to run off to the next series of hedges, when the point of a wand poked into the back of her neck.

Tonks gulped.

"Don't move," someone hissed.

Tonks relieved her muscles slightly, recognising the voice. "Ron--it's me," she said.

The wand did not move, nor did the grip on it lessen.

"Tonks," she emphasised, remembering how she looked. "Hold on. I'm going to change my hair."

She calmed herself and concentrated on returning her hair to its usual vivid colour. She had only gone a bit farther than the tips when the wand was dropped.

"You fucking scared me, Tonks!" Ron exclaimed.

Tonks felt herself letting go a deep breath. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"I was awakened by the noise two Death Eaters made passing under my window. I thought I'd come and see," Ron explained.

"Well, that was an incredibly stupid thing to do!" Tonks turned around to scold him and froze.

Ron was tightly holding onto a young girl. It was too dark to make out her features, but it was enough for Tonks to worry.

"I couldn't--I couldn't--" Ron said. "She's one of them. But I couldn't... she tried to... I know her."

"I know," Tonks said softly. She sighed. "Now we'll have to see how we get back without being seen. And I don't suppose leaving her behind will do any good."

There was a loud bang. "Retreat!" someone yelled, and his voice was accompanied by a howlish scream, and a series of spells going off.

Tonks bit her lip, turning her hair back to black. She peered out through the leaves. The Death Eaters were retreating, and she thought she could see Mad Eye waving his wand threateningly.

"Ron, this is our chance. Have you got a good hold onto, er, her?" Tonks saw Ron nod. "Ok, on the count of three, we run straight for Chadwick. Keep behind the houses. Don't stop for anything."

Ron grasped the young girl tighter and received a squirm in return. Tonks gave a reassuring smile and then counted to three.

They ran.

-!-

Ron knew that he had never been yelled at so much in his life before, not even by his mother. He felt that, if Harry had allowed a dog to live in Chadwick, the dog would have been angrily barking at him as well.

Remus had gone on and on about putting Harry's life in danger--a stupid thing to do considering that, in the first place, Harry's secrecy depended on him.

Hermione had yelled through tears about how he had gone off by himself, without telling anyone.

His father had turned tomato-red, demanding to know what had gone through his head.

Professor McGonagall had called him the most thick-headed boy she had ever known.

Regulus had thumped him on the back, saying that he was the ideal Gryffindor, but, seriously, how come he managed to bring back a Muggle when Regulus couldn't even have a dog?

Ginny had slammed a plate of food in front of him, alongside a mug of hot chocolate.

The only person who hadn't yelled at him yet--even Kingsley, Mad Eye and Fleur of all people had had a word in--was his Mother. And that was because she was occupied giving the girl he had brought home, some attention.

"And to bring back Parkinson of all people!" Harry roared.

Okay, not just any girl, he supposed.

It was a quarter past five in the morning, when the Order finally retreated, deciding to regroup for a meeting later that day, finally leaving Ron to relax. The trio watched as they left, leaving behind only Tonks, who headed back to bed.

"Don't you ever do that again," Harry hissed.

Ron held up his hands in defence. "I promise, mate. Really, I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

"How did you end up bringing back a Death Eater?" Regulus asked, accompanied by a yawn.

"I sort of bumped into her," murmured Ron. "She was about to attack this Muggle boy, and I just sort of threw myself at her. We tumbled a bit, and she was about to use her wand on me, but I managed to knock her out."

"Well, if that's the only way you can think of getting yourself a girl," Regulus sneered.

"She doesn't look in very good shape," Ginny said sadly. "She's really young to be... you know."

"I don't think so," Ron muttered. "Malfoy was one himself, wasn't he?"

"One thing is for certain," said Remus, wiping his hands off with a towel. "We can't let her go now. Even if she can't give away Chadwick's location, if she knows that we're grouped up like this, that Harry is nearby...."

"Wait, we're taking her in?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Well, perhaps we should consider Parkinson's position," said Hermione. "I mean, Ginny's right. She is awfully young. Maybe... maybe she needs some help." She cleared her thought uncomfortably.

Ron and Harry looked suspiciously at Regulus, who shrugged.

Harry threw his hands up in the air. "All right, all right. Go find her a room. Go figure, he'd be right."

"Who'd be right?" Regulus asked, as the room started to empty.

Harry snorted.