Harry Potter and the Gemini Connection

Harry Potter and the Gemini Connection

Chapter One: Aftermath

The midday sun baked the rooftops on Privet Drive for the fifth consecutive cloudless day. Following the record breaking drought of the previous year, all of the gardens down the street were looking a little worse for wear. All that is, except one. The lawn at number four, where the Dursleys lived, was always perfectly uniform. One thing that the Dursleys couldn't stand was a mess, and even unprecedented weather wasn't going to allow this garden to grow parched. Another thing that the Dursleys couldn't stand was anything out of the ordinary, although here they had slightly less control. Unusual things kept happening at the Dursley house during the summer. The thing was, the Dursleys had a secret - a deep, dark secret that they had been keeping for fifteen years.

The Dursleys' secret was currently sitting on his bed in the smallest bedroom, fidgeting and wishing that he had something interesting to do, even if it was just holiday homework. This boy's name was Harry Potter. He was a slim teenager, with unruly jet black hair and emerald green eyes. He was wearing clothes that were completely shapeless, designed as they were for somebody roughly spherical. Harry didn't really care about what he looked like though. He had no friends who would see him like this. Everybody in Privet Drive thought that Harry was a hooligan, forced to go to St. Brutus's Secure Centre For Incurably Criminal Boys. This couldn't have been farther from the truth. Harry was a wizard, a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His family had been attacked when he was just one year old, by Lord Voldemort, a wizard so evil that most in the magical world dared not speak his name. The supposedly unblockable killing curse had been cast at his dad and had done its job, but his mother had sacrificed her life for Harry, leaving him with a lingering protection. When Voldemort had turned his wand on Harry, the spell had not taken effect, but instead had rebounded upon its sender. Harry had not only become the first person to survive the 'Avada Kedavra' curse that night, but had also become Voldemort's vanquisher, making him possibly the most famous wizard alive. However, he had been sent off to live with his aunt and uncle who so badly hated the unusual that they had kept him completely in the dark about the wizarding world. When he had finally been told the truth on his eleventh birthday and received his school acceptance letter, it had not taken him long to reach a decision about his future. Harry had left for school only a few weeks later, and had been shocked to find that everybody in the wizarding world knew his name.

Harry had thought back to his first year at Hogwarts quite a lot in the last week. It seemed so long ago now, and although most of his best memories were from this year, they now came to him blurry and disconnected. His first ride on a broomstick, meeting his best friends Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, learning how to do spells for the first time - he used to use these memories to cheer himself up, but now he could feel nothing. He had good reason to be despondent. In the past month, the man who had become like a father to Harry, Sirius Black, had been killed by one of the resurrected Voldemort's followers. Harry couldn't help but feel that this was his fault. He had been tricked into thinking that Sirius was in trouble, and had mounted a rescue mission. When Sirius had found out about this, he had gone to save Harry, and had been murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange. Less than an hour after that had happened, his headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, had explained the reason why Voldemort had attempted to lure Harry away. A prophecy had been made before he was born, stating that Harry would be the one to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all, or else Voldemort would kill him. Not knowing the full content of the prophecy, Voldemort had been desperate to hear it all, but in order to access the records, he needed Harry's help.

If only Harry had been a little more cautious, or had a little more information to work from, he wouldn't have flown so blindly into Voldemort's trap, and his godfather would still be alive. This was the reason that he was alternating between staring sadly into space and fidgeting with a strange restless energy that made him want to run up and down the street screaming, despite the heat.

Suddenly, a streak of something tiny and very fluffy whipped past Harry's head. It came to a halt abruptly on top of an empty cage in the corner of his bedroom. He recognised the owl immediately as his friend Ron's pet.

'Hi, Pig.'

The owl hooted at him affectionately, then soared down onto his knee. Harry stroked it, and then unclasped the bundle from its leg. There were three letters tied together, and Pig looked very relieved to get rid of them.

'Ok, you can go and eat Hedwig's food now. She's out hunting, probably won't be back 'til tomorrow. I'm sure you'll need a rest after all that heavy lifting.'

Pig hooted gratefully and hopped back to the cage, this time going inside. Harry untied the bundle and looked at the envelopes. One of them drew his attention immediately. It was fluorescent, with alternating diagonal stripes of orange and pink. It had been sandwiched between the other two envelopes, and Harry could only assume that this was to prevent Pigwidgeon from glowing, which would have drawn even more unwanted attention from curious Muggles. Turning the letter over, Harry saw the seal. Pressed into bright green wax was the image of a lion, and in the centre of its back there were three Ws, sitting on top of each other. Realising where the letter had come from, he ripped it open eagerly and read its contents.

Harry,

How are things? We heard about Moody threatening your Muggles, and sincerely hope that he has turned them all into ferrets for you. You will be pleased to hear that our new line of products are finally in stock, and although we haven't made a ridiculous amount of money yet, we have been making enough to cover the rent of the shop and the flat above. We expect things to really pick up when students start coming to pick up their school stuff. Word of mouth is good, I think we might even have Zonko's worried about us after the demonstrations we gave last year.

The main reason we wanted to write was to let you know about your investor privileges. After careful calculation we have decided that you are entitled to as much free stuff as you want. Come down when you get your school things and one of us will deal with you personally.

George is minding the store today, and I've just popped over to see ickle Ronnikins and the family. Thought I might as well write this letter while I was here, so you get a nice bundle all at once. We aren't at the Burrow, as I am sure you can guess, although I can't write about it here. Hermione has just arrived, she's walking through the door right now. Ron looks pleased for some company. I think Ginny's driving him insane - not surprised, she's always on about Dean Thomas! She's obviously trying to wind Ron up and it's working like a charm. No way she'll be a prefect, she's learnt too much from us! I'm sure that Dean will be at the top of Ron's 'most hated' list by the time school starts. Well, maybe behind Malfoy, and a certain Bulgarian Quidditch legend!

Hermione is standing at the door, struggling with her things. Ron hasn't gone to help her yet either. He's looking kind of sick now - he was a bit like this when she turned up at the front door last summer. Me thinks that Mummy's precious little prefect has a crush - shame he doesn't know the meaning of the phrase 'playing it cool'. Luckily she is a bit preoccupied, or she'd notice what a prat he is being. Oh wait, now she has, and it's all kicking off. She's biting his head off for not helping her, and he's going on about how that isn't any way to greet a friend. I need to finish this and get out of here before they really get started.

See you soon. You'll be here before the next time we visit.

Fred (and George)

- Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes -

Harry smiled in spite of himself. Fred and George were twins, practical jokers, and members of his favourite wizarding family - the Weasleys. He had given them a thousand galleons about a year ago, to start a joke shop with. He felt it was the least he could do, as he had inherited a small fortune from his parents, and the Weasleys were not very well off. It looked like they were really making it into a quick success, the store had only opened earlier that year. They were right as well, the summer holidays would be a massive boost for them, as most of their target audience attended Hogwarts for the rest of the year.

Harry was purposefully ignoring Fred's very unsubtle hints about Ron and Hermione. He had suspected that Ron might fancy her years ago, and that he was just stubbornly refusing to see it. It wasn't really worth mentioning it to them, as the two of them had spent most of the last five years at each others' throats. He would let them get on with their stupid fighting until Ron realised how he felt. Besides, he didn't really know about Hermione's thoughts on the matter, she was much more introverted and, to put it bluntly, smarter than Ron. She hid her feelings carefully. Harry skimmed the letter again, and was extremely glad of the last sentence. It looked like Dumbledore was not going to leave him stewing in his relatives company for any longer than was necessary this year. He was already bored, and he was sure that life would be more interesting wherever Ron and Hermione were. He suspected that they were at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, but he hoped that he was wrong. Although he would rather be in that horrible place than stuck in the Muggle world, it would bring back memories that he wasn't ready to deal with yet. Silently praying that one of the other letters would contain more details about when he was to be picked up, he ripped them both open clumsily, and read them quickly. The first was from Hermione.

Dear Harry,

I hope you are feeling okay. I know what you went through last month was really tough on you, but you know that we are here if you need anybody to talk to about it. Sirius would want you to go on with your life. I have been keeping in touch with Luna and Neville. They both say they are doing ok with what happened in June. Luna's letters seem a bit distant, but I can't really tell if she's been having problems, or if she doesn't like me very much, or if she is just a bit, well, unique. Maybe she would open up more to you. Neville, on the other hand, has been great. In fact, I wrote to him to make sure he was alright, but in the end he has helped me out a lot. You should talk to him too. He knows a bit about what you are going through, but he doesn't want to impose on you or anything. He would never write to you, unless you decided to write first. We all understand what you did, and any of us would have done the same for our families, or for you. It isn't your fault that it all went wrong, you have to believe that.

Harry had to pause here to wipe tears out of his eyes. He had felt pathetic lately. Any slightly kind words from his friends, or anything that reminded him of his godfather, and he would be openly crying. He hoped that this was just a side effect of being separated from them when he was feeling so depressed. If it lasted into the school term, no doubt Malfoy would have something to say about it. He kept reading when he had recovered, but he still felt a slightly warm feeling in his stomach about how great his friends were. Hermione's letter continued:

I can't wait any more for my O.W.L. results. I can't plan what I want to do next year until I know which exams I have passed. Do you know what day they are supposed to be coming? Dumbledore didn't say to us did he?

I am going a bit crazy here. Ron doesn't seem to care how well he has done in the exams, and he gets grumpy whenever I talk about it. It's really annoying that we can't talk to each other without it turning into an argument. If you are not here soon I'll kill him. Ginny's fed up as well, she wants you to get here so that she doesn't always have to be the one to jump in the middle of our fights. Fred left this afternoon, Bill and Charlie are away recruiting foreign wizards again, and the Aurors are really busy. This house is practically empty most of the time. Mind you, from what I've heard, you'll be joining us really soon.

Hermione

PS. Sorry if our letters take a while to reach you. Ron still hasn't written his yet.

Harry cringed. He didn't envy Ron's sister, having to put up with Hermione and Ron's constant bickering. It was usually his job to act as peacekeeper, and much as he enjoyed the rest, he did feel a little guilty at leaving Ginny to deal with their mood swings. If they kept it up she would probably threaten to curse them both. She had a hot temper of her own, and although Harry was sure she wouldn't break the 'reasonable restriction of underage wizardry' laws, it would almost be worth it. Grinning at the thought, he turned to the next letter.

Harry,

I took at a look at Hermione's letter, and she's a lot better at the consolation stuff than I am. You know that you can talk to me as well if you need to though. I tried to read the letter you got from Fred, but I think it gave me an eclectic shock, so it must be booby trapped. Be careful when you open it!

Living in a house with three girls for most of the day is so annoying. I don't know what Lupin is doing, but he ought to be here sticking up for me. You wouldn't believe how bad Hermione's got about these O.W.L. results. She won't leave me alone. Obviously my mother is sticking up for her, she thinks I'll have done well in the exams, I don't think she could deal with it if I let her down, especially after the twins dropped out. Ginny seems to be on my side, but she knows well enough to keep out of arguments with our mum. I know you'll stick up for me when you get here.

It's not very far off at all now, but I can't tell you when exactly, because if someone intercepts the owl, you might be ambushed. Moody has everybody in CONSTANT VIGILANCE mode! Dad says that he's still getting your letters, so nobody will be coming to threaten the Muggles any time soon.

I'm really glad that you won't be kept away from us for too long this summer. I have something that I desperately need to tell you. I am really worried about something and I don't know who else I can talk to. I don't want to panic Hermione or Ginny, and mum would totally freak out. The main reason that it has taken so long to finish this letter is that I couldn't decide whether to tell you or not. I finally realised that somebody needs to know, and now I can't chicken out of it when you get here.

Take care of yourself, and watch out for those scary Muggles.

Ron

Harry was immediately worried. Something was wrong with Ron and he didn't have a clue what it could be. Was it perhaps his fault? He had dragged Ron on a mission last year, and he had been attacked by a disembodied brain. The school nurse had said something about thoughts leaving deeper scars than almost anything else. What if Ron was seriously hurt, and it was all because of Harry's 'saving people' thing? He had already gotten his godfather killed, and to some extent it was his fault that his parents were dead. Voldemort would never have bothered them if it hadn't been for that damn prophecy.

Harry was woken from the beginning of a mammoth guilt trip by the sound of his aunt yelling from downstairs.

'Harry, lunch is ready!'

Since he had returned from Hogwarts, his relatives had been completely different to him. He placed his letters on his bedside table and wandered down into the kitchen. The Dursleys still obviously hated everything about him, but they were now afraid. Some of Harry's friends had threatened to turn up if he didn't send a letter every three days. He had barely been made to do any household chores yet. Also, for the first time in his life, his cousin Dudley was being forced to occasionally hang out the washing or water the garden. This hadn't gone down at all well, and Dudley was now sulking in his bedroom. He had refused to leave for three days, instead insisting that food was brought up to him at meal times. This had made the situation even better. With Dudley unable to get seconds, there were normally enough leftovers for Harry to eat until he was full. There was also a lot more room around the table, so Harry was no longer being sent to eat on a chair in the corner. He was getting three full meals a day, and wasn't even being made to help prepare them. It was clear that his uncle in particular was finding it hard to live with these new arrangements. Never before had he had to sit with his nephew for so long without shouting insults and orders, and giving Harry anything but the bare minimum seemed to be against his principles.

Still, despite the awkward silences and occasional glares, this was an enormous improvement on his usual home life. Not wanting to push his luck, Harry did the few jobs he was asked to happily. It at least took his mind off his destiny for a while. It was hard to believe that you were the saviour of the world, when you were washing Dudley's underpants.

As Harry sat down at the table, he noticed that Uncle Vernon was reading the paper again. He had taken to doing this at meal times. Clearly civilised conversation was out of the question in Harry's presence. However, the headline on the front cover today caught Harry's eye.

Biological warfare? - 17 dead of undetermined causes.

Undetermined causes? That sounded ominous. Until now, there had been no news reports suggesting that Voldemort could be back to his killing ways, in either the wizard or Muggle news. He had been biding his time for the past year, as very few knew that he had been resurrected. Now that his presence was widely known it could only have been a matter of time. On the other hand, these deaths could indeed have been the result of non-magical warfare, as the paper claimed. Muggles were almost as good at killing each other as wizards were. Harry decided to wait until his uncle had finished with it, and then take the paper to his room. He was sure that the report would contain other clues, if indeed this was Death Eater activity.

Lunch was as silent an affair as usual. When Uncle Vernon spilt his cup of tea he glared at Harry, but wisely decided that trying to blame it on magic would accomplish nothing. After that wasted opportunity to shout, his uncle seemed to need a little space, and he disappeared on the pretext of going to the toilet. Harry polished off the rest of his sandwiches quietly, picked up the paper, and slipped out of the kitchen under the hawk-like glare of his aunt.

As Harry read through the article on the end of his bed, words of the article jumped out at him. 'Looks of terror on their faces' and 'seemingly died instantly' and 'no signs of any known poison.' Yes, these were definitely the first deaths of the brewing war. Harry found himself subconsciously adding 'Well, these are the first deaths that aren't my fault'. Then he was hit by another sudden wave of guilt, which completely paralysed him. If he was the only person that could kill Voldemort, then every death in this war was his fault. The longer he took to prepare himself, the more time the Death Eaters would have to wreak havoc. But what could he do? He was, after all, just a teenager. He had no particular power, no strengths that placed him above his year group, let alone the rest of wizarding society. He was good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, but not exceptional. Even among his own year group there were probably stronger duellists. The second I get back to school, thought Harry, I'm going straight to Dumbledore, to demand some private lessons. I should have been learning from him since I started Hogwarts, probably even before. Harry quickly scanned the list of names, and was half-relieved to find that he didn't recognise any surnames. Voldemort had probably gone after Muggles first. It made a kind of sense that he would attack a group of completely defenceless people first to encourage his new recruits. How many of them would be so keen once they had to attack Muggle-born witches and wizards? What about when Voldemort got started on half-bloods? Some of them would probably try to back out, not wanting to go so far, and Voldemort would kill them. Not that Harry felt a great deal of sympathy, the Muggles they had killed had families too, some of them probably had children. He read the article in greater depth. Some of them actually were children. How could anybody do that to a child? There was a full colour picture over the page of a young girl with her golden brown hair in pigtails. The caption read 'Alison Harris, 6, the youngest victim of this terrifying new threat to our society: photograph taken three days before her death.' A flash of green light seemed to cloud Harry's vision for a second, then without any warning he was violently sick on his bed.

- HPHPHP -

The next morning Harry awoke with a start. He had been dreaming of Alison's death, Voldemort towering over her as she sat on the floor crying, his red cat-like eyes glinting and snake-like face set in an expression of disgust. Her mother was screaming in the near-distance, something like 'No, not her, anything but her, take me instead, take me, no...' and Voldemort replied with a cold voice, 'Your husband tried to stop me and he is dead, nothing you can do will save her now. Silence her for me Wormtail.' There was a loud rushing sound and the room briefly went a sickly green colour. The scared voice stopped immediately, but Harry did not witness her execution. His eyes were locked with the child's as she scrambled back along the floor, until she reached the foot of the wall, and could move no further. Then, with a ghastly laugh, the wand was raised, and...

Realistically, Harry knew that his nightmare was indeed that, a nightmare, but he couldn't help wondering if that was how it had actually happened. He had seen what Voldemort was doing before, although usually whilst the event was actually happening, and admittedly the details seemed a little too similar to his own parents deaths to be credited. Nevertheless, Lord Voldemort knew far too well what Harry's weaknesses were. The images could have been projected into his head in order to upset him. They had certainly done that. Only the absence of the usual burning pain in Harry's scar, coupled with his sideline view (he usually saw through Voldemort's eyes) finally convinced him that these were the type of dreams that anybody who understood the situation could have had.

Fighting back the urge to be sick again, he had gotten into a little trouble for that the day before despite cleaning the sheets himself, Harry rolled out of bed and hit the floor. Groaning, he checked his watch, before remembering that it had stopped. It hadn't actually worked in well over a year now, but he kind of liked it. It was a sort of gift from the Dursleys, one of the few hand-me-downs from Dudley that hadn't been broken to start with. Harry knew that he wouldn't have it if Dudley hadn't pestered his parents for a new state-of-the-art digital watch, but that didn't really matter. He wore it to remind himself that sometimes you could get something good out of even the worst situations, and the watch was quite nice, aside from the shaky double Ds scratched into the back with a penknife. He also wore it because it made him remember the way he had felt when his two best friends had been 'captured' by mermaids, and he had been afraid that he would not be quick enough to rescue them. Never mind that it had been a test, it had been frighteningly believable, and from that moment on, he had known what it would be like to hold their lives in his hands. The watch hadn't worked since.

Harry pulled himself steadily to his feet and went to look out of the window. It was practically dawn, the sky was still a paleish yellow, and the sun was barely over the horizon. Hedwig was sitting precariously on the outside window ledge, and Harry quickly let her in.

'Clever girl, I'm glad you've learned not to tap on the window and hoot so loudly, Uncle Vernon is a pretty light sleeper. Still, I'm sorry if I kept you waiting too long. Did you have a nice hunt?'

Hedwig jumped onto Harry's shoulder and nipped at his ear.

'I'll take that as a yes,' Harry laughed. 'I wish I could come with you. You have no idea how restless I feel in here. Maybe if I could actually do something during the day, I might manage to sleep a bit better. Honestly, what time is it? 5 o'clock?'

Hedwig looked at Harry blankly, which wasn't all that surprising really, her being an snowy owl who probably couldn't tell the time. Still, she was the only friendly company he had, and over the holidays he often had long one-sided conversations with her. In Harry's defence, Hedwig was a very smart owl, bought from a magical pet store, and vastly more capable of a civilised chat than his cousin. At least she could look sympathetic when he was sad, which had been quite often recently.

'You missed Pig yesterday. I know how much you like to boss him about...'

Hedwig nipped his ear again, a bit harder.

'Ok, ok, I was just kidding. Anyway, it looks like we'll get to see Ron soon, and Hermione. We get to get away from here.'

Hedwig flew over into her cage, and looked disappointedly into her food dish, and Harry laughed again.

'Yes, Pig stole some of your food. I'll fill it up after I've gone for my shower.' He paused and then added, 'I'm glad you're here.'

And he was. She was being difficult on purpose, and he hadn't laughed so much in five minutes since before the Department of Mysteries incident. Given the way he'd woken up, that was saying something.

- HPHPHP -

After the shower, there was another owl in his room. This one was bearing the Sunday Prophet, to which he had taken out a subscription, although he didn't get the daily magical paper. Harry was appalled to find, after reading the article which confirmed his suspicions about the attacks, that it was less detailed than the Muggle equivalent. Obviously the little information that it did contain was a lot more accurate, but there wasn't even a list of the victims' names. The way the article was written made it absolutely clear that the reporter was more worried about the fact that maybe soon there would be 'wizarding deaths.' Harry supposed that many people would take that view, as the magical world in general was very prejudiced against Muggles.

Feeling strangely guilty on behalf of wizardkind, Harry ripped out the relevant pages of the Muggle paper, and folded them into the centre of his Prophet. He thought about writing to the reporter in question, a Miss Lydia Tachbrook, but decided that she would probably just make a big deal out of receiving hate mail from the Boy-Who-Lived. He really didn't need any more column inches describing how unstable he was.

Instead, he pulled his almost empty trunk out from under his bed, and slipped the paper inside it, vowing to do something about it later. Maybe he would mention it to Hermione, she liked 'equal rights' stuff. She'd spent the last two years trying to free house-elves, not that she was getting very far - they seemed to enjoy being slaves.

Harry got dressed into his baggy clothes, feeling a little better now that he had elected to do something. After changing he wandered over to the window and glanced out. He had looked in exactly the right direction, at exactly the right time, to see a shoe on the front lawn vanish into thin air. Moving his gaze away quickly so that the invisible intruder wouldn't know that they had been spotted, he casually stepped back from the window. When he was certain that he was out of sight, he turned and ran through his bedroom door, jumped down the stairs, threw the front door open and skidded to a halt on the front lawn, just in front of where the invisible person ought to be.

'Is there room in that cloak for two?' he whispered into the air.

'Harry! You aren't allowed to see me, I'm being stealthy,' hissed a familiar voice.

'Yeah, super stealthy!' Harry snickered. 'I saw your disembodied foot from my window Tonks!'

'Dammit! 'S no wonder I failed my stealth and tracking exam first time.'

'I'm surprised you passed it at all!'

'Hey kid, less of the lip. This cloak is just too short for me, that's all.'

'So what's going on?'

'I'm guarding you, of course.'

'Well, I know that,' replied Harry, a little annoyed, 'even if I don't like being spied on by the order, but I mean...'

'Yes?'

'What's going on with Voldemort?'

There was a very obvious stumbling sound, followed by a crash. Then a hand and a shoe appeared on the lawn, as well as a tuft of bright green hair.

'Could you not say his name at me when I'm trying to be stealthy. My heart's going like crazy,' came Tonks' voice from somewhere between the hand and the hair.

Harry extended his arm downwards towards the body parts, then stopped.

'Hang on. Because I'm feeling paranoid, and because I don't want a Moody lecture about carelessness, you should probably prove that you are Tonks.'

'Bit late for that, isn't it? If I was a Death Eater then I'd have cursed you by now...'

'If you were a Death Eater you probably wouldn't just be standing still in the middle of my front garden at some weird hour. I don't even think Death Eaters can get this close to my house. I just feel like I ought to check...'

'One sec then...'

The green tuft of hair suddenly became violently blue. Harry assisted the mostly invisible woman, laughing at how unusual it looked when he pulled Tonks to her feet.

'You might want to rearrange that cloak.'

'What, oh Merlin!'

There was a rustling, and once again the lawn seemed to be occupied by Harry alone.

'So are you going to tell me anything or not.'

'Not,' said Tonks, but on Harry's penetrating gaze, she relented. 'Well, not here at any rate. If you want more information we'll need to go to Mrs. Figg's house, and I think it's a bit early to wake her up.'

'Couldn't you just come inside? The Dursleys sleep until midday on a Sunday. Well, except for Petunia. She likes to get the house cleaned up at weekends, but she won't be up 'til at least eight, so we have a couple of hours yet.'

'Righty ho! I'll come in, but if your aunt starts attacking me I won't be blamed for the consequences,' she said, and Harry could almost feel the evil glint in her eye.

'I wouldn't blame you. I would join in if I could, but I'd have to get ridiculously angry.'

'Huh?'

'Oh, I've been sent far too many warnings from the ministry. The only way I'd get away with cursing anyone would be emotional wandless magic. I don't think that they can detect that.'

He smirked, remembering his Aunt Marge, whom he had blown up like a beach ball. No ministry warnings had been sent for that. Nor had he been in trouble for giving his uncle a short, sharp electric shock last summer. Actually though, considering he had conjured a giant, glowing, white stag in the middle of the street that evening, the ministry might have overlooked it.

'Fair enough, I'll do all the damage myself, if it comes to that,' said Tonks happily, as she let Harry lead her into the house, unnoticeable aside from the footprints left behind her in the dewy grass.

- HPHPHP -

The conversation which followed was not particularly illuminating, although it was an unusual conversation to be having at all whilst sat on a sofa in the Muggliest of all Muggle houses. Tonks knew a little more about the attacks, having been one of the first Aurors to arrive on the scene. Harry asked some very specific questions, which seemed to surprise Tonks, but her replies at least confirmed that his dream was not a replay of the real murders. The child he had been imagining was found in the middle of a large garden, and not leaning motionless against her bedroom wall. This comforted Harry slightly, although he didn't know why it should. After all, the girl had still died, and reality had probably been at least as gruesome as the version he had imagined. Other than that, Tonks' information was practically non-existent.

'We don't know anything else about what he's up to, because it looks like this was his first attack. We can't find a motive for this attack other than to announce his return. Besides even if we did know anything, I wouldn't be able to tell you. Your teachers, not to mention Molly, have always been very serious about keeping you lot out of Order business.'

Harry could see that he was about to meet a brick wall, and he knew that if Tonks got too suspicious, he wouldn't get any more information from her at all. The next question was partly to relax her, but he did desperately want to know.

'Have you seen Ron recently?'

'Why?'

'Oh, it isn't important if you haven't. It's just that I was worried about him. He seemed to take some pretty serious damage in the Department of Mysteries. I thought you might know how he was doing.'

'Well, I've only seen him once recently, but he looked really well. It's Hermione you ought to be worrying about. That curse she took was really nasty. It's pretty ancient, we didn't think anybody knew how to perform it any more, so it looks like You-Know-Who has been teaching his disciples some new tricks.'

'But she's ok! Madam Pomfrey fixed her up. She said there wasn't going to be any lasting damage!' Harry had jumped to his feet and begun pacing nervously.

'And I'm sure there won't be,' replied Tonks, raising her hands in a calming gesture, 'but she's lucky for that. If Dolohov had been able to speak the incantation then your friend would be dead by now. No, if you have to worry about one of your friends, it should be Hermione, not Ron. She's got to take about five different potions every morning, but he was dead cheerful the last time I saw him.'

Harry couldn't really express why he had such fears for Ron, without mentioning the letter, and that was supposed to be a secret. Sitting down again and trying not to sound anxious, he asked the only thing that he really cared about now.

'So, when can I see them again?'

'Ah, fear not! I've got good news for you on that front. You're getting out of here this afternoon.'

'Really, great! That's the best news I've heard in months! It'll be worth going back to Grimmauld Place as long as I get to see them.' His eyes were watering again, and he felt as though somebody had cast Hermione's 'bluebell flame' spell in his stomach. Harry felt slightly ashamed of himself, and began to furiously rub his face.

'Yeah', said Tonks, clearly pretending she hadn't seen the slight breakdown, 'I know what you mean about that horrible house, but we don't have a lot of choice in the matter now. If we move out of Grimmauld Place, then no doubt another one of my relatives will decide to use it. Afraid we just can't risk it, seeing as how most of my extended family is in You-Know-Who's pocket. I think he would be quite interested in some of the stuff that Mrs. Black's portrait has overheard.'

'You think Narcissa Malfoy would...'

'Maybe, but I think my other aunt would be a more likely candidate. Bellatrix probably has more fond memories of that house than anyone. Seems she was always the perfect little pureblood. Sirius' mum loved her, apparently they used to spend hours together just talking. Mostly about the pollution of magical heritage.'

Hearing Tonks talking about Sirius and his murderer doused the warm flames in Harry's stomach almost instantly. It also brought something into his mind which was very unwelcome.

'What happened to Kreacher?' said Harry through clenched teeth. 'What happened to that evil little traitor?'

'Er, well... He's sort of disappeared again, Harry.'

'What!'

'I wouldn't worry about it too much though.'

'Wouldn't worry about it! That foul, disgusting... thing, is the reason Sirius is...'

The shouting tailed off uncomfortably.

'Kreacher will be feeling at least as bad as you right now.'

'How can you say that? How can you pretend that...'

Tonks put a hand over Harry's mouth, and explained her point.

'Harry, house-elves are bound to their masters. They often lose the will to live, if they feel any responsibility for their owner's death.'

'You mean he'll kill himself?'

'Most likely. Maybe he already has. It does happen, and I've never heard of a house-elf that was so directly involved. The only reason he could betray us in the first place was because Sirius wasn't the intended target.'

'I hope he does kill himself,' said Harry venomously. Tonks edged away from him slightly as the electricity in the air seemed to increase.

'Now, Harry, you don't really mean that, do you?'

It sounded as though she was trying to convince herself rather than Harry. He was just about to tell her how wrong she was, when his keen ears heard the creaky step groaning. His aunt was coming downstairs! He was fairly certain that his relatives would punish him for inviting a witch into his living room, particularly at such an ungodly hour. Thinking quickly he rolled over onto Tonks' lap, grabbed the invisibility cloak from the coffee table beside her, and draped it over the top of them. He was just in time - the door burst open moments later.

'Could have sworn I heard something down here,' his aunt was muttering under her breath. 'Must be going crazy from all the stress. Can't believe everything he's putting me through. Honestly, blackmail, that's what this is. Dirty, common blackmail. People say he's the saviour of the wizarding world, honestly.'

Harry didn't have a clue what was going on, and from the look that Tonks was giving him, neither did she. Blackmail? Who could possibly be blackmailing Aunt Petunia? The saviour of the wizarding world? Sometimes sensationalist magazine articles called Harry that, but he definitely wasn't blackmailing his aunt.

'All those letters, thought that was going to be the end of it, but no. I ask him a favour, and what happens, he takes advantage of me, that's what.'

This was very weird, thought Harry. Aunt Petunia was not usually one to talk to herself. She often said that it was a sign of 'mental unbalance'. Now however, she was rambling away, and had begun to pace backwards and forwards behind the sofa Harry and Tonks were sat on.

'No sense of common decency, no sense at all.'

Harry looked down and suddenly felt a little uncomfortable with the position he found himself in. Tonks was sat upright on the seat, with Harry straddling her legs, facing towards her. It would have been more acceptable had she been a little older, but unlike most of the Order, Tonks was in her early twenties and definitely looked like it. He tried to relax, there would be no chance of movement until his aunt left the room. Tonks sensed his awkwardness and smiled cheekily.

'I suppose I could just tell the truth. Explain to Vernon. He would understand, he loves me, but... No! I have to go through with this. Only two more years of school and Harry is out of my hair for good. It's pointless to turn back now. Can't fight this on my own anyway, never was as strong as Lily.'

Harry gasped very, very quietly at hearing his mothers name spoken without malice. That just did not happen in this house. He was desperate to hear more of this obviously private rant, but his aunt was now storming out of the room, flustered.

'I'd best get back to my post,' whispered Tonks, 'before she gets back. I'll try to speak to you again before you leave, but if I don't, say hi to your friends from me.'

'Will do,' said Harry, as Tonks slipped out from under him and, taking the cloak, silently slipped into the hall, and then out of the front door.

Well, thought Harry, she did that remarkably quietly, considering her clumsiness.

As soon as that thought had formed inside Harry's head, the car alarm went off. As he heard Aunt Petunia race outside, Harry used the accidental diversion to slip back upstairs, with a lot to think about.