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Harry Potter and the Rotfang Conspiracy

Summary:

In canon, at the end of Book 5 Harry blames Snape and Dumbledore for Sirius' death, but by the start of Book 6 he inexplicably forgets all about that. In this story he doesn't forget, and events take a very different turn. Harry decides that Dumbledore is part of the problem, not part of the solution. He seeks out a new and potentially more useful ally - Rufus Scrimgeour, the new Minister for Magic. How will that decision change things? And how will a hormonal teenage Harry adjust to sharing a room with Auror Tonks, the extremely hot bodyguard that Scrimgeour assigns to him? Independent!Harry. Proactive!Harry.

An occasionally X-rated (NC17-rated in the US) novel-length Honks re-write of Half-Blood Prince that’s about 80% plot, 10% humour and 10% smut. The smut doesn’t really take off until Chapter 7. Just to be clear, the smut in this story is very smutty. If you don’t like smut this story is not for you. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Of the 440,000+ Harry Potter fanfics on AO3 this story is in the top 1000 (by kudos)! Of those that don't involve slash it's in the top 100!

Thank you to everyone who hit the kudos button. You guys rock!

Notes:

Anything you recognise belongs to JKR. Anything original or smutty belongs to me. I make no money from this fanfic.

This story is intended to be canon-compliant up to the end of Book 5 (Order of the Phoenix) but deviates at the start of Books 6 (Half Blood Prince). It will be critical of Dumbledore, Ron, Ginny and occasionally (just for a while) Hermione. This is basically a re-writing of HBP. I’ve kept some of the chapter titles the same so you can keep track of where we’re up to.

Pairings will include: Honks (Harry & Tonks) for sure... and maybe others... (I don’t want to spoil anything, but there will be no love triangles or broken hearts because I hate that.)

I’ll use a mixture of book-canon and movie-canon because sometimes one makes more sense than the other. For example, I don't think a few hundred Death Eaters could successfully storm Hogwarts. In the movies there are thousands of them, and I've gone with the movies on this topic. So Voldemort has thousands of followers in this story (but only the top level lieutenants are known by name) and the vast majority are conscripts (who joined under duress out of fear). To keep things balanced, this would imply that there must be 300-500 Aurors (otherwise the Death Eaters would take over in a heartbeat). Apologies if that upsets your Harry Potter world view.

If anyone would like to translate this story into another language, please let me know. I am happy for people to do that, but only if the translation is posted exclusively on archiveofourown.org. No exceptions! I am an ardent supporter of AO3 and am committed to my stories being exclusive to AO3. Please don't post my story, or translations of it, on any other website. Thank you!

If anyone would like to illustrate my story please contact me. I would love that! (Especially the smutty scenes! 😉)

25Nov22 Update: In Chapter 40 I added a couple of SFW (safe-for-work) in-line images. These were quite well received so I may do that again in future, and may back-fill some earlier chapters with images as they occur to me.

--- A Warning regarding Underage Sex ---

One of the challenges, when writing a smutty Harry Potter story set in his sixth year, is that some of the characters are underage. Despite the fact that teenage kids aged 14-17 routinely have sex in real life, this can be a problem for some readers. I will do my best to limit the material that readers might find difficult, but have nevertheless marked this story with an Underage Sex Warning because we might encounter some. If you're uncomfortable reading about sexual activity involving anyone under 18, this story is definitely not for you.

So what exactly would constitute underage sex? It is well known that the Age of Majority (the age at which a person legally becomes an adult) is 17 in JKR's magical Britain. The Age of Majority in non-magical 'Muggle' Britain is actually 18 (and has been since 1969). So Witches and Wizards become adults one year earlier than Muggles. But the age at which someone is legally allowed to have sex is called the Age of Consent, and it's often different to (lower than) the Age of Majority. JKR never tells us what the magical Age of Consent is, so we will have to infer it. The Age of Consent in Muggle Britain is currently 16, and has been since 2008. It was also 16 from 1885-1950, and 13 before that (so wrong!). But from 1950-2008 it was 17, so in 1996 (when this story takes place) it was 17. But if we adopt the principle that things in the magical world happen a year earlier than the Muggle world then the magical Age of Consent would be 16. In deference to those who might think that's too young (despite the fact that the Muggle Age of Consent is actually 16 these days), I have decided to adopt 17 as the Magical Age of Consent, or 16 with a guardian's permission. I therefore make no apologies for sexual content involving anyone aged 16 or over.

However, there are a few occasions where one of the main characters will stumble upon someone aged 15 having a sexual encounter with another teenage student (not a main character). Where I can I will change the age of the character in question, but I can't always do that. It is not my intention that readers find those scenes sexually arousing. If you do that's your problem and I accept no responsibility for that. (Finding someone who's 15 sexually attractive is not okay unless you're 15 yourself.)

If any of that bothers you do not proceed! This story is marked with an Underage Sex Warning for a reason.

Chapter 1: Will and Won’t

Notes:

If you like the story, and want to encourage me to write more, please leave kudos!

Chapter Text

Harry Potter had been sitting in a chair beside his bedroom window at Number 4 Privet Drive for the best part of two hours, staring out at the darkening sky. The room was strewn with various possessions and a good smattering of rubbish. Owl feathers, apple cores and sweet wrappers littered the floor, a number of spell books lay higgledy-piggledy among the tangled robes on his bed, and a mess of newspapers sat in a puddle of light on his desk with headlines like “HARRY POTTER: THE CHOSEN ONE?”, “SCRIMGEOUR SUCCEEDS FUDGE” and “MINISTRY GUARANTEES STUDENTS’ SAFETY”.

An alarm clock, repaired by Harry several years ago, ticked loudly on the sill, showing one minute to nine. Beside it was a piece of parchment covered in thin, slanting writing. Harry had read this letter so often since its arrival three days ago that, although it had been delivered in a tightly furled scroll, it now lay quite flat. The letter stated that Dumbledore would collect Harry at 11pm tonight, and would be glad of his assistance with something.

At first, Harry had been sceptical that Dumbledore would come at all, but the second part of the letter made him think again. If Dumbledore wanted a favour, then he would definitely come. Those two thoughts had blossomed into a rather troubling revelation – the only time Harry could rely on Dumbledore was when the Headmaster wanted something.

The more Harry thought about it, the more he realised that Dumbledore’s interactions with him were always transactional – if Harry wanted something from Dumbledore, he had to bargain for it. Even more disturbing, Harry reckoned he’d subconsciously realised that very early on, and had been unwittingly doing what Dumbledore wanted for the last five years in an effort to earn his trust and approval... and thus maybe learn his secrets.

The problem with that approach was that Dumbledore always dictated the terms – Harry would do something amazing like save the school from a Basilisk, and then he had to accept whatever paltry crumbs of reward Dumbledore deigned to cast his way.

If Harry continued on that path, he’d be Dumbledore’s pawn forever, he realised, and he most definitely did not want that. He'd spent every waking moment of the last three days thinking about Dumbledore’s role in his life. For the first time ever, he’d weighed up the pros and cons of Dumbledore’s influence, and been amazed to discover that Dumbledore had actually had a hugely negative impact.

Dumbledore had placed Harry with the Dursleys, he’d supported Snape’s bullying, he’d failed to prevent multiple attempts on Harry’s life, he’d offered no help in the Triwizard Tournament, he’d virtually imprisoned Sirius, he’d allowed Umbridge to torture Harry, he was outwitted by Voldemort at every turn, and he never told anyone why he did what he did. On the other side of the ledger – the positive side – was what? Harry struggled to think of anything... except perhaps a bit of Grandfather-like approval and the odd grain of incomplete or misleading information.

Most recently, Dumbledore’s obsessive need to keep everything to himself had cost Sirius his life. Even worse, Harry had realised that Dumbledore told him the prophecy as payment for Harry losing his Godfather. It was just another transaction. Dumbledore had screwed up, so to salvage his grip on Harry’s loyalty and compliance, he’d bought it... with secrets.

That thought sickened Harry to his very core. Sirius’ life was worth more than Dumbledore’s poxy secrets!

How many more people would be sacrificed on the altar of Dumbledore’s paranoia before this was over? Remus, Tonks, Moody and Mr Weasley were all in the front lines. Would they survive this war? What about Harry’s friends – Hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville, Ginny, Fred and George? How many of them would die? Losing Sirius was already too great a loss. Losing anyone else was inconceivable.

The problem, of course, was that Harry couldn’t defeat Voldemort without Dumbledore’s help.

Harry thought about that for good while before another thought occurred to him – would he even be able to defeat Voldemort with Dumbledore’s help?

He realised that he didn’t think he could.

After five whole years of Dumbledore’s dubious ‘help’, Harry was no nearer to being able to defeat Voldemort than he was at the start. In fact, he was in a much worse position now. Voldemort had regained a body, freed his most vicious supporters from Azkaban, and was recruiting an army.

It was hardly a ringing endorsement of Dumbledore’s leadership skills that he’d allowed the enemy to become a hundred times stronger. In fact it was catastrophically incompetent. Dumbledore might be a powerful wizard, but he was a dreadful leader.

But who else was there? If Dumbledore couldn’t (or wouldn’t) help Harry to defeat Voldemort, who could? The Ministry was the obvious choice, now that Fudge was gone, but according to the Daily Prophet, ‘rumours of a rift between the new Minister and Albus Dumbledore had surfaced within hours of Scrimgeour taking office’.

Who else could help Harry to defeat Voldemort? Remus? Tonks? Moody? Mr and Mrs Weasley? Hagrid? McGonagall? Flitwick?

No – they were all in Dumbledore’s pocket. They wouldn’t lift a finger without Dumbledore’s permission.

The only people Harry could conceivably trust were Hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville, Ginny and the twins. Sadly, none of them had any idea how to defeat Voldemort either.

After three long days of deliberation, the conclusion was inescapable – Harry would have to figure out how to defeat Voldemort himself. He’d have to play along with Dumbledore, pretending to do what he was told, but behind the scenes he’d have to make his own plans.

Judging by the last five years, Harry’s chances of getting any material help from Dumbledore were essentially zero. The Ministry, on the other hand might help him, if he could talk to the new Minister in person, without Dumbledore there to screw it up. Fudge had been a cowardly career politician who never would have helped Harry, but with Scrimgeour in charge things might be different. The question was, how different? Harry’s experiences with the Ministry had never been good, and he couldn’t discount the possibility that they’d continue to be useless... but he had to try. They were his only hope. If the Ministry wouldn’t help him he would truly be alone.

What his ultimate plans might entail Harry had no idea yet, but he did know one thing – it would have to be very different to what he’d been doing so far, because that wasn’t working at all. He needed to embrace his Slytherin side and stop being so Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat had been right – he should have been sorted into Slytherin. Being in Gryffindor had crippled him for this fight. After all, what had he learnt in Gryffindor? To treat learning magic like ‘work’ that should be avoided, and to play games instead. With a sigh, Harry started packing up his stuff. Dumbledore would be here in two hours. Harry may as well get ready. He chose not to warn his relatives though. There was no point – they’d just go berserk.

Sure enough, Dumbledore’s arrival caused quite a stir. Dumbledore invited himself in, cowed the Dursleys with his complete lack of fear and casual use of magic, and then spoke to Harry as if the Dursleys weren’t even present. Unfortunately they were present, so Dumbledore revealing that Harry’s mass-murdering Godfather was dead did Harry no favours at all. Disclosing that Harry was already rich and had inherited another fortune from Sirius, plus a house, was also less than ideal – Dumbledore either didn’t understand the delicate balance Harry had to maintain with the Dursleys, was deliberately trying to make Harry’s life difficult, or just didn’t give a shit. Of course Dumbledore’s final act – suggesting that Harry summon a house elf into the Dursleys’ home – was beyond stupid. Was Dumbledore trying to make Harry’s life a misery?

But what choice did Harry have? None at all! So he’d summoned the traitorous elf, much to the Dursleys’ eternal horror.

It was quickly established that Kreacher did indeed belong to Harry, and at Dumbledore’s suggestion he ordered the elf to go work at Hogwarts. Dumbledore informed the Dursleys that the protection on their house would cease when Harry became an adult at seventeen, but Harry would need to return one more time to maintain the protections until that time. He sent Harry’s belongings on to the Burrow, and then they stepped out to (as he put it), ‘pursue that flighty temptress, adventure’.

Harry followed, but was privately thinking that if he owned his own house there was no way he’d return to this hell-hole. Having a house-elf at his command might be very useful too, if the treacherous little shit could be forced to behave.

Dumbledore side-along Apparated them both to a deserted village square. He deflected when Harry asked about his black and withered hand. That was apparently yet another mystery which would not be explained any time soon.

“They’re calling me the Chosen One,” Harry noted as the Headmaster lead the way up a cobbled hill. “In the Daily Prophet... They seem to know about the prophecy.”

“They know of its existence but not its contents,” his grey-haired companion grumbled distractedly. “The destruction you wreaked in the Hall of Prophecy and your subsequent encounter with Lord Voldemort in the Ministry Atrium led a number of people to put two-and-two together. It would have been better if that had not happened.”

The rebuke in his words was clear, and it annoyed Harry immensely. Yes, it would have been better if Harry hadn’t been tricked into endangering all his friends and getting Sirius killed. If only someone could have warned him that Voldemort had the power to trick him that way, Harry thought to himself sarcastically. Oh, wait. Someone did know that – Dumbledore. If only someone could have taught Harry how to keep Voldemort out of his head then. Oh, wait. Someone could have taught him that – Dumbledore again! But no, the Headmaster had assigned that vital task to absolutely the worst person possible for fear that Voldemort would use Harry to attack him if he did it himself.

“What the prophecy says is only significant because Voldemort made it so,” the Headmaster continued. “I told you this at the end of last year. Voldemort singled you out as the person who would be most dangerous to him – and in doing so, he made you the person who would be most dangerous to him!”

“But it comes to the same...”

“No, it doesn’t!” said Dumbledore, sounding impatient now. Pointing at Harry with his black withered hand, he said, “You are setting too much store by the prophecy!”

“But,” spluttered Harry, “but you said the prophecy means...”

“If Voldemort had never heard of the prophecy, would it have been fulfilled? Would it have meant anything? Of course not! Do you think every prophecy in the Hall of Prophecy has been fulfilled?”

“But,” said Harry, bewildered by the Headmaster’s u-turn, “but in your office, you said one of us would have to kill the other...”

“Harry, Harry, only because Voldemort made a grave error, and acted on Professor Trelawney’s words! If Voldemort had never murdered your father, would he have imparted in you a furious desire for revenge? Of course not! If he had not forced your mother to die for you, would he have given you a magical protection he could not penetrate? Of course not, Harry! Don’t you see? Voldemort himself created his worst enemy, just as tyrants everywhere do! He heard the prophecy and he leapt into action, with the result that he not only handpicked the man most likely to finish him, he handed him uniquely deadly weapons!”

“But...” Harry began again in confusion. That made no sense! Having a ‘furious desire for revenge’ hardly made Harry unique – thousands of people had lost family to Voldemort. It certainly didn’t convey any special abilities to kill a wizard that even Dumbledore couldn’t defeat. As for the ‘magical protection’... in what way was that a weapon? It was a defence. In any case, Voldemort could touch him now so that aspect was gone, and the protection at Number 4 Privet Drive only worked until he was seventeen. What exactly were these ‘deadly weapons’ Dumbledore was talking about?

“It is essential that you understand this!” Dumbledore resumed, looking agitated. “By attempting to kill you, Voldemort himself singled out the remarkable person who stands here beside me, and gave him the tools for the job! It is Voldemort’s fault that you were able to see his thoughts and ambitions, that you even understand the snakelike language in which he gives orders, and yet, Harry, despite your privileged insight into Voldemort’s world (which, incidentally, is a gift any Death Eater would kill to have), you have never been seduced by the Dark Arts, never, even for a second, shown the slightest desire to become one of Voldemort’s followers!”

“Of course I haven’t!” said Harry indignantly. “He killed my parents!”

“You are protected, in short, by your ability to love!” said Dumbledore loudly. “The only protection that can possibly work against the lure of power like Voldemort’s! In spite of all the temptation you have endured, all the suffering, you remain pure of heart. Voldemort should have known then what he was dealing with, but he did not! But he knows it now. You have flitted into Lord Voldemort’s mind without damage to yourself, but he cannot possess you without enduring mortal agony, as he discovered in the Ministry. I do not think he understands why, Harry, but he was in such a hurry to mutilate his own soul, he never paused to understand the incomparable power of a soul that is untarnished and whole.”

Harry made a valiant effort to reign in his frustration, because none of that made him unique or powerful – lots of people had refused the temptations of the Dark Arts, and literally everyone (apart from Voldemort) had an intact soul. Dumbledore was once again trying to distract him with the idea that a ‘protection’ was some sort of weapon.

“It all comes to the same thing, doesn’t it?” Harry pressed. “I’ve got to try and kill him, or...”

“Got to?” said Dumbledore. “Of course you’ve got to! But not because of the prophecy! Because you, yourself, will never rest until you’ve tried! We both know it! You see, the prophecy does not mean you have to do anything! But the prophecy caused Lord Voldemort to mark you as his equal... in other words you are free to choose your way, quite free to turn your back on the prophecy! But Voldemort continues to set store by the prophecy. He will continue to hunt you... which makes it certain, really, that...”

“That one of us is going to end up killing the other,” said Harry. “Yes.”

He understood at last what Dumbledore had been trying to tell him. It was the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. In other words, it was a cynical and transparent attempt to manipulate Harry into fighting Voldemort by appealing to his pride and his hunger for revenge. But why? Why was Dumbledore so determined for Harry to do this? It made no sense whatsoever. Nothing the Headmaster had said shed any real light on how Harry could triumph over Voldemort. It was just more obfuscation – verbal smoke-and-mirrors to make it seem like Dumbledore knew what he was talking about.

Despite that, there was one conclusion that was inescapable – for some reason Dumbledore was adamant that Harry should be the one to fight Voldemort. The Headmaster claimed to have little faith in the power of prophecies, but he seemed to believe very strongly in the power of Fate. He was attempting to manoeuvre Harry into fulfilling a fate that Dumbledore envisaged for him, and clearly had no intention of telling Harry what that fate might entail. That thought sent a chill down Harry’s spine. How could he trust someone who would do such a thing? Surely Harry had the right to choose his own fate?

Harry looked around, “Er – where exactly are we?”

“This, Harry, is the charming village of Budleigh Babberton.”

“And what are we doing here?”

“Ah, yes, of course, I haven’t told you,” said Dumbledore. “Well, I have lost count of the number of times I have said this in recent years, but we are, once again, one member of staff short. We are here to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. This was the favour he’d mentioned in his letter. Dumbledore had never dragged Harry along on staff recruitment before, which meant that Harry’s presence was important to the success of his visit. In fact, knowing Dumbledore, there was probably more than one scheme in motion.

Harry stopped in his tracks.

Dumbledore didn’t notice for a few seconds, but then slowed to a stop, “Something wrong, Harry?”

Harry hesitated. Did he dare do this? Yes, he did. Things had to change. He might as well start now.

“I assume there’s more to this than filling an empty teaching slot, and you need me to make it happen. So, Headmaster, what’s in it for me?”

Dumbledore gave him a very quizzical look, “I’m not sure I follow.”

“It’s quite simple, Headmaster. You need a favour from me. What do I get in return for that favour?”

For the first time, Harry thought he saw anger flash across Dumbledore’s face, “Doing what’s right is its own reward, Harry. We should not seek payment for it.”

Harry scoffed, “Since you haven’t told me why we’re doing this, I don’t know that it is right do I? If you tell me enough that I can determine that it’s right, I will make a judgement on that basis. But as things stand I can’t make that judgment. For all I know, we could be doing something very wrong. We could be endangering this person’s life, for example. So if you ask me to do this without explanation, then you’re not asking me to do what’s right, you’re asking me to trust you. After the events of last year, I’m afraid I’m no longer inclined to do so. You kept secrets from me, Headmaster. If I’d known those secrets, I never would have gone to the Department of Mysteries, and Sirius would still be alive. Your secrets cost me, Headmaster. They cost me a very great deal. So I have decided that it’s time for a change. You can keep your secrets if you like, but you don’t get to do it for free any more. It’s going to cost you, starting now. So I repeat, if you want this favour from me I will require a favour in return.”

Dumbledore turned to fully face Harry, and stepped closer. His expression remained neutral, but Harry couldn’t help noticing that the Headmaster was now looming over him in a rather menacing way.

“We don’t have time for this, Harry. I need you to trust me. There is a great deal at stake – a very great deal.”

Harry glared up at him defiantly, “Is that so? In that case my price has just gone up. Keep on pushing Headmaster and we’ll see how high my price can go.”

Dumbledore was growing angry now. If Harry was honest, he was quite scared. That thought gave him pause. Why was he so scared? Wasn’t the Headmaster supposed to be one of the good guys? Harry had been less scared when he faced Voldemort. Why was he more scared of Dumbledore than Voldemort?

The answer chilled him to the bone. It was because Dumbledore was just as ruthless as Voldemort, but held sway over much more of Harry’s life. Harry wasn’t scared of what Dumbledore might do to him; he was scared of the collateral damage to others that might result from Dumbledore’s anger.

Harry wondered idly how the Death Eaters coped with this – they were all out there fighting against Dumbledore, while their children were in Dumbledore’s care. Did they know something Harry didn’t? They must do, because in their shoes Harry would never let his child anywhere near a sworn enemy. That thought gave him courage. They must know Dumbledore better than Harry did, and saw no danger from him. Harry had no time to figure out why, but it gave him the confidence to stare Dumbledore down.

“I see,” Dumbledore said finally. “Out of curiosity, Harry, what would your price be?”

Harry thought fast. He hadn’t actually had anything in mind. This was more of a spur-of-the-moment thing, to see what Dumbledore’s reaction might be. To test the Headmaster’s resolve, Harry’s price should be something Dumbledore would believe a teenager would actually want, but which he could easily provide. Something that would cost the Headmaster nothing...

Inspiration struck.

“I deserved to be Prefect last year,” Harry replied bitterly, “but you gave the badge to Ron. That was more than just a slap in the face – it undermined my credibility with the students and the public. You claimed you did it because you thought I had enough responsibility to be going on with, but you should have asked me. I would have told you...”

A twinkle had appeared in Dumbledore’s eyes as he interrupted, “You want to be a Prefect then?”

That wasn’t what Harry had in mind – it would be selling himself short. In any case, the Headmaster seemed too eager to pay that price, so it wouldn’t be a true test of how far Harry could push him. Something bigger was required.

“No Headmaster, that ship has sailed. You sullied that position when you gave it to Ron. I want to be Head Boy.”

The twinkle vanished. Dumbledore was incredulous, “Head Boy? In your sixth year? On what grounds?”

Harry returned Dumbledore’s incredulity, “Are you serious, Headmaster? Who deserves it more than me? Did anyone else save the school from Voldemort in his first year, or a Basilisk in his second year, or a hundred Dementors in his third year, or win the Triwizard Cup in his fourth year, or teach Defence and suffer torture in his fifth year?” Harry was almost yelling now. “Tell me, Headmaster, who has done more for the school than me? Name them! Come on! Let’s see how badly you can offend me!

Dumbledore put a hand on Harry’s shoulder to calm him, but it just made him angrier.

“Calm yourself Harry. I grant that you have done things that no other can match, but you’re a sixth year. The Head Boy is always a seventh year. Always.”

Harry pushed Dumbledore’s hand off his shoulder, “Let’s be frank, Headmaster. War is coming. I probably won’t even make it to my seventh year. None of us may be here next year. This is my one and only chance to be Head Boy. I deserve it, and I want it. That is my price.”

Dumbledore shook his head sadly, “I’m sorry Harry, but the Head Boy has already been chosen. I cannot accommodate you.”

Fury blazed in Harry’s chest. He had to grit his teeth to get any words out, “Then I regret that I cannot accommodate you this evening Headmaster. In fact I will advise the person we’re about to meet that they must not come to Hogwarts, that their life will be in peril, that Voldemort has already gained access to the school on several occasions, and that there is a Death Eater already on the staff. I’ll do whatever it takes to thwart your plans.”

Dumbledore’s anger had returned, “Are you blackmailing me, Harry?”

“No headmaster. You are denying me something I want, and I’m returning the favour. That’s all. We both know full well that you have absolute and total authority at Hogwarts. You could make me Head Boy if you wanted to. You’re choosing not to. Well, I’m choosing not to let you manipulate this person into a life-threatening situation. Our relationship has always been transactional Headmaster, don’t try to deny it. You’ve cleverly manoeuvred me into being loyal and subservient, but being loyal to you has always come with a cost. A one-way cost! I’ve been loyal to you, and yet I’m the one who pays for that loyalty. Well not anymore!”

Harry was becoming increasingly agitated. He was pacing up and down now, gesticulating wildly. “In my opinion, there is a massive debt between us Headmaster, and it’s you that owes me. Our relationship has brought me nothing but pain and suffering. In fact, you know what? The whole Magical World owes me! I’ve saved them from Voldemort three times! Well it’s time for you and them to show some god-damn appreciation for my pain and sacrifice. I want to see some fucking gratitude, or you can all go to hell. In fact, no! Screw it! You can count me out. Go fight Voldemort yourselves. I don’t care anymore. He can have you, I’m done.”

Harry stormed off down the moonlit street, back the way they’d come.

Dumbledore was silent for ten long seconds before he finally called out, “Very well Harry.”

Harry stopped in his tracks fifty meters away.

“Help me this evening,” Dumbledore said softly, “and you’ll be made Head Boy.”

Harry turned on his heel and walked back, his fury reigned in, “You have a deal Headmaster, but if you renege on it, you and I are done. Lead on.”

They proceeded up a steep, narrow street lined with houses. All the windows were dark. The odd chill that had lain over Privet Drive for two weeks persisted here, too. Neither one of them spoke for a while.

As Harry knew he would, Dumbledore eventually tried to guilt-trip him, “I’m very disappointed in you Harry.”

Harry snorted, “Not half as disappointed as I am in you Headmaster. Sirius died because you kept secrets from me. If someone you love dies tonight because of my actions, I will admit that you have the right to be equally disappointed in me. Until then, your disappointment is of little concern to me.”

Dumbledore’s jaw clenched, but he chose not to reply.

The meeting with Horace Slughorn was a success. Dumbledore had chosen not to brief Harry on what he expected him to do, so Harry let Dumbledore do most of the talking. When Dumbledore excused himself to use the bathroom, Harry played his part and sold the idea of it being safer to be near Dumbledore than anywhere else. Generally-speaking, Harry didn’t believe that to be true, but in Slughorn’s case it probably was, so he didn’t feel too bad about it. Dumbledore returned and soon had Slughorn signed up, though Slughorn did demand better rooms than last time he’d been a professor.

Harry and Dumbledore left the house and walked back the way they came. Dumbledore was silent until they reached the war memorial in the centre of the village.

He spoke without looking at Harry, “It is my wish that you take private lessons with me this year, Harry. I think it is time that I took a greater hand in your education.”

Harry wondered if this was because of his earlier outburst, “What will you be teaching me, Headmaster?”

“Oh, a little of this, a little of that.”

“I see. In that case I will reserve judgement on whether there will be a price.”

Dumbledore seemed genuinely shocked, “You would charge me to give you private lessons?”

“Well it depends,” Harry replied evenly. “In my experience everything you do serves you more than it serves me. If this is one such occasion then yes, I will charge for my time.”

Dumbledore growled in frustration, but when he spoke again his voice was controlled, “I wish you to keep your Invisibility Cloak with you at all times from this moment onwards. Even within Hogwarts itself. Just in case, you understand me?” Harry nodded. “And lastly, while you stay there, the Burrow has been given the highest security the Ministry of Magic can provide. These measures have caused a certain amount of inconvenience to Arthur and Molly – all their post, for instance, is being searched at the Ministry, before being sent on. They do not mind in the slightest, for their only concern is your safety. However, it would be poor repayment if you risked your neck while staying with them. Now if you will excuse me, I have some other matters to attend to. Take my arm, Harry.”

As soon as Harry’s hand touched Dumbledore’s arm they disapparated. Braced this time, Harry was ready, but he still found it unpleasant. When the pressure dissipated he found himself standing alone, ankle deep in a bog. The Burrow was visible a few hundred meters away. Wondering if the Headmaster had done that on purpose, he trudged towards the track that lead to the house.

In the past, the Headmaster’s abrupt departure would have left Harry feeling dreadfully guilty. Today he felt elated. He’d done it! He’d changed the rules. He was sure the Headmaster would push back, but this was potentially his first real concession – assuming his Head Boy badge arrived sometime soon, that is. Harry didn’t actually care about the Head Boy badge, but if it didn’t appear... well then he’d know that the Headmaster couldn’t be trusted at all.

Harry guessed it was approaching one o’clock in the morning, with the landscape dimly illuminated by the setting moon on the western horizon. Nevertheless, up ahead he saw the kitchen light was still on inside the Burrow. Harry could see Mrs Weasley talking to a woman with brown hair, but she was facing away from him so he couldn’t make out who it was.

With a determined sigh, Harry turned away from the warm embrace of the Burrow and jogged down the lane in the opposite direction.

Chapter 2: A Show of Faith

Chapter Text

This could be Harry’s only chance to meet with Scrimgeour. It was a long shot, but he had maybe five hours to get to London (and back) before Mrs Weasley rose to make breakfast. He took a moment to tip the swamp water out of his shoes, and then ran at a steady lope for about a mile, his still-damp shoes squelching loudly.

Once he thought he was far enough from the Burrow, he threw out his wand arm for the Knight Bus.

He wasn’t entirely sure it would stop here, but it was worth a try. If not, he’d move on and try somewhere else. Fortunately, a few seconds later he heard the distinctive BANG of the old-fashioned purple triple-decker 'Routemaster' arriving.

Harry greeted the conductor as he climbed aboard, “Hey Stan! One for Whitehall in London, please.”

“Well I never! It’s Neville Longbottom again. Long time no see! That’ll be eleven sickles, Neville.”

Harry laughed, though he wasn’t sure if the man was joking. “Thanks, Stan. Mind if I have a snooze? Bit of a long night ahead.”

Without waiting for an answer, Harry dove onto the nearest four-poster bed and lay down with his eyes shut and his damp feet hanging off the end.

Stan took the hint, “Take ‘er away Ern!” With a BANG the bus took off.

Harry lay in the bed, swaying wildly from side to side. This actually wasn’t half bad. After all his broom flying, and riding on the backs of a Hippogriff and a Thestral, this felt pretty tame. He closed his eyes and thought about what he would say if he did manage to meet up with the Minister.

To Harry’s enormous surprise, he was woken some time later by Stan shaking his shoulder. “This is your stop, Neville.”

Harry wiped his eyes under his glasses and clambered groggily from the bed, “Wow, thanks Stan. I must have nodded off there. What time is it?”

Stan checked his watch, “Half past one.”

“Perfect, thanks!” Harry replied and jumped off the bus, “See you later!”

Harry figured there was no better way to avoid looking suspicious than being friendly and cheerful. There was nothing less gossip-worthy than someone being cheerful. Someone looking miserable, on the other hand...

The bus took off as Harry tried to get his bearings. He’d been here once with Mr Weasley (and again on the back of a Thestral), so he was fairly confident he could find the Ministry visitors’ entrance. He knew it wasn’t far from Whitehall. He spotted some familiar landmarks and headed off. Two minutes later he was inside the battered telephone box. He picked up the receiver and dialled six two four four two.

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”

“Harry Potter, for a private meeting with the Minister for Magic, if he’s around.”

“Thank you,” said the cool female voice. “Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes.”

A badge slid out of the metal chute where returned coins normally appeared. Harry grabbed it and pinned it to his sweatshirt. It read, ‘Harry Potter, Clandestine Meeting’.

“Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.”

The floor of the telephone box shuddered and sank slowly into the ground. Darkness closed over his head. Soon he could see nothing at all; he could hear only a dull grinding noise as the telephone box made its way down through the earth. After about a minute, a chink of golden light illuminated his feet and, widening, rose up his body, until it hit him in the face and he had to blink to stop his eyes watering.

“The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day,” said the woman’s voice, and the door of the telephone box sprang open.

Harry stepped out into the long and splendid-looking hall. Much of the damage inflicted by Dumbledore and Voldemort’s duel a few weeks ago had been repaired, but most of the statues were still missing. He tried not to think about the events of that day as he strolled towards the Security desk at the far end.

A badly-shaven wizard in peacock blue robes looked up as Harry approached, and lowered the Daily Prophet he was reading, “Ministry’s closed to visitors. Come back after eight o’clock.”

Harry recognised the guard from the time he came with Mr Weasley. What was his name? Eric? Yes, Eric.

“Hi Eric, it’s nice to see you again. I know the Ministry is closed, but could you get a message to the Minister? Tell him that Harry Potter would like a chat, and that this may be our only opportunity to do so.”

Eric goggled at him, “Are you mental? It’s more than my job’s worth to disturb the Minister in the middle of the night, even for someone claiming to be Harry Potter. Go on lad, get going.” He waved Harry away and resumed reading his newspaper, muttering under his breath, “Meet the Minister indeed! In the middle of the night! As if...”

Harry glared at the guard.

Damn it! What now? He stepped away from the desk and walked slowly back up the atrium. How could he contact the Minister? Perhaps he could have sent Hedwig, if his faithful owl wasn’t already at the Burrow. Harry didn’t know where the Minister lived, but he could get the Night Bus to Hogwarts, and then ride a Thestral to the Minister’s house... assuming the Minister was at home and not here working late.

Suddenly Harry slapped himself on the forehead, “Of course! Argh, I’m so stupid. I’ve got to stop forgetting about important assets!” In a firm voice he shouted, “Kreacher!”

Two house-elves were suddenly rolling around on the floor, one wearing a shrunken maroon jumper and several woolly hats, the other, a filthy old rag strung over his hips like a loincloth.

“Kreacher will not insult Harry Potter in front of Dobby, no he won’t, or Dobby will shut Kreacher’s mouth for him!” cried Dobby in a high-pitched voice.

“Kreacher will say what he likes about his master, oh yes, and what a master he is, filthy friend of Mudbloods, oh, what would poor Kreacher’s mistress say?”

Exactly what Kreacher’s mistress would have said they did not find out, for at that moment Dobby sank his knobbly little fist into Kreacher’s mouth and knocked out half of his teeth.

Harry grabbed one elf in each hand and pulled them apart, “Right – I’m forbidding you to fight each other! Well, Kreacher, you’re forbidden to fight Dobby. Dobby, I know I’m not allowed to give you orders...”

“Dobby is a free house-elf and he can obey anyone he likes and Dobby will do whatever Harry Potter wants him to do!” said Dobby defiantly.

“Okay, then,” said Harry and released the elves. They fell to the floor, but did not continue fighting.

“Master called me?” croaked Kreacher, sinking into a bow even as he gave Harry a look of pure hatred.

“Yeah, I did. I’ve got a job for you.”

“Kreacher will do whatever Master wants,” said Kreacher, sinking so low that his lips almost touched his gnarled toes, “because Kreacher has no choice, but Kreacher is ashamed to have such a Master, yes...”

“Dobby will do it, Harry Potter!” squeaked Dobby, “Dobby would be honoured to help Harry Potter!”

Harry was rather taken-aback by that offer, but the more he thought about it the more he realised that using Kreacher for anything important was probably unwise. If he’d had no choice he would have used Kreacher, but now that he had a choice...

“Thanks Dobby! Kreacher, go back to Hogwarts and resume your work there.” Kreacher looked back and forth between Dobby and Harry, a look of dismay on his face, then vanished with a crack.

“Right, Dobby. I need you to find the Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. If he’s alone, tell him that Harry Potter would like a chat, and right now might be our only opportunity to do so. If he’s not alone, wait until he is alone please. Can you do that?”

“Dobby will do it, Harry Potter!” squeaked Dobby, and was gone.

The Security Guard was too far away to hear what had been said, but he was eyeing Harry with open curiosity. Fortunately he made no move to throw Harry out, which was a blessing. Harry began pacing again, waiting nervously for Dobby to return.

Thirty long minutes later, Dobby reappeared, “Dobby has delivered Harry Potter’s message. The Minister was talking to Headmaster Dumblydore, so Dobby waited as Harry Potter instructed. The Minister is on his way now.”

Harry grinned and knelt down in front of Dobby, “Thank you, Dobby. How did you find him so fast?”

“Harry Potter has many friends among the elves. Dobby asked around.”

“Well, you’ve saved me again Dobby.”

Dobby looked like he was about to burst into tears, “Harry Potter is very welcome. Dobby will always answer when Harry Potter calls.”

Harry put a hand on Dobby’s shoulder, “Thank you Dobby, you’re a good friend.”

That seemed to be too much for Dobby. With a wail he disappeared. Harry sighed and stood up to wait for the Minister.

It was perhaps ten minutes before a green flash in one of the floos announced Scrimgeour’s arrival.

He was dressed in the same formal robes he always seemed to wear for public appearances. There were streaks of grey in his mane of tawny hair and his bushy eyebrows; he had keen yellowish eyes behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and a certain rangy, loping grace even though he walked with a slight limp. There was an immediate impression of shrewdness and toughness, despite him leaning on a walking stick. He looked rather like an old lion.

The Minister strode confidently up to Harry and offered his hand, “Harry Potter, I presume? Rufus Scrimgeour.”

Harry took his hand and the Minister shook it firmly as he continued speaking, “I’ve wanted to meet you for a while, but Dumbledore is very... protective of you. Natural, of course, natural, after what you’ve been through... especially after what happened... here.” He paused awkwardly, and Harry had the very strong impression that the Minister was nervous. “Well, shall we go somewhere a little more private? Let’s head up to my office.”

He led the way past Eric the security guard without a glance. Eric seemed disinclined to object, so Harry followed the Minister without having to go through any security checks at all. Scrimgeour glanced briefly at Harry’s squelching feet, but made no comment.

The Minister for Magic’s Office was exactly what Harry would have expected – a large and imposingly grand room with oak panelling on all four walls, an ornately moulded cream-coloured plaster ceiling, and a large crystal chandelier with candles permanently burning within it. There was an enormous desk with a large leather chair beyond, but Scrimgeour led Harry to a sofa and chairs off to one side. “Can I offer you refreshments, Harry?”

“No thank you, Minister, I don’t have much time.” Harry took a seat on the sofa, while Scrimgeour took one of the armchairs.

“Please, call me Rufus. I have been hoping for an occasion to talk to you ever since I gained office, but Dumbledore has – most understandably, as I say – prevented this. The rumours that have flown around! Well, of course, we both know how these stories get distorted... all these whispers of a prophecy... of you being the ‘Chosen One’... I assume that Dumbledore has discussed these matters with you?”

Scrimgeour seemed to be fishing, though he clearly had an agenda. It would be very useful to know what it was the Minister was after before Harry proceeded, so he answered cagily, “Yeah, we’ve discussed it.”

“Have you, have you?” said Scrimgeour, “And what has Dumbledore told you, Harry?”

“Quite a lot, Rufus, but these are delicate matters, as I’m sure you’ll appreciate.”

Harry kept his voice as pleasant as he could, and Scrimgeour’s tone, too, was light and friendly as he replied, “Oh, of course! If it’s a question of confidences, I wouldn’t want you to divulge... no, no... and in any case, does it really matter whether you are the Chosen One or not?”

Harry had to mull that one over for a few seconds before responding. “I don’t really know what you mean, Rufus.”

“Well, of course, to you it will matter enormously,” said Scrimgeour with an uneasy laugh. “But to the Wizarding community at large... it’s all perception, isn’t it? It’s what people believe that’s important.”

Harry said nothing. He thought he could see where this was heading, but he wanted to be sure.

“People believe you are the Chosen One, you see,” Scrimgeour continued. “They think you quite the hero – which, of course, you are, Harry, chosen or not! How many times have you faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named now? Well, anyway,” he pressed on, without waiting for a reply, “the point is, you are a symbol of hope for many, Harry. The idea that there is somebody out there who might be able, who might even be destined, to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – well, naturally, it gives people a lift. And I can’t help but feel that, once you realise this, you might consider it, well, almost a duty, to stand alongside the Ministry, and give everyone a boost.”

“Five times,” said Harry, flatly.

Scrimgeour was wrong-footed, “I’m sorry?”

“I’ve faced Voldemort five times, if we include the time he gave me this scar,” Harry pointed to his forehead.

Scrimgeour paled, “Fives times! Really? That’s... Remarkable. Truly... quite remarkable. Well, that reinforces my point. If you were to be seen... popping in and out of the Ministry from time to time, for instance, that would give the right impression. And of course, while you were here, you would have ample opportunity to speak to Gawain Robards, my successor as Head of the Auror Office. Dolores Umbridge has told me that you cherish an ambition to become an Auror. Well, that could be arranged very easily...”

Harry felt anger bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Dolores Umbridge was still at the Ministry, was she? He reined it in as best he could. He’d worry about that later.

“So basically you’d like to give the impression that I’m working for the Ministry?” Harry asked.

“It would give everyone a lift to think you were more involved, Harry,” replied Scrimgeour, relieved that Harry had cottoned-on so quickly. “The ‘Chosen One’, you know... it’s all about giving people hope, the feeling that exciting things are happening...”

Harry regarded the Minister for a long moment. Scrimgeour shifted uneasily in his seat. He really wasn’t much of a politician, Harry realised. In the past, Harry would have been deeply offended by what he’d just heard. But things had changed. Harry had an agenda of his own, and he needed Scrimgeour on-side to improve his chances.

He chose his words carefully, “Your plan has merit, Rufus, but I think we can do better. You want me to pretend to be working with the Ministry, but I think it would be more useful if I actually was working for the Ministry. There’s a lot more going on here than meets the eye, Minister. We need to do more than give the impression that we’re working together, we need to actually do so. I have information that would be of great use to you, I think, while you have resources that would be of great use to me.”

Scrimgeour abruptly become more animated. He sat forward eagerly, “What sort of information? Do you know what Dumbledore’s up to?”

“I know some of it,” Harry confirmed, “and I’m the only person who’s ever likely to find out the rest. Dumbledore has offered to give me private lessons this year. Given his track record, I don’t think he’ll be teaching me to fight. It’ll be something else – a series of challenges, maybe. He seems to like those. Whatever it is, it will give me a chance to learn his secrets. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. I’m not a politician, Rufus, and neither are you really, so let’s speak plainly. Dumbledore has been using me for his own ends these last fifteen years, and I’m keen to get out from under his yoke. You are the only person who can help me do that, but it will require considerable finesse and a true partnership between us. If you can’t offer me that I’ll walk away and do it on my own. Are you interested?”

Scrimgeour leant back in his chair. This was clearly not something he’d anticipated. His expression became more wily, “I’m listening...”

Harry nodded, “Okay, as a show of faith, I’m going to tell you something that only two people on this earth are fully aware of. I’m going to tell you the contents of the Prophecy.”

Scrimgeour’s eyes went wide and he leaned forwards again, unable to conceal the hungry look on his face. “There really is a Prophecy then?”

Harry had him on the hook already, “Yes there is. It was given to Albus Dumbledore sometime before July 1980. Unfortunately, the first part was overheard by a Death Eater who immediately relayed it to Voldemort.” Harry was happy to see that Scrimgeour didn’t flinch at the name. “That’s why he killed my parents and tried to kill me. It’s also why his Death Eaters subsequently attacked Frank and Alice Longbottom. I imagine you worked alongside them in the Auror office?”

Scrimgeour nodded grimly, “I did, and a lovelier couple you will never meet. Terrible thing, what happened, terrible...”

“You can appreciate then, that whether we believe the Prophecy or not, the fact that Voldemort believes it makes it important.”

Scrimgeour nodded, “Of course... of course. Perception... Yes, very important...”

Harry jumped in before Scrimgeour could start rambling again, “You may not know this, but Voldemort attacked the Department of Mysteries recently in an effort to get hold of the Prophecy. He desperately wants to hear it in its entirety. He even risked exposing his return just so he could acquire it. Once you’ve heard it, perhaps you will understand why.”

Scrimgeour was literally on the edge of his seat, anticipation etched in his features. Like a starving lion stalking its prey, he made not a sound, waiting for Harry to reveal the information he so desperately needed.

Harry took a deep breath, “The Prophecy goes like this:

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...
Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...
And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...
And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

Scrimgeour’s expression morphed from hungry excitement to appalled horror, “Merlin’s beard! You ARE the Chosen One!

Chapter 3: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe Malfunction

Chapter Text

Scrimgeour leapt to his feet and paced the room in a fierce temper, “What the hell has Dumbledore been doing? If only you can kill Voldemort, why hasn’t Dumbledore been training you? Why haven’t we all been training you?”

Harry snorted, “For the answer to that, and many other things, we will need to reach an agreement, Rufus. First, I need a gesture of good faith from you – an indication that you’re serious, and that I can rely on you to do the right thing. Revealing the prophecy is a huge concession, I think you will agree. I need an equally significant concession from you.”

“What do you have in mind, Harry?”

Harry raised his right fist, “Do you see this scar?”

There, shining white on the back of his hand, was clearly written: ‘I must not tell lies’.

The friendly smile fell from Harry’s face, “This is what Dolores Umbridge forced me to carve into my own flesh when I refused to say that Voldemort had not returned. She also sent two Dementors to kill me the previous summer. I’m sure you can appreciate that I won’t be able to work with a Ministry that harbours such a person. She’s guilty of torturing a child with an illegal blood quill, the unauthorised use of Veritaserum on more children, and the attempted murder of me and my cousin. I want her imprisoned for her crimes. Once she’s in Azkaban we can talk again.”

Harry rose to leave.

“Wait!” Scrimgeour pleaded. “I can’t just throw her in Azkaban on your say-so!”

Harry scoffed, “Of course you can! The Minister can do anything. Look at what Fudge got away with! In fact, he put Rubeus Hagrid in Azkaban on the say-so of Lucius Malfoy, and attempted to do it to Dumbledore. But relax, I’m not asking you to do it on my say-so. I’m asking you to interrogate Umbridge under Veritaserum. I’m sure a weak-minded person like her will sing like a canary.”

“But Veritaserum isn’t infallible!” Scrimgeour objected. “People can be trained to overcome it.”

Harry thought about that for a moment, “So you’re saying that a guilty person could train themselves to claim innocence?”

“Exactly!”

Harry grinned in triumph, “And how many people would train themselves to claim guilt, when they’re actually innocent?”

Scrimgeour opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

“Exactly,” Harry smirked. “We need to start thinking outside the box, Rufus. The Ministry spent ten years fighting Voldemort last time, and was losing badly. If we want to win this time, we need to be more effective and more ruthless. If we can’t even convict a vile toad like Umbridge, we may as well surrender to Voldemort now.”

Scrimgeour deflated, “Fine, I’ll get the DMLE to interrogate her. In the meantime, I need to assign you a couple of Aurors as bodyguards. We can’t have you walking around unprotected, just in case you really are the only one who can kill him.”

Harry mulled it over, “That would present some logistical issues, but more importantly Dumbledore will resist it. Unless... there is perhaps one Auror he would accept as my bodyguard, which could work quite well for us in fact, if their loyalty can be assured.”

“Their loyalty?” Scrimgeour queried with a frown.

Harry nodded, “Yes, I’m afraid Dumbledore has compromised the loyalty of some Ministry staff.”

Scrimgeour scowled.

“I’ll tell you who once we’ve come to an arrangement,” Harry offered. “For now, I suggest that we invite our candidate to join us and conduct a little... interview.”

Scrimgeour nodded, “Good idea. He’ll be off-balance from being woken in the middle of the night.”

She”, Harry corrected. “It’s Nymphadora Tonks.”

Scrimgeour raised an eyebrow, “Isn’t she rather... junior?”

Harry shrugged, “Yes but she’s a metamorphmagus – she could pose as a boy at Hogwarts and an adult elsewhere. She can be whoever we need her to be.”

Scrimgeour was apparently convinced. He raised his wand, “Expecto Patronum!

Harry was expecting a lion-shaped patronus, but Scrimgeour’s patronus was non-corporeal – just a cloud of silvery vapour.

Nevertheless, he instructed it, “Tell Auror Tonks to report to my office immediately.

The cloud of mist shot straight through the window like a rocket, and disappeared into the night.

Harry resumed his seat, “Allow me to do the talking, if you don’t mind, Rufus. I think I can get her on-side, with a little... deception. In the meantime, I might take you up on your earlier offer. I don’t suppose you have a Butterbeer?”

Scrimgeour chuckled and opened a cabinet to reveal a wide variety of Wizarding and Muggle beverages, “My predecessor liked to entertain.” He poured Harry a Butterbeer and himself a Firewhisky. They clinked glasses, “To a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

They were half way through their drinks when Tonks burst into the office. She’d obviously been in bed and had rushed the entire way up here, finishing dressing as she went. She was still buttoning up her shirt as she entered. Inevitably, in her flustered state, she tripped over the carpet and almost fell on her face, but managed to right herself. She looked thoroughly miserable and drawn... unwell maybe, with mousy brown hair instead of her usual bubble-gum pink... Harry wondered if she was grieving for Sirius, or if she always looked like this in the middle of the night. Then he noticed that one of her boobs had shaken loose when she stumbled. It was hanging very visibly out of her shirt. His eyes bugged out of his head.

The sight of Harry brought her up short, “Harry, what are you...” She seemed to realise where she was and abruptly stood up straight facing the Minister, “Auror Tonks reporting as instructed, Sir!”

Scrimgeour nodded, “Thank you for coming Auror Tonks. Did we wake you?”

“I’d just turned in, Sir.”

“Ah. Well, perhaps you should straighten your attire before we continue?” He pointed at her chest.

Tonks looked down and blushed furiously as she wrestled the errant boob back into her top.

Harry pretended he hadn’t noticed, though his face was burning. He pointed to the unoccupied seat, “You might want to sit down, Tonks. I have some bad news.”

She looked alarmed and sank into the chair. What little energy she had seemed to leave her and she visibly wilted.

“I’m afraid the Ministry has discovered the existence of the Order of the Phoenix.”

Tonks glanced wild-eyed at Scrimgeour, then back at Harry.

“I was the first to be arrested," Harry explained, "but they know everything. The others will all be arrested tomorrow. We face long stretches in Azkaban, I’m afraid.”

Harry felt more than a little guilty about lying to her, but it was a necessary deception. There was simply no other way to prevent Dumbledore from interfering. Unfortunately this revelation seemed to be more than Tonks could bear. She’d already been on the verge of breaking down, by the look of her, and this tipped her over the edge. Tonks’ head fell into her hands and she burst into tears.

Oh God! Now Harry felt really guilty!

He quickly rounded the coffee the table and knelt in front of her with his hands on her trembling shoulders.

“It’s okay Tonks. I’ve struck a deal with the Minister. In exchange for supporting the Ministry’s campaign against Voldemort, the Minister has agreed not to press charges against any of the members of the Order. They won’t even know they’ve been discovered. Only you and I will know. That’s better than going to Azkaban, eh?”

Tonks' relief was so great that she grabbed him in a fierce hug, sniffling and nodding into his shoulder.

“The problem is Dumbledore,” Harry continued. “He’s not going to be happy about me co-operating with the Ministry, so we need him to think it’s all fake – that I’m just going through the motions and not actually co-operating. But the Minister is insisting that I have an Auror bodyguard, and it has to be someone Dumbledore won’t object to. So I suggested you, and the Minister agreed. You’ll help me to work with the Ministry, while reporting to Dumbledore and the Order that it’s all a ruse and I’m not really helping the Ministry. You understand?”

Tonks nodded into his shoulder again.

“We have to be convincing though. If Dumbledore discovers that we actually are working with the Ministry, he’ll ruin everything. The deal will crumble and we’ll all go to Azkaban.”

Tonks raised her tear-stained face to meet Harry’s, “I understand.”

Scrimgeour poured another Firewhisky and passed it to Tonks, “Excellent! Excellent! Welcome to the club, Auror Tonks. Despite the ultimatum, let’s not forget that we are all on the same team. We three are going to bring Voldemort down, Auror Tonks, starting today.”

Tonks sniffed and gave him a watery smile, “Yes, Sir.”

Scrimgeour grinned, “When it’s just us three, please call me Rufus.”

Tonks gawped and nodded.

Harry held up his Butterbeer, “To the beginning of the end of Tom Marvolo Riddle!”

Scrimgeour and Tonks both said, “Who?” at the same time.

Harry started in surprise, “That’s Voldemort’s real name.”

Scrimgeour nearly choked on his whisky, “You’re kidding! He’s not even a pureblood?”

Harry smirked, “No, his father was a muggle. He told me so himself in the Little Hangleton graveyard.”

Merlin’s Beard!” swore Scrimgeour. “That’s propaganda gold!”

Harry chuckled, “Well, you’re welcome to use it whenever you like. Just be aware that Voldemort will go seven kinds of ape-shit when you do.”

Tonks took two large swigs of Whisky. She seemed to be having trouble keeping up with her change of circumstances. She’d gone from facing a long stretch in Azkaban to being on first-name terms with the Minister of Magic and learning things even he hadn't known.

Harry snapped her out of her daze, “Hey Tonks, is Occlumency part of Auror training?”

Tonks sniffed, “Yes, of course. Aurors wouldn’t be much use if people could read their minds.”

“And could you teach me?” Harry asked.

She shrugged, “Sure. It’s not that hard really.”

Harry scowled, “I suspected as much. We have two months until I return to Hogwarts. Will that be enough time?”

“It should be, yeah.”

Scrimgeour interrupted, “I can get the Auror Dept’s official training instructor if you like?”

Harry considered it, and then shook his head, “Let’s start with Tonks and see how it goes. We don’t want Dumbledore getting suspicious and sticking his nose in, if we can help it.”

“I’ve heard you can shake off the imperius," Tonks added, "so you should have no problem with Occlumency."

Scrimgeour was taken aback, “You can shake off the imperius?”

Harry shrugged, “Yeah, Professor Moody – or rather Barty Crouch Jr under polyjuice – cast it on me last year until I could throw it off. Also, Voldemort has hit me with the Cruciatus a couple of times, and of course the Killing Curse once... so I’ve got a ‘full house’ where the Unforgivables are concerned.”

Scrimgeour downed his Whisky and poured himself another, “You’ve had a tough life for a fifteen-year-old, Harry.”

Harry snorted, “That’s just the tip of the iceberg. There have been at least a dozen attempts on my life in the last five years.”

Tonks and Scrimgeour both looked shocked at that.

“It’s a good job we have Tonks to keep you safe then,” the Minister noted. He raised his glass in her direction and she flushed at the complement.

Harry chuckled and rose from his seat, “I better get going. Rufus, could you get Tonks reassigned straight away? Tonks, could you come to the Burrow tomorrow morning?” They both nodded. “Good. I look forward to seeing that other thing in the Daily Prophet soon, Minister. We’ll talk again after that.”

They shook hands and Harry left the Minister chatting to Tonks.

From a few corridors away, he called Dobby to take him straight to the Weasley’s back garden.

The house was silent and dark when Harry arrived, but the kitchen door was unlocked. So much for the all Ministry’s security measures, he thought, rolling his eyes. Harry didn’t want to disturb anyone so he removed his damp shoes and curled up on the sofa.

He tried very hard not to picture Tonks’ bare boob as he waited for sleep to take him.

He failed quite spectacularly.

Chapter 4: An Excess of Phlegm

Notes:

Some minor angst in this chapter... but I won't make a habit of it.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Harry was woken from a rather pleasant dream about accidentally bursting in on Tonks in the shower... by the sound of pots and pans clattering about in the kitchen. He fumbled about for his glasses and took in the homey sights of the Weasley’ sitting room. With a yawn he pushed himself up off the sofa and stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

Mrs Weasley turned round as he walked in and shrieked, grasping her chest. “Oh Harry, it’s you! Gracious, you gave me a fright! When did you get here?”

Harry shrugged, “Not sure. Late last night some time... Dumbledore dropped me off.”

“Oh that man! You didn’t sleep down here did you? Well never mind, it’s lovely to have you here.” She gave him the once-over, “You’re like Ron. Both of you look as though you’ve had Stretching Jinxes put on you. I swear Ron’s grown four inches since I last bought him school robes. Are you hungry, Harry?”

Harry chatted to Mrs Weasley as she cooked him a fried breakfast. Apparently Slughorn had taught when she was at Hogwarts, and her assessment was the same as Harry’s – Slughorn could be charming, but he was obsessed with networking. A few days ago Harry would have shared her dislike of such a trait. Now though, he was wondering if Slughorn’s contacts might prove useful. Slughorn had already mentioned the Editor of the Daily Prophet, for example...

Harry was distracted from that thought by the news that Mr Weasley had been promoted, and was now running a team of ten, confiscating bogus protections against Death Eaters.

At that very moment Mr Weasley came clomping down the stairs and spotted him, “Harry! We weren’t expecting you until later this morning.” They shook hands and Mr Weasley dropped into the chair beside Harry as Mrs Weasley served up. Harry was given quite a lot more than Mr Weasley, but wolfed it all down. There was plenty more in the pan, he noticed.

Mrs Weasley spoke while they ate, “I’ve got Fred and George’s room all ready for you Harry. You’ll have it to yourself.”

“Why, where are they?” Harry asked through a mouthful of toast and scrambled eggs.

“Oh, they’re in Diagon Alley, sleeping in the little flat over their joke shop since they’re so busy,” said Mrs Weasley. “I must say, I didn’t approve at first, but they do seem to have a bit of a flair for business! Hedwig and your trunk are already upstairs.”

They chatted about the joke shop and Mr Weasley’s new job. Harry had just dropped his empty plate in the self-washing sink when more footsteps alerted them to the next set of arrivals – Hermione and Ginny. They were both still wearing pyjama trousers and tight tops. Harry couldn’t help noticing that they’d both developed very noticeable boobs, and were looking rather sexy, in a just-got-out-of-bed kind of way.

“Harry!” they both squealed, and ran across the room to hug him, one after the other.

Their soft breasts pressed against his made him wonder what Tonks' considerably larger ones would feel like. He hugged the girls back for longer than was strictly necessary. Ginny blushed slightly and Hermione gave him an odd look. She was scrutinising him as though he was sickening for something.

Ginny broke the awkward silence, “So what were you up to last night, Harry?”

Harry blanched, “Last night?”

“Yes, with Dumbledore! On some dangerous secret mission, were you?”

Hermione flashed Ginny a warning look, “We just thought he might be telling you something, or showing you something, to do with the prophecy...”

Harry scoffed, “Hardly! He just wanted me to help him persuade this old teacher to come out of retirement. Horace Slughorn – Mr and Mrs Weasley used to have him for Defence.”

“Oh it wasn’t Defence,” interrupted Mr Weasley, “Slughorn teaches Potions”.

“Potions!” cried Harry.

Mr Weasley looked surprised, “Didn’t you know? Why would you think he taught Defence?”

Harry groaned, dropped into his chair and started banging his head on the table. “No, no, no, no, no, no....”

Hermione rushed over and pulled him up, “Harry stop it! What’s wrong?”

Harry sighed heavily, “Don’t you see? If Slughorn is teaching potions...”

Hermione’s eyes went wide, “Then... Professor Snape must be teaching Defence!”

Harry nodded miserably, “Just when I thought I’d got away from the slimy git.”

Hermione visibly restrained herself from telling him off for insulting a professor. She seemed keen to distract Harry from his distress. “So, er... what’s he like? Slughorn I mean. Did he seem like he’ll be a good teacher?”

“He looks a bit like a walrus and he used to be Head of Slytherin,” said Harry. “Dunno if he’s any good, but he can’t be worse than Snape, can he?”

Hermione was watching Harry as though expecting strange symptoms to manifest themselves at any moment. She rearranged her features hastily into an unconvincing smile. “No, I suppose not.”

Ginny decided to change the subject, “Any sign of Phlegm yet?”

Mr Weasley, who’d been reading his Daily Prophet, put it down and frowned disapprovingly. “Don’t call her that, Ginny. Fleur is a guest in our home and we’ll treat her like one of the family.”

Ginny scowled at her food and didn’t reply.

Fleur is here?” said Harry in disbelief, “Fleur Delacour?

The women seemed to suddenly find the walls and ceiling strangely fascinating. Nobody replied until Mr Weasley spoke again, “Yes, Bill and Fleur are engaged. They met at Gringotts. He’s brought her to stay for a while to meet the family... who, I must say, have greatly disappointed me.”

Ginny and Mrs Weasley looked distinctly sheepish, and even Hermione had a chastised look about her.

“Wow,” replied Harry, “that’s great news!” He was genuinely pleased, but the sentiment apparently wasn’t universal. Once again the three women shifted uneasily and avoided looking at each other.

It was left to Mr Weasley to reply, “Yes it is. Bill is very happy, and Fleur is a lovely girl.” He clapped his hands briskly, “Well, I better be off! Lots to do at the Ministry! See you all later.”

As soon as Mr Weasley left the house, the three women seemed to sigh in relief.

“Mum hates her,” said Ginny quietly.

I do not hate her!” said Mrs Weasley in a cross whisper. “I just think they’ve hurried into this engagement, that’s all!”

There followed a lengthy conversation about what, if anything, Bill and Fleur had in common. That was followed by a discussion of the relative merits of Fleur joining the family versus Tonks, for some reason, before Mrs Weasley disappeared to do some laundry.

Harry was confused, “Is Tonks engaged to someone as well?”

Ginny rolled her eyes, “Of course not. It’s just... she’s been over a lot recently, she’s about Bill’s age, and she’s a damn sight nicer than Phlegm.”

“And she’s more intelligent, she’s an Auror!” said Hermione, taking Harry completely by surprise.

“Fleur’s not stupid,” Harry offered in her defence. “She was good enough to enter the Triwizard Tournament”.

“Not you as well!” said Hermione bitterly.

“I suppose you like the way Phlegm says ‘Arry, do you?” asked Ginny scornfully.

Harry ignored Ginny and asked, “What do you mean ‘not you as well’?”

Hermione just huffed and crossed her arms. Ginny answered for her, “Ron’s been drooling every time Fleur walks in the room.”

“It’s pathetic!” added Hermione furiously.

Harry raised an eyebrow, “And why would you care who Ron drools over?”

Ginny’s head snapped up and she looked straight at Hermione, apparently keen to see her reaction.

Hermione leapt out of her chair, grabbed her plate and shoved it roughly into the sink. “I DON’T! It’s just ridiculous that boys completely lose their minds over someone’s looks and a bit of Veela allure. It’s so... superficial!

Harry turned to Ginny, “Hasn’t Ron got used to it yet?”

Ginny shrugged, “Nope.”

“Well, I think you’re being a little unfair, Hermione. You did go rather gaga over a certain Defence professor in second year, and he had no allure at all.”

I did no such thing!” Hermione replied furiously. “Anyway, I was twelve and that was different,” she continued, entirely undermining her previous denial. “There were books about the impressive things Lockhart had done. How was I to know it was all a pack of lies?”

“And you don’t think Fleur did impressive things in the Triwizard Tournament?”

“Yes of course she did, but that’s not why Ron keeps drooling like a love-sick puppy is it?”

“Ron specifically, you mean, or boys in general?”

Hermione screamed in frustration and stormed off up the stairs, muttering incoherently in rage.

Ginny waited until Hermione was definitely gone, and then burst out laughing, “Good one, Harry.”

Harry pasted a look of angelic innocence on his face, “I don’t know what you mean. So what’s your problem with Fleur?”

“It’s just the way she talks to me – you’d think I was about three!”

“Ah. You know, the first time I met her she called me a ‘leetle boy’. She’ll come around. She’s just a bit... French.”

A young woman was descending the stairs, a woman of such breathtaking beauty that the room seemed to have become strangely airless. She was tall and willowy with long blonde hair and appeared to emanate a faint, silvery glow.

“What eez all zee shouting?”

Harry rose from his chair as Fleur spotted him. “’Arry!” she said in a throaty voice. “Eet ’as been too long!”

She swept towards him gracefully, and then swooped to kiss him on each cheek. He felt the places where her mouth had touched him burn. Before she could step away he grabbed her in a hug. Over her shoulder, Harry saw Ginny raise an eyebrow. Fleur hugged him back... and images of her and Tonks together in the shower flashed though his mind.

She spoke into his ear, “I ’ave been longing to see you ‘Arry. You remember my seester, Gabrielle? She never stops talking about ’Arry Potter. She will be delighted to see you again.”

Ginny met his eye and silently mouthed, “longing to see you”, then mimicked snogging... with tongues...

Harry glared at her and ended the hug, “Is... is she here too?” he croaked.

“No, no, silly boy,” said Fleur with a tinkling laugh, “I mean next summer, at zee wedding.”

“Oh... right, yes of course. Congratulations, I’m really happy for you.”

“Sank you, ‘Arry. Bill is very busy at ze moment, working very ’ard, and I only work part-time at Gringotts for my Eenglish, so he brought me ’ere for a few days to get to know ’is family properly. I was so pleased to ’ear you would be coming – zere isn’t much to do ’ere, unless you like cooking and chickens! Well – enjoy your breakfast, ’Arry!”

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

“No. Zees Eenglish food eez too ‘eavy for me.” With these words she turned delicately and seemed to float back up the stairs.

Ginny rolled her eyes, and then looked at him appraisingly, “Since when were you such a hugger, Harry?”

“I’ve always hugged people,” he protested unconvincingly.

“No you haven’t. When Mum hugs you, you stand there like a wet fish looking uncomfortable. The only person you’ve ever hugged back is Hermione, and now you’re hugging everyone. What happened? Did you get some action?”

Harry scoffed, “I wish!”

Ginny’s eyebrows shot so high they were lost in her hairline.

Harry scowled, “Can we pretend I never said that?”

Ginny snorted, “In your dreams, Potter.”

Harry’s face flushed before he could stop it. Ginny pounced instantly, “Are you blushing? You are! You’re blushing! Has something been happening in your dreams, Harry?” She sauntered over to him and put a finger on his chest, mock-seductively. “Do tell! Your secret is safe with me, I won’t breathe a word...”

Without a backward glance Harry bolted up the stairs. He didn’t stop until Fred and George’s door was firmly closed behind him and Ginny’s taunting laughter was silenced.

Fred and George’s bedroom was on the second floor, above Ginny’s room. A large vase of flowers had been placed on a desk in front of the small window, but their perfume could not disguise the lingering smell of what Harry thought was gunpowder. A considerable amount of floor space was devoted to a vast number of unmarked, sealed cardboard boxes, amongst which stood Harry’s school trunk. The room looked as though it was being used as a temporary warehouse. Hedwig hooted happily at Harry from her perch on top of a large wardrobe, and then took off through the open window; Harry knew she had been waiting to see him before going hunting.

Harry was still tired, so he lay on the bed for a quick snooze. Seconds later, or so it seemed to Harry, he was woken by what sounded like cannon-fire as the door burst open. Ron smacked him on the top of his head, much to Harry’s annoyance, but they were soon catching-up on each other’s news. Ron told Harry how well Fred and George’s shop was doing, and that they’d all visit it as soon as his Dad could get time off work. Harry made no mention of his nocturnal activities yet though – he wanted to tell Ron, Hermione and Ginny all at once.

“Have you seen Hermione yet?” asked Ron.

“Yeah, she was down for breakfast earlier. She stormed off in a huff when I defended Fleur.”

Ron blew out a heavy breath, “Huh. Hermione’s been a right moody cow the last two days. Don’t know what her problem is.”

Harry smirked but chose not to enlighten him. Instead he said, “Could you ask Hermione and Ginny to come in here? There’s something I need to tell you all.”

“Er, yeah okay.” Ron headed off as Harry took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

Ron was soon back again, with the other two in tow. Hermione still looked annoyed, but Harry just waved them all inside and closed the door behind them.

“Grab a seat,” he instructed, pointing at the bed. The three of them sat in a line, looking perplexed.

Harry started pacing the room in front of them. “There are some things I need to tell you. After the Department of Mysteries, I had a long chat with Dumbledore. He told me some of the secrets he’s been keeping from us. The ‘weapon’ we thought Voldemort was after was in fact the prophecy orb. It concerns Voldemort and me, but Voldemort has only heard the first half. He’s desperate to hear the rest.”

“We prevented that though, didn’t we?” said Hermione quickly. “It got smashed so nobody will ever know.”

“We prevented him from hearing it, yes, but there is someone who knows what it said – the person who was there when it was made. That person was Albus Dumbledore. He’s known what it said all along.”

All three of them looked shocked.

“Voldemort has heard the first part – the bit that says I have the power to vanquish him. That’s why he’s always trying to kill me. But he hasn’t heard the second part, which says that either of us must die at the hands of the other, for neither of us can live while the other survives.” Harry paused to let that sink in.

Ron had a horrified look on his face, “You mean... only you can kill him?”

Harry nodded, “Apparently so. The Daily Prophet is right – I am the Chosen One. I’ve been chosen to kill or be killed.”

Ron blew out a breath, “Bloody hell!”

Hermione was covering her mouth with her hand. Tears were forming in her eyes. “Oh Harry! We wondered, after we got back from the Ministry... obviously, we didn’t want to say anything to you, but from what Lucius Malfoy said about the prophecy, how it was about you and Voldemort, well, we thought it might be something like this...”

Harry stopped pacing. Something about that statement didn’t sit right. They’d talked about it... without him? And it didn’t sound like they’d been intending to talk to him about it either. Was everyone keeping secrets from him?

Hermione stared at him in concern and whispered, “Are you scared?

That definitely didn’t sit right.

Am I scared? Not ‘what are we going to do’ or ‘let’s make a plan’, but ‘am I scared?’

Why did it feel like Harry was alone all of a sudden?

Am I scared?” he repeated in disbelief. “No, I’m furious! Dumbledore has known this for fifteen years. Fifteen! Not only has he kept it from me, he’s squandered fifteen years during which he should have been training me. Instead, he’s done everything he can to keep me weak and clueless. We had a huge argument about it actually, during which I destroyed quite a lot of his office. And that brings me to the reason you’re here. Dumbledore and I have had a parting of the ways. I’ve realised that we can’t rely on him. He has his own agenda, and I don’t think our welfare is high on his list of priorities. He’s going to get us all killed. If I’m to defeat Voldemort, I’ll have to work around Dumbledore not with him. So my question is this – are you with me or are you with Dumbledore?”

Hermione jumped straight in, “Harry I’m sure it’s not like that. Dumbledore must have had his reasons. He’s the most powerful wizard alive and the only one Voldemort’s ever been scared of. We can’t win without him and the Order, we just can’t...”

Harry gave her a betrayed look, “Okay, so Hermione’s with Dumbledore.”

Hermione was aghast, “Harry, no! I didn’t mean...”

Harry turned to face the other two and spoke over her, “Ron? Ginny? Are you with me?”

Ginny and Ron looked at each other. Ginny began uncertainly, “Harry, we’re just kids...” and fizzled out.

Ron took up the mantle, “Mate look. We’re your friends and everything, but let’s face it you nearly got us all killed in the Department of Mysteries. If the Order and Dumbledore hadn’t turned up, we’d all be dead.”

“I didn’t make you come!” Harry replied angrily. “In fact I told you not to, but you insisted!”

“Well yeah,” Ron admitted, “but we didn’t really think that through did we? We’re just kids, like Ginny said. Those Death Eaters showed us that we’re way out of our depth. We have to leave it to the adults, Harry, or we’ll just get someone ki...”

Ron broke off abruptly, but Harry had caught the implication.

He was livid, “Just get someone killed? Is that what you were going to say? So you think it’s my fault Sirius died? Well join the club! I know it was my fault! I know I should have listened to Hermione when she said it was a trap. But you know why I didn’t? Because I thought Sirius was in danger and nobody else would help! That’s what you do for people you care about. It’s what I’d do for you, if you were in danger. It's what I did for Ginny when she was dying in the Chamber of Secrets!”

Ginny had the good grace to flush awkwardly, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“So yes, it was my fault that we nearly died,” Harry raged, “and that Sirius did die. But whose fault is it that I got tricked in the first place? It’s Dumbledore’s fault for keeping secrets from me, and Snape’s fault for not teaching me Occulmency properly! This is the first time my hunches have been wrong! The first time! Every other time I’ve been right. We can’t give up just because I was wrong once. The adults can’t be trusted to do this. They were losing the war last time and they’ll lose again this time. Thousands will die if we don’t do things differently. So guys, come on! Are you with me?

Ron looked at Hermione and Ginny, who both stared miserably at the floor. He spoke for all three of them, it seemed.

“Sorry Harry, but the adults know more than we do, and have more magical experience. They’re much more qualified to handle this than we are. I know you’re supposed to be the Chosen One and all that, but seriously, how the hell can you beat You-Know-Who? It’s just not possible. You need Dumbledore to find a way. I’m sure he’s working on it. Just concentrate on school and trust him. That’s what we’re going to do.”

Harry examined their faces one after the other. None of them would look at him.

“Oh, I get it now,” he spat bitterly. “You’ve all talked about this haven’t you? You’ve already decided to leave the adults to it. You’ve already agreed to abandon me.” All three of them flinched, but Harry was unrepentant – he felt thoroughly betrayed. But then an even worse thought struck him. “If I hadn’t brought it up... were you ever going to tell me?

Guilt was written clearly across their faces.

“No, of course you weren’t. What were you going to do? Spend all year talking me out of doing anything?”

They all shifted uncomfortably.

“Oh my God, you were! You were just going to disagree with me on everything weren’t you? You were going to undermine my confidence and make me do everything alone! That’s pretty cynical guys – to desert me but never even tell me! Some friends you are!”

Hermione looked stricken, “Harry please! It’s not like that!”

Harry shouted her down, “It’s exactly like that! You guys are unbelievable! Well thanks for finally being honest, at least. It’s good to know that my former friends are all two-faced back-stabbing cowards!”

Ginny stared resolutely at her feet, but Hermione looked like she’d been slapped. Tears sprang into her eyes and her lip began to tremble. Ron, on the other hand, was clearly working himself up into a furious denial. His ears had gone bright red. Harry had no desire to hear his excuses. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone now, thank you. More alone than I already am, I mean. Now GET OUT!

He started herding them towards the door. They were talking over each other, but Harry ignored it all. He pushed them forcibly out the door and slammed it shut behind them.

In the silence that followed, he heard Ron reassuring the girls, “He’ll come around, don’t worry. We’re doing this for his own good – it’s the best thing for everyone...” Their voices faded as they trooped up the stairs to Ron’s room.

Harry lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Thank goodness he’d decided to challenge Dumbledore! If he hadn’t he’d probably have spent the entire year being stymied by his own so-called friends. He’d have achieved absolutely nothing while Voldemort and his Death Eaters ran amok, killing the innocent and advancing their plans completely unopposed! For an entire year! That was more than enough time for Voldemort to take over the Ministry, and maybe even Hogwarts!

It beggared belief that his friends could be so stupid. They were letting their fear do their thinking for them. Harry might not be perfect, but he never let fear stop him from doing the right thing. That’s what being a Gryffindor was all about, wasn’t it?

His friends’ betrayal cut him deep, but what hurt the most was Hermione’s treachery. She’d been his most loyal supporter... in fact his only loyal supporter – she’d stuck with him through thick and thin. Ron had let Harry down plenty of times, but never Hermione. Why was she deserting him now? What had changed?

The only change he was aware of was that Hermione had started to fancy Ron. But surely that wasn’t the reason? Would she throw away her beliefs and side with Ron just so he would like her more? It would be a pretty piss-poor thing for her to do, if so... and Harry would never have believed it... except that the way she’d talked about Fleur this morning was so unlike her. Frankly, Hermione had been a bit of a bitch – just like the gossipy dorm-mates she so frequently criticised.

Were Hermione’s ethics so flexible? Could she turn them on and off when she felt like it? Harry had thought she was better than that. In fact, Hermione had always been his moral compass – he’d aspired to be as good a person as she was. He knew she wasn’t perfect, but she’d always been the most honourable person he knew. Was that still true? Had it ever been true?

Either he’d been wrong about her from the beginning, or her attraction to Ron had completely undermined her morals.

Harry wasn’t sure which was worse.

Regardless, he’d just lost all three of his best friends in one fell swoop. A dark cloud of despair settled over him.

Notes:

Apart from Harry’s reactions, everything in this chapter is canon – Hermione was a bitch to Fleur, she and Ron and Ginny did talk about the Dept of Mysteries behind Harry’s back, they did subsequently keep that discussion to themselves, they did spend the following academic year telling Harry that everything was fine, and they refused to get involved in anything related to Death Eaters and Voldemort. For example, they dismissed Harry's claim that Draco Malfoy was up to something, despite all the evidence (and despite their previous experience of Draco's shady character) and refused to help Harry figure out what Malfoy was doing. That ultimately resulted in Malfoy’s plan succeeding – he smuggled Death Eaters into the school and Dumbledore was killed. All I’ve done is connect the dots. Hermione’s inadvertent comments (in canon) certainly point in that direction...

Chapter 5: The Bodyguard

Chapter Text

It was perhaps an hour later when Mrs Weasley shouted up the stairs, “Harry dear, could you come down. There’s someone here to see you.”

Harry descended the stairs to find everyone gathered in the kitchen. They were all seated, apart from Tonks who looked like she’d just arrived. She had a large suitcase either side of her.

“Tonks has something to tell you Harry,” Mrs Weasley informed him, clearly irritated that Tonks hadn’t told her what it was.

Harry met Tonks’ eyes, but couldn’t help glancing down at her boobs. Tragically, they were both completely covered. He blushed furiously and looked away. Tonks had apparently known exactly what he was thinking and blushed furiously too, staring at the ground while she spoke.

“Wotcha Harry. Erm... the Minister for Magic has decided that... as the Chosen One... you need a round-the-clock bodyguard... and erm... I have been assigned to that... position.”

Harry noticed that Ginny was looking back and forth between them with an incredulous expression on her face. He tried to ignore her and focused on what Tonks had said. That wasn’t quite what he’d agreed with Scrimgeour...

“What do you mean, ‘round the clock’?” he asked.

Tonks began worrying at one of her nails. In a small voice she replied, “I’m never to leave your side.”

Never?” Harry queried.

“Never,” Tonks confirmed.

Bizarrely, it was Hermione who reacted first. “WHAT?” she shrieked.

Mrs Weasley wasn’t far behind. “I’m sorry dear,” she said in a tone that reminded Harry unpleasantly of Dolores Umbridge, “Are you saying that you expect to share a room with Harry, because I can tell you right now that won’t be happening under my roof!

Tonks shuffled uncomfortably, “I understand, Molly. The Minister instructed me to say that if appropriate arrangements can’t be made here, then Harry will be moved to another location.”

Mrs Weasley spluttered, “Another location? But he’s only just arrived! We’ve had extra security...”

Harry rubbed his face with both hands and then stalked across the room, “Would you all excuse us for a moment?”

He put an arm round Tonks’ shoulders and steered her out the back door. They walked half way down the garden so they couldn’t be overheard. Harry turned Tonks around so that her back was to the house.

“Are you okay, Tonks?”

She nodded weakly.

“This is Rufus’s idea I take it?”

She nodded again.

“Well, I suppose it will give us the privacy we need for the Occulmency lessons. Was that the point?”

Tonks shrugged, “I guess, and I think he really is worried about your safety – that’s why he wanted to assign two Aurors...”

Harry sighed, “Okay, well, we’ll just have to make the most of it. To be honest, I’m not fussed about staying here anyway. I’ve tested the water, and apart from Fleur, they’re all in Dumbledore’s pocket. In fact my so-called friends have all abandoned me. We can’t trust any of them.”

Tonks wiped her eyes on her sleeve and frowned. Whatever had been upsetting her before was clearly still bothering her, but her concern for Harry seemed to outweigh it.

“Abandoned you?” she asked, putting a hand on his arm supportively.

Harry looked away, his eyes prickling. He couldn’t keep the anger from his voice, “Yeah, they don’t want to fight anymore. They just want to leave the adults to it. I thought they understood! I thought they knew that dropping out of the fight isn’t a luxury available to me! Voldemort will come after me no matter what! On top of which, he killed my parents. How can I walk away from that?”

Now it was Harry’s turn to wipe his eyes on his sleeve.

Tonks rubbed his shoulder in sympathy, “I’m sorry Harry.”

“It’s okay,” Harry sniffed. “It’s not your fault. And I don’t blame them for wanting out... what I can’t forgive is that they were too gutless to tell me. Even worse, they were planning to spend the entire year insisting that everything was fine, undermining everything I did, and refusing to help me. How low is that? Don’t they get it? People are dying! Voldemort’s building an army! If we stick our heads in the sand for a year he’ll win! I can’t let that happen, but I don’t know if I can do this alone...”

Tonks clearly didn’t know what to say, so she pulled him into a hug. It seemed like she needed it as badly as he did, so Harry wrapped his arms around her and they just held each other. They were the same height now, he noticed – he’d grown a lot since last year. And it felt great holding her this close, especially since her soft boobs were pressed rather marvellously against his chest.

Harry had never been so obsessed with boobs before, but seeing Tonks’ bare breast last night seemed to have woken something in him – he just couldn’t stop thinking about girls’ chests. Tonks had much larger boobs than Hermione and Ginny, Harry noticed, and he was very much a fan of that. He pictured his and Tonks’ naked bodies entwined, his mouth lowering onto her breast, his tongue licking her nipple... Tonks groaning in pleasure...

He was enjoying that thought when he noticed five faces plastered against the kitchen windows, staring at him and Tonks. He coughed and pulled away quickly, “Right, well... er... follow my lead, okay?”

Tonks nodded cheekily, “Whatever you say boss.”

They made their way back to the house. Inside, five shadowy outlines scrambled to return to their places.

“Sharing a room with you might not be so bad I suppose,” Harry commented as he reached for the door handle. “You can’t possibly snore as loudly as Ron.”

Against her will, Tonks snorted in laughter as Harry opened the door. She smacked him across the arm, “I do not snore!”

Inside the kitchen everyone goggled at them. Harry had no idea why, but Tonks blushed furiously. Had he missed something?

Everyone had resumed their seats as if they’d never moved. Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione, who looked away guiltily. She was hopeless at concealing any wrong-doing because she always felt bad about it.

“Sorry Mrs Weasley,” Harry announced, “it seems the Minister is quite adamant about me being protected twenty four hours a day. I’ll go pack my stuff and we’ll be out of here in a few minutes. Sorry I couldn’t stay everyone.”

Harry waved as he headed up the stairs, followed closely by Tonks.

He shut the bedroom door behind her and sniggered, “Did you see their faces! Hilarious!”

Tonks smiled weakly. Her low mood seemed to be returning.

Harry was already packed so he lay on the bed and folded his hands behind his head, “What do you reckon? Five minutes before Mrs Weasley comes up?”

Tonks wiggled her hand, “Three minutes.”

Harry chuckled. “While we wait, perhaps you should tell me what’s got you so upset?”

The feeble smile dropped abruptly from her face, “It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Harry frowned and lifted himself up on his elbows, “Tonks, you understand what we’re doing here, right? We’re not playing some children’s game. This is deadly serious. More serious than anything you’ve ever done. More serious than anything you ever will do. We’re plotting to bring down the most powerful Dark Lord for generations, behind the back of the second most powerful Wizard for generations. If there’s something going on in your life that might impair your performance, I need to know about it. We’re in this together, you and me. We’re a team, and while they may not know it, everyone is relying on us. Everyone! Mrs Weasley is worried about our virtue, but she should really be worried about the ten years she’d be spending in Azkaban if it weren’t for you and me. So, whatever it is that’s bothering you, I need to know about it.”

Tonks looked deeply uncomfortable and stared out the window for a few long seconds before she spoke. “It’s... It’s that I’ve been dating Remus... but he’s decided that he’s too old for me, and it wouldn’t work between us because of his... condition.”

Harry was completely taken by surprise, “You’ve been seeing Professor Lupin?” He breathed out heavily. “Wow, okay. But he’s ended it?”

Tonks eyes dropped to her lap and she nodded miserably.

Harry had really liked Professor Lupin during his third year, but the man had been conspicuous by his absence when Harry was fighting for his life in the Triwizard Tournament during fourth year. Lupin’s only significant contributions in his fifth year were to insist that Harry continue his Occlumency lessons with Snape (no matter how badly Snape was screwing them up), and to stop Harry from following Sirius into the Veil. These days, Harry was much less sure that he actually liked the man, and from the sounds of it Lupin had been stringing Tonks along. If he thought he was too old for her, or that his condition was a problem, why date her in the first place?

Harry huffed, “Well then he’s an idiot. He’d be lucky to have you, and frankly if he broke up with you because he thinks he’s unworthy then he probably is. You can do better than date someone who feels sorry for themselves all the time.”

Tonks stared at him open-mouthed, and then visibly brightened. The tension fell from her shoulders and the mischievous twinkle returned to her eye.

“Thanks Harry. I’ve been talking to Molly and she’s been telling me that he’ll come round... and I should just give him time. Well, screw that! You’re right – he is an idiot and he would be lucky to have me! I can do way better than that miserable old git!”

Harry nodded sagely, “Ginny can fix you up with Bill if you’re interested?”

That was so unexpected that Tonks burst out laughing. Harry grinned at her. It was nice to see her laugh again. She’d always been such a cheerful soul; Lupin had a lot to answer for, making her miserable like that.

Mrs Weasley knocked on the door and entered without waiting for a reply. Harry scowled at her.

She had the decency to look embarrassed, but she didn’t apologise, “I’ve been thinking that perhaps I should discuss the situation with Arthur before we make any decisions.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, “That’s okay Mrs Weasley. I can see that you’re not comfortable with the Minister’s orders. I’m sure that Auror Tonks can safeguard my life almost as proficiently somewhere else. The Minister will understand.”

Mrs Weasley paled at the idea of upsetting the Minister for Magic, “Well obviously the Minister’s orders... I mean I wouldn’t dream... Your safety is... No, leave it to me, Harry. I’ll speak to Arthur. I’m sure we can sort this all out.”

She closed the door and left Harry alone with Tonks once more.

“How long was that?” Harry asked.

Tonks checked her watch and smirked, “Three minutes.”

“Good job we didn’t put any money on it then!” Harry replied. Tonks’ eyes narrowed.

Harry started fishing around in Fred and George’s drawers and wardrobes. After a minute he cried out in triumph, “Ha! Found ‘em! Don’t speak for a moment – I’m just going to lower these down the stairs.”

He eased the door open and tip-toed out into the hall, then lowered two pink strings down the stairwell. Once he was satisfied with their position he backed into the room and closed the door silently.

“These are extendible ears,” he explained, passing one to Tonks. “We can hear what they’re saying downstairs. Ginny and Hermione are on the landing below.” They both put one in their ear and heard the sound of hushed voices.

Ginny was whispering, “I’m telling you, there’s something going on between Harry and Tonks. He definitely got some action recently, and she’s been looking really distracted.”

Hermione was incredulous, “What do you mean, ‘he got some action’?”

“I mean that he got some action – heavy snogging, a cheeky fumble, who knows... but he’s different. He’s all tactile and... well... horny to be frank. When he gave me a hug earlier it felt like he had a semi.”

Hermione was shocked, “He never!

Harry felt the colour drain from his face. Tonks tried to suppress her laughter and failed completely.

Ginny continued vehemently, “I swear! Either that or his wand was poking me in the thigh, but he carries that in his back pocket. Also, when Tonks arrived he definitely checked her out in an ‘I’ve seen her naked’ kind of way, and she blushed in a ‘he’s seen me naked’ kind of way.”

Hermione was aghast, “No!”

Tonks was equally outraged. “You have not seen me naked!” she hissed.

Harry smirked, “I’ve seen your boobs.”

“You have not seen my boobs! You’ve seen one boob!”

“Is the other one different?”

“Of course not!” replied Tonks, offended.

“Well then I’ve seen both boobs haven’t I?” Harry responded in a self-satisfied tone. Tonks glared at him.

The brief silence downstairs was broken by Ginny’s hesitant declaration, “I think... I think Harry might be shagging Tonks...”

Hermione was appalled, “But he’s only fifteen! And she’s like... twice his age!”

I’m twenty two!” Tonks growled indignantly.

A new voice spoke up – Fleur was passing by, on her way up the stairs. “Good for ‘Arry! I am ‘appy for eem. But she ‘as let ‘erself go, zat Tonks.”

“That’s true,” Ginny agreed.

Tonks gasped, “I have not let myself go!

Tonks seethed in fury, apparently unaware that her hair had begun cycling rapidly through all the colours of the rainbow. It eventually settled on a pale silvery blue. But the transformation didn’t stop there. Her face narrowed, her cheek bones lifted and lips thinned down. The outline of her legs and hips slimmed beneath her clothes and her chest lifted. By the time her transformation was complete her sickly appearance had completely gone, replaced by a younger more vibrant version of herself. She looked absolutely amazing.

Harry wasn’t sure if Tonks was even aware she’d done it, but Harry was very aware. Harry had always found Tonks attractive, but now she was breathtaking. He wondered what her new perky boobs would look like naked...

With a start he snapped himself back to the present.

Hermione was sounding sceptical, “When would Harry and Tonks have had the chance to... get romantic?”

Ginny snorted. “Get romantic? Hermione, you’re so old-fashioned! Maybe Tonks was on guard at his relatives’ house over the summer and Harry invited her in to help... you know... service his broom.”

Hermione sounded doubtful, “I’m sure Harry can service his broom just fine on his own.”

Ginny laughed out loud, “I didn’t mean actually service his broom, Hermione! Good lord, it’s like talking to a nun. I meant... you know... polish his wand... stroke his quill... beat his bludger...

Hermione seemed to get it now. “Ginny!” she shrieked in a scandalised tone.

Harry wondered if Ginny had demonstrated with her hands.

“Well, I wouldn’t blame Tonks for having a go,” Ginny continued, undaunted. “Have you noticed how tall Harry is these days? Maybe his height isn’t the only thing that’s grown...”

Hermione was outraged again, “Ginevra Molly Weasley! Wash your mouth out!”

Ginny was unrepentant, “What? I’m just saying. Anyway, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. I’ve seen the way you look at Harry.”

I do not!” denied Hermione.

Ginny scoffed, “Oh sure. Keep telling yourself that. You look at him like you look at a new textbook – as if you want to take him to your room to be alone and run your hands over his soft leathery...”

I do no such thing!” Hermione insisted. “Harry and I are just friends!” There was a brief pause and then she added, “No matter how fanciable he’s become recently.”

There were several seconds of silence, and then both girls burst into giggles.

Harry’s face was burning, not helped by Tonks smirking at him and eyeing him speculatively.

Harry grabbed a towel, “Gotta go shower, bye!” He dashed out the door without a backward glance.

When Harry returned from his very cold shower, he found that Tonks had rearranged the room so that the twins’ boxes were all piled up in the corner. The room was much less cramped now. The extendible ears were rolled up on the bed.

“Useful things, those,” remarked Tonks. She was unpacking clothes from her two suitcases and laying them out on her bed. “I assume you’re using that bed, so I’m using this one?”

“Er... yeah, sure.”

Harry was a bit distracted by the fact that he’d come back from the shower with his towel round his waist... and now had nowhere to change.

Tonks raised an amused eyebrow at him, “Didn’t think that through, did you Harry?”

“Um...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll face the other way while you change.” She turned around and carried on folding her clothes.

“Thanks!” Harry quickly turned his back to Tonks and dropped the towel. He slipped his boxers and jeans on as fast as he could. Once he was done he breathed a sigh of relief and turned back around... to find Tonks looking right at him.

“That’s a cute bum you’ve got there, Harry.”

YOU PEEKED!?!” he squealed in outrage.

“I didn’t peek,” she replied. “I had a good long look... and now we’re even for the boob thing.”

Harry spluttered, “That’s not getting even! I saw your boob by accident, and for barely half a second!”

“Did you know you’ve got a little birth mark the shape of Australia on your left butt cheek?”

Harry frantically pulled on a t-shirt, grabbed some socks and sprinted from the room. Tonks’ tinkling laughter followed him down the stairs. Even her laugh had become sexier, Harry noted, as he burst into the kitchen. Mrs Weasley was serving Ron second helpings of breakfast by the looks of it, while the girls were back at the table chatting.

Ron gave him a puzzled look, “You alright there, Harry. You look a bit flustered.”

“What? No I’m fine. Nothing happened. Everything’s completely normal.” He flushed even redder.

Footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. Harry glanced up long enough to see Tonks’ legs, and then looked away.

Nobody else was paying much attention, except Ron, whose fork slowed to a halt half way to his mouth.

Bloody hell!” he exclaimed.

Language, Ron!” scolded Mrs Weasley, turning round and freezing on the spot.

Everyone looked up to see what all the fuss was about... and got an eye full of Tonks’ new look. She was quite a sight – almost as beautiful as Fleur, but with silvery-blue hair that gave her a very ethereal look. She reminded Harry of one of the female characters in Dudley’s weird graphic novels.

Food fell off Ron’s fork and landed on his plate with a splash, “Crikey Tonks! You look a bit... different.”

Tonks’ laugh tinkled like little bells, “Harry managed to cheer me up, didn’t you Harry?”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open. Ginny gave her a wide-eyed and meaningful look.

Fleur beamed in delight. She grabbed Tonks by the arm and pulled her into the chair next to her. “You look amazing Tonks! I wish I could do zat wiz my ‘air! And your breasts, zey are magnificent! It eez good to see you ‘appy again.”

Chapter 6: Occlumency

Chapter Text

Harry wracked his brains for some way to change the subject, and had a flash of inspiration, “Mrs Weasley, have any owls arrived this morning? Dumbledore said our exam results would arrive today.”

As expected, Hermione went nuclear, “WHAT?

“No, dear, I’d have noticed,” Mrs Weasley answered him, “But it’s barely nine, there’s still plenty of time...”

Hermione jumped up and started walking round and round the kitchen, twisting her fingers together. “I know I messed up Ancient Runes,” she muttered feverishly, “I definitely made at least one serious mistranslation. And the Defence Against the Dark Arts practical was no good at all. I thought Transfiguration went all right at the time, but looking back...”

“Hermione, will you shut up, you’re not the only one who’s nervous!” barked Ron. “And when you’ve got your ten ‘Outstanding’ O.W.L.'s...”

“Don’t, don’t, don’t!” said Hermione, flapping her hands hysterically. “I know I’ve failed everything!”

Harry relaxed, having diverted attention away from himself and Tonks, but Ginny was giving him a very hard stare.

“At Beauxbatons,” said Fleur complacently, “we ’ad a different way of doing things. I think eet was better. We sat our examinations after six years of study, not five, and then...” Fleur’s words were drowned by a scream. Hermione was pointing through the kitchen window. Three black specks were clearly visible in the sky, growing larger all the time.

“They’re definitely owls,” said Ron hoarsely, jumping up to join Hermione at the window.

“And there are three of them,” said Harry, hastening to her other side.

“One for each of us,” said Hermione in a terrified whisper. “Oh no... oh no... oh no...” She gripped both Harry and Ron tightly around the elbows.

Mrs Weasley squeezed past them and opened the kitchen window. The owls soared through it and landed on the table in a neat line. Ron, Hermione and Harry each detached their envelope with a mixture of excitement and dread.

Harry had an ‘O’ in Defence, he’d failed History of Magic and Divination, and got E’s in everything else. He was pretty happy with that. He looked round. Hermione had her back to him and was still poring over her results, but Ron was looking delighted.

“Only failed Divination and History of Magic, and who cares about them?” he said happily to Harry. “Here – swap...” Harry glanced down Ron’s grades: there were no ‘O’s’ there, but like Harry, he’d passed seven subjects.

“Knew you’d be top in Defence Against the Dark Arts,” said Ron, punching Harry on the shoulder. “We’ve done all right, haven’t we?”

“Well done!” said Mrs Weasley proudly, ruffling Ron’s hair. “Seven O.W.L.s. That’s more than Fred and George got together!”

“Hermione?” said Ginny tentatively, for Hermione still hadn’t turned round. “How did you do?”

“I – not bad,” said Hermione in a small voice.

“Oh, come off it,” said Ron, striding over and whipping her results out of her hand. “Yep – nine ‘Outstandings’ and one ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in Defence Against the Dark Arts.” He looked down at her, half amused, half exasperated. “You’re actually disappointed, aren’t you?” Hermione shook her head, but Harry laughed.

“Well, we’re N.E.W.T. students now,” grinned Ron. “Mum, are there any more sausages?”

Harry looked back down at his results. They were as good as he could have hoped for. That ‘E’ in potions would have been the end of his ambition to become an Auror if Snape was still teaching potions. With Slughorn it might be different, but it didn’t matter anyway – Scrimgeour had implied that Harry could become an Auror regardless. That raised an interesting possibility. He could take potions with Slughorn, drop Defence with Snape, and still become an Auror! That thought brought a grin to his face.

After breakfast, Ron suggested they play three-a-side Quidditch in the orchard, but Tonks intervened.

“Unfortunately Harry and I need to start some... um, special... one-on-one training.”

Ron looked horrified, “Training? But it’s the summer holidays!”

Tonks shrugged, “There’s no rest for the wicked, eh Harry? Come on...” She started dragging him towards the stairs.

Hermione frowned, “But don’t you need to be outside for duelling? What sort of training can you do in your room?”

Tonks grinned at her, “Oh, you know... lots of er... close contact techniques, like... um... wrestling...”

Ginny’s eyes were the size of saucers. Harry saw her give Hermione another meaningful look as he disappeared up the stairs.

Tonks hustled him into their room, then locked and silenced the door.

“Okay Harry, let’s get started on those Occlumency lessons. The first few days are the hardest, so the sooner we begin the better.” She sat cross-legged on the floor and pointed, “Sit in front of me. We’ll start with a few test runs to see how far you got with Snape, and go from there.” Harry sat in front of her, and tried hard not to notice how breathtaking she looked. “I’m going to cast Legilimens. Try to stop me getting in, okay? If I get through I’ll try to come out straight away.” Harry nodded. Tonks raised her wand and pointed it at his head, “Three... two... one... Legilimens!

They were in Scrimgeour’s office, Tonks’ boob had fallen out... the first boob he’d ever seen... Oh God, Tonks was seeing this! Harry panicked. No, no, no, no! He felt a thump on the back of his head. “Ow!” The room slowly came into focus. He was staring at the ceiling. Apparently he’d fallen over backwards. He pushed himself back into a sitting position.

Tonks had lowered her wand and was rubbing her wrist. There was an angry weal there, like a scorch mark.

“You did a wandless stinging hex!”

“Sorry.”

“Was that the first time you ever saw a woman’s boobs, Harry?”

Harry hung his head in embarrassment and nodded miserably.

Tonks was astounded, “Seriously? How is that possible? Don’t you realise that half the girls in the country would jump into bed with you in a heartbeat?”

Harry shook his head, refusing to look anywhere but at the floor.

“Wow. Well, never mind that for now. Let’s try again, okay? See if you can keep me out this time. Ready? Okay, three... two... one... Legilimens!

Harry was dreaming... he opened the bathroom door and there was Tonks... in the shower, lathering her naked body in soap...

NOOOOOOOOO!

Harry was on his back again. He threw his arm over his face in mortification.

Tonks coughed, “Erm, was that a dream you had Harry?”

Harry nodded without removing his arm.

“I thought it must be, because that’s now how I look... down there.”

Harry hadn’t thought it was possible to be any more embarrassed than he was, but that comment proved how wrong he could be. He groaned pitifully, “Oh God. Just kill me now.”

“Come on, Harry. We need to do this one more time. Shake it off.” Harry wrestled himself back into a sitting position but refused to meet her gaze. “Are you ready? Okay, three... two... one... Legilimens!

Harry was hugging Tonks... he could feel her boobs pressed against him... suddenly they were naked, their nipples touching... His mouth closed over her breast, his tongue stroking her nipple... Tonks groaned in pleasure...

Then something shifted... Harry could see their naked bodies intertwined, but he could also see Tonks sitting facing him, fully clothed and muttering under her breath... He concentrated and the clothed Tonks grew clearer... in his mind, Harry raised an imaginary wand, “Protego!

Tonks’ wand flew from her fingers... suddenly Harry’s mind was filled with a memory that wasn’t his... he was staring at himself, wrapped in a towel... the towel fell to the floor, revealing his naked and muscular backside... female hands reached out and grabbed his bum roughly... he whirled around... to reveal his large and erect penis... one of the female hands grabbed it... her lips parted and her mouth lowered slowly towards his cock...

STOP!

Harry felt as though he had been pushed hard in the chest; he fell backwards and rolled completely over his shoulders before landing in a heap up against the wall. Tonks was shaking slightly, and was very red in the face.

She cleared her throat, “Erm, Harry... about that... Um...”

Harry smirked, “Was that a dream you had Tonks? Because that’s not how I look... down there.”

Tonks glowered, “Right, yes, very clever Harry... Moving on... I think that will do as far as testing goes. That was very um... illuminating.”

“I’ll say,” Harry replied smugly. So Tonks had been fantasising about him? When was that, he wondered?

“I meant in terms of your Occlumency skills,” she growled. “You have some really strong raw talent, but it’s completely undeveloped. I can’t believe you had months of lessons with Snape and he basically taught you nothing. The man’s either a moron or the worst Occulmency teacher ever.”

“Or both,” Harry agreed.

“True. Well, the good news is that you’re a natural Legilimens. Only a natural could invade my mind the way you did at the end there. That means you should be good at Occulmency too, since they’re closely related. The bad news is that you currently have no defensive Occlumency at all. I was able to get into your mind without any resistance whatsoever. Once I was in, your offensive Occulmency eventually allowed you to throw me out, but ideally you want to stop people getting in at all.”

Harry was paying very close attention, not just because he was desperate to learn Occulmency, but because he was keen to keep his mind off what she’d seen in his head.

“Can you tell me what you did to throw me out each time?” Tonks asked.

“The first two times, not really. It felt like accidental magic. The third time, I started to see an image of you sitting in front of me. I focused on that until it was the sharper of the two images, then I pictured myself casting a shield with an imaginary wand.”

“Huh. Well I’ve never heard of anyone doing it that way, but it obviously works for you. We’ll come back to that. Let’s focus on your defensive Occulmency first. What did Snape teach you?”

Harry snorted, “Nothing at all, really. He just said things like, ‘Brace yourself, repel me with your brain, clear your mind, and let go of emotion’. None of which made any sense to me.”

Tonks shook her head, “Good grief. No wonder you didn’t learn anything. Those instructions are awful. That’s like teaching someone to ride a bike by shouting ‘balance’ at them. I bet Snape was a natural Occlumens and never had a lesson in his life. He was telling you what to do but not how to do it. What a jackass.” She shook her head again in disbelief. “Okay, let’s go back to basics. If I say, ‘Clear your mind’, do you know how to do that?”

“Not really, I mean I try to think of nothing, but then all these things start popping into my head.”

Tonks nodded, “Yeah, that’s what it’s like for most people. You can train yourself to stop doing that, using meditation and lots of practice, but it takes ages and there’s a much easier way. Instead of trying to empty your mind of all thought, it’s easier to focus your mind on a single thought. Not a memory, but something innocuous and normal... like your own breathing. That’s actually a really good choice for most people, because focusing on your breathing helps you to calm down and let go of emotion. It kills three birds with one stone, as it were. Give it a go right now – close your eyes and focus on breathing evenly for three minutes. I’ll let you know when the time is up.”

Harry did as instructed. To begin with his breathing was ragged, his heart was pounding, his emotions were in turmoil and random thoughts kept popping into his head. But soon everything started to settle down and he felt a profound sense of inner peace. Fewer and fewer random thoughts intruded on his mind, until it all he was thinking about was breathing.  He almost felt like he was floating in a sea of calm...

Tonks squeezed his shoulder gently. Harry opened his eyes, “Is that three minutes already?”

Tonks smiled, “That was fifteen minutes, Harry.”

“Fifteen! You’re kidding!”

“Nope. It’s amazing how effective that breathing thing is, hey? Now, that place where you were just now, where everything is calm... that’s the place you need to get to before I cast Legilimens. At present it’ll take you a little while to get there, but eventually it’ll become an instinct. You’ll be able to do it in an instant. That’s not the end of the story though – that place is just the foundation for your defence. The actual defence comes next. Let’s work on that foundation first though.”

They spent the next few hours working on the breathing exercise, getting Harry accustomed to that relaxed and carefree feeling. By lunchtime Harry was elated. He felt like he’d achieved more in one morning than he had in months with Snape.

As they entered the kitchen for lunch, Harry was practically gushing, “Thanks Tonks, that was absolutely amazing. I’ve never felt so relaxed! We should do it again tonight!”

Tonks tittered, “Yeah, okay. I might need a few hours to recover though. My wrist is a bit sore.”

Ginny, Hermione, Fleur and Ron were all staring at them open-mouthed.

Harry looked from face to face, “What?

- § -

After lunch, Tonks suggested that she teach Harry some of the stuff she’d learnt in Auror training.

“Isn’t that what you were doing all morning?” asked Hermione suspiciously.

Tonks shook her head, “No, we were doing... something else.”

Hermione was clearly bursting with curiosity, or some other emotion... but Harry wasn’t sure what; disapproval maybe?

“Well,” Hermione continued in an officious tone, “you can’t work on Defence, because Harry’s still underage.”

Tonks waved off her objection, “Nah, the Trace doesn’t work in magical households like this one. It’s up to the parents to enforce the underage magic rules here. Anyway, I have permission from the Minister to teach Harry whatever I want.”

Ginny seemed very interested in that statement, “Whatever you want – as in, anything at all?

Tonks smirked, “That’s right Ginevra – anything at all.

Hermione had been working something through in her head, “Wait a minute! Are you telling me that children with magical parents can do magic outside of school, if their parents allow it?”

Tonks shrugged, “Well yeah. Didn’t you know that?”

Hermione was appalled, “No I did not know that! That’s... that’s... outrageous discrimination against muggleborns!”

“Nah it’s just common sense isn’t it,” Ron interjected unwisely, “we can’t take the risk that a muggle might see a muggleborn doing magic, can we?”

You knew about this!” Hermione screeched.

She was absolutely incensed. The fact that Mrs Weasley forbade her children from practicing magic outside school didn’t dent Hermione’s anger in the slightest. Over the next half hour she and Ron became increasingly irate with each other, culminating in a blazing row which only ended when they both stormed up the stairs and slammed their bedroom doors.

In the silence that followed Harry whispered to Tonks, “You knew that was going to happen didn’t you?”

Tonks assumed a look of sweet innocence, “That Hermione would go bananas about magical kids doing magic outside school? No, that was a complete surprise.” Her eyes twinkled. “Come on Harry let’s head outside and see how well you can fight.”

Chapter 7: Immersion Therapy

Notes:

Smut alert! Smut level rising!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Four hours later, Harry and Tonks returned to the house sweaty and exhausted. The kitchen was deserted.

“Your reflexes are amazing,” Tonks declared. “The power in your spells is insane, and your aim is fantastic even when you’re on the move, but your spell repertoire is really limited. You use expelliarmus more than anyone I’ve ever met. I can see why you’d think it’s a great spell – because once you’ve disarmed someone they seem helpless. But they can still run away, or attack you with a dagger, or use a portkey to escape. I wouldn’t put it past a Death Eater to carry two wands either, so you think they’re disarmed but they’re not. Either way, you need to land a second spell on them to disable them completely. It would be better to land a disabling spell on them to start with. The situation is even worse when there’s more than one opponent. After you’ve disarmed one, you still have to keep an eye on them while you fight the others. Meanwhile, they could grab a wand off someone who’s down, putting themselves back in the fight. Basically, you should use proper disabling spells from the offset – ones that can’t be easily reversed by their buddies.”

She grabbed them a glass of water each and took a large swig.

“Your second favourite spell is stupefy, which has the obvious drawback that someone could renervate them and put them back in the fight. Your third favourite is petrificus totalus which has the same drawback. Your fourth favourite is impedimenta which is frankly the worst of the lot. It might be useful against a single opponent in a formal duel, but in a battle situation it’s a waste of a spell. If you hit an enemy with that, you could have hit them with something that does more than just slow them down.”

Harry blew out a heavy breath, “Wow! Don’t hold back Tonks. Tell me what you really think.”

Tonks grinned, “Okay, I’ll stop sugar-coating it. You fight like a twelve year old girl, Harry.”

I do not fight like a twelve year old girl!

“Yeah, you do. I’m going to start calling you Harriet.”

Harry scowled, while Tonks did that tinkling laugh that made his stomach flutter.

“Come on Harry, we need to freshen up, and I need to talk to you about something.”

Tonks led him to their room, and closed the door behind him. Harry collapsed onto his bed.

“We need to talk about our rooming arrangements,” Tonks began. “We’re going to be living in each other’s pockets for at least six weeks. That’s going to be a little awkward for a while, but the sooner we get over it the better. On a related subject, Rufus wasn’t joking when he said he wanted you guarded twenty-four hours a day. His original plan was to have two or three Aurors on rotation. They’d sit outside your bedroom door when you slept or outside the bathroom door when you shower. Unfortunately, as you pointed out, Dumbledore would never go for that. Your solution of having just me solves the Dumbledore problem but means that I have to be awake when you’re awake, so I have to sleep when you sleep, and hence be in the room so I can wake up if anything happens. That’s fine, and I can stand outside the bathroom when you shower, or outside the bedroom when you dress... but what about when I shower, and what about when I’m dressing? You can’t stand outside the room – you’d be unprotected.”

Harry’s capricious knob stirred at the idea of Tonks undressing while he was in the room.

“I could turn my back while you dress,” Harry offered.

Tonks raised an eyebrow.

“What? I wouldn’t peek!” Harry insisted. “Unlike some,” he muttered under his breath.

Tonks snorted, “Yeah right – like I’d trust a horny teenage boy to not look!”

I am not horny!” Harry objected.

Tonks gaze dropped to his crotch area, “Really? So what’s that tent growing in your trousers?”

Harry flushed in mortification. He grabbed a pillow and shoved it over his traitorous semi. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, couldn’t you take your clothes to the bathroom and dress in there? I could wait in here and not open the door to anyone. We could do the same when you shower.”

“Yeah, we could do that,” Tonks admitted. “And that’s exactly how we’ll handle visits to the loo, because I’m sure neither one of us wants the other in the room while we take a dump. But I wouldn’t be comfortable leaving you on your own for half an hour while I shower – it would be a serious blot on my record if you got bumped off while I was washing my hair. And nor can I spend the next several months taking two-minute showers. There are certain necessities a woman needs to attend to.”

“There are?” Harry asked, bewildered.

“Yes there are,” Tonks replied firmly, “and that’s all you need to know about that.”

Harry’s mouth snapped shut. Tonks’ expression made it clear that any more questions would be unwelcome.

“However you look at it,” Tonks continued, “these little privacy issues are going to be awkward, inconvenient... and potentially compromise your safety.”

“Well, yeah, but there’s nothing we can do about that is there?” replied Harry.

Tonks gave him a pointed look, “Well, we could tip-toe around it like a couple of ickle childwen... or we can man-up and tackle it head-on like adults who are fighting in a war.”

“Okay...” Harry replied uncertainly. He definitely didn’t want her to think he was a little child, and she was right – this was a war situation. “What do you have in mind?”

“Have you heard of Immersion Therapy?” she asked.

Harry shook his head, “No.”

“Good. That’ll make this easier. Grab your towel and follow me. I’ll show you how it works.”

Tonks grabbed her towels (apparently, despite being smaller than boys, girls need twice as many towels) and led him down the corridor. Puzzled, Harry followed in her wake. Was she going to immerse him in a cold bath or something?

Tonks opened the bathroom door, “In you go.”

She followed him in, then locked the door and cast a silencing charm on it.

“Won’t someone wonder what we’re doing in the bathroom together?” Harry asked nervously.

Tonks shook her head, “No, we’re the only ones who use this bathroom. Nobody’s going to notice. Grab a seat Harry.”

There was a wooden stool, so Harry sat on it with his towel in his lap.

“Okay, I’m going to explain how this works. I read about it in a muggle psychology book. I used to have a phobia you see – an irrational fear of something that I just couldn’t shake. I wanted to get to the point where exposure to that thing wouldn’t affect me anymore. And no, I’m not going to tell you what it was, so don’t ask. Anyway, I read about Immersion Therapy and began exposing myself to my fear for measured comfortable periods, which I steadily increased over time. Eventually it became so ordinary and commonplace that I stopped fearing it at all. You understand?”

Harry nodded.

“Ok good. So we have a similar situation here. You and I have to live in each other’s pockets for a while, but we feel awkward and embarrassed about it. We need to desensitise ourselves by completely immersing into the thing we fear. I’ll go first.”

With that, she started to undress.

Harry’s eyes immediately bugged out of his head and he turned to face away.

Tonks laughed, “Harry, the whole point of this is that we have to get used to seeing each other – undressing, naked, whatever.”

Tonks was wearing long black witch’s robes, like an overcoat, with a grey muggle sweatshirt, burgundy t-shirt, black jeans and knee-length black leather boots. She removed the robes and held them out to him.

“Hang these up for me, would you.”

Harry hesitated for a second, uncertain quite how to deal with the fact that he now had a massive hard-on. In the end, he held his towel over his crotch while he stood up, and took her robes with the other hand.

Tonks’ tinkling laugh filled the room, “Harry, you don’t have to cover yourself up. I know you’re going to get an erection. You’re a teenage boy seeing a woman undress – it’s inevitable. But this is immersion therapy – you have to throw yourself into it.”

Harry considered her advice... but he just couldn’t do it, so he hung her robes and sat back down with his towel in his lap. Tonks shook her head in amusement and started unlacing her boots.

Harry’s brain was totally short-circuiting itself. His heart was thumping in his chest so hard he was surprised it hadn’t leapt free and bounced across the floor. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Tonks was undressing in front of him like it was the most normal thing in the world!

To Harry, it was the most terrifying moment of his entire life. Not because he was about to see a girl naked, but because he was absolutely convinced with one hundred percent certainty that something truly mortifying was going happen to prevent it. Good things never happened to Harry Potter, and seeing Tonks naked would definitely be a good thing. Harry desperately tried to suppress his excitement, because that would only make the disappointment greater when he was denied.

Tonks sat on the edge of the bath. She pulled off one boot, then the other. There were black socks underneath, which she also removed. Harry’s heart missed a beat when he saw that her toenails were silvery-blue like her hair, matching the nails on her hands. For some reason, he found the sight of her bare feet enormously sexy – like she was sharing something she normally kept private.

Now that he thought about it, Tonks tended to keep herself pretty well covered up. Apart from her cleavage which was often on display. Not that he’d been looking, of course.

Tonks stood up again to unzip her sweatshirt, and then shrugged it off. The t-shirt underneath was very fitted and exposed the wonderful curving shape of her recently-enhanced figure. Harry’s mouth went as dry as the desert, and the bulge in his trousers pushed painfully against the material. His dick was angled downwards, which was becoming extremely uncomfortable, but he didn’t dare adjust himself with Tonks watching him. He just hoped his knob wouldn’t snap off when she removed the next item of clothing - she was down to her top and trousers, so the next thing to come off would expose a significant amount of bare flesh.

Harry wasn’t sure which he wanted her to remove next – her top or her trousers. Either way, he was sure his frantically beating heart was about to explode, killing him instantly and denying him the experience. He could feel Tonks’ eyes on him, but his eyes were trained entirely on her delicate fingers as she started to unbutton her trousers. Trousers! She’d chosen trousers! Harry stopped breathing entirely.

One button... two buttons... Oh God he could see some of her pale smooth stomach! Three buttons... the top of something lacy and light blue could just be seen! The fourth and last button... he could definitely see a triangle of lacy knickers now!

Harry was momentarily surprised that Tonks was wearing lacy underwear. Given her ‘tough girl’ outer clothes, he’d have expected something plain and functional. But no, it was sexy and decidedly feminine. Did that mean she was secretly a lot more girly than she let on?

Tonks hooked her thumbs into the waist of her jeans and started to wiggle her hips to pull them down. Surely this was it – the moment when something would happen to deny Harry this pleasure? Mrs Weasley would burst in, or Death Eaters would attack, or a meteor would destroy the planet...

But no, against all odds the jeans were inching lower and nothing seemed to be stopping them.

Of course! Harry realised what was going on now! Tonks was just messing with him. Having given him the hardest erection he’d ever had, she was about to pull her jeans back up and laugh in his face. God, how did he not see this coming? He was such an idiot! The cruelty of it was almost too much. His heart dropped into his stomach.

But his eyes never strayed from the little triangle of blue knickers he could see peeking out of her jeans. He may was well savour every moment of this before the humiliation began.

Unbelievably, Tonks didn’t stop yet. Her jeans inched lower and her hip bones came into view, along with more of her knickers. Harry had never seen anything so sexy. The curve of her hips, the smooth white skin in the crease where her legs met her body... And suddenly, the jeans cleared her hips and dropped to her knees. Harry could see her knickers in all their beautiful lacy glory, along with the toned slim shape of her thighs. The front of her knickers was so lacy it was almost transparent, and Harry could see the hairless mound underneath.

Tonks was right – it wasn’t how he’d imagine it. It was so much sexier. There was something indescribably sensuous about the shape of her. This was the image he’d have in his head every time he showered for the rest of his life.

Tonks lifted a leg, pulled the jeans over her foot, then lifted the other and the jeans came free. She stood up straight and threw them at him. His seeker skills just about saved him from a face full of jeans, and he hung them absently on the door behind him without even looking.

For the first time in his life, Harry was seeing a girl in her knickers, and it was glorious. Harry didn’t care if she stopped now. This image was totally worth it. He wouldn’t even feel humiliated, he’d feel elated.

His focus was entirely on her knickers and legs, savouring every sexy detail, but then he saw her arms moving in his peripheral vision. She’d grabbed the bottom of her t-shirt and was pulling it up. Her navel was the first thing to appear, which Harry noted was pierced with some sort of stud. Next came the concave curve of her stomach, and finally a light blue lacy bra that matched her knickers.

Harry couldn’t believe his luck! If Tonks thought he was going to be embarrassed and humiliated when she ended this, she was sorely mistaken! The t-shirt was quickly stretched over her head and thrown in his direction. He hung it behind him without taking his eyes off her.

Harry revised his earlier opinion. This was the image he’d be thinking of in the shower for the rest of his life. Tonks’ body was absolutely breathtaking. She posed with her hands on her hips and one leg slightly bent in front of the other. It was as sexy as hell. Tonks smiled at him, held her arms out to the sides and did a slow twirl.

“What do you think, Harry? I assume I’m the first girl you’ve seen in her underwear?”

Harry nodded without even thinking about how embarrassing an admission that was.

“Is it everything you were hoping for?”

Harry nodded stupidly. His mouth spoke his thoughts before he could stop it, “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Tonks tittered, “Why thank you Harry, you’re very kind. I think you deserve a reward for being so sweet.”

Before Harry had even registered what she was doing, she’d reached behind and unhooked her bra. It fell loose as she brought her arms forward. Harry’s heart leapt at what he might be about to see, and then the bra was flying towards him. Harry’s hand snatched it from the air purely by instinct. His brain had shut down completely. The only thought in his head was that he was looking at the most spectacular pair of breasts he would ever see. They were perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Tonks posed again – with her hands on her hips and one leg bent, then turned from side to side. Her breasts were very like the one he’d seen by accident, but now firmer, and more perky. The shape of them was truly exquisite, and they bounced slightly as she turned. Her areolas were a medium pink, maybe four centimetres across, and her nipples stood firm and proud in the middle. She must be cold, Harry thought idly, but those nipples were begging to be kissed... or licked... or nibbled... or sucked...

“What do you think, Harry? Marks out of ten?”

Harry had abandoned any hope of filtering his mouth, “About a thousand. You look amazing.”

“Harry, you smooth-talking devil!” she tittered. “Now then, it seems to me that one of us is rather overdressed for the shower. I think I should remedy that.”

To Harry’s alarm Tonks walked over and pulled him up off the stool. He stood, holding the towel to his crotch with both hands. Tonks ignored that. She unzipped his hoodie and pulled it down each arm in turn, then hung it on the door. Harry made no effort to resist. His mind was fully occupied watching her breasts bounce as she moved, and the beautiful curves of her mound.

Tonks slipped her hands under his t-shirt, which made him breathe in sharply. Her hands were cool and amazingly soft against his skin. She ran them slowly up his sides, sending shivers down his spine, and pushed his arms up above his head to lift the t-shirt off.

Harry’s attention was acutely divided between the delicate electricity of her touch and the exquisite beauty of her breasts right in front of his face. They lifted up as she raised her arms above her head, and bounced delightfully as she lowered her arms again.

Harry hadn’t really been registering what Tonks was up to next, he was so mesmerised by her bare chest, but once she removed the towel from his grasp his mind snapped straight back into focus. He froze in alarm as Tonks knelt down in front of him and pulled his jeans down to his ankles. His massively erect penis was making a tent out of his boxers right beside her face. In numb horror he allowed her to pull his trousers and socks off, hoping she wouldn’t notice the bulge in front of her.

Very slowly her eyes rose to meet his, “What do you say, Harry? Would you like to see the rest of me?”

He was a teenage boy and she was kneeling in front of him topless, looking up at him through her eyelashes. What did she expect him to say? Harry nodded vigorously, hardly believing this was happening. His penis pulsed in agreement.

Tonks grinned, “I’m glad. I love the fact that you find me attractive, Harry. It’s nice to be desired. You know, people often ask me what I really look like. They don’t understand that the way I look is mostly subconscious. My emotions and my body are tied together, you see. My look reflects my mood. People who saw me yesterday will think that’s the real me because I was less attractive. They assume that I’m really quite plain, and that I usually make myself more attractive to fool people. That’s not how it is for me. I was less attractive yesterday because I was unhappy. I felt less attractive so I became less attractive. How I am right now, this is as much the real me as that was. This is how I look when I’m happy, and I have you to thank for that, Harry. You made me feel wanted. You were kind to me, which is something I really needed. Thank you for that, Harry.”

She smiled up at him uncertainly, and it melted his heart.

“Now, I’ve been going first so far,” she continued, “but I think it’s your turn to go first now. We need to be fair, after all. It’s my turn to admire you, I think.”

With that, she hooked her fingers into the top of his boxer shorts and before he could even register what was happening, she pulled them over his painfully pulsing erection and down to the floor. Harry froze in dread. He wasn’t sure what he expected her to do or say, but he was inexplicably terrified. He desperately wanted run away, but his legs wouldn’t obey his instructions – he was frozen like a deer in headlights.

Tonks just stared at the throbbing penis in front of her face and licked her lips, “Mmmm... Now that is a gorgeous sight. You have a beautiful cock Harry. It’s the perfect size too – long but not too long... thick but not too thick, which is just as important... and perfectly straight with a slight upward curve. Some girl is going to be very happy indeed to have that inside her.”

Tonks rose to stand in front of him, “Well done, Harry. You’re doing great. I think there are only three things left to do. First, we need to hug, because I think we both deserve it. Second, I’m going to kiss you on the lips, because seeing each other naked without kissing would be rude. And third, since I removed your boxers, it’s only fair that you remove my knickers. Hufflepuffs are big believers in fairness...”

Harry was completely frozen in shock. He knew his mouth was hanging open like an idiot but there was nothing he could do about it. His brain had blown another fuse.

Tonks giggled, “If you like how that sounds... stand there looking gormless. Yeah just like that.”

Notes:

By my calculations, only 10% of the people who are faithfully reading every chapter of this story have hit the Kudos button...

It only takes a second, and I'd greatly appreciate it. Thank you!

Chapter 8: My Bad

Notes:

More smut ahead!

Chapter Text

Harry was abruptly very aware that he was completely naked. He was made even more aware of that when Tonks stepped forward and put her arms round his neck. In that moment, Harry reckoned there was no force on earth that could have stopped him from wrapping his arms round her waist and pulling her to him. His hands floated across the soft skin of her back as their chests pressed firmly together, and a low moan escaped his lips. Just as he’d imagined it, their nipples met perfectly. The silky soft skin of her breasts caressed his lightly haired chest in the most delicious way, but when their nipples touched it was as though fireworks had gone off in his head, sending tiny electric shocks through his body.

Tonks relaxed into his arms with a sigh of pleasure, “Oh that feels good!”

Harry’s cock was squeezed between them, pressed firmly against her stomach, and the sound of her pleasure almost tipped him over the edge. With a supreme effort of will he forced himself to relax. As Tonks had taught him earlier in the day, he focused on his breathing for a moment. Once he was confident he wasn’t going to ejaculate all over her, he focused again on how amazing this felt, and how wonderfully their nipples played together.

Tonks leant back so she could look into his eyes, “Thanks, Harry. You give the best hugs. I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

Harry nodded mutely. His experience of kissing hadn’t been that great, so he wasn’t sure what all the fuss was about – the only girl he’d kissed was Cho Chang and that had been a soggy disaster. Tonks put her hands on the sides of his face and slowly leaned forwards, her eyes gazing brightly into his.

For the first time since he’d known her, Harry really looked into her eyes. They were silvery blue right now, but more importantly he saw a gentle and generous soul – someone who gave far more than she took, a true Hufflepuff. What shocked him was that he saw fear bordering on terror lurking there. She’d seemed so confident and self-assured, but now he realised that she wasn’t at all. What she’d done just now had left her intensely vulnerable and exposed – both physically and emotionally.

It wasn’t confidence he’d been witnessing, it was tremendous bravery. He’d thought this meant nothing to her... that she was so at home in her own body that undressing in front of him was no big deal. If anything, he now realised it was quite the opposite. She was deeply self-conscious, because her emotions were literally displayed for the whole world to see. In fact, how she looked was mostly to do with how others made her feel about herself, and Harry had the strong suspicion that people rarely made her feel good.

Tonks had done what she’d done just now because she felt it was necessary, but also because she’d been happy today, and she wanted to feel more of that. She wanted someone to see her when she was happy, because she was a fundamentally happy person and this is how she would be... if only the world would stop beating her down.

When their lips finally touched all further analysis fled from his mind. It was as if the whole world receded into the distance. His universe was reduced to his body and Tonks’ body, holding each other... their two souls joined in a kiss. Her lips felt soft and cool, like satin, caressing his as their mouths opened and closed in a tender dance. Harry was overcome with a profound feeling of affection towards Tonks. She was a truly wonderful person, and she deserved so much more than the world gave her.

Harry was suddenly consumed by a fierce determination to make Tonks realise how wonderful she was. She clearly had no idea. His mind filled with all the emotions he’d felt since she arrived – his elation at every wonderful moment, and the gratitude he felt for everything she was doing for him. But above all, he felt an overwhelming appreciation for the grace and bravery she’d displayed in the last few minutes. The amount of trust she’d placed in him was truly awe-inspiring. She’d put herself entirely on the line, and Harry was humbled by her courage.

So he poured all of that emotion – every intense bit of it – into the kiss, willing her to feel what he felt. He put everything he had into it – everything, because she deserved no less.

Tonks had implied that the kiss was just for propriety’s sake, because it would be wrong to see each other naked and not kiss, but an involuntary moan escaped her lips and she deepened the kiss into something more primal. Her hands pulled his head more firmly toward her and her leg rose to circle behind his. Harry had almost forgotten he was naked until her hand grabbed him firmly on the ass and pressed his cock harder against her stomach. She groaned loudly and pushed her underwear-covered crotch firmly against his thigh.

Harry had the strong suspicion that Tonks was, underneath her chirpy persona and apparent reserve, a very passionate person. She had clearly been lonely recently – craving comfort which Harry inadvertently provided. Did their naked hugging tip her over the edge? Harry had no idea, but her ardour was quickly unravelling his own resolve. Of their own accord, his hands started to wander over her back as their nipples danced their distracting waltz. Harry was acutely aware of Tonks’ hand on his bum. Nobody had ever touched him there. It felt wonderful and incredibly intimate. Tonks’ hand was marvellously soft, and he fervently hoped she would keep it there forever.

Inevitably... despite his very best intentions... his fingers continued circling down her back until they reached her waist. He tried to stop there, he really did, but his hand had other ideas. It slipped lower and caressed the knickers over Tonks’s bum.

Tonks melted in his arms... and then she attacked him like a wild animal.

Harry was dimly aware that the kiss had developed into something more dangerous, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care whether it was appropriate, or right, or sensible. It felt incredible and that’s all that mattered. Tonks was such a special person. Her body felt amazing entwined with his and their lips played so wonderful together... How could he pull away from that?

His mind swirled with admiration for who Tonks was and what she’d achieved – no Auror candidate had been accepted since she was, four years ago! His body ached with desire... not just for the hot body she currently had, but for the kind-hearted and caring soul that lay beneath. So Harry returned her passion in equal measure, striving to communicate his feelings through his lips to hers.

Tonks’ ardour exploded. She dug her nails savagely into his butt cheek, and thrust her crotch firmly into his thigh. Her lips opened wide and her tongue plunged deep into his mouth. Harry responded entirely by instinct – his hand squeezed her arse and pushed her crotch even harder into his leg.

Tonks threw her head back and gasped with surprise and delight. Seizing his opportunity, Harry’s other hand grabbed her breast and cupped it gently. Tonks yanked him by the hair and smashed their lips back together, kissing him in desperation and crushing his hand against her chest. Her breathing became ragged. Harry’s traitorous free hand slid inside the waistband of her knickers and cupped her bare butt. It felt glorious!

Tonks went wild, grinding her crotch against him and moaning with every breath.

Harry started squeezing her bum and her breast in rhythm with her breathing, his tongue fencing with hers inside his mouth.

Tonks immediately threw back her head and began panting heavily: “Huh... Huh... Huh... Huh... Huh... Huh...”

Harry’s lips found her collar bone and he kissed his way up to her neck.

A small squeal escaped her: “Heee.” Then another: “Heee.”

Tonks’ crotch felt suddenly red hot against his thigh, triggering a ravenous frenzy in Harry. His hand squeezed and massaged her bum, while ramming her groin into his leg over and over. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing – some base instinct had stripped him of control and taken over his body.

Soon every breath Tonks took was a squeal, “Heee, heee, heee, heee, heee...”

Abruptly her eyes rolled back in her head and her mouth fell open. She began calling out breathlessly, “Oh God... Oh God... Oh God...”

Faster and faster she wheezed, “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. OhGod. OhGod. OhGod...”

And then she completely lost control, writhing wildly in his arms, “OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOhGodOh...”

For the briefest moment she froze, and a strangled squeak escaped her...

Then a throaty gurgle burst free, as if she were in pain, “AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!”

Tonks went suddenly rigid, crushing Harry in her arms with her head back, her mouth open and her eyes squeezed shut in a long rapturous cry... and then she shuddered violently, her whole body wracked with violent spasms.

She released a long juddering moan, “Ooooooohohohohohohoho...”

And then another: “Ooooooohohohohohohoho...”

For one long minute she trembled helplessly in Harry’s arms.

The shaking gradually died away, but she clung to Harry like a limpet, shivering and whimpering pitifully.

Harry just held her, not really knowing what was going on. One hand was still on her breast, caressing it softly. The other was still stroking her bum inside her knickers and holding her up – her legs seemed to have gone a bit wobbly.

“Are you okay, Tonks?” he asked eventually.

“Um... Um yeah...” she said breathlessly. “Just... Just give me a minute...”

When it seemed like she was coming back to herself, Harry asked, “What happened there, Tonks?”

“What happened? What... Oh! Oh crikey! Erm, right... Sorry Harry, I forgot you were a vir... Well, anyway... That was me having an orgasm.... a very intense orgasm. Sorry about that. I... I don’t know what came over me...”

I almost did, Harry thought, but he remained silent.

Tonks took a few deep breaths, “I don’t understand. It was meant to be just a kiss, you know – a friendly kiss? But then... suddenly I was feeling all these emotions... and I was overcome with affection, and gratitude, and desire... and oh! OH!”

Tonks stared at him, suddenly wide-eyed, “Harry, what were you thinking about when you kissed me?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, “Um... well... I was thinking about you, obviously, and how wonderful you are...”

Tonks was delighted, “I knew it! Your Occlumency training is enhancing your natural Legilimency! You were unwittingly projecting your emotions, and because I was so close... kissing you... I felt them.”

She seemed very confident of her theory, but Harry dismissed it immediately. There was no way he’d done that. He might have been trying to do that, but he wasn’t some master Legilimens. He was just Harry – a mediocre student of no particular note. He might have above-average magical strength, and decent reflexes, but he certainly didn’t have any special abilities.

Tonks blushed and looked down, unable to look him in the eye. “Um... if you really feel that way about me Harry, then... well, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. I think you’re pretty special too. But that’s one hell of a kiss you’ve got there! You need to be careful kissing girls like that – it was pretty overwhelming. I felt like I was drunk and confunded at the same time. And then of course there’s your sexy bod... Well... I mean a girl can only resist so much...”

She smacked him playfully on the arm, “I can’t believe you made me lose control like that. I’m so embarrassed!”

Harry grinned. She looked really cute when she was embarrassed... especially when she was embarrassed and almost naked.

Much to Harry’s disappointment, Tonks slowly untangled herself from his body and stepped back.

“Erm, sorry to leave you hanging Harry,” she said, pointing at his raging hard-on, “but I’m not sure how I feel about finishing off a fifteen year old. I know that’s a bit rich considering what just happened, but well... that was an accident.”

Harry shrugged, “That’s okay Tonks. I don’t mind.”

Harry had just had the most amazing experience of his life. He didn’t mind at all.

Tonks groaned, “Oh God, Harry. Why do you have to be so damned sweet? If you were seventeen I’d be all over you, but fifteen... I mean... I just couldn’t. Maybe if you were sixteen... Witches and Wizards can have sex at sixteen with their guardian’s permission, and I reckon Sirius would definitely have given you permission, so that would be okay, I suppose... but fifteen...”

Harry grinned cheekily, “Well, I’ll be sixteen in a two weeks’ time.”

Tonks beamed right back at him, “Is that so? Well then, I think I know what to give you for your birthday.”

She winked.

Tonks was joking of course. Harry knew that. But still, his cock pulsed at the thought.

“Let’s get cleaned up shall we?” Tonks continued. “I suspect you could use a cold shower. Cryotherapy I think the muggles call that – very good for reducing tension and... swelling. Now, erm... removing my knickers is going to be a bit more embarrassing than I’d envisaged, but hey ho, a deal is a deal. Whip ‘em off Harry.”

Was she serious? Apparently she was, and Harry didn’t need to be told twice. He knelt down in front of her, as she had done with him, and hooked his fingers into the sides of her underwear. He looked up at her face, and she smiled down at him encouragingly. His eyes returned to her waist and he began very slowly pulling her knickers down.

He wanted to savour every second of this. Inch by inch, the lacy knickers slid down, to reveal more and more of her milky white skin. Harry marvelled at the beautiful curve of her mound, and the way it merged gorgeously with her slim and muscular thighs. He pushed her knickers down to her thighs and her pussy was revealed in all its exotic glory. As he’d seen through the lace, her pussy was completely hairless. It was exquisite – the shape, the curves, and the two rippled folds of skin he could see peeking out from between her legs... it was like an erotic work of art.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

Tonks stroked his head tenderly, “Thank you, Harry, you wonderful man.”

Harry lowered her knickers further, and noticed that they were sopping wet. A colourless sticky liquid was leaking out of her folds and running down her leg.

He looked up to find Tonks blushing, “That’s how much you turned me on Harry. I’ve never been so wet in my entire life.”

Harry had no idea what she was talking about, but he felt the powerful urge to devour her pussy with his mouth and taste her juices. He resisted the temptation. He wasn’t sure how she’d react and he didn’t want to spoil this amazing experience. Tonks stepped out of her knickers and pulled Harry to his feet.

She kissed him on the cheek, “I’ll shower first – won’t be long.”

Tonks stepped into the bath and pulled the curtain closed. Harry resumed his seat on the stool, and listened to the sound of Tonks humming happily in the shower. The alluring smell of her cinnamon body wash slowly filled the room.

After ten minutes, Tonks poked her head out, “Could you scrub my back Harry? I can never quite reach.”

Harry walked over, took the soapy sponge from her hand, and climbed into the shower behind her. He gently rubbed the sponge in small circles all over the smooth and flawless skin of her back. Once he was done, she turned to face him so she could rinse the soap off. Her breasts looked amazing – glistening with droplets of water and bubbles of soap. Harry’s eyes followed the sensuous curves of her body down to her slim hips, soapy mound and toned legs. Harry had been so wrong earlier – this was the image he’d have in his head whenever he showered.

“Thanks Harry.” Tonks gave him another kiss on the cheek and stepped out, “Your turn. Take your time. I’ll wait for you.”

Harry turned the temperature right down – he was definitely in need of a cold shower or his erection would never go down. Harry wondered if he would ever have another hot shower again. He felt so hard he was sure he could use his cock to hammer nails. Unfortunately, try as he might, he just couldn’t get it to go down. With a heavy sigh he gave up, and scrubbed himself thoroughly with Tonks’ refreshing body wash. He considered ‘knocking one out’, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it with Tonks in the room, even if she was behind the curtain.

When he poked his head out, Tonks had a towel wrapped round her body and another wrapped around her head. She held out his towel, so he grabbed it and retreated back behind the shower curtain. Once he’d dried off he wrapped it tightly round his waist in an effort to conceal his enormous boner. Sadly the massive bulge in his towel just drew attention to what was underneath. With another heavy sigh, Harry drew back the curtain and clambered out.

Tonks unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out into the corridor, beckoning Harry to follow.

Unfortunately, at the exact moment that Harry stepped out in to the hallway, someone descending silently down the stairs came into view. Hermione stopped in her tracks and stared open-mouthed at Harry and Tonks in towels outside the bathroom door.

“Wotcha Hermione!” said Tonks brightly, “Harry was just scrubbing my back.”

Tonks!” Harry hissed, blushing furiously.

Hermione’s wide eyes travelled down his body and settled on the very obvious bulge in his towel.

Harry bolted, scurrying down the hall and into the bedroom as fast as he could. Tonks followed, chuckling merrily. Once inside, she locked and silenced the door. Harry sat down on his bed and put his head in his hands. Oh God, what must Hermione think?

Tonks dropped both her towels on the floor and beamed at Harry, “Now we can change in front of each other without feeling the slightest bit awkward. Yay!”

Harry lifted his eyes and stared at her fabulously nude body, “Um, yeah. Not awkward at all.”

Tonks glanced down at the tented towel in his lap, “Okay, well... things might not have gone entirely to plan, which was my bad, but it’s a start. Now come on Harry, relax! Drop the towel.”

Harry snorted. Admittedly, after what they’d just done his embarrassment made very little sense.

“What the hell,” he replied. He threw his towel on the bed and moved to his trunk to pick out some clothes, trying very hard to ignore his massive erection.

“That’s the spirit Harry!” Tonks declared cheerfully. “It’s all part of our Immersion Therapy. Also, you have a gorgeous cock and I enjoy looking at it. Everyone’s a winner!”

Tonks bent over and started fishing in her bag for some fresh knickers.

Harry stared at her bare arse, fully appreciating the fact that he could clearly see her pussy peaking between her legs.

“Yep,” he muttered in a daze, “everyone’s a winner.”

Chapter 9: Full English Hottie

Chapter Text

As Harry and Tonks emerged from their room for dinner, Harry heard whispered voices from the floor above. He tapped Tonks on the shoulder and put his finger to his lips, then listened in.

Ginny was speaking, “No way! I’m not buying it. They had me going for a while there, but they’ve overplayed their hand. It’s definitely a prank, there’s no way they’re showering together.”

Ron agreed, “Yeah, this is Harry we’re talking about. He’s completely clueless. I don’t think he even knows what boobs are.”

Ginny snorted, “Oh, like you do?”

“Well I’ve seen yours haven’t I?” Ron replied nastily. “Tiny things they are, like two little bee stings.”

“Fuck you Ron, you pervert! Anyway you can talk with that toothpick you call a knob.”

Hermione hissed, “Stop it, both of you! Of course you’re right Ginny. I can’t believe I fell for that! ‘Harry was scrubbing my back’ indeed! Honestly! They must think we’re stupid. And that bulge in his towel! He’d clearly stuffed a couple of socks down there!”

Harry wasn’t sure if he should feel complemented or insulted. Behind him Tonks stifled a snigger, which tipped the balance in favour of insulted. He clomped noisily down the stairs, triggering an abrupt silence on the landing above.

After dinner, Mr Weasley took Harry and Tonks to one side. He confirmed that it was fine for them to share a room as long as there were no ‘shenanigans’. Harry and Tonks were happy to promise that there wouldn’t be, though they later confirmed with each other that neither one of them knew what shenanigans were. Harry thought it might be some sort of Irish folk dance, but Tonks was sure it was a musical instrument a bit like a ukulele. Either way, there definitely would be any of those, so all was well. They retired to their room quite early, explaining that they had to continue their ‘private lessons’. Hermione huffed and looked away in annoyance.

Tonks began Harry’s next lesson by explaining the theory of defensive Occulmency, “There are two ways you can go when it comes to defending your thoughts. You can either block someone’s entry into your mind completely, or select what memories they see. The first one is easier to learn, but success will depend on you being stronger in the mind arts than your attacker. The second one is much harder to learn, but relies on fooling your attacker rather than being stronger than them.”

“Since you’re magically very strong, and you can throw off the imperius, I reckon the first approach would protect you from most people. The only exceptions might be Dumbledore and Voldemort, but I doubt Dumbledore would ever attack you with Legilimency, so it’s only Voldemort we have to worry about. According to Snape, Voldemort is the most powerful Legilimens there is, so that’s an issue. For Voldemort you’d probably need the second method. That’s how Snape manages to fool him.”

Harry mulled it over, “I’m actually not that worried about Voldemort. I have a special weapon against him – if he invades my mind I just project the love I feel for my parents and Sirius at him. It causes him intense pain, for some reason. I did it in the Ministry foyer and I’m pretty sure he’s not going to want to repeat that experience. Even Dumbledore seems to agree, since he’s gone quiet about me having Occlumency lessons. I’m more worried about Snape, Dumbledore and others picking up random thoughts. So let’s go with the easier option for now and come back to the harder one later.”

Tonks nodded, “Okay, good. That simplifies things enormously. So the secret to blocking someone from your mind completely is visualisation. That’s what Snape was talking about when he said ‘repel me with your mind’. He meant that you should visualise pushing him away. You’ve actually been doing it already, but you didn’t realise it – in our three test runs you threw me out every time, but it was only in the third test that you could see how you did it. You visualised yourself casting a spell at me with an imaginary wand. The spell you chose was protego, which should have just blocked me, but you overpowered it, like you do with most of your spells, and ended up blocking me, disarming me and seeing into my mind instead. With that sort of power you’ll have no trouble blocking your mind from intruders.”

“The breathing exercise we’ve been doing to clear your mind is the foundation for your block, because it allows you to feel the intruder. Among all the noise and chaos of everyday thought, you might not notice an unexpected intruder until they’re already in. Clearing your mind removes the noise so you can learn to sense them before they get inside. We’ll practice that in a minute. First, I’ll give you a few moments to get to that calm space, then I’ll cast Legilimens and you should feel me intrude upon your mind. When you do, visualise yourself giving me a gentle push. That’s step one. Once you can feel me coming...”

Harry smirked and Tonks blushed furiously.

“I mean, once you can feel my presence, you git, you can push me out. Then we’ll work on step two which is developing an instinctive block to anything that feels like an intrusion.”

It was quite a gruelling couple of hours, but by the end of it Harry could feel Tonks coming (as he insisted on phrasing it) and was able to gently push her out.

He was absolutely jubilant, “You’re really good at teaching this Tonks. I can’t believe how much I’ve learned already.”

Tonks shrugged, “You are making really good progress. In Auror training it took most people three weeks to achieve what you’ve done in six hours. Of course we were only doing an hour a day, but still... you’re definitely going way faster. Like I said, I think you have a natural aptitude for it. If Snape couldn’t teach you then he basically can’t teach anyone. You’re the easiest student ever.”

Harry grinned, “Did you just say I’m easy? That’s a bit harsh. I was led astray by an older woman.”

Tonks slapped him across the shoulder, “Watch it, Potter! Get your mind out of the gutter. Now let’s get ready for bed. Do your breathing exercise as you fall asleep – it’s good practice and your subconscious will keep working on it during the night.”

They each brushed their teeth at the sink in the corner of the room, and then changed into their night clothes. Harry watched Tonks undress. God she was gorgeous. He was pretty sure he’d never grow tired of seeing her naked. She tutted at him and rolled her eyes, but he spotted her checking him out as he changed too. Harry climbed into bed with yet another erection, and was fairly certain he wouldn’t sleep a wink.

In the darkness, he said quietly, “Thanks for everything you did for me today, Tonks. This has honestly been the best day of my life.”

Tonks chuckled, “You’re welcome. I had a great day too. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy. Good night, Harry. Don’t forget your breathing exercises.”

Harry yawned, “Okay, ‘night Tonks.”

Harry knew his erection was going to keep him awake all night... but he may as well do something, so he did his breathing exercises. Ten minutes later, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

- § -

Harry woke to the sound of Tonks whispering angrily to herself, “Come on, don’t do this to me! Come on... Oh crap!

Harry put on his glasses and peered over at Tonks’ side of the room. She was sitting at a dressing table, huffing at herself in the mirror. Harry wondered where the dressing table had come from. Had she conjured it?

“Something wrong, Tonks?”

Tonks’ shoulders slumped, “Er, well... it depends on how you look at it, I suppose. I’ll just show you.”

She walked over to the window and pulled open the curtains. Light flooded the room and Harry shielded his eyes. When they’d adapted to the brightness he saw Tonks glowering at him. Or at least he thought it was Tonks. She seemed to have become considerably younger during the night. Harry would put her age at about fifteen. She was like a de-aged version of the hot Tonks she’d been the night before. If anything, she looked even hotter. Her breasts were smaller but still large for her body, while her hips, waist, arms and legs were all slimmer. Her face had become a very pretty heart shape, while her hair had shortened to a bubble-gum pink pixie cut. Her pyjama trousers and top were literally hanging off her.

“Wow, you look amazing Tonks!”

“You would say that you perv!” she replied in irritation. “I’ve become a teenage boy’s wet dream!”

“You didn’t do it on purpose?”

“Of course not! Being fifteen was bad enough the first time. My stupid subconscious has done this.”

“Can’t you change back, if you don’t like it?”

“Yeah, I can. Watch.” Tonks frowned in concentration, and then morphed into exactly how she’d been yesterday.

“There you go, problem solved.”

Tonks was gritting her teeth, “Yep, and as soon as I relax...” She visibly relaxed, and immediately morphed back into a teenage girl. She slumped down onto her bed dejectedly.

“Ah,” said Harry.

“This is your fault, Potter!”

“What? How is it my fault?”

“You gave me that leg-trembling orgasm, you git! Now my subconscious wants more and thinks this is how to get it!”

Harry grinned, “Well, I wouldn’t say no.”

Tonks leapt up and pointed a finger in his face, “Don’t even think about it! I will not be used as a sex toy by my own bloody subconscious! I’m an Auror and a grown woman for God’s sake!” She stomped over to the mirror. “Look at the state of me! I look like a god-damned Barbie doll.”

“Will it wear off, do you think?” Harry offered.

Tonks huffed, “I don’t know... maybe.”

“Okay, so... until then we’ll say you’re under orders to blend in as a teenager.”

“I suppose...” Tonks kicked her toe into the carpet and sulked.

Harry wondered how deep this transformation actually went. She was even pouting like a teenager.

Tonks slouched over to her wardrobe and started holding her clothes up against herself, “Oh great! None of my clothes fit any more.”

She hurled them onto the floor and screamed in frustration.

Harry decided it was time to make a tactical exit, “Okay, I’ll just go see if someone can lend you some...”

He practically ran from the room and bolted down the stairs. He skidded to a halt in the kitchen and feigned nonchalance.

“Hi Hermione. Hi Ginny. Hi Fleur.”

He mentally sized them up and decided that Fleur was the closest to Tonks’ current size.

“Um, Fleur would you mind popping up to see Tonks? She’s been ordered to blend in as someone nearer our age, and is a bit short on appropriate clothing.”

Fleur rose elegantly from her chair and floated towards the stairs, “Mais oui, I ‘ave plenty of clothes I can lend ‘er, but I don’t know eef she eez my size.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, “Thanks Fleur, you’re a life-saver.” He sank into a chair and breathed out heavily.

“Trouble in paradise?” smirked Ginny.

Harry rolled his eyes, “You could say that. She’s having trouble adjusting to her disguise. It might be worth preparing yourselves so you don’t blurt anything out. She might hex you into next week.”

Ginny and Hermione exchanged bemused looks, while Mrs Weasley served Harry a massive fried breakfast.

Fleur came back down, “Ginny, I sink per’aps we need your ‘elp. Eet is a bit of a challenge.”

They both headed back upstairs. Harry had a sinking feeling.

Half an hour later, Ginny stomped back down the stairs. She made eye contact with Hermione and mouthed silently, “OH MY GOD”.

Fleur came next, with a broad smile. And last to arrive was... Harry’s vision of the perfect super-hot-teenage-girl-next-door.

Her pink and white converse trainers with pink socks came into view first, followed by a pair of long bare legs. A loose white thigh-length skirt with black and pink crossed stripes was matched with a pink v-neck sweater over a white button-down shirt. The whole ensemble screamed ‘innocent teenager’ while hinting at barely repressed sexuality. It was the sort of outfit a mother like Molly Weasley would be delighted to see her daughter in, completely unaware that every teenage boy was fantasising about  bending her daughter over a table and shagging her senseless. Harry gawped in stunned incredulity. This was just about as far as you could possibly get from the image Tonks usually went for.

Tonks growled at him, “Don’t say a word! These are the only clothes that would fit.”

Mrs Weasley was beside herself, “Oh Tonks, you look wonderful! I never would have recognised you! Doesn’t Tonks look lovely Ginny?”

Ginny grimaced, “Yeah, super,” and added under her breath, “like a porn star librarian.” She leaned over to Hermione and whispered, “Better shower early if you want any hot water. Ron’s going to be in there for hours after he sees that.”

Hermione blanched.

Mrs Weasley was fawning all over Tonks, “Come and sit down dear. I knew you and Harry were good kids. I told Arthur you could be trusted. Now, what can I get you... a slice of melon, perhaps? Fleur loves a slice of melon for breakfast, don’t you dear? Or a fruit salad?”

“I’ll have the same as Harry please, Molly.”

“A Full English? Are you sure dear? You don’t want something a bit more...”

Tonks glared at her.

“A Full English then, yes of course – coming right up!”

Ginny elbowed Harry in the kidney.

“Oof! What was that for?” Harry complained.

Ginny feigned innocence, “You have something just there,” she indicated the corner of her mouth, “I think it’s a bit of drool.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, “Very funny. I’m just impressed with Tonks’ disguise, that’s all.”

“Sure you are. You boys are all the same.”

Harry leaned over and whispered in Ginny’s ear, “This is nothing. Last night in bed, all she wore was a smile.”

Ginny choked on her pumpkin juice while Harry grinned evilly. Loud thumping could be heard from upstairs, and then something like a herd of elephants came storming down.

Ginny groaned, “Here we go...”

Ron came barrelling into view, and skidded to a halt at the sight of Tonks. “HOLY FU...”

Ronald Bilius Weasley!” shrieked Mrs Weasley, “Don’t you dare use that language in this house!”

Harry smirked and before anyone else could speak, he said, “Ron this is Nora. She’s taking over from Tonks for a few days.”

Ron plastered what he probably thought was a welcoming smile on his face, but it looked more like a lecherous leer, “Hello Nora, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Mind if I sit here?”

He took the seat next to her without waiting for a reply, and turned the chair to face her. This put his back to Hermione and effectively cut her off from everyone else at the table.

Hermione huffed and folded her arms, “Well REALLY!”

Ginny had been about to say something, but thought better of it.

Mrs Weasley looked confused, “Nora did you say?”

“Oh yes,” Harry butted in, “undercover name, you know. We should all use it.”

Tonks was about to say something when Ron leaned forward into her personal space and put his arm along the back of her chair.

“So Nora, you must be a trainee Auror, right? Just out of school? That would make you like... seventeen or something? I’m practically seventeen myself, actually... though people say I look younger. It must be all the fresh air I get from being on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Do you play Quidditch at all? My good friend Victor Krum was telling me only last year that I should try for the national team.”

Ginny choked on her pumpkin juice again. Hermione rose to slap her on the back, then took the seat next to her and glared daggers at Ron, who was entirely oblivious to it.

Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of two owls carrying Daily Prophets – Harry’s and Hermione’s. Harry untied his and scanned the stories. Right at the bottom of page two he found what he was looking for:

SENIOR UNDERSECREATARY DOLORES UMBRIDGE SENTENCED TO AZKABAN

In a surprise move, the Ministry arrested and questioned Senior Undersecretary Delores Umbridge yesterday on suspicion of a number of crimes. While serving as High Inquisitor and Headmistress of Hogwarts last year, Ms Umbridge is accused of torturing children with an illegal blood quill and administering Veritaserum to minors without authorisation. She was also charged with the attempted murder of an unnamed wizard and a muggle during the summer of the previous year. Ms Umbridge was questioned using Veritaserum and immediately confessed to all these crimes, plus a number of others which were not disclosed, pending further investigation. Under emergency regulations passed by the Minister for Magic early yesterday, a confession under Veritaserum is now deemed grounds for a conviction. Ms Umbridge was therefore sentenced to ten years in Azkaban for each attempted murder, one year each for ten separate counts of torture using a blood quill, and five years for the unauthorised use of Veritaserum on minors. Her sentences will be served consecutively, for a total of thirty five years. A Ministry spokesperson said that the Ministry takes a very dim view of such heinous crimes, and Ministry employees should expect no special treatment if they break the law.

Harry smiled to himself. Ron was still desperately trying to chat up Tonks, who was ignoring him completely. Ginny had her fist in her mouth in an attempt to stop herself from laughing. Hermione had a face like a wet weekend, so Harry slid the paper in front of her and pointed at the article. Before she could say anything, Harry stood.

“T... I mean Nora, something has come up. Could we have a chat?”

Tonks almost leapt from her seat and followed Harry without a word.

Ron shouted after them, “Nice to meet you Nora. We’ll talk again later, yeah?” He leaned so far back to check out Tonks’ swaying bum that he nearly fell out of his chair. He quickly grabbed his plate and some toast and raced up the stairs, shouting over his shoulder, “Thanks Mum, I’ll eat this after my shower.”

Ginny cursed forcefully, “Dammit!

Chapter 10: Harry Starts to Fight Back

Chapter Text

Harry locked and silenced their bedroom door.

“Right Tonks, playtime’s over. Can you contact the Minister and arrange a meeting – just him and me, preferably right now?” Tonks nodded. “Great, thanks.” Harry had been thinking about what he’d say at this meeting for some time. He was organising his thoughts when Tonks’ jackrabbit patronus streaked past him and out through the wall.

Ten minutes later, an incorporeal patronus appeared through the wall and spoke to Tonks, who passed it on to Harry, “Minister’s office in five minutes. The Weasley floo will have access to his office floo for two people for sixty seconds.”

“Perfect. Let’s head down in exactly five minutes. Can you let me know when that is? I really need to get a new watch. Mine broke in fourth year.”

Harry spent five minutes continuing to organise his thoughts, then followed Tonks down the stairs. As they entered the kitchen, Tonks asked, “Mind if we use the floo Molly? The Minister has ordered me to bring Harry to his office immediately.”

Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed the flower pot off the mantelpiece and offered it to Harry.

Mrs Weasley was flustered, “The Minister you say? The floo? Right now? Well, erm...”

She started bustling forwards as if to stand in their way, so Harry quickly grabbed a handful of powder from the pot, threw it down and stepped into the green flames, “Minister for Magic’s Office!”

He stumbled out into the Minister’s Office and patted himself down as Tonks stepped out of the floo behind him. A few seconds later a loud metallic clunk sounded from the fireplace. Harry guessed the floo was now closed.

Scrimgeour stepped around his desk and offered his hand, “Harry! Good to see you!”

Harry shook the Minister’s hand warmly, “Rufus! Likewise.” He turned to face Tonks, “I need to chat to Rufus about some things that it would be better if you didn’t know. Could you excuse us for half an hour?”

Scrimgeour stared at the pink-haired teenager in front of him, “Tonks?

Tonks cringed, “Yes sir! Er, I mean Rufus... I’m um, in disguise, you know?”

“Disguise... Yes, of course.” Scrimgeour replied, looking amused.

“I’ll just um... go check my mail then,” Tonks said lamely. She let herself out and closed the door.

“Butterbeer, Harry?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Scrimgeour served drinks and they settled into the sofa and chair like last time. “I assume you saw the story?”

“I did,” Harry confirmed. “Thank you, much appreciated. Umbridge finally got what she deserved. She was a right nasty piece of work.” He took a swig of Butterbeer. “So let’s get down to business. There’s a lot to cover. Why don’t I start? I’ll outline my thinking and we can go from there. The basic premise of our arrangement is that you have resources I could use, while I have information and PR-value that you could use. Let’s also not lose sight of the fact that we’re on the same side.”

Scrimgeour nodded sagely, “Quite so, quite so...”

“First the easy stuff”, Harry continued. “You’d like me to make various appearances in support of the Ministry. Just let me know where and when and I’ll be there. We should discuss each occasion in advance so we’re on the same page message-wise, but you can take that as agreed. In return, I’d like you to help me be a more effective asset.”

“More effective?” Scrimgeour asked. “In what way?”

“Well, if the past is any guide, I’m going to face Death Eaters again at some point. So far I’ve survived more by luck than judgement, but we can’t keep relying on that. It’s my sixteenth birthday in thirteen days. I suggest that we emancipate me on that date, declare me legally an adult, remove me from the Trace, and authorise me to use the Unforgivables.”

Scrimgeour’s eyes went wide.

“I know that’s a lot to take in,” Harry admitted. “But let me explain my reasoning. No matter what I do, Death Eaters will definitely come after me. When I face them I’m likely to be outnumbered, so I’ll need to put them down and put them down hard. On occasion I’ll need to kill.”

Harry could see that the Minister was even more taken aback.

“Don’t be too shocked by that statement, Rufus. As I said last time, there’s a lot more going on than most people know about. I killed a man with my bare hands when I was eleven.”

Scrimgeour made no effort to hide his shock, “You can’t be serious?”

Harry shrugged, “I’m afraid I am. But we’ll come back to that. I want to talk about the Unforgivables first. In the past I’ve landed spells on half a dozen Death Eaters, including Bellatrix Lestrange, but they’ve all got up and walked away because I haven’t been casting with deadly intent. Well, we’re at war now and we need to act like it. The gloves need to come off. They’re killing innocent people, so we need to respond with equally deadly force. Right now there’s no downside to being a Death Eater – they get to rape, torture and murder, while we use stunners, throw them in jail, and watch them get rescued a few months later. There needs to be a cost to being a Death Eater – they need to know that their lives are on the line too.”

“I don’t know,” Scrimgeour replied doubtfully. “I think it might be a little early for that.”

“I disagree,” Harry replied firmly. “In the last war the Ministry was too soft for too long. By the time they got tough, Voldemort and his Death Eaters were unstoppable. We mustn’t make that mistake again. Everything the Ministry was doing at the end of the last war, we need to do at the start of this one. Voldemort has simply picked up where he left off. We need to do the same! We should authorise the DMLE and the Aurors to use deadly force, including the Unforgivables, and do it now. I will need to be included in that authorisation, because I’ll be where the action is, and I fully expect to need all the help I can get.”

“Won’t you be safely ensconced inside Hogwarts in six weeks’ time?” the Minister wondered.

“I will,” Harry admitted, “but I’m not sure I’d describe it as safe. There are quite a few Voldy supporters among the students, and even a marked Death Eater on the staff.”

“You’re referring to Professor Snape, I assume? Dumbledore says he’s on our side...”

Harry snorted, “The Headmaster and I have different definitions of what ‘on our side’ means then. The only person Snape cares about is Snape. He dislikes everyone else, and thoroughly despises me. Dumbledore may have some hold over him, so Snape will occasionally lift a finger to prevent the most overt attempts on my life, but it’s not like I’ve made it through the last five years unscathed. I think Snape knows a lot more than he’s letting on, and he just lets most of it play out. Someone who was truly on our side wouldn’t play Russian Roulette with my life like that. Nor would he attempt to get my innocent Godfather kissed by a Dementor, or goad him into being reckless and getting himself killed. Snape might step in to protect me if something happens right under his very pointy nose, but he’ll quite happily do nothing while everyone else on our side is slaughtered.”

Scrimgeour looked pensive, “I see. Perhaps we should discuss that again nearer the time...”

“Sure,” Harry agreed. He had more important things to talk about than Snape. “Getting back to the Unforgivables then... One of the Death Eater’s greatest weapons against us is the Imperius Curse. They can and will use it to undermine and infiltrate the Ministry. We need to counter that threat and if possible use it against them. As I understand it, there’s no known way to detect whether someone’s under the Imperius. However, can a person be put under the Imperius twice? Surely the second Imperius will overcome the first? Or the victim can be ordered to break free of the first? Or, at the very least, if it proves impossible to impose an Imperius on someone that might strongly suggest they are already under one? We need to set up a team of people to look into this. Ideally they should be able to throw off the Imperius themselves, so we know they’re not compromised. My hope is that we can use this team to cast the Imperius on Ministry employees at regular intervals. Once an enemy Imperius is detected, the victim can hopefully tell us who did it to them, which will allow us to track down the culprits, and hence their other victims. If the imperius can be broken that’s great – it’ll just look like the victim threw it off or it faded. If not, we can deliberately feed misinformation to the enemy in an effort to sabotage their operations. We need to keep this a secret though – we don’t want Voldemort circumventing it or copying it. The team casting the Imperius needs to conceal what they’re doing, maybe using Obliviate...”

The Minister downed his drink and poured another. “That’s a pretty draconian move, but I can see the advantages – right now I don’t know who I can trust; I feel like I’m working alone, trying to do everything myself...”

Harry nodded, “Same here. We need to know we can trust those around us.” His thoughts turned unpleasantly to his former friends. “That’s just one out-of-the-box idea,” he continued. “We’ll need lots more if we want to do a better job against Voldemort than we did last time. For example, why not bring back as many retired Aurors as we can? Those guys know more about fighting Voldemort than we do. Alastor Moody should be top of that list. He’s as paranoid as they come, but right now that’s what we need. Moody and the older generation might have lots of ideas we can use. Maybe you should make him Head of Security at the Ministry.”

Harry was on a roll now, and Scrimgeour wasn’t openly objecting, so he just kept on going.

“We need to get tough in other ways. A whole bunch of marked Death Eaters got off last time by claiming the Imperius. But Voldemort doesn’t give his Mark out so freely, and people under the Imperius certainly don’t get it. Anyone with the Mark is a bona fide supporter of Voldemort. Possessing the Mark should therefore be a capital offence. We should publish a list of suspected Death Eaters in the Daily Prophet and tell them that they have one week to present themselves at the DMLE for questioning. If they don’t have the Mark, and don’t confess any crimes under Veritaserum, they can go free. But if they fail to appear, they should be declared wanted Death Eaters. Anyone found guilty of being a Death Eater should have all their assets seized, including their vaults and property. That money should be used to compensate their victims and finance our efforts. Let’s be smart about the property though – we need to start with the smaller houses and work our way up, learning as we go. We’ll probably need to hire curse-breakers from Gringotts to disable any protective charms.”

If he was honest, Harry had expected the Minister to balk at that, but Scrimgeour remained silent, observing Harry with a keen and penetrating stare. Harry knew better than to be intimidated – he’d dealt with a lot of powerful people over the last five years and knew that they’d crush him if he showed any sign of weakness. So he continued on, displaying no sign of unease.

“One of the reasons we struggle to apprehend Death Eaters is that we always wait for them to attack,” he declared. “That gives them the upper hand and usually means we’re outnumbered and unprepared. We need to turn that around by attacking them so they’re the ones outnumbered and unprepared. Suspected Death Eater homes should be raided by large teams of Aurors. Suspects and their families should be questioned under Veritaserum. We don’t want to turn Magical Britain into a police state, but right now we’re being too soft on these bastards. Possession of Death Eater robes and masks should be made a crime, so if we find one during a search they go down for it.”

“Those are mostly offensive measures, but we need defensive ones too – we must protect the population. Reassuring the population, like you suggested, is all very well... but I’d like to do more. For now, we should just declare Martial Law and impose a curfew at nightfall. Anyone on the streets after that is up to no good, and should be arrested. People are already living under a self-imposed curfew so I don’t think they’ll object too loudly. I’ll get back to you with more ideas on the defence front – I need to talk to some people. In the meantime we should dissuade citizens from attempting anything themselves. We need a coordinated response to the Death Eater threat, not random small acts of resistance. Citizens should contact the DMLE if they see any Death Eaters, and not approach them. Those citizens who want to fight should be trained to undertake curfew patrols under Auror supervision. That will increase the number of eyes we have on the ground. Also, if any citizen is cornered by Death Eaters, it should not be a crime for them to use the Killing Curse to defend themselves and their family. We need to revoke the automatic jail sentence for using the Killing Curse if it’s against someone in Death Eater robes.”

“And what if someone gets killed pulling a prank in Death-Eater-like robes?” Scrimgeour asked.

Harry shrugged. “We’ll announce everything in the Prophet of course, so people know what’s going on. But we’re at war. If anyone doesn’t take that seriously they have only themselves to blame.”

Scrimgeour was starting to look overwhelmed by what Harry was proposing, so Harry decided to leave it there for now.

“Tonks will be back in a minute,” Harry noted, “so let’s discuss Dumbledore and the Order next time. I’ve given you a lot to think about, so mull it over and let me know how far you’re willing to go.”

There was a knock at the door and it opened enough for Tonks to poke her head round.

Scrimgeour waved her in, “Come join us Tonks.”

He poured her a Firewhisky and topped up his own, looking thoughtful.

Harry decided to distract him, “At our last meeting, you asked why Dumbledore hasn’t been training me. I’ll tell you why: it’s because of the third line of the prophecy – the one that says, ‘he will have a power the Dark Lord knows not’. Dumbledore is convinced that the power Voldemort knows not is ‘love’.”

You’re kidding!” Scrimgeour exploded, looking appalled, “Does he expect you to cuddle Voldemort to death?”

Harry laughed, “Who knows? Dumbledore has never explained it to me, and I find that worrying. The stuff he has told me is bad enough, so the stuff he won’t tell me must be really awful. In Dumbledore’s defence, he may be right – it could actually be something vaguely connected with love that ultimately kills Voldemort. He seems to have a bad reaction to anything love-related. But love is too broad a concept for us to narrow down exactly what may be required. In any case, I think Dumbledore is making a huge mistake – he’s so focused on defeating Voldemort for good that he’s ignoring everything else, including the number of lives that will be lost in the process. Attempting the final kill now, when Voldemort is at his strongest, is insane. We need to weaken him first. Ultimately it’s quite likely that I’ll be the only person who can kill Voldemort for good, but he can be weakened by killing the body he currently inhabits, and anyone can do that. That should be our focus right now – to kill his body...”

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” Rufus was holding up his hand. “What do you mean, ‘kill his body’? Are you saying that if you kill him he won’t actually die?”

Tonks looked pretty alarmed by that too.

“Oh, sorry Rufus,” Harry replied. “I keep forgetting that other people don’t know everything I know. Er, right. Let me give you the short version of the story then. You probably know a lot of this, but not all of it, so I’ll start right at the beginning. During the last war, when Voldemort was at the height of his power, a prophecy was made foretelling the arrival of a child who could defeat him. That’s the prophecy I told you last time. Two children fit the description in the prophecy – a pure-blood and a half-blood. Voldemort decided that I, the half-blood like himself, was that child. He set out to kill me when I was fifteen months old. My parents went into hiding at their home in Godric’s Hollow, which was concealed under a Fidelius Charm. My father wanted his best friend Sirius Black, my Godfather, to be the Secret Keeper, but Sirius thought that was too obvious. He persuaded my parents to use their friend Peter Pettigrew instead. Unfortunately for them, Peter had already joined Voldemort. Peter disclosed their location and on Halloween 1981 Voldemort attacked my parents’ home. He killed my father downstairs and found my mother protecting me upstairs.”

Tonks had her hand over her mouth. Harry was so familiar with this story that he forgot that some people had never heard it.

“My mother begged for my life, but Voldemort killed her and then tried to kill me.”

Harry paused, wondering how to phrase the next bit. He had no idea why the Killing Curse hadn’t killed him, but it would be unwise to let anyone know that. In particular, it would be counter-productive to give the impression that the Boy Who Lived wasn’t special at all. Much as it galled him, he was going to have to take credit for it.

“I was only fifteen months old, but even then I was performing powerful accidental magic. When Voldemort cast the Killing Curse at me, I reflected it back at him. There was a huge explosion and Voldemort’s body was destroyed. Unfortunately, he’s done something to prevent himself from dying. He was reduced to a wraith-like shade and fled, while I was left with this scar.” Harry pointed to his forehead.

“You remember all this?” asked Scrimgeour, “You remember being fifteen months old?”

“Not at first,” Harry admitted. “Like everyone else, I had no memory of my early years. I didn’t remember my parents at all. But in my third year at Hogwarts I had repeated encounters with Dementors. As you know, Dementors draw out your worst memories, and for me that was the night my parents died. The Dementors brought those memories back to me. I’ve seen the events of that night as clearly as I see you now, Rufus.”

Scrimgeour blew out a heavy breath, “That's a hard thing to see Harry – very hard. You have my sympathies.”

Harry nodded in gratitude. Tonks was looking at him with wide glistening eyes.

“So Voldemort became a wraith?” The Minister prompted.

“Of some sort, yes,” Harry confirmed. “And he hid in the forests of Albania for ten long years. His organisation collapsed without him, and the war was won. But Dumbledore knew it wasn’t over. He deduced what had happened, and knew that Voldemort wasn’t dead, so he used obscure and ancient magic to protect me at my Aunt’s house. Voldemort himself has confirmed that he can’t reach me there. But Dumbledore knew that someday I would have to face Voldemort again, and he was right. A bitter and power-hungry Professor Quirrell encountered Voldemort’s shade while he was travelling in Europe, and was persuaded to help him. Voldemort entered Quirrell’s body and became a face on the back of his head.”

“Sweet Merlin!” Scrimgeour exclaimed.

Harry chuckled, “Yeah, it was pretty gross. That’s why Quirrell always wore that daft turban. Anyway, Voldemort returned to Hogwarts in my first year, in the form of Quirrell, and attempted to kill me several times. He was after the Philosopher’s Stone, you see, which Dumbledore was minding for Nicholas Flamel. Voldemort could have used the Stone to make himself immortal, so when Quirrell attempted to steal it I stopped him. We fought and I killed him with my bare hands. That was the first time I witnessed Voldemort’s reaction to ‘love’. According to Dumbledore, when my mother sacrificed herself she imbued my blood with the love she had for me. The touch of my hands upon Quirrell’s possessed body was enough to burn him to ashes.”

Scrimgeour attempted to top up his glass, but found the bottle empty. He rose from his chair and strode over to the drinks cabinet. He grabbed another bottle of Firewhisky and brought it back with him. “This is extraordinary. Why doesn’t anyone know this?”

Harry shrugged, “I’m not sure. Hogwarts is always full of rumours, but most of them are made up. I guess these rumours would seem even less likely than most. My friends and I don’t tend to talk about our adventures. It all sounds very exciting to others, I’m sure, but when you’re living it that’s not how it feels. When you’re fighting for your life it’s not exciting at all, it’s grim and terrifying. The last thing you want to do is re-live it afterwards. I guess I assumed Dumbledore would keep the authorities informed, but in retrospect that was stupid – Dumbledore doesn’t tell anyone anything. Tonks, has Dumbledore ever told you any of this?”

Tonks shook her head. She seemed too appalled to speak.

Harry nodded and continued, “So I killed Professor Quirrell when I was eleven, and Voldemort’s wraith fled back to Albania. I don’t know why he always goes there. He seems to have an affinity for the place. Maybe there’s something there that helps him survive as a wraith? Anyway, the point is that he was deprived of a body and was weak again. I’ll skip second and third years, which aren’t directly relevant, but suffice to say I nearly died several times. For three years we were free of Voldemort, until another wizard went to Albania to retrieve him – Peter Pettigrew.”

“But Pettigrew’s dead,” replied Scrimgeour.

Harry scoffed, “I wish! No, he’s very much alive. He betrayed my parents, and then he faked his death and framed Sirius Black. Sirius was entirely innocent and spent twelve years in Azkaban for crimes he didn’t commit. He escaped in my third year because he saw Pettigrew in his unregistered animagus form on the front page of the Prophet. Pettigrew had been living for ten years as the Weasley family rat, Scabbers. Tonks can confirm this, can’t you Tonks?”

She nodded.

“I’m guessing this didn’t make it into any Auror reports though, eh?”

Tonks looked down and shook her head.

“At Dumbledore’s suggestion?”

A tiny nod.

“Of course. Well, it wouldn’t have made a difference – Fudge would have just had you fired – so don’t worry about it.”

Harry turned back to Scrimgeour, “Sirius and I caught Pettigrew, but Snape interfered and Pettigrew escaped. With Sirius after him, he fled to Europe and followed Voldemort’s trail to Albania. Pettigrew stumbled across Bertha Jorkins along the way and took her to Voldemort as an offering. Voldemort learned of the Triwizard tournament from her and hatched a plan to enter me into the tournament and abduct me at the end. Voldemort taught Pettigrew how to make a rudimentary body, and they used that to get Voldemort back here. Cedric Diggory and I reached the cup at the end of the third task and grabbed it at the same time. Unfortunately it was a portkey which transported us to the cemetery at Little Hangleton where Voldemort’s muggle father is buried. Pettigrew killed Cedric and bound me. Voldemort then used my blood and one of his father’s bones in a ritual to create a new body for himself. He immediately summoned his most senior Death Eaters, which is how I know their names – I saw them willingly answer his call. Voldemort told them the story of his return, and berated them for not seeking him out. That’s how I know his side of this. Then we duelled.”

Harry was trying to keep things simple, so he was skipping over a lot of detail, and even changing some of it, but the gist of it was all true.

Scrimgeour leant forward, eagerness in his eyes, “You duelled with Voldemort?”

Harry nodded, “I did.”

Harry had thought long and hard about how to play this topic if it ever came up. The main conclusion he’d drawn was that being his usual modest self would undermine his cause. Scrimgeour was looking for someone to save the Magical World. The only idea Scrimgeour had presented so far was to fake Harry’s support for the Ministry, to give people hope. If Harry looked weak, Scrimgeour would balk at doing any more than that. Harry had to appear confident and strong, so he had to portray his achievements with the credit they deserved. He had to drop his modesty and convince Scrimgeour to believe in him.

Harry leant forwards to add weight to his words. “It would be foolish to underestimate Voldemort. He is a formidable enemy. He knows vastly more magic than anyone else – more than Dumbledore even. And he’s strong – really strong. But he is not invincible. When Dumbledore duels Voldemort they fight based on magical skill and magical knowledge. Dumbledore has more skill, but Voldemort has more knowledge, so they end up evenly matched. That’s where Dumbledore is going wrong – he’s fighting on Voldemort’s ‘home turf’, as it were. That’s stupid. When I fight Voldemort I’ll do it on my home turf – magical strength – and Voldemort will let me do it, because he can’t stand the idea that someone might be magically stronger than he is. I defeated him when we duelled, and he knows it. He’ll want a rematch. Unfortunately, I was surrounded by Death eaters at the time, so all I could do was grab Cedric and make my escape.”

“But like I said, we shouldn’t be planning the final kill just yet. Voldemort is only strong because he has a body. If we deprive him of that he’ll become a wraith again, and in his own words he’ll be ‘as powerless as the weakest creature alive, without the means to help himself’. That’s what we need to focus on... which brings me to the next issue – Death Eaters always fight with a numerical advantage, and Voldemort is no different. Fighting him when he’s surrounded by Death Eaters would be insane. We need to destroy that support structure and leave him fighting alone.”

“Those are the two keys to our victory – weaken him by killing his body, and get rid of his supporters. Once he’s powerless and alone, we can pursue the final kill at our leisure. These are very achievable goals, and I have a plan for how to accomplish them... but it will require support from you and the Ministry. I need you to embrace everything I’ve suggested, or I don’t think victory is achievable at all.”

Harry fell silent.

The Minister remained largely inscrutable, but Harry had given it his best shot. Now he could only wait to see what Scrimgeour decided. Harry really hoped he went for it, because right now Harry didn’t have any sort of Plan B.

He glanced over at Tonks to see how she’d taken the part she’d heard.

She was staring at him like she’d never seen him before, and drained her glass in one gulp.

Chapter 11: The Rotfang Conspiracy

Chapter Text

Scrimgeour was lost in thought for a few minutes. Harry knew the Minister was giving him an easy ride – he wasn’t objecting to anything Harry said because he was desperate for Harry to support the Ministry. Until Harry did that, he would schmooze Harry as if his life depended on it. But there were promising signs that Scrimgeour was genuinely considering what Harry had proposed. That was the best that Harry could have hoped for really. He and Tonks sat in silence until the Minister spoke.

“As you say, you’ve given me a lot to think about Harry. I only have one question for now – are you willing to acknowledge your status as the ‘Chosen One’ and that you’re the person who’s going to kill Voldemort?”

Harry nodded, “Absolutely – we’d be crazy not to. It’ll be a powerful PR tool, and it’s probably true, so there’s no point denying it. I’d be uncomfortable reassuring people if we weren’t actually doing anything, though. My chances of defeating him are basically zero if it’s me against the entire Death Eater movement. But as long as we are doing something I’ll say whatever’s necessary to save lives. The fear of Voldemort paralyses a lot of people. If they know I’m going to deal with him, they should be in better shape to cope with everything else. Things are going to get worse before they get better, so we need to give people something to hold on to.”

Scrimgeour nodded, “Exactly... Exactly... Hope – that’s what people need to see them through the dark days ahead...”

It seemed to Harry that the Minister was still clinging to the idea that having Harry back the Ministry was all he needed to do. He’d been in office for about six weeks now. Had he spent the entire time trying to gain access to Harry? Regardless, Harry needed to make sure he didn’t focus on that to the exclusion of everything else.

“Not just hope, Rufus. We need to give them some tangible victories too – we need to capture or kill some Death Eaters. On the subject of which, there has already been one mass-breakout from Azkaban – if we don’t have anywhere more secure for captured Death Eaters, let’s at least put them under the Imperius. That way, if they escape, we might get some decent intelligence out of it.”

“If they’re under the imperius won’t they feel serene and happy?” Scrimgeour objected.

Harry shrugged, “Maybe. I’m not sure which will be more powerful – the imperius or the Dementors. Maybe the imperius won't even work inside Azkaban, but we can try. Subjecting inmates to mental torture isn’t our top priority right now. They’ll be just as unlikely to attempt an escape under the imperius as under the crippling influence of the Dementors, so we’re not compromising security. However, in the event of a mass break-out we’ll be in much better shape if at least some of them are under our control.”

Harry drained his Butterbeer, “Think about what I’ve said Rufus. If you give me the tools I need, I’ll get rid of Voldemort for you. I’ve faced him five times now, so I know what we’re dealing with. He can be beaten, as long as you don’t tie my hands behind my back while I attempt it.”

Harry was being deliberately flippant about killing Voldemort, but of course he had no idea how he would actually do it. If he was honest, he was hoping someone else would get Voldemort with a stray spell, but that was a worry for another day. Right now he needed Scrimgeour to focus on everything else he’d proposed and not worry too much about Voldemort.

Scrimgeour nodded, “Leave it with me. I think some of your ideas are going to be a tough sell though. I agree with you on most of them, but I’d need support to push some of these policies through. People are scared, but as things stand I’m not sure they’re scared enough to accept some of these measures. It would be tantamount to admitting that things are much worse than everyone hopes they are. But, as I say, leave it with me.” He eased back into his chair, feigning nonchalance. “Now, let’s talk about your first public appearance. I was thinking of a joint Press Conference to announce your support for the Ministry. How does that sound?”

Harry smiled. “Give me something tangible to support, Rufus, and I’ll support it. I won’t back empty words, but I’ll back meaningful action one hundred percent. How about we schedule the Press Conference for the day after my Birthday? We can announce my emancipation and special authorisations at the same time – two birds with one stone, as it were.”

Scrimgeour chuckled. “Clever! Simultaneous concessions, eh? Are you planning a career in politics, Harry?”

Harry recoiled, “God no! Not if I can help it. I hate being in the spotlight. I’d rather live a life of boring obscurity. I’ll be sixteen in a few weeks time. Do you know what every other boy my age will be doing this year? Kissing girls in broom cupboards! What will I be doing? Fighting for my life, just like every year since I was eleven.”

Scrimgeour regarded Harry with a sudden and profound empathy. “You’re not what I was expecting, Harry. I share your frustration. I’m not a politician, as you have noted. I’m a soldier. I’ve spent my whole life as an Auror. I understand that world. It’s very ‘black and white’. The world of politics is never black and white. It’s always shades of murky brown. You’d be amazed at the compromises and dodgy deals I have to accept, just to get things done. Everywhere I turn, there’s some Ministry bureaucrat telling me I can’t do something, or some political faction threatening to undermine one thing if I change another.”

The Minister looked suddenly tired, “I accepted this position because I wanted to help, and I didn’t see anyone better putting their name forward. I thought I could achieve something, but all I’ve been able to do so far is tread water, because I have no information on which to make any decisions. I’m being asked to fight a war with no knowledge of the enemy’s forces or the battleground. I can’t take any action because I don’t know what I’m facing. For all I know, I could be making things worse. Dumbledore refused to share anything with me. He basically said I had to trust him and not to interfere. Meanwhile, my own staff don’t know anything useful, and seem to think the problem will just go away if we ignore it long enough.”

For the first time since they’d met, Harry realised why Scrimgeour’s actions didn’t match his background. He was a soldier, a man of action, but he’d taken hardly any action at all. It hadn’t made any sense, but now it did – Scrimgeour felt completely out of his depth. He was paralyzed with indecision. Scrimgeour needed a confidence boost, and after Harry’s experience with the previous Minister he knew exactly what to say.

“I think you’re missing an important point, Rufus. People knew you were an Auror when they appointed you. They didn’t want a politician, they wanted a leader. That’s what you should give them. If you do, I think you’ll find you have more support than you think. You’re also underestimating the power you hold. Fudge was a really dreadful Minister, but he got away with doing whatever he wanted for years. People may have grumbled, but nobody actually did anything to stop him, not even Dumbledore. Your strongest political opponent would have been Lucius Malfoy, but he’s in Azkaban now, and is a known Death Eater. Everyone he used to associate with can be tarred with the same brush if they give you trouble. In fact, you’ll probably find most of them on the list of Death Eaters I named in the Quibbler in February.”

Harry paused for a moment, “I’m no politician either, but I appreciate the practical problems we may encounter. If we go too fast we might face a public backlash, but if we go too slow people will die. We need to get the pace just right, but I’d like to push that to its limit. Let’s not be overly cautious. People become accustomed to things faster than you’d think. Who’d have thought that we’d ever have Dementors surrounding Hogwarts? But Fudge did it and nobody stopped him! Again, not even Dumbledore. You’re much more powerful than you think, and Dumbledore is much weaker. He rarely actually does anything. Last year he was repeatedly outwitted and out-manoeuvred by Umbridge and Fudge. They even ran him out of his own school and he barely lifted a finger to stop them. Whatever Dumbledore’s plans are, they seem to focus entirely on me. As long as I’m alive, I don’t think he’ll do anything on any other front... apart from tell me how disappointed he is in me, of course.”

Scrimgeour chuckled, “Yes, that sounds like Dumbledore alright.”

Harry grinned, “I think we should play to our strengths – we're both soldiers, and we should act like it. You said yourself that it’s all about perception. If we behave like we’re at war, and state that these measures are normal in a war, people will accept them. We shouldn’t ask permission or seek support, we should just do it. Look at what Fudge got away with! He didn’t ask permission for all those Educational Decrees, he just did it. We can copy his method – start with things that not many would object to, and keep making them bigger. It’s cynical and unsavoury but it works. You weren’t appointed Minister so the bureaucrats could tell you what to do. You were appointed to tell them what to do. If anyone doesn’t like it, fire them. Treat the Ministry like you would treat your Aurors – as people who follow your orders, or else.”

Scrimgeour’s shoulders straightened, just slightly.

“I think we’re only going to get one shot at this,” Harry added, “so we should give it our best shot. If the people decide they want a toothless politician instead of us, and kick us out, so be it. At least we tried. We shouldn’t do ourselves an injustice by becoming toothless politicians ourselves and lead the country into the abyss. That’s not who we are. Let’s show them who we are.”

Scrimgeour rose from his seat and grabbed another glass from the drinks cabinet. He put it in front of Harry and poured him a Firewhisky. Then he topped Tonks up.

“You may only be fifteen, Harry, but you’ve got more backbone than most of the people in this building. You’re right – the public expect you to defeat Voldemort, so they can hardly object to me emancipating you and giving you the tools to do it. Enjoy your birthday, Harry, and we’ll announce everything the day after. Our next step will depend on how that goes.”

If Scrimgeour followed through on that, Harry was half way there! He repressed his jubilation and tried to sound nonchalant, “Agreed.”

They clinked glasses and drank.

It was Harry’s first taste of Firewhisky... and it wasn’t half bad, though it did burn his throat like acid.

Scrimgeour gave them a wry smile, “You know... the Quibbler has a theory that a group of Aurors has formed a secret organisation within the Ministry, conspiring to control it from within. And here we are, a former Auror, a current Auror, and a future Auror... forming a secret organisation within the Ministry, conspiring to control it from within.”

The Minister broke into a deep gravelly laugh, “What are the chances?

Tonks looked startled, as if she’d never seen the man laugh before, or perhaps didn’t think he could.

Scrimgeour raised his glass again, “Harry, Tonks... Welcome to the inaugural meeting... of the Rotfang Conspiracy!

- § -

Harry was unaccustomed to alcohol. By the time they arrived back at the Burrow, his head was buzzing. Tonks caught him as he stumbled out of the floo. Harry hiccupped, then threw his arm round her shoulder and kissed her on the cheek.

“Thanksh Tonksh, you’re the besht.”

Then he noticed the room full of wide-eyed people looking at him.

Ron looked mortified. “You mean Nora is TONKS?” he shrieked. Without waiting for a reply he sprinted from the room.

Harry grinned stupidly, “Oops!”

Hermione came storming towards him, “Harry James Potter! Have you been drinking?”

Harry put his finger and thumb together, then separated them by half an inch, “Little bit.”

HARRY!” she shrieked. “The Minister got you drunk! Oh this is awful. He could have got you to agree to anything! What did you agree to? Think Harry, think!

Harry squinted, “Shomething about... presh conferences... and pershonal appearances maybe? Don’t know, can’t remember. He’s a nice chap though, isn’t he Tonks? Very hoshpitable – kept topping up my glass.”

Mrs Weasley hurried over, “Well I never! Giving alcohol to a child, Arthur! What’s the Minister playing at? Come sit down Harry, I’ll get you some water. There you are dear, just sit down there.” She hurried off to fill a glass.

Hermione was livid, “How could you let this happen, Tonks?

Tonks turned angry eyes towards her, “Whoa! Hold your horses there, princess. I didn’t ‘let this happen’!” She made air quotes as she said that. “The Minister ordered me to go write up my report. I was out of the room.”

“Well you should have stayed!” Hermione insisted shrilly.

“Oh right!” Tonks scoffed. “So next time the Minister for Magic orders me from the room I’ll just say, ‘Sorry Minister, but Hermione Granger, a twelve-year-old schoolgirl, says I have to stay.’ Yeah right!”

I am not twelve!” Hermione screeched indignantly, “I’m almost seventeen!”

“Whatever,” replied Tonks, making a ‘W’ shape with her fingers.

Hermione boiled with rage, “How dare...”

NOW NOW,” bellowed Mr Weasley, “let’s just settle down shall we?”

Hermione started pacing behind Harry, wringing her hands, “I should have been there! Oh Harry, I’m so sorry! This is entirely my fault. I never should have listened to Ron. You can’t do this on your own! You’re too nice. People take advantage...”

She glared pointedly at Tonks.

Tonks said nothing, but raised her hand and scratched her cheek with her middle finger.

Hermione gasped and lunged at Tonks, but Ginny grabbed her round the waist and wrestled her back to her chair. Hermione seethed in impotent rage, glaring daggers at Tonks, who just smirked.

Mr Weasley stood up, “That’s enough girls! Er, I mean ladies. I’m sure it’s not that bad. The Minister is a fair man. He wouldn’t take advantage of Harry, and a few public appearances don’t sound too bad. It’ll be good for morale.”

Mrs Weasley didn’t share that view, “Arthur! Harry’s far too young to be doing that sort of thing! He’s just a boy!” She patted Harry on the shoulder, “Drink your water, dear.”

“’Ee won zee Twiwizard Tournament,” Fleur noted. Hermione and Mrs Weasley both glared at her.

“If it’s a problem I’m sure Dumbledore will sort it out,” Mr Weasley stated.

Harry slumped face-down onto the table. “Jusht going to resht my eyes,” he slurred.

“Maybe you should go sleep it off Harry,” Mr Weasley conceded. “Everyone else, calm down. It will all look brighter in the morning, you’ll see.”

Tonks grabbed Harry’s arm and helped him up from the table. They staggered up the stairs with Harry leaning heavily on her shoulder, but once they were out of sight Harry stood up straight and walked normally.

Tonks slapped him across the arm and whispered, “That was all fake?”

Harry smirked and nodded. She slapped him across the arm again.

Back in their room, Tonks started undressing immediately. “God, I can’t want to get out of these clothes. I feel like I’m in Finishing School.”

Harry sat on his bed, gawping. Tonks was easily the most gorgeous teenage girl he’d ever seen, and she was dressed in a way that definitely got his heart pumping. Tonks had been right when she described herself as a teenage boy’s wet dream – she was everything Harry had ever fantasised about. If he was honest, that’s why he’d fancied Cho Chang for a while – she had that straight-laced clean-cut pretty-girl thing going on that drove him mad with desire. He had no idea why, but it did.

In fact, now that he thought about it, that’s why he’d been so confused about Hermione in recent years – she’d gone from a bushy-haired buck-toothed and socially awkward bossy-boots in first year to a confident, slim and pretty girl with nice wavy curls who looked rather sexy in her perfectly buttoned-up school uniform. That's why Harry had spent much of last year trying not to fantasize about taking Hermione’s clothes off. She’d be mortified if she knew he’d been thinking of her like that, so he’d kept it very much to himself. But he couldn’t help it, especially when he was asleep. Some of the dreams he'd had about her had shocked even him.

The guilt of his inappropriate thoughts and scandalous dreams about his best female friend had been eating away at him for months... but he had no such issue where Tonks was concerned, and here she was undressing... fulfilling his fantasy!

Harry’s heart was pounding in his ears as he watched in rapt fascination, trying to commit every detail to memory. It wasn’t so much that he was about to see Tonks naked (though he’d never tire of that), nor the fact the she was undressing (though that was amazing too), it was what she was removing that made the difference. He had no idea why, but Tonks removing her goody-goody clothing turned him on far more than her removing any other sort of clothing. It was the transformation from prissy and uptight to naked and sexual that sent him crazy with lust.

Did that make him some sort of deviant, he wondered? Probably. So nobody must ever know – especially not Tonks or Hermione, who had both featured quite extensively in his sordid fantasies. Hermione had made many an appearance because he spent so much time with her, and frankly she was gorgeous. But Tonks had been his deliberate guilty pleasure – the sexy and exotic older woman who was entirely beyond his reach. He never could have imagined ending up where he was right now.

Tonks was blissfully unaware of what her striptease was doing to him. She’d already thrown her sweater on the bed and was half way through unbuttoning her shirt, muttering to herself. Harry could see her fabulous cleavage quite clearly, along with a good portion of her lacy pink bra. Tonks unfastened the final button and yanked the shirt off in irritation. God, her figure was spectacular! Even with her skirt and bra still on, her body took Harry’s breath away.

Reaching behind, Tonks unhooked her bra and threw it onto the growing piles of clothes. Harry’s jaw dropped open. She was topless, with her magnificent breasts completely on show, and oh my God, they were amazing! Truly spectacular! He thought her breasts had been perfect yesterday, but today they were beyond perfect – they were divine.

Even better was the combination of her being topless while still wearing her ‘finishing school’ skirt, shoes and socks.

Harry’s cock firmed into a raging hard-on.

Still oblivious to his hungry observation, Tonks sat on the bed and put a foot across her knee to unlace her converse trainer. From where he was sitting on his bed, Harry could see straight up her skirt to the lacy pink knickers covering her pussy. Tonks was jabbering away about something or other, but Harry wasn’t taking any of it in. His brain had turned to mush. He’d never see anything so sexy in his whole life – a prudish-looking girl sitting topless on a bed with her knickers showing... Harry could hardly breathe, he was so horny.

Tonks removed the shoe and sock, then switched legs and started working on the other. Harry was treated to another fabulous view up her skirt. Oh sweet Merlin! The urge to grab himself and knock one out was almost uncontrollable, but he couldn’t move. There would be no hiding the fact that he’d been totally perving on her. So Harry sat completely frozen, barely breathing at all, his eyes eating up the sight before him.

Thankfully, Tonks was too preoccupied to notice. She threw the second shoe on the floor and whipped off her sock, then stood to unzip her skirt. Harry was almost sad to see it go. That tiny little thing made teenage Tonks look amazing. He’d never wanted to shag a girl so much in his whole life. Sadly she unbuttoned the skirt, let it fall to her ankles, and stepped out of it.

Dressed in just her kickers, she started rifling through her nightwear while Harry ogled her mostly-naked body. It was truly spectacular – much like her body the previous night, but dialled up to ‘teen supermodel’ level. Tonks had become a teen goddess.

Harry yearned to touch it – to run his hands over her perfect pale skin.

“Ugh! My pyjamas don’t fit!” Tonks groaned, “Harry can I borrow one of your t-shirts?”

“Er... yeah sure,” he replied in a daze.

He watched Tonks’ boobs bounce as she walked past. They were so firm they barely moved at all. She scanned through his trunk, grabbed an old Gryffindor Quidditch t-shirt and slipped it on. It was incredibly short and loose on her – it hung half off one shoulder and only just covered her knickers – but she seemed happy with that and flounced back to her bed. The shirt bounced up and down with every step, giving him flashes of her knickers and butt cheeks.

Harry turned away so she wouldn’t see what a pervert he was and quickly changed into his pyjamas. He lay on the bed trying to think about the conversation with Scrimgeour to take his mind of his erection. The meeting had gone well, he thought, though time would tell. The Minister could still have a change of heart. Harry wouldn’t count his chickens just yet.

A knock at the door interrupted his contemplation. Tonks was already on her way to answer it, wand in hand. She stood to one side of the door, “Who is it?”

A small voice answered, “It’s... It’s Hermione. Can I talk to Harry?”

Tonks unlocked the door and whipped it open. Her wand was pointed straight in Hermione’s shocked face. Tonks checked that the corridor was empty behind Hermione, waved the girl into the room and closed the door.

“Hold it. Don’t move.” Tonks ordered.

She started patting Hermione down with one hand, while keeping her wand trained on her with the other.

What are you doing?” Hermione demanded, startled.

“Pipe down, princess.”

Stop calling me princess!” Hermione shrieked, and then made two “Eep” sounds as Tonks felt each of her boobs, a yelp as Tonks squeezed her butt cheeks, and an outraged squeal as Tonks grabbed her between her legs.

Tonks snatched Hermione’s wand from her back pocket and announced to nobody in particular, “Okay, she’s clean.”

Was that really necessary?” stormed Hermione.

Tonks smirked, “Not even slightly. But I enjoyed it.”

“Well HONESTLY!” huffed Hermione, going bright red.

She tried to grab her wand back but Tonks yanked it away. “You can have this back when you leave.”

Tonks placed it on Harry’s nightstand.

“Fine!” Hermione answered, through gritted teeth.

Tonks grinned innocently, “Don’t mind me. I’ll just tidy up this mess.” She bent over to grab her skirt off the floor, giving Harry a good look down her top as she did so. The sight of her perky breasts took his breath away once again. He gulped heavily, attracting a pointed glare from Hermione.

Tonks turned round to grab her socks, bending over and giving him a long look at the knickers covering her bum.

“I’ll just hang these over here...” Tonks muttered. She took a hanger from the wardrobe, and reached up to hook it over the wardrobe door. The t-shirt rode up revealing the very lacy – and basically transparent – front of her knickers. Harry’s mouth went bone dry.

“What are you wearing?” Hermione asked snippily.

“Oh this?” Tonks replied cheerily, indicating the t-shirt. “Harry gave it to me. Do you like it?”

She lifted her arms and twirled on the spot, which not only showed off the shirt, but flashed her knickers and concave stomach... all the way up to her pierced belly button. Harry swallowed heavily.

His view was suddenly obscured by Hermione stepping sideways into his line of sight. “Harry, could I talk to you?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to...” Her voice trailed away as she spotted the huge bulge in his pyjama trousers.

Harry was about to scramble under the covers in embarrassment when he changed his mind, “Er, my face is up here, Hermione.”

She jumped as if electrocuted, and stared fixedly at his eyes, “Sorry! Erm, yes, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you today.”

Something in Harry snapped. He’d been ignoring it, but Hermione’s betrayal had cut him deeply, and he needed to understand it.

“What happened to you this summer?” he asked harshly. “You’ve always been my most loyal friend – my only loyal friend, if I’m honest. Ron’s let me down more than once, but you never have. You’ve always been there for me, through thick and thin. You got me through it all. Without you I’d have been alone, like I was the first ten years of my life. I thought I’d found a true friend...”

Hermione was looking at the floor now, unable to meet his eyes, “Harry nothing’s happened...”

“I’ve always looked up to you, Hermione. You were my role model – the person I could rely on to steer me in the right direction, to show me right from wrong. I know I always say that Ron’s my best mate, but it was really you that was my best mate.”

Hermione flinched at his use of the past tense. She lifted a sleeve and wiped her eyes, but didn’t reply.

“I loved that Hermione,” Harry continued. “But this Hermione, the one you are now, I don’t know who she is. My Hermione never would have said the things you’ve been saying about Fleur. My Hermione never would have plotted to undermine my confidence in myself, or leave me isolated and alone. My Hermione never would have buried her head in the sand, allowing Death Eaters to hurt and kill others while we sat safe and protected in Dumbledore’s castle. So what happened? Where did my Hermione go? What made her betray me and abandon her moral code? And if she ever comes back, how will I know I can trust her?”

With a strangled sob, Hermione bolted for the door and fled the room.

Tonks rose from her bed and closed the door, “Ouch.”

Harry wrung his hands, “I know. I shouldn’t have said that. I was upset. Should I go after her?”

“No, it was harsh but true – she did what she did and you called her on it. Maybe she’ll think twice next time.”

“I hope so,” Harry agreed. “I want the old Hermione back. She was special. She held me to a higher standard – made me be the very best version of myself. I’m just doing the same for her because the old Hermione would have wanted me to. Even if she hates me now and we’re never friends again, the world deserves to have the old Hermione in it, not this one. This one is just like everyone else.”

With that, Harry climbed into bed and began his Occlumency exercises.

Chapter 12: Just Teasing

Chapter Text

Harry and Tonks were the first down to breakfast. Mrs Weasley was cooking so she didn’t see how short the t-shirt was that Tonks was wearing. Once Tonks was seated, you couldn’t tell that she had no pyjama trousers on.

They were just finishing off their fried breakfast when Ginny and Hermione came down and sat opposite.

“What did you do to Hermione?” Ginny whispered angrily, “She’s been in floods of tears all night and won’t say why.”

Hermione shushed her, “Quiet Ginny! I told you Harry had every right... and anyway I don’t want to talk about it.”

Before Harry could say anything, Tonks leaned forwards and whispered to Ginny.

“Hermione wanted Harry to shag her, but he wasn’t interested.”

There was a shocked silence before Hermione hissed, “I did not want Harry to shag me!

Tonks snorted, “Yeah, right. We both saw you undressing him with your eyes!”

I did no such thing!

“No? Then why were you staring at his knob?”

I wasn’t! It was just... well that was because...”

“Oh, so you admit you were staring at his knob, then?”

“What? No! Well yes, but...”

Despite their whispering, Mrs Weasley had come over to deposit plates in front of Hermione and Ginny and caught some of it. “Cease this lewd conversation immediately!” she shrieked. “Hermione, I am very disappointed in you!”

“But Mrs Weasley...”

“I said enough! Now all of you eat your breakfast and keep a civil tongue in your heads.”

She glared at them pointedly for several long seconds, and then turned back to the cooking.

Hermione hissed in Harry’s direction, “Harry, tell them...”

Mrs Weasley whirled around, “Hermione Jean Granger, what did I just say?

Tonks sucked air through her teeth, “Oooo, the full name. Ouch!”

“But...” Hermione turned appealing eyes towards Mrs Weasley, who just glowered even more fiercely at her. Hermione wilted under the force of the older woman’s glare. “Sorry Mrs Weasley.”

As soon as Mrs Weasley’s back was turned again, Hermione leaned towards Ginny and whispered, “Ginny I swear...”

Tonks slid Hermione’s wand across the table, “You left this on Harry’s nightstand.”

Ginny stared at the wand, gave Hermione a betrayed look, then grabbed her plate and moved to the other end of the table. Hermione deflated in defeat and sat glowering at her food.

Harry raised an eyebrow at Tonks.

She smiled angelically, “What? I was only teasing. Anyway, Hermione needs to loosen up or she’ll end up like McGonagall. We definitely don’t need two of those in the world.”

Harry and Tonks were about to leave when Ron made a very sheepish entrance. “Oh, it’s you two,” he muttered moodily.

Mrs Weasley put a huge plate of food in front of him and the left to do laundry. Ron shovelled four forkfuls of food into his mouth and began chewing grumpily. Harry stopped paying attention and began thinking about the day ahead. He had a very specific task in mind for today. A long overdue task...

“Funny prank you played on me yesterday,” Ron muttered. “Really hilarious; bet you laughed all night about that one.”

“Nah,” Tonks replied, “We were too busy shagging weren’t we Harry?”

“Yeah,” Harry murmured absently... and then his brain caught up with what Tonks had said. “Wait, what?

Ron’s jaw dropped so far that most of the half-chewed contents fell out and landed back on his plate.

Tonks grabbed Harry by the arm, “Come on, Harry, let’s go shower. I’m feeling dirty...”

She dragged him out of his chair and pushed him towards the stairs.

Ron was still gawping like an idiot when he caught sight of Tonks’ bare legs. His eyes almost bugged out of his head. As Tonks climbed the stairs her t-shirt kept bouncing up, exposing her lacy knickers to the whole room. Ginny gasped and Ron nearly choked on a sausage. When he finally stopped coughing he grabbed his plate and made a dash to follow Tonks up the stairs.

“Thanks Mum!” he called out, keeping his eyes firmly on Tonks’ swaying arse up ahead. “Gotta go shower.”

Ginny groaned and starting smacking her forehead on the table.

- § -

Harry had assumed that the Immersion Therapy shower they’d shared yesterday was a one-off, but Tonks dragged him into the bathroom with her again.

“Don’t be daft Harry,” she admonished, “Immersion Therapy doesn’t work in one session, and we still have your safety to consider. Also, my back isn’t going to scrub itself, is it?”

Like last time, Tonks went first. She was only wearing a t-shirt and knickers so undressing didn’t take very long. Once she was naked, she held her arms out and gave him a slow twirl. “What do you think of the new bod Harry?”

Harry had to clear his throat twice before he could speak, “I like it. I like it very much.”

Tonks’ tinkling laugh filled the room, “I can see that,” she said, eying his bulging pyjama trousers. “I think I like it too. It’s nice having slightly smaller boobs.” She looked down at herself. “Well, slightly smaller everything really.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Harry goggled. She couldn’t possibly mean what he thought she meant... could she?

Tonks giggled and climbed into the shower.

A few minutes later she called him over to do her back, and then she did his back before climbing out. It felt strangely intimate, and yet comforting somehow, to look after each other like that.

Harry turned the shower temperature down to lukewarm in a vain effort to get rid of his boner without having a fully cold shower. It didn’t work... not even slightly. He towelled down and wrapped the towel round his waist.

“Crikey Harry,” Tonks laughed, “You look like you’re smuggling a beater’s bat down there.”

Harry scowled and blushed at the same time.

“Come on,” she continued, “Nobody’s going to see you.”

Naturally, they stepped out into the hall just as Hermione and Ginny were heading up the stairs.

Ginny came to a sudden halt and stared straight at the bulge in Harry’s towel. Hermione bumped into her and yelped.

Harry froze like a rabbit in headlights.

Tonks rolled her eyes and dragged him off towards their room, “Come on Harry, I’ll give you a rub to help you relax.”

Hermione and Ginny both goggled.

As soon as the door was closed, Tonks burst out laughing. “Did you see their faces! Absolutely hilarious! Oh, teasing those two is never going to get old. I will give you a massage though – your shoulders look like bags of rocks. Why are you so tense?”

Harry sighed, “Just thinking about everything I need to do.”

“Well, take a break for five minutes. Lie on the bed.”

Harry lay down on his back with the towel still wrapped around his waist.

Tonks rolled her eyes and pushed him onto his front, “Face down, you prat.”

Tonks tried to kneel over him but her towel got in the way, so she threw it on a chair and tried again. With one knee either side of his waist, she sat straddling his thighs, and started kneading his back with her thumbs.

Harry groaned. “Oh yeah, that feels great!”

“I know, right? There’s no better way to relax. You can do the same to me some time. How’s my technique? You want me to do it a bit harder?”

“No that’s perfect. Oh yeah, just like that. Ooooooohhhhhhhhhh.”

“Want me to go faster?”

“No it’s fine... a bit firmer maybe. Up a little... Yes! Just there. Press with your thumbs. That’s it! Mmmmmmm...”

Harry moaned in pleasure for several minutes as Tonks worked all the kinks out of his shoulders. Next she worked on his neck, which felt great, and then surprised him by massaging his scalp with her fingertips.

“Oh, that feels amazing!” Harry groaned.

“I know, right?” Tonks replied. “The head is amazingly sensitive.”

Somebody gasped outside the door. Frantic whispering was followed by two sets of footsteps pounding up the stairs.

Tonks paused, and then carried on with the massage, “You know, I think I forgot to silence the door. Oops.”

Harry laughed out loud, “Oh my God Tonks, you’re awful!”

“I don’t know what you mean Harry. Now how’s that? Feel better?”

“Yes thanks.” Harry rolled onto his back, with Tonks still kneeling over him. He hadn’t really thought about it, but with her towel on the chair, she was of course straddling him completely naked. He swallowed heavily.

Harry had never seen Tonks’ breasts from this angle (or anyone else’s for that matter), but he thoroughly approved. They looked fabulous. His eyes ran down her body until he was looking at her pussy. He could see more of her folds from this angle, and with her legs splayed either side of him her labia were quite widely parted. His cock throbbed hungrily.

Tonks giggled, “See something you like, Harry?” She lowered her weight onto him, so her vagina was pressing on his penis through his towel. He could feel the heat coming off her.

Harry groaned.

“Oh sorry Harry... is that your cock my pussy is sitting on?”

Somewhere upstairs there was a shocked squeal. Tonks and Harry both looked up at the ceiling.

“You know, Harry, I think the girls might have themselves a set of extendible ears.”

Tonks leaned forwards very slowly, giving Harry a fantastic view of her breasts, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Time to silence that door I think.”

She climbed off the bed and used her wand to do exactly that, then adopted a more business-like tone, which was only slightly undermined by the fact that she was stark naked.

“So what are we doing today, Harry? More Occlumency and combat?”

Harry shook his head, “No. I’ve been putting this off... but today I’m in the mood for revenge. Come on, let’s get dressed.”

Tonks still had just the one set of clothes – her ‘finishing school’ outfit as she’d taken to calling it – so she cast a refreshing charm on them and put them on again.

“Ready?” Harry asked.

“Sure.”

“Okay. Dobby!”

With a crack, Dobby appeared. “Harry Potter called for Dobby?”

Harry smiled. It always warmed his heart to see Dobby, “Hi Dobby. This is my good friend Tonks.”

The brightly-dressed house elf bowed to her, “Dobby is very happy to meet Harry Potter’s friend.”

Tonks smiled at him, “Wotcha Dobby.”

“Dobby, could you take us both to the Hogwarts kitchen?”

“Yes, Harry Potter, Dobby can do that.”

“Great, thanks Dobby. Let’s go then, if you’re ready?”

Harry took hold of Dobby’s outstretched hand. Tonks raised an eyebrow and did the same. With a crack, they disapparated. A split second later they reappeared in the Hogwarts kitchen.

Harry turned to Tonks, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone that house elves can do that.”

She nodded in wide-eyed shock, “You’re not kidding! If You-Know-Who realised they can do that...”

“Exactly,” Harry agreed.

He glanced around the kitchen. Dozens of elves were hard at work, but not the one he wanted.

“Kreacher!” he yelled.

There was a loud crack and the house-elf that Harry had so reluctantly inherited from Sirius appeared out of nowhere in front of him: tiny, half-human-sized, his pale skin hanging off him in folds, white hair sprouting copiously from his bat-like ears. He was still wearing a filthy rag as a loin-cloth, and the contemptuous look he bent upon Harry showed that his attitude had altered no more than his outfit.

“Hello Kreacher,” Harry said coldly.

Chapter 13: Harry’s Revenge

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Master,” croaked Kreacher in his bullfrog voice. He bowed low, muttering to himself, “The Potter brat has returned with Miss Dromeda’s mudblood spawn, oh what would my mistress say to see Kreacher in such company?”

Harry growled angrily.

“Kreacher, I forbid you to speak, mutter, mumble or mouth any words other than to answer my questions.”

Kreacher gagged. After several seconds of hacking noises, he lifted his eyes to glare in malevolent silence at Harry.

“Now Kreacher,” Harry continued icily, “I’d like to talk to you about the way you betrayed and murdered your previous master.”

A vast cacophony of smashing plates and dropped pans filled the kitchen. Harry looked around. All activity had ceased and every single elf was staring at him in appalled horror. Kreacher looked around in alarm.

Harry returned his attention to the elf before him, “Kreacher, I accuse you of deliberately misinterpreting your masters’ orders. He told you to leave, which you knew meant leave the room, but instead you left the house. You therefore left without permission, knowing full well that your master did not wish it. Do you deny this, yes or no?”

Kreacher stared at Harry and then glanced around at the watching elves in trepidation. His mouth opened and closed several times, before an answer was wrenched out of him, very much against his will.

“No.”

Gasps erupted among the watching house elves. With a faint pop, pop, pop, more elves started appearing. They all stood in judgemental silence, their eyes trained on Kreacher.

Harry resumed his questioning. “Kreacher, you have admitted leaving your master’s house against his wishes. You then went to the house of Narcissa Malfoy, knowing full well that she was your master’s enemy, and you revealed your master’s secrets to her. You did this knowing that she and her husband were allied with Lord Voldemort. Do you deny this, yes or no?”

Kreacher wrapped his hands round his own throat in an apparent attempt to prevent himself from speaking. The watching elves shuffled restlessly, awaiting Kreacher’s answer.

Despite his attempts to thwart it, a barely audible “No” squeaked out of Kreacher’s mouth.

The room erupted in yells of disgust. Many of the elves began edging away as if worried they might catch a disease. More elves were arriving all the time – there was a constant pop-pop-pop in the background. The room was teaming with them – easily a hundred now.

Harry continued relentlessly, his gaze frosty and his voice as hard as stone. “You knew the Malfoys would disclose your master’s secrets to Lord Voldemort, and yet you revealed them anyway. Indeed you laughed when you told Dumbledore what you’d done, boasting of your treachery. Do you deny this, yes or no?”

Kreacher threw himself to the ground and began pounding his head on the stone floor.

“Kreacher I forbid you to harm yourself!” Harry yelled. “Now answer my question!

Kreacher glared at Harry from his prostrate position. With pure loathing in his eyes he shouted back defiantly, “NO!

Exclamations of shock and dismay swept through the watching elves. Angry growls could be heard from some. The mood in the room was turning distinctly ugly.

But Harry was not done. He had come here to make Kreacher pay for his crimes. Dumbledore might be willing to forgive the vindictive little elf for killing Sirius, on the grounds that Sirius had apparently not been very nice to him, but Harry most certainly was not. For a start, Harry had never seen Sirius mistreat the elf... apart from shouting at him, but let’s face it he deserved to be shouted at for the terrible things he said. That might justify murder in Dumbledore’s world, but it did not in Harry’s. So Harry was here to expose Kreacher’s actions in front of his peers, shaming the elf for what he’d done. It was scant punishment for murder, but it would have to do. Much as he might want to, Harry couldn’t find it in himself to do anything more severe.

“On the instructions of your master’s enemies,” Harry growled, “you deliberately deceived me, your master’s Godson and heir, regarding his whereabouts. You even injured your master’s friend and saviour, Buckbeak, to conceal your deceit. You helped Voldemort to spring a trap upon me, during which I and five of my closest friends almost lost our lives. And as you had hoped, your betrayals did lead to the death of your master. You deliberately murdered the last surviving member of the House of Black, destroying forever the Family you were meant to serve. Do you deny this, yes or no?”

Kreacher visibly winced at the accusation, perhaps for the first time realising what he had done.

“No,” the elf whispered miserably.

Harry could find no sympathy for the elf. His voice rose with his anger, shouting over the angry muttering of the elves around them.

“You murdered your master, you betrayed your Family, and you destroyed your House. You have shamed your ancestors and all your kind. There will be no place of honour for you upon the wall, because you have no honour. Nor can there be any forgiveness for your crimes, because they are unforgivable. I declare you faithless and disloyal. You, Kreacher, are a disgrace to the House of Black.”

Despite Kreacher’s earlier bravado, Harry’s words fell like hammer blows upon the elf. His remaining defiance crumbled. He curled into a ball and began sobbing into the stone floor.

Harry’s voice dropped to a whisper, “I would have been a kind master to you Kreacher, but you murdered someone I love. I will not reward that with kindness. I cannot free you to further betray me, but what possible use can anyone have for a house elf who gleefully arranges for his master to be murdered by his enemies?”

Silence fell over the room. Hundreds of angry elf faces glared at Kreacher with disgust and violence in their eyes.

For several long seconds the only sound was that of Kreacher’s pitiful weeping. But then a ripple passed through the room. Heads turned and the watching elves’ anger turned to reverence. They began bowing to a newcomer. Harry heard the sound of bare feet shuffling forward slowly. The circle of watching elves parted to reveal an approaching and very elderly elf. He wore the same clothes as all Hogwarts elves, but his looked very out-dated – almost heraldic, except that the colours had all faded away to shades of beige – and they hung off his skeletal frame as if he had once been much broader than he was now. He leaned on a walking stick and spoke with a voice even more gravelly than Kreacher’s.

“There is a way, Harry Potter.”

Kreacher’s head shot up. Terrified panic flashed across his face. He seemed to be straining to scream, but was prevented by Harry’s orders. His eyes bulged larger and larger, until they rolled up into his head and he fainted into a crumpled heap.

Nobody moved to help him.

The ancient elf regarded Kreacher without emotion, “If you will swear to never speak of it, for it is a secret among our kind, we can prevent Kreacher from betraying you.”

Harry glanced at Tonks, who nodded. “We swear,” Harry replied.

The ancient elf inclined his head, “We will need an elf volunteer to administer this punishment, but it is a dishonour so severe that most will refuse to perform it. Will any elf here-present assume this duty?”

Harry looked around, and sure enough, elves were scrambling backwards to distance themselves from him... but one elf did step forward.

“Dobby will do it,” Dobby stated firmly.

The elderly elf nodded gravely, “So be it.”

Horrified muttering spread through the watching elves.

“This is the worst disgrace that can befall our kind, Harry Potter. You must not reveal it to anyone. Do you accept these terms?”

“I do,” Harry replied immediately.

“Very well, then Kreacher’s punishment is this: instruct him to obey orders from Dobby as if they came from you, and Dobby will make sure that Kreacher cannot circumvent them.”

The elf leaned forward on his cane, his look was suddenly intense. “We know our own kind you see, Chosen One... and we know how to bind ourselves.

The elf had put enormous emphasis on those words. So much so that Harry had the very strong impression that they carried meaning beyond what was said. But what?

The ancient elf’s eyes bored into him, “Do you understand, Chosen One?

Harry was sure of it now. The elf was trying to tell him something... to send him a message... something he couldn’t say directly. Something he was prevented from saying, perhaps? Why had he called Harry the ‘Chosen One’? It hadn’t sounded like he was talking about the prophecy. It was more like the elf was choosing Harry. But choosing him for what?

We know our own kind... we know how to bind ourselves.

Harry’s face paled in sudden comprehension. We know how to bind ourselves. The elf wasn’t talking about being bound by orders... he was talking about being bound with magic! He was saying that the elves had been enslaved by elf magic! Someone had forced them to enslave themselves!

Harry was horrified. He could picture exactly how it would have happened. Wizards, in fear of the magical power of the child-like elves, would have conspired to find a way to subjugate them. Just as Harry had seen ten dragon-handlers outnumber and control a dragon, they’d have cornered an elf and overpowered it by weight of numbers. They’d have studied and questioned it, forcing it to comply, until eventually they discovered that elf magic could control elves. It was elegant and appalling in its simplicity. All they had to do was force an elf to design an elf spell to force elves into obedience – a variant of the Imperius Curse, perhaps? That first elf would cast the spell on a second. Those two would cast the spell on two more, who’d cast it on four more, then eight, sixteen, thirty two... the spell would spread like a virus through the elf population. Within days the entire population would be enslaved! No doubt the spell would be designed to pass down to their children, and include prohibitions on telling anyone how it was done, or how it could be undone. Once every elf was enslaved, the spell could not be broken, because only an elf could break it, and they were all forbidden from doing so! As Harry had just seen, when an elf tries to disobey an order they just pass out. Their enslavement was unbreakable.

It was a truly diabolical scheme.

Harry staggered, “My God!”

He had to grab onto Tonks’ shoulder to steady himself. She caught him, her expression startled and confused. But Harry was lost in his thoughts. Hermione was right! Elf enslavement was truly abhorrent.

Tonks said something but he didn’t hear it. His mind was spinning.

This was the secret to how the elves were enslaved, but why had the elf told him? He’d called Harry the ‘Chosen One’... as if... as if he was choosing Harry... Was he implying that Harry could somehow free them from their enslavement? How? Only an elf could do that, but all the elves were enslaved...

And then it hit him. All the elves were not enslaved! Dobby was free! Dobby had broken the spell on himself! Dobby could free the others! But of course Dobby didn’t realise it. The knowledge of how it was done would have been lost over the generations, perhaps even prohibited from being shared. If so, this ancient elf must be one of the few who somehow knew. But he was forbidden from telling anyone... and then this opportunity arose to hint at it, in the guise of helping a wizard to control his elf.

Harry steadied himself and stepped forward to stand beside Dobby. He put a hand on Dobby’s shoulder. A look passed between Harry and the ancient elf; a look heavy with meaning.

Harry answered both the spoken and the unspoken question, “I understand sir; I understand perfectly.”

The ancient elf smiled and bowed deeply, “Thank you, Harry Potter.”

Harry bowed back. This elf was trying to free his people, he deserved enormous respect.

The elf spoke again, “Once you have given the order, Kreacher will effectively have another elf as his master. He will be shamed more than you can imagine.”

The ancient elf snapped his fingers and Kreacher jerked awake.

Harry immediately gave him the order, “Kreacher, from this moment forward I command you to obey orders from Dobby as if they came from me.”

Kreacher stared at him for a moment as if unable to understand what he’d said. He turned to look at Dobby, then back at Harry... and then with a high-pitched wail he covered his face with his hands and bawled.

Dobby stepped forward, “Kreacher, return to your master’s house and wait for Dobby.”

Kreacher looked at Dobby in abject misery, and then disappeared with a crack.

Dobby turned to Harry, “Dobby should go, Harry Potter. Winky can take you and Miss Tonks back to your room.”

Harry nodded and Dobby disappeared.

With a respectful nod, the ancient elf left as quickly as he’d arrived, disappearing back into the crowd of elves. They began to rapidly disperse, eager to get away. Soon only a few remained, cleaning up the broken crockery and busying themselves around the kitchen. For several seconds Harry just stared. Had that actually just happened?

Winky appeared from somewhere near the fireplace; her clothes were ragged and unwashed and she was clutching a bottle of Butterbeer. She looked exactly the same as last time Harry had seen her, but even dirtier.

“How are you, Winky?” Harry asked.

“Winky is very ashamed. Nobody wants Winky. Winky doesn’t deserve a new master...”

She took a swig of Butterbeer and sniffed loudly.

It had been almost two years since Winky was given clothes, and she was no better. She wasn’t free like Dobby. She was still enslaved, but was being tortured into an early grave by her lack of a master to serve.

Harry knelt in front of her, “Winky, it just so happens that I am in need of a female house elf. I would very much like to become your master if you will have me?”

Winky stared at him in disbelief, and then frowned in suspicion, “Would Winky be paid?”

“Would you want to be?”

“Winky would never sink so low!”

“Then no,” Harry replied with a smile.

Winky’s lip quivered, and then she burst into tears, which spilled out of her great brown eyes and splashed down her front. The bottle of Butterbeer slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor, rolling under a table.

Harry put a hand on her tiny shoulder, “Would you like to be my house elf, Winky?”

Winky sniffed loudly, wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and nodded vigorously. Eventually she squeaked out a “Yes, Master Harry”.

Harry and Winky both glowed faintly for a second.

“Is it done?” asked Harry.

Winky nodded, “Yes Master Harry. Winky is your house elf now.”

Harry smiled, “Great! Welcome to the House of Potter-Black, Winky! Could you take us to join Dobby and Kreacher at my house? I think I better explain to Dobby.”

“Yes, Master Harry.” Harry took Winky’s outstretched hand and motioned for Tonks to do the same. They disapparated with a crack.

Harry hadn’t imagined coming back to Grimmauld Place so soon, or possibly at all, but there was too much going on to avoid it. They’d apparated into the sitting room, which was one of the least unpleasant rooms. Kreacher was on the floor sobbing at Dobby’s feet. He lifted his head as they appeared, took one look at Winky and wailed in fresh torment.

Dobby came bounding over, “Harry Potter has bound Winky! I told you Winky! Harry Potter is kind and generous; he would not let Winky suffer! Thank you Harry Potter! Thank you! Winky is a good elf, she will make you proud.”

“You don’t mind, Dobby?” Harry asked in concern. “I didn’t do the wrong thing?”

“Oh no, Harry Potter, Winky isn’t like Dobby. Winky is needing a master, or she is getting very upset. Dobby didn’t want to say, but Dobby hoped Harry Potter would bind Winky someday.”

“Well good, that’s a relief,” Harry replied. “Now, I’d like a quick word, and then we’ll leave you to it. I’d like this house turned back into a house to be proud of. It was grand once, and I think it should be again. Winky, would you like to take a look round the house? I’ll call when we need you.”

Winky looked at the dreadful state of the room and her face lit up, “Yes, Master Harry. Winky will start cleaning straight away.” With a crack, she vanished.

As soon as she was gone, Harry whispered to Dobby, “Could you maybe do something about Winky and Kreacher’s clothes? I don’t mind what they wear as long as it’s not dirty rags.”

Dobby nodded.

“Ok, perfect. Winky!” Winky reappeared in an instant. “We’d like to go back to the Burrow. Do you know where that is?”

“Yes, Master Harry. Winky is knowing every place her Master knows.”

Ah, that explained how she’d got through the Fidelius on Grimmauld Place, Harry realised belatedly.

“Great, thanks!” he told her. “Let’s go.”

They took Winky’s hands and apparated straight into their bedroom at the Burrow. Harry hadn’t thought to specify which room, so he was delighted that she’d anticipated what he needed.

Before Winky headed back to Grimmauld Place, Harry gave her one more instruction, “Could you collect some owl-order clothing catalogues for Tonks? She needs a whole new wardrobe. Once she’s chosen what she wants, could you get money from my vault at Gringotts and go buy it?”

Winky hopped from foot to foot in delight. Harry realised it must have been a long time since she’d had a woman to look after.

Tonks looked embarrassed and uncomfortable, “You don’t have to buy me stuff, Harry! I mean... Well, I don’t actually have any clothes that fit... or money to buy new ones... but that doesn’t mean you have to buy them...”

Her voice was trailing off by the end, as she realised that the alternative was to wear the same set of clothes every day.

Harry laughed, “Don’t be daft Tonks! It’ll be Black Family money I’m spending, and you’re a Black. Anyway, you said it was my fault you need new clothes, so you can’t have it both ways. If it helps, I get plenty out of you wearing nice clothes... and I also get to see you take them off!”

Tonks grinned, “Well... okay then... as long as it’s just you being a perv and not some male-dominance bullshit.”

Harry snorted – he hadn’t even thought of that. “No, it’s definitely the perv thing.”

Within minutes, Winky was back with a stack of about twenty catalogues. Tonks’ eyes lit up.

Winky handed them over, “Mistress can just call Winky when she’s ready,” and she disappeared.

Tonks waggled her eyebrows. “Ooo, Mistress! I’ve never been a ‘Mistress’ before.”

She grabbed a quill and dove onto her bed, where she lay on her elbows kicking her legs up behind her as she flicked through the catalogues. Harry watched in amused fascination as she started chewing the end of the quill, circling things she liked the look of. He couldn’t help but notice how very cute she looked... and also that he could see right up her skirt.

Notes:

Before anyone asks, Harry is not going to use an army of free elves to defeat Voldemort in this fic. (According to user 944tim that fanfic already exists. See their comment on 09 Sep 2020. Unfortunately they have not responded to my request for a link. 😢 SmoothEarthdragon suggested one though 🙂 - see my reply to them on 15 March 2023 in the comments. It's not a fluffy story though, apparently, so be warned!)

Chapter 14: Tonks’ Revenge

Chapter Text

Harry lay on his bed thinking about the elves. He knew how to free them now, but he couldn’t just go ahead and do it. Preparations would have to be made. It would be an enormous shock to both the elves and the Wizarding world. Dobby had spent two years trying to find a Wizarding family who’d pay him to work, and had failed to find a single family who would. If all the eves were suddenly freed, it was very likely that most of them would end up on the streets with no money, no food and no way to support themselves. It was also likely that the darker families would kill their elves rather than risk their secrets being revealed. Legislation would be needed to protect the elves and their rights.

Freeing the elves wasn’t something Harry could achieve overnight. It might take years. Nevertheless, it could and should be done. But before he did anything, Harry had to preserve what he’d learnt – if Harry was killed in the coming war, this knowledge mustn’t die with him. So Harry dug his writing supplies out of his trunk and wrote a letter, explaining everything. When he was done he folded it up, sealed it, and wrote on the front:

To be given to Hermione Granger in the event of my death – Harry Potter.

He summoned Dobby and asked him to put the letter in his vault at Gringotts. That brought him to the second problem – Dobby.

The only way to free the elves was to use a free elf, and Dobby was the only one in existence. He was uniquely valuable. Harry would do everything he could to keep Dobby safe anyway, of course, but Dobby would be in danger just like everyone else who was close to Harry. If Dobby was killed there would be no way to free the elves.

Harry thought about that for a while, and couldn’t escape the conclusion that they needed to free at least one other elf as soon as possible, just in case something happened to Dobby. The problem with that was that it would undoubtedly take a lot of careful thought and preparation. He’d need to talk to Dobby, probably at great length, to figure out exactly how to do it. They wouldn’t want to get it wrong and cause harm to the elf they were trying to help. It might also require more magical knowledge or, Harry confessed to himself, brain power than Harry actually possessed. On top of all that, Harry was going to be fully occupied fighting the war...

Harry was left with two options – wait until after the war, and hope that Dobby survived that long... or delegate this problem to someone who could deal with it sooner. There was only one person he’d trust with that, of course – Hermione – but that created problems of its own. He wasn’t confident of her motivations any more, and he wasn’t sure that she’d be willing to free only one elf. She’d want to free the whole lot straight away.

He considered it from every angle, and after a good hour, he decided that the best course would be to test the water.

Mrs Weasley called them for lunch, so Harry and Tonks headed down. Bill, Fleur and Mr Weasley were all at work during the day, so it was just Mrs Weasley and the kids at lunchtimes. Ron, Hermione and Ginny trooped in just behind Harry and Tonks. Harry noted that the girls were giving him very disapproving looks. Ron seemed oblivious, so he guessed they hadn’t revealed what they’d overheard. People were so funny – they’d happily spread all manner of unsubstantiated rumour, but would often keep something they thought they knew for sure to themselves.

Mrs Weasley served them all a delicious thick vegetable soup with crusty loaves and butter. They ate in silence for a while. Tonks was still wearing her ‘finishing school’ clothes, which Ron seemed to approve of, judging by the way he kept leering at her out of the corner of his eye.

“What have you two been up to this morning?” asked Ginny, as much to distract Hermione from scowling at Ron as anything else, Harry suspected.

“Catalogue shopping,” answered Tonks with a beaming smile, “Harry’s buying me a whole new wardrobe, aren’t you Harry?”

Harry shrugged, “Well, the Black family is buying you a whole new wardrobe, but yeah.”

“Must be nice to have two fortunes to spend,” commented Ron, resentfully.

“Yeah, it’s so cool they way everyone I love keeps getting killed,” Harry replied angrily, “I’d much rather have their money.”

Ron flushed in embarrassment, but his expression quickly turned angry and he muttered under his breath, “Spoilt git.”

Harry was about to respond when Tonks put a hand on his forearm. He looked at her and she just smiled. It was such a typical Tonks smile, so full of warmth and affection. She’d been smiling like that when she’d undressed for him, when she first kissed him, when she told him to remove her knickers, when she twirled naked for him, when she sat on him last night, and when she was choosing clothes this morning. Harry couldn’t help but laugh. She filled his life with joy. Ron’s petty jealousy was nothing compared to that.

Hermione and Ginny exchanged a look, but Harry ignored them and went back to his soup.

When he finished, Harry took his bowl to the sink just after Hermione, and whispered in her ear, “Can I talk to you in private? It’s important.”

Without looking up, she replied, “Sorry Harry, I’m a bit busy at the moment.”

Harry was totally flummoxed. It had never occurred to him that she’d refuse to even speak to him, “Oh. Oh, right. Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

Feeling a bit numb and rather stupid, he stumbled back up to the bedroom and fell onto the bed.

Tonks closed the door and silenced it. “She’s just upset right now Harry, give her time. She’s got a lot on her plate.”

Harry nodded absent-mindedly, but in his head he was thinking no she hasn’t.

What was he going to do now? Hermione was the obvious choice to help with this. Who else cared about elf rights? He couldn’t think of anyone. Some people had signed up to S.P.E.W. but he was pretty sure they only did it because Hermione bullied them into it. He wracked his brains. He doubted anyone in Slytherin would care about elf rights. Nobody in Gryffindor seemed to either, apart from Hermione. That left Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Who did he know in those Houses? Not many people, apart from the Quidditch players and the DA. They didn’t seem like promising candidates, except Cho Chang, maybe? She hadn’t shown any obvious interest in elf rights, but she seemed nice... Wait! There was another obvious person! Luna Lovegood! She was definitely interested in creatures, and she was a Ravenclaw so she was smart. The question was whether she’d think it was right to free the elves, or whether she had some weird belief about it. Had she ever joined S.P.E.W.? Harry wasn’t sure.

“Tonks, I’m just nipping downstairs to ask Hermione something.”

“No problem,” replied Tonks.

She grabbed her wand and preceded him out the door. Harry kept forgetting that Tonks was actually here as his bodyguard. Over the last few days she’d started taking that much more seriously, even inside the house. Harry wasn’t sure why. These days, Tonks only really relaxed when they were alone. Even then, her wand was always close. Harry was half way down the stairs before he realised his own wand was on the nightstand where he’d left it.

Harry knocked on Ginny’s bedroom door. A few seconds later, she poked her head out. She looked at Harry and Tonks curiously, “Yes?”

“Could I have a quick word with Hermione?”

“She’s busy.”

Harry peered through the crack and saw Hermione lying on the bed reading Witch Weekly. Ginny moved to block his view. Harry sighed, “Okay. When she’s done reading that important magazine, could you ask her whether Luna Lovegood ever joined SPEW? Thanks.”

Harry turned to leave.

“Wait!” Hermione scrambled up and came running to the door, “It's not SPEW it's S.P.E.W. and why do you want to know that?”

Harry shrugged, “Just curious.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed, “What did you want to talk to me about earlier?”

“Nothing, it’s not important. So... about Luna?”

Hermione folded her arms, “You said it was important earlier.”

“Er... Well that was then. Events have moved on. The situation has changed.”

“What situation?”

Harry was getting frustrated, “Never mind. I’ll just send her an owl.”

He turned to leave again.

Hermione grabbed his arm, “Why do you want to talk to Luna about elves Harry?”

Harry snapped, “It doesn’t matter! You’re too busy. I need someone now. Someone I can rely on. This is too important to let anyone screw it up. I have a responsibility. Don’t you understand? They’re relying on me! Unlike some, I can’t afford to lie around all day reading magazines. It could be a thousand years before we get another shot at this! Go back to your magazine, Hermione. I have people I need to talk to.”

He whirled and stalked off angrily.

Hermione ran after him, “Harry! Harry, wait!”

He ignored her.

“Harry! Please! Harry! Harry!” Her voice rose in desperation, “HARRY! SHE DIDN’T JOIN.

Harry stopped in his tracks. He turned slowly, “She didn’t join? Why?

Hermione was panting, “She said the elves are happy, and that’s all that matters.”

Harry slumped, “Damn it.”

Hermione went to touch his arm, but thought better of it. “Harry, let me help. If it’s about the elves, I want to help.”

Harry shook his head, “No. I can’t trust you. You’re unreliable. I’ll have to handle it myself, after the war.”

Hermione looked deeply hurt, but asked, “Handle what?”

He ground his teeth in frustration, “The elves of course! I know how to break their enslavement!

Hermione gasped, but Harry was talking to himself now, staring sightlessly at the floor, “It won’t be easy and I can’t do it now. I’m fighting a war. There’s too much going on...”

He looked up suddenly, “I’ve written you a letter. If I don’t make it... if I die... the letter will tell you what to do.”

The colour drained from her face.

Harry grabbed her arms, his eyes boring into hers, “Listen, Hermione! This is important. Dobby is the key! You understand? He’s the key! If I die, find Dobby. You must protect Dobby! They can’t be saved without him.”

Harry whirled and was gone, leaving a thoroughly dismayed Hermione behind him.

Tonks raced after Harry. Once they were back in their room she locked and silenced the door, then blew out a heavy breath.

“Wow. That girl is not having a good week. Come on, Harry, time for an Occlumency lesson. This is a perfect opportunity to see how well you can perform when you’re upset.”

The answer, it turned out, was not very well. Harry’s mind was an uncontrollable maelstrom. Frustration and dark angry thoughts shattered his concentration and destroyed his inner peace. All the setbacks of his short and unhappy life boiled up, filling him with bitterness. Ron and Hermione had helped him get through the last four years, but now they were worse than useless – they were actively trying to hinder his efforts. His task was hard enough without them making it harder! The only person he could rely on these days was Tonks, but how long would she be around? When he returned to Hogwarts she’d probably be reassigned and he’d be all alone... again. Because of course he was Harry Potter, and nothing good in his life ever lasted.

When they finally gave up Harry was too annoyed with himself to ask why Tonks looked so pale and upset.

- § -

“Harry, where’s your wand?” asked Tonks the following morning.

Harry was sitting on the floor in his pyjamas doing his Occlumency exercises. He jerked guiltily, “It’s right here...”

He frantically scanned his immediate environment with his eyes. Where was the damned thing?

Tonks coughed, “Ahem.” She was standing by the door in just his Gryffindor t-shirt, holding his wand in her hand and wiggling it from side to side. “Are you looking for this?”

Harry scowled.

“Do we need to have another conversation about keeping your wand close?”

“No,” said Harry grumpily.

“Good,” she replied and threw his wand to him. “I’m going to the loo. You know the drill – don’t let anyone in!”

She waited to see if he’d give her any cheek, but Harry knew better than that after the lecture he’d received last night.

“Right,” she left the room and locked the door with a coloportus behind her.

Harry returned to his Occulmency exercises, but Tonks returned almost immediately.

She looked surprised to see him still sitting in the middle of the floor.

“Harry, before I forget, I was thinking that you should tell Hermione how to free the elves. It’s such an important thing... we don’t want to risk your letter not reaching her. It just makes more sense for two people to have that knowledge.”

Harry sighed. “I don’t know, Tonks...”

He decided he’d done enough exercises and may as well get ready for his shower.

“You know what Hermione’s like”, he said as he stripped off his pyjama top. Tonks gave him an odd look. “You know what I’m talking about! She’ll go rushing in without thinking of the consequences.” He threw his top on the bed and pulled off his pyjama trousers. He threw them on the bed and stood naked in front of her.

Tonks’ eyes bugged out of her head.

Harry smirked in satisfaction. It made a nice change for Tonks to be the one getting flustered.

Tonks seemed to choke for a moment, staring very obviously at his cock and going red in the face. “I don’t... um, I don’t... think Hermione would do that,” she squeaked.

Harry decided it was time to give Tonks a dose of her own medicine. He bent over to grab his towel, deliberately giving her a long look at his arse. He heard an involuntary squeak from her and grinned widely. Her reaction was turning him on. He kept his back to her as his erection grew to full size. “Sure she would,” he continued, “She’d go ahead and free them all at once, with no thought to the consequences.”

He turned back round to face her, and his massive erection came into view. Tonks screamed, and then slapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes had grown to the size of saucers and were locked on his throbbing penis. Harry behaved like there was nothing special going on, just like Tonks did when she was toying with him.

“Is something wrong, Tonks?” he said with a straight face.

“No, no everything’s fine,” she squeaked. Harry walked over to her. Her eyes followed his dick the entire way. “Glad to hear it,” he said as he wrapped his arms round her and pulled her into a tight hug. His erect penis pressed hard into her stomach. She jerked and made and “Eep” noise.

Harry chuckled. Tonks was so funny sometimes. He let her go and sat on the end of his bed, with his cock standing proud like a flag pole. Tonks was still eyeing it, with a look of shocked fascination. Harry was enjoying her admiration immensely. “No, there’s no way I can tell Hermione now. I’d need to keep a close eye on her and there’s too much going on.”

“Perhaps...” she murmured, “Perhaps you could tell me instead then?”

Harry considered that for a moment. That actually wasn’t a bad idea. He knew Tonks could be trusted not to tell anyone, and not to do anything crazy. He was about to say so when there were two loud thumps somewhere downstairs.

Tonks looked around in alarm, “Actually, never mind. Forget I mentioned it. I better go see what that noise was.” She practically ran from the room.

A few seconds later she came back, frowning. “That was very weird.”

“What was?”

“The toilet was locked so I had to go downstairs. When I came out Ginny cornered me to talk about fashion!”

Harry was confused. “Huh?”

“Exactly! Very odd – since when does Ginny talk about fashion?

“What was the banging noise?”

“That was odd too! As I left she stamped twice on the floor, really hard. She said she had a cramp.”

Harry didn’t know what to make of that, so he asked, “Do you still want to know about the elves?”

Now Tonks looked confused, “What?”

“The elves. I think you’re right – it would be a good idea to tell you.”

“Harry, what on earth are you talking about?”

“The elves! You just asked me about them... literally ten seconds ago.”

“Harry I was downstairs ten seconds ago.”

“Well, fifteen seconds then. Whatever.”

Tonks stared at him. “I was downstairs fifteen seconds ago too.”

An angry frown spread across her face. “Harry, after I left to go to the loo, how long was I gone?”

Now Harry was confused again, “You came straight back.”

Tonks pursed her lips and started pacing the room furiously. “I don’t believe this! That sly little minx!” She whirled on Harry, “Tell me exactly what happened from the moment I left to go to the toilet.”

“Tonks, what’s going on? Why are you being so weird?”

“Just indulge me Harry. All will become clear. I threw your wand to you and left the room... then what?”

“You came back almost immediately and told me I should tell Hermione how to free the elves. I said I didn’t think that was a good idea, so you said maybe I should tell you instead, which I think is a good idea, but there was a thump downstairs so you went to investigate.”

Tonks shook her head, “Unbelievable! Fucking unbelievable!

“What’s unbelievable?”

“Harry, that wasn’t me! I was downstairs the entire time, talking to Ginny.”

“But... but it was you! Unless...” Harry’s eyes went wide. He grabbed a towel and covered his genitals. He felt sick with mortification.

“It’s a bit late now, Harry, the imposter is gone. Okay, tell me the story again... but this time tell me how you ended up naked and what she did about it.”

Harry started from the beginning, and included every detail he could think of. Tonks listened very carefully, pacing back and forth in front of him. When he was done she summarised, “So basically, as soon as I was out of the room, someone... almost certainly Hermione... came in here polyjuiced as me to find out how to free the elves. Thinking she was me you undressed openly, as we do. Instead of looking away, she stared at you the entire time. Is that about right?”

Harry nodded miserably, pulling his pyjamas back on.

Tonks started pacing again, “Oh that little slut! She’s going to pay for this. Let’s see how she likes ten days in the cells!”

Harry balked, “No Tonks! Please don’t do that. I’m sure Hermione didn’t mean to embarrass me. It’s my fault for undressing. Just... just let it go, okay?”

“No I will not let it go! As soon as you started to undress she should have left, or at least turned her back! But no, she got a good eyeful, and kept on looking! You’re mortified, I can tell. This is just the sort of thing I was talking about Harry. You don’t seem to think that you deserve justice. You think it’s okay for people to treat you like crap and go unpunished. Well it’s not! That little strumpet is going to pay.”

Tonks stormed to the door and threw it open. “Come on Harry! And bring your wand dammit!” With Harry in tow, trying to persuade her to drop the whole thing, she stomped down the stairs and thumped loudly on Ginny’s door. “Hermione Granger, get your ass out here!”

Frantic whispering was followed by Ginny shouting, “She’s not well. Come back later.”

“Don’t give me that crap!” shouted Tonks, “You have ten seconds to open this door before I blast it into matchsticks.”

Nine seconds later, Ginny opened the door a crack, “What’s the problem Tonks?”

Tonks shoved the door open, sending Ginny flying. “The problem,” she said, approaching the person-size lump hiding under Hermione’s blankets, “is this!” She yanked the covers off to reveal... another Tonks in a Gryffindor t-shirt curled up on the bed.

Harry gasped, “No! Hermione? Hermione, how could you?

Hermione scrambled up, “I’m sorry, Harry! I didn’t mean to! I just... I just wanted to help the elves!”

“Help yourself to an eyeful of Harry, you mean,” accused Tonks.

“It wasn’t my fault he got undressed!” insisted Hermione, while Ginny’s mouth dropped open.

“Maybe not, but it was your fault you kept on looking! Didn’t leave, do you? Didn’t turn around or look out the window. No, you got a good long look didn’t you? Never took your eyes off him, from what I hear. I bet you memorised every little detail to enjoy later in the shower, didn’t you, you little trollop!”

Hermione was aghast, “No! It wasn’t... I didn’t mean...”

“Well, what you meant is irrelevant isn’t it? The fact is that you looked. You know that Harry’s mine, but you looked anyway. That’s bad enough, but do you know what else you did? You used polyjuice to impersonate an Auror.”

Hermione’s eyes went suddenly wide in alarm.

“Didn’t think of that, did you?” Tonks grinned evilly, “How very unfortunate. Do you know what the penalty is for that?”

Hermione shook her head in terror.

Tonks leaned forward, until she was inches from Hermione’s face, “Two years in Azkaban.

Hermione’s hands went to her mouth and she staggered backwards until she hit the wall.

Ginny was appalled, “You can’t throw Hermione into Azkaban!”

Tonks rounded on her, “Oh really? Sadly for you, the law says I can.”

Harry intervened, “Tonks, no. Hermione doesn’t deserve Azkaban for this. She doesn’t deserve anything. It was an accident. Let’s just go, okay?”

“Harry, if you blushed any brighter you’d be glowing in the dark. You deserve justice and I’m going to make sure you get it.” She turned back to Hermione. “I’m willing to overlook you impersonating and Auror if you’re willing to compensate Harry for the embarrassment you’ve caused.”

“What... what does that mean? Compensate how?”

“Well, I would have thought that was obvious,” replied Tonks, “you had a good long look at Harry naked, so Harry should get a good long look at you naked.”

WHAT!?!?” shrieked Hermione and Ginny at the same time.

Chapter 15: The Three Grangers

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Tonks shrugged, “It’s up to you Hermione – either you do a striptease for Harry, or you go to Azkaban – your choice.”

That’s outrageous!” Hermione screeched indignantly, “I am not going to do a striptease!”

Tonks laughed, “Well of course not! Not right now, when you’re in my body. You’re going to strip when you’re back in your own body.” She started wandering round the room, picking up Hermione’s stuff and looking at it, “We can wait, can’t we Harry? Ooo, this is a nice picture frame, where did you get this?”

“Put that down! I am not going to strip and that’s final!”

“Oh, so you choose Azkaban then?” asked Tonks, picking up a jewellery box and looking inside. “You won’t need these earrings in Azkaban, can I have them?”

Hermione leapt across the room and grabbed the box from her hand, “No! Leave my stuff alone!”

Oh I’m sorry,” replied Tonks sarcastically, “am I invading your privacy? Not very nice when someone does that, is it?”

Harry stared at the whole spectacle in confusion. It was really weird watching two Tonks’s arguing with each other. He glanced at Ginny, who seemed to be thinking the same thing. It was hard to keep your mind focused on the fact that one of them was Hermione.

Tonks pulled open Hermione’s underwear drawer, “Oooo, nice!” She grabbed a pair of quite skimpy white knickers and held them up, spread between her hands, “Shall we get Hermione to wear these when she does her strip, Harry?”

Hermione howled and snatched them from her, “Get out!

Harry grabbed Tonks by the arm and dragged her towards the door, “Come on Tonks. I don’t want Hermione to strip for me. That wouldn’t be right. Come on, let’s just go.”

Tonks was manhandled out the door, but shouted over her shoulder, “This isn’t over missy! Harry deserves justice! Nobody messes with Harry anymore! You hear me? Nobody!

Once they were back in their room, Tonks collapsed onto the bed and guffawed. “Oh that was priceless! Hermione is without doubt my favourite person to tease. It’s just so rewarding to burst that haughty little bubble of hers.”

“You mean you weren’t serious down there?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Of course not!” Tonks snorted. “As if I’d send her to Azkaban!”

“About the stripping, I mean?” Harry clarified.

“Oh, well, I was serious about that, yeah. If mean if she’d agreed willingly, then sure I’d have let her. Why not? But I knew she wouldn’t and I’d never have forced her. Gave her a fright though, didn’t I?”

Tonks had a good long laugh, and then lay on her back giggling occasionally. Harry was grudgingly impressed. She’d really had him going there – he’d genuinely thought Tonks was serious.

“You know,” the pink-haired girl said eventually, “the one good thing to come out of this is that we now know that those two couldn’t plot their way out of a paper bag. Not a shred of cunning between them. No wonder they’re in Gryffindor. Anyway, that’s enough of that. I’m going to call Winky. I need to order some stuff. Do you want anything?”

“No I’m fine,” Harry replied.

“A whole new wardrobe, you say?”

“No I said I’m fine.”

“You don’t want to dress like a homeless person any more, you say?”

Harry glared at her, “I do not look like a homeless person.”

“That’s true,” she conceded, “because a homeless person would be too embarrassed to wear the shabby crap you wear.”

Harry scowled but she ignored him, “I’ll just get you a few things... Now why don’t you do some more Occlumency exercises? You look like you need it.”

Harry huffed, but he definitely needed to do something to take his mind off the fact that he’d done a striptease for Hermione.

So he sat on the floor trying to find his calm place while Tonks whispered her order to Winky, who was wearing a neat little black skirt and blouse with a matching black hat. Everyone was getting a new wardrobe, it seemed, and apparently being a house elf for the House of Potter-Black now meant wearing black. Harry had been expecting garish colours like Dobby wore, so the rather dour ensemble was a surprise. He wondered if Winky had chosen it herself in deference to her new family’s dark history, or perhaps Dobby was taking his supervisory responsibilities rather seriously...

Maybe an hour later, Harry had run though all his exercises three times and was very pleased with how it was going. He opened his eyes to find Tonks sitting facing him.

She smiled, “Wotcha Harry. Where’s your wand?”

Harry groaned. It was on the nightstand where he’d left it. Damn it! That habit was really hard to break.

Tonks shook her head sadly, “Harry, Harry, Harry. Not within reach is it? I think perhaps we need to start using negative reinforcement – every time you misplace your wand I’ll do something you won’t like... starting right now!”

Her wand whipped up in front of his chest, “Petrificus Totalus.”

Harry froze as stiff as a board.

Tonks reached behind her, and then held a bottle up in front of his eyes. “Do you know what this is Harry?”

He did but he couldn’t speak.

“It’s polyjuice potion,” Tonks replied to her own question, “which Winky just acquired for me.”

She reached behind her back again and brought out a hair brush.

“And this is Hermione’s hair brush, which I stole while I was snooping through her stuff. Now I know what you’re thinking. I’m a Metamorphmagus, why would I need polyjuice potion.” She pulled one of Hermione’s long brown hairs from the brush. “Well, there are two reasons. First I can only copy what I can see, so I can copy Hermione’s face, but I’ve never seen her naked so I can’t copy her body. Second, this isn’t for me, it’s for you.”

She carefully dropped the hair into the potion and watched it bubble. All at once the muddy-brown liquid inside turned a vivid blue with copper-coloured sparkles.

“Mmm... smells of strawberry and roses,” Tonks observed. “Interesting...”

She stood up and walked around behind him. “I know you’d never take this voluntarily, and I also want to teach you a lesson about forgetting your wand, so why not achieve two punishments with one potion, eh?”

Tonks gently tipped his rigidly cross-legged body backwards, poured the liquid down his throat, and massaged his neck until it went down. She pushed him back upright.

“Good boy! All done!”

She cancelled the binding curse and Harry collapsed onto the floor coughing and spluttering.

“Sorry about that Harry, but you’re too forgiving. Hermione needs to be punished and you’re too nice to do it. We need to make her think twice about messing with you.”

Harry writhed on the floor as the transformation took hold. He knew there was no point fighting it – the potion would run its course no matter what. At least it tasted better this time. Goyle’s potion had looked like bogies and had a distinct flavour of overcooked cabbage. Hermione’s was like sweetened strawberries. A minute later Harry looked down and found a very feminine set of arms sticking out of his pyjama top. He rushed to the mirror and sure enough, Hermione’s face was staring back at him. He had to grab his trousers to stop them falling off.

Tonks grinned, “Let’s have a look at you then.” Harry thought she meant for him to twirl, but no. She banished his pyjamas, leaving him stark naked in front of the mirror.

Harry gaped at Hermione’s naked reflection, and then whirled around, “Tonks!

Tonks laughed, “I know! She’s got quite the figure hasn’t she? Dunno why she hides it under all those frumpy clothes.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Well, you can’t even see it now you’ve turned away from the mirror. Honestly Harry, you must be the only teenage boy in the world who’d do that. Even Hermione didn’t do that and she’s practically a nun.” Tonks thought for a moment, “Actually, maybe that’s the problem – she’s sexually repressed. I bet she never even pets the kitty.”

“What does Crookshanks have to do with it?” Harry replied, mystified.

Tonks rolled her eyes, “I didn’t mean petting the actual kitty, you prat. Sheesh, you're as clueless as Hermione. I meant... you know... flicking the bean, butterin the muffin, beating the beaver, polishing the pearl, rubbin the nubbin...”

“Yes yes okay! I get it!” Harry interrupted, his cheeks heating in embarrassment.

Harry was finding the conversation very uncomfortable, and also didn’t know where to put his hands. He tried crossing his arms, but that just made him accidentally feel-up Hermione’s boobs. He put his hands on his hips, her hips... but that felt too intimate. He waved them about self-consciously, and then put them behind his head... but that just made his boobs lift up. Her boobs.

He looked down at them without thinking, “Gah!”

He’d just seen Hermione’s breasts! He looked away quickly.

Tonks guffawed, but Harry was too distracted to notice. He’d just realised he was naked from the waist-down too. He slapped both hands over Hermione’s private parts to cover them up, then realised he’d just put his hands on her pussy and squealed.

Tonks was rolling around on her bed, howling in laughter, “Oh Harry, you’re hilarious. Turn round if you don’t want me to see.”

Harry spun around and got another eye full of Hermione’s naked body in the mirror. With a yelp he jumped to the side and whirled to glare at Tonks, who was in even more hysterics.

She had tears running down her face and was clutching at her stomach, “Oh God stop, you’re killing me! I can’t breathe! My sides! Ow! Ow! I’m getting a stitch!”

Harry decided his hips were the safest place for his hands and he gave Tonks a very disapproving look, which sent her into another bout of hilarity.

“That’s it!” Tonks howled in delight. “That’s exactly the expression Hermione would pull!”

Harry gave up trying to scold Tonks and went to his trunk for some clothes. Naturally, everything was too big. He grabbed a t-shirt and turned around to find Tonks standing naked in front of him.

“Thanks Harry,” Tonks drawled, “I got a good look at Hermione’s body while you were leaping around like a lunatic. I’ve got her memorised now.”

Her features and her body began to change, and in a matter of seconds Harry found himself facing another naked Hermione. He froze in shock, staring at Hermione’s fabulously nude body. She was gorgeous! Absolutely gorgeous! Oh sweet Merlin, Harry groaned, what would his sordid fantasies be like now? A deeply depraved image formed in his head and he blushed furiously.

“I thought you couldn’t change any more?” he said, trying to avert his eyes.

“I can, it just takes a huge amount of effort,” she explained. “I’ll be tired later, but I think I can hold it long enough to punish that little trollop downstairs. I did a good job, don’t you think?”

Tonks waggled Hermione’s boobs at him. Oh God they looked amazing! Harry closed his eyes.

“Ah ah aaaah!” Tonks scolded. “No closing your eyes Harry. This is Hermione’s punishment.”

Harry steadfastly refused to open his eyes, but Tonks shoved him backwards. He fell onto the bed and Tonks leapt on top of him. His eyes opened by reflex but he immediately closed them again. Unfortunately the image of Hermione kneeling naked over him had burned itself into his retinas.

Tonks leant forwards and started brushing Hermione’s boobs across his face. “Open your eyes Harry!”

Oh God. Hermione’s boobs felt amazing! The super-soft skin of her breasts brushed across his cheek, followed by her even softer silky-smooth areolas. At their centre the firm bud of her nipple skimmed along his lips, pushing them apart. Sweet Merlin, he was kissing Hermione’s nipples! The urge to nibble them swept over him. He repressed it and groaned loudly.

“Oh you like that?” Tonks giggled. “Then keep your eyes shut and I’ll keep rubbing Hermione’s tits on your face.”

Harry’s eyes snapped open.

Tonks laughed, “Good grief Harry, you’re such a boy scout!”

Hermione’s boobs were still right in his face so he couldn’t avoid looking at them. They were smaller than Tonks’, and were more teardrop-shaped. Despite their smaller size, they weren’t as firm as Tonks’ so they bounced a lot more. Harry wasn’t at all against that – from where he was looking up at her, the bouncing made him imagine Hermione was riding up and down on his... Harry shook that image from his head, desperately hoping that his Occlumency practice had improved his ability to shield his thoughts.

“I got a really good look at Hermione’s ‘Lady Garden’ when you fell over,” Tonks told him with a grin. “It’s the one thing I couldn’t see earlier. Well, I’ve got it now, and let me tell you... it’s pretty fucking gorgeous. Seriously, this girl has got it going on down here. I’ve never really been a cooch connoisseur myself, but I’d make an exception for this one. It’s like the Mona Lisa of minge.”

Abruptly she pulled back, “That’s enough recon. It’s time to finish this.”

Harry got a very close-up view of Hermione’s pussy as Tonks clambered off him.

Tonks was right, it was glorious! Harry’s experience was rather limited, of course. In fact he’d only seen one other, but Hermione’s pussy was very different from Tonks’. Hermione had the same beautifully curved mound and slim legs, but a much more elaborate entrance. Most obvious was that her inner pussy lips were larger and swept outward in graceful curves to form two handy tags you could grasp onto to open her up. Harry almost laughed at how very Hermione it was to have a pussy designed for convenience. He could see that each of her labia was actually comprised of a convoluted set of velvety skin folds. At the top Hermione had a large hood covering a dome-shaped bud. Either side of her inner lips was another set of outer lips enclosing the whole of her pussy in an almond-shaped frame.  A light brown fuzz of well-groomed pubic hair lined her pussy and rose over her mound to form a neat triangle. Apart from the immaculately groomed pubic hair, her pussy was fabulously ornate – delightfully shapely and complex in a way that suggested that an intensely sexual person was hiding under Hermione’s carefully-controlled facade. Harry wondered how it would feel wrapped around his... Again he shook that image away. Hermione was his friend!

Somewhere far away, Tonks was speaking with Hermione’s voice, “What do you think, Harry? She’s rockin’ one sexy little snatch down there isn’t she? Who’d have guessed, eh? It’s always the quiet ones...”

Tonks started grabbing clothes from her wardrobe and throwing them at him, “Come on Harry, we need to complete the punishment before we get too distracted. Put those on. We won’t bother with knickers. They’ll just get ruined since we’re both sopping already. Seriously, Hermione’s cha cha gets wet at the drop of a hat.”

“Complete the punishment?” Harry repeated, blushing furiously and desperately wishing he hadn’t heard that last bit. “I’ve seen Hermione’s body now. Isn’t that enough?”

“No it’s not,” Tonks replied firmly. “It’s not a punishment if Hermione doesn’t know about it. And anyway there’s one other thing we need to address.”

“There is?” Harry wondered.

“Yes. Hermione saw how big you are Harry. That’s a very personal thing. We need to do something about that.”

“How big...? Oh you mean... I don’t think we need to... and anyway how would you...”

“Just leave it to me Harry.”

She passed him a fitted t-shirt that he could only just squeeze into. It showed the shape of Hermione’s boobs quite clearly, especially since his nipples had become rock hard nubs for some reason. The skirt was extremely short and tight. Harry felt around the back and sure enough, Hermione’s butt cheeks were hanging out. Harry felt both exposed and turned on by his lack of underwear, and the fact that he’d just felt up Hermione’s bum didn’t help. He looked at his reflection in the mirror. A very slutty-looking Hermione stared back at him. Tonks put on a loose white shirt, but left three buttons undone so most of her breasts were showing. When she leaned over to step into her skirt, her entire chest was on show. The skirt was thigh-length with lots of pleats. The two together made her look like a slutty St Trinian’s girl.

“Right, come on Harry, let’s go.” Tonks poked her head out the door and listened for movement. Hearing nothing, she trotted barefoot along the corridor and down the stairs. Harry hesitated for a moment, but then followed. He didn’t want to find out what Tonks might get up to without him there to curb her excesses.

Once Harry had caught up, Tonks knocked on Ginny’s door. Ginny opened it a crack and yelped.

“Hello Ginny,” Tonks said in Hermione’s voice. “Could we come in for a moment?”

Numbly, Ginny opened the door. Hermione (once again in her own body) looked up as they entered, and screamed. She leapt from the bed and slammed the door shut behind them.

Oh my God! Please tell me nobody saw you looking like that!

Tonks chuckled, “Relax Hermione, nobody saw. Well, except Harry here. He’s seen everything, haven’t you Harry?”

All the blood drained from Hermione’s face.

“Now, just so we’re clear,” Tonks said, as she undid the buttons on her shirt, “Harry here had no say in the matter.”

She removed the shirt and dropped it on the ground, leaving herself topless. Before Hermione could even react to the fact that Tonks was flashing her breasts at Harry, Tonks dropped her skirt to the floor. She was now totally naked. In Hermione’s body!

Hermione screeched and leapt forward to try to cover Tonks up, but came to an abrupt halt at the end of Tonks’ wand.

“Ah ah aaaah! Don’t spoil everyone’s fun Hermione. I think Harry deserves a good look, like you did with him, don’t you? Back away now. That’s it. Go sit on the bed; you too, Ginny.”

Once the girls were seated, Tonks said “Accio wands!

Two wands sailed into her hand from opposite sides of the room. She put them on the dresser behind her, and then did a little twirl to give Harry a good look at Hermione’s naked body.

“What do you think Harry? Is Hermione gorgeous or what? Check out these breasts!”

Tonks wiggled her shoulders, making Hermione’s boobs fly around wildly.

Hermione whimpered. Her horrified look kept flicking from the naked version of herself to Harry’s clothed version and back again. A look of pure mortification spread across her face. Harry was seeing absolutely everything!

“So, as I was saying,” Tonks continued, “I put Harry in a body bind and forced the polyjuice down his throat. Harry’s much too nice to do something like this voluntarily. But I’m not. So, here we are! And as you can all see, Hermione has a rocking body. She should show it off more! Wouldn’t you agree, Harry?”

Harry wasn’t sure how to answer that without getting himself into trouble, so he said nothing.

“Oh he’s gone all shy. I think he’s a bit overwhelmed at having boobs and a pussy. He’ll get used to it. He’s going to be like this for an hour after all. He’ll know Hermione’s body like the back of his hand by the end of it.”

Hermione whimpered again, “Oh God.”

“I must say, I’m absolutely loving your arse Hermione. What do you think Harry? Would you ever tire of spanking it?”

Tonks turned round and slapped herself on the bum to illustrate. She grinned at Hermione’s appalled expression.

“Oh look, Hermione has a beauty spot on her right butt cheek!” Tonks twisted and pointed to show them all. “And there’s another one just here,” she lifted her leg to show her inner thigh and indicated a point just a few inches from Hermione’s pussy... the same pussy that she was now displaying to the whole room.

“Nice job keeping it so well trimmed down there by the way,” Tonks continued sweetly. “Very neat.”

Hermione looked like she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole.

“Oh, and congrats on still having the v-card,” Tonks added.

Hermione’s cheeks went bright scarlet.

Harry frowned. From what Tonks had said, she could only copy what she could see, so how could she possibly know that Hermione was still a virgin? Once she'd seen a body part could she copy it inside and out? Or had that been a guess, based on knowing Hermione... which Hermione had unwittingly confirmed?

“The first time should be special”, Tonks advised. “Wait for someone nice like Harry. He’d be very gentle. He might be a bit big for you though. You’re quite small on the inside aren’t you?”

Hermione slapped her hands over her mouth in horror. Harry stared at Tonks. Had that been another guess? It had clearly hit home, but she couldn't possibly know that unless she was reproducing Hermione inside too. Also, hadn't she said something about Hermione's cha cha getting wet at the drop of a hat? She must be able to copy everything then, including all the ‘plumbing’. Harry glanced at Ginny. For some reason she was giving him a very odd look. Was it the comment about him being quite big, he wondered self-consciously?

Tonks grinned, “Right, I just have a couple of security checks to perform then we’ll leave you girls to enjoy your evening.” She twirled her wand, “Accio Tonks’ hair.” A small white envelope flew from the dresser into Tonks’ hand. “From the shower, I presume?”

Hermione nodded, staring at the floor in mortified defeat.

“I guess I’ll need to be more careful in future.” She twirled her wand again, “Accio Harry’s hair.” Nothing happened.

Accio polyjuice.” Nothing happened.

“Ok, good. If I catch you two making or buying polyjuice in future you’ll spend a week in the cells.”

Tonks’ expression turned suddenly serious, “Now you two may be thinking that this punishment exceeds your crime, and that you should seek some payback for it. I would strongly advise you against it. Firstly because I have some of Ginny’s hair too so I can turn Harry into either one of you whenever I like. Or I can turn myself into either one of you. You do not want to know what I might do with that. Secondly I will throw you in the cells if you try literally anything.”

Tonks grabbed her shirt off the floor, giving Harry a fantastic view of Hermione’s arse and making Hermione groan. She buttoned it up, and then pulled on her skirt. Bizarrely, Harry found the sight of naked Hermione getting dressed just as erotic as her getting undressed.

“One other thing” Tonks added. “Do not mention our little polyjuice war to anyone, unless you want to give Ron ideas,” the girls both blanched at that, “and spend two years in Azkaban.”

Tonks became suddenly menacing, “Seriously, this was embarrassing for you Hermione, but that’s all. If you take it further, the gloves will come off.”

Harry’s eyes went wide. If this was what Tonks did when the gloves were on...

Judging by their expressions, Hermione and Ginny seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Tonks eyed the girls’ terrified faces, and nodded, “Okay, I think we understand each other. Good night, ladies.”

As she passed Hermione, Harry heard her lean over and whisper, “Don’t waste your cherry on a douche-bag like Ron. He’ll never make you orgasm like you should. See Harry and me instead. We’ll treat you right.”

Hermione froze in shock.

“Come on Harry,” Tonks continued cheerily. “Let’s go have some fun with Hermione’s body. She’s super-sensitive just about everywhere, it’s awesome! I want to see if you can make her orgasm just by kissing her tits. Then you can go down on her. I should warn you though – she’s already so wet down there that you might need a snorkel...”

Hermione’s eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted dead away, landing unconscious on the bed.

Tonks peered down at her, “Huh. I guess we’re done.”

Harry and Tonks snuck out and managed to get back to their room without being spotted. Harry was tremendously grateful for that, because there was absolutely no way to explain what they were up to. It did make him wonder though – how come they always bumped into someone when they came out of the shower? Was Tonks deliberately timing their exit to wind up the others?

“I think that went well,” Tonks grinned, as she locked and silenced the door. She morphed back into herself and began changing into pyjamas. “I doubt they’ll mess with you again anytime soon.”

“You don’t want to play with Hermione’s body?” Harry asked in relief, because he wasn't sure how he'd feel about that.

“Nah,” Tonks replied. “Tempting though that would be... we probably shouldn’t. I think we took it far enough. Feel free to fondle the one you’re in though. I won’t tell.” She winked.

Harry cringed and shook his head, “Feel myself up? No thanks. And it wouldn’t be right.”

Tonks shrugged, “Suit yourself... Saint Harry.”

Harry scowled but didn’t reply. He certainly wasn’t a saint. He stripped the t-shirt and skirt off, and caught sight of Hermione’s body in the mirror. She really did have a great figure, he observed covertly. Fabulous legs, amazing boobs, awesome bum, lovely hips, and her um... Lady Garden was really special...

Behind him Tonks chuckled, “Not entirely saintly it seems...”

Harry jumped guiltily.

Tonks snorted, “Don’t worry Harry – there's no harm in admiring something beautiful.”

“Erm... well anyway...” he muttered, desperate to change the subject, “you’re right, teasing Hermione is super fun.”

“Isn’t it though?” Tonks agreed. “It’s like she’s got ‘please tease me’ written on her forehead.” Tonks tipped her head to one side in thought. “You know what? Hermione’s got that whole ‘respect for authority’ thing going on... so I bet she’s a closet sub.”

Harry was baffled, “What’s a sub?”

Oh Harry,” Tonks laughed, patting him on the cheek, “You’re so sweet. I could cry for you.”

Later, as Harry drifted off to sleep, he thought back over the events of the day. There was a lot to take in, that was for sure. He certainly hadn’t objected to all the nudity. That was awesome. There was one thing that puzzled him though. When Tonks was shouting at Hermione she’d said, ‘You know Harry’s mine’. Harry wondered what Tonks had meant by that.

Harry was hers to protect, presumably?

Notes:

In Chapter 4 of Deathly Hallows (“The Seven Potters”), Hermione and Fleur take polyjuice potion to turn into Harry. One has to wonder what they were thinking when they suddenly had Harry’s body... and hence Harry’s dangly bits? Hermione commented on his poor eyesight, but surely that wasn’t the only thing on her mind? :-O

Chapter 16: Sweet Sixteen

Notes:

Harry's 16th birthday has arrived in Chapter 16! Because I'm just that damned good! 😂

Okay I admit that it was pure coincidence.

Chapter Text

At breakfast the next day, Hermione refused to look anyone in the eye. Mrs Weasley bustled around filling their plates, oblivious to the slightly tense atmosphere. Soon Mr Weasley, Bill and Fleur all left for work leaving Harry alone with the girls. Ron was having his customary lie-in.

Tonks spoke up brightly, “Morning Hermione, how are you today?”

Hermione mumbled without looking up, “Fine thank you.”

“Jolly good,” replied Tonks.

Silence reigned for several minutes as everyone focused on their food.

Just as Hermione seemed to be relaxing a bit Tonks spoke again, “Sweet dreams, I hope?”

Hermione blushed furiously and looked away. So did Ginny. Tonks smirked and continued buttering her toast innocently.

The rest of the meal passed in awkward silence.

“What that was about?” Harry asked on the way back up to their room.

“Just a stab in the dark,” Tonks replied. “I was wondering if Hermione had any saucy dreams after all our fun yesterday. Apparently she did... and so did Ginny.”

- § -

The next ten days went by in a blur. Harry threw himself back into his Occlumency training. He was angry at himself for his poor performance under stress and was determined to do better. He and Tonks spent almost all day every day in their room, or outside training. Tonks had delighted Winky with a truly gargantuan clothes order, and was now changing into several new outfits each day. Her repertoire seemed to have broadened immensely, and now encompassed lots of different styles. She looked incredible in everything she wore. Even better, Harry got a private viewing every time. Several times a day, she’d strip naked and try on different outfits until she was happy with her selection. Harry had never had so many boners in his entire life.

Fleur absolutely loved Tonks’ new clothes. She’d often spend an entire meal talking to Tonks about fashion and designers. Tonks knew nothing about any of that of course, but she had a real eye for how to construct an outfit.

The way Tonks had dressed in the past, Harry never would have thought she’d be interested in fashion, but now that he thought about it he realised his mistake. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about fashion... it was that she’d chosen one specific look and stuck to it – the tough girl look. Everything she wore was a variation on that style, but it had been carefully selected to send a clear message – that she wasn’t someone to mess with. It was a defence mechanism, and although it hadn’t worked very well she probably thought it was better than nothing. Apparently Tonks no longer felt the need for such ‘armour’ and was embracing her new-found fashion freedom. Harry wondered if her new body had affected her more than just superficially and she was somehow re-living her teenage years?

In response to Tonks’ new look, Fleur had also upped her game. Harry suspected she’d been dressing more conservatively to keep Ron under control, but now that Tonks was out-shining her she’d abandoned that policy. She began wearing much more flattering and sexy clothes, and looked truly spectacular. Ron was reduced to a drooling idiot on more than one occasion.

Bizarrely, Hermione seemed to give up entirely, image-wise, and became more scruffy and bushy-haired every day.

Harry himself was also subjected to a fashion make-over, much against his will. Tonks’ offer to ‘order him a few things’ turned out to mean more clothes than Harry had ever seen in one place. Shortly after Winky delivered Harry’s new clothes his old ones mysteriously vanished, leaving him no choice about what to wear. Harry was so accustomed to wearing Dudley’s old cast-offs that he didn’t even notice how baggy and scruffy they were. But he did reluctantly admit that he looked much smarter now, and he caught the girls shooting him appraising glances when they thought he wasn’t looking.

Not everyone was happy though.

Ron had a huge row with Harry for suddenly ‘flaunting his wealth’ and ‘dressing like a ponce’, while Ginny grumbled that sharing a house with Tonks and Fleur was ‘like living on a bloody catwalk’. Mrs Weasley bemoaned the disappearance of Tonks’ ‘nice girl’ ensemble, and expressed disapproval bordering on outrage at some of the short skirts and low-cut tops that Tonks and Fleur now wore.

Bill seemed to approve whole-heartedly of his fiancée’s sexier look though, and they frequently ‘retired early’ for the night. That caused more grumbling from Ginny, who complained that Bill kept forgetting to put up privacy charms and they could ‘hear stuff’ when they were chatting in Ron’s room. Ginny referred to Fleur as ‘the squealer’ when Mrs Weasley was out of earshot.

Ron rarely spoke at dinner since he was too busy ogling Fleur and Tonks. Quite often he’d completely zone-out during a meal, with his fork half way to his mouth, and a gormless look on his face. Much to Ginny’s disgust, he’d taken to having long showers in the evening as well as the morning. Hearing Fleur’s squealing orgasms every night clearly wasn’t helping Ron deal with his issues.

The only person who was unaffected was Mr Weasley, who was his usual jovial self and gave the impression that he was thoroughly oblivious to everything. Harry had his doubts – there was no way Mr Weasley could be unaware of what was going on, but by pretending not to notice he kept himself out of the firing line. Any other reaction would have made him the target of someone’s ire, so it was actually a very shrewd move. Mr Weasley was a lot smarter than he made out.

Harry hadn’t heard back from Scrimgeour, but the Daily Prophet was full of disappearances, odd accidents, and mysterious deaths. Voldemort and his followers were clearly up to no good. Harry reflected grimly that such news should help them push through some of the more extreme measures he’d suggested. It was a small consolation, but at least it was something.

He was much happier with the way his Defence skills were progressing... until Tonks burst his bubble and said he now fought like a fourteen-year-old girl.

- § -

Finally, Harry’s sixteenth birthday arrived. He woke to find Tonks kneeling over him in a very skimpy set of pyjama shorts and a tiny top that revealed about six inches of stomach.

“Happy Birthday Harry!” she beamed, then leaned forwards and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

They hadn’t kissed since their first shower together and Harry had forgotten how wonderful her lips felt. Tonks started to pull away, but Harry didn’t want it to end so he grabbed her and pulled down her on top of him. She squealed through their joined lips, and struggled briefly, but then relaxed and kissed him eagerly.

There was something about having her weight on top of him that Harry found enormously erotic.

Eventually he loosened his grip and allowed the kiss to end. Tonks pulled back and slapped him on the shoulder. “Unhand me you brute!” Harry laughed and released his arms. Tonks scrambled from the bed, “You’re a very naughty boy!”

Harry put his hands behind his head and grinned, “Already this is the best birthday ever.”

Tonks pretended to be unhappy with him for a few more seconds, and then grinned. “Okay, you’re forgiven. Come on, we’re late. Everyone will be waiting.”

Sure enough, the whole house was already gathered for breakfast. “Happy Birthday!” they all shouted as Harry entered.

Well, almost everyone. Ron had a mouth full of food, so he just grunted. Harry was happy to see that Hermione had joined-in despite their recent disagreements, and was giving him a genuine smile. Harry went to take his seat, revealing Tonks behind him in her tiny nightwear. Mrs Weasley scowled in disapproval but visibly restrained herself from commenting.

Mr Weasley, Bill and Fleur would be heading to work soon, so they gave Harry his presents first. Hermione and Ginny went next. The present from Hermione was neatly wrapped as always, with a tag that said:

To Harry,
Happy Birthday,
Love from Hermione. x

Squeezed underneath, in much smaller letters so it would fit, she’d added ‘and Ron’. Harry raised an eyebrow at her. Ron had clearly either forgotten to buy a present or couldn’t be bothered, and Hermione was trying to cover for him. She blushed and looked down at the floor. Hagrid and Dobby had sent presents though, which cheered Harry up.

Everyone’s gifts were the usual mix of Quidditch-related stuff, study-related stuff, or sweets... except for Dobby who’d made him another pair of brightly coloured socks. (It seemed that Dobby shared Dumbledore’s view that you could never have too many socks.) Harry was more than happy with his selection of presents – it was nice to receive anything at all really. The Dursleys had clearly forgotten again, since they sent nothing. Harry thanked everyone with genuine gratitude.

Tonks gave him her present last. Harry wasn’t actually expecting anything from her – he’d thought her kiss this morning was his present. It was a small cube wrapped in gold paper. He unwrapped it to find a black leather box inside with a hinged lid. Lifting the top revealed a classic and expensive-looking gold wrist watch. Harry removed it and admired the stylish design. This would go perfectly with his new look! Engraved on the back he found an inscription:

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

“It belonged to Charlus Potter,” Tonks explained. “I think he was your Great Great Grand Uncle. Most likely he was given this watch by his father, your Great Great Great Grandfather. Charlus married Dorea Black, who was actually my Great Grand Aunt. They had a son, but he died childless when he was quite young. Charlus Potter died before Dorea, so his estate fell to her, and her estate was absorbed into the Black family estate when she passed away. I asked Kreacher to see if there was anything left in the Black Family vault, and he found this watch.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. Apart from the Invisibility Cloak, he’d never held anything that belonged to an ancestor. A massive lump grew in his throat and threatened to choke him.

“I... I...”

His voice broke and he simply grabbed Tonks in a fierce hug.

Along with the photo album that Hagrid had given him years ago, it was quite simply the best present he’d ever received. There were no words to express his gratitude. Eventually Harry became conscious that everyone was staring at him, so he sniffed and pulled away, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

“Thank you Tonks. Would you... Would you thank Kreacher for me?”

Tonks smiled and nodded, “Of course.”

Harry looked round the table, “Sorry everyone – I didn’t mean to lose it there.”

Most of them were smiling at him, except Hermione who was wiping tears from her eyes, Ron who looked indifferent, and Mrs Weasley who seemed rather annoyed.

“It’s traditional,” said Mrs Weasley waspishly, “to give a watch when a wizard comes of age.”

Tonks grinned at her sweetly, “Yes I know.”

With a huff Mrs Weasley began serving breakfast.

“So,” Ron asked Tonks pointedly, while chewing his food, “does that mean you and Harry are cousins?”

Harry choked on his toast and had to thump himself on the chest. Cousins! Oh my God! He’d kissed his cousin! On the lips!

A massive smirk spread across Ginny’s face and she turned towards Tonks with a distinct air of triumph.

Tonks paled, “Erm... yes I suppose so... but well... everyone’s related in the Wizarding World aren’t they?”

Even she didn’t sound convinced by that argument.

“They’re third cousins once removed,” Hermione stated without looking up, “but they’re not consanguineous.”

“They’re not con-what-now?” Ron replied, inadvertently spitting food in Hermione’s face.

Hermione recoiled and wrinkled her nose in disgust, but Ron was already busy shovelling an entire fried egg into his gaping maw so he didn’t notice.

“Consanguineous,” Hermione repeated, wiping her face with a napkin. “They don’t share any blood relatives. They’re only related by marriage.”

Tonks beamed and wiggled her eyebrows at Harry, “Is that what people mean by ‘kissing cousins’ then?”

Hermione shook her head, “No that’s just a cousin you know well enough to greet with a kiss on the cheek. But some people do mistakenly use the term that way. Of course marrying a cousin isn’t actually illegal in most of Europe. The Royal Families do it all the time.”

“And half the purebloods...” Bill added.

Tonks nudged Harry in the ribs, “What’s up Cuz? Got something you’d like to confess?”

He jumped guiltily and flashed Tonks a betrayed look. Kissing cousins? They were more like snogging cousins after what they’d done earlier.

His cheeks burned, “No! Absolutely not! I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Hermione gave him a piercing look, which he tried very hard to ignore.

“I’m pretty sure that Molly and I are cousins actually,” Mr Weasley offered helpfully.

Bill, Ron and Ginny all gaped at him.

Mrs Weasley was outraged, “We most certainly are not!

“I think we are dear,” her husband disagreed calmly. “Your Uncle Ignatius married Lucretia Black. My maternal Grandfather, Arcturus Black the Second was her Great Uncle so that means...”

“That’s not the same thing at all!” Mrs Weasley insisted, sparking a lively debate among the Weasleys about whether their parents were cousins, whether it should be illegal, and whether that accounted for Ron’s eating habits.

Harry was enormously grateful that the spotlight had moved away from him and Tonks, and maintained a very low profile while the redheads argued amongst themselves. After a good ten minutes he noticed that Mr Weasley had also made no further contribution. He was just calmly eating his breakfast, while chaos reigned all around him. When the wily patriarch noticed Harry looking his way, he checked that nobody was watching, and then winked at Harry conspiratorially. Harry goggled.

The debate only ended when a large official-looking owl landed on the window sill. Mrs Weasley opened the window and the owl flapped over to land on the back of Harry’s chair. Attached to its leg was a very official-looking envelope with Harry’s name on the front.

Mrs Weasley bustled over, “Don’t you worry about that, Harry dear. I’ll send it on to Dumbledore. He’ll take care of it.”

She reached for the letter, but pulled up short. Tonks’ wand was at her throat. Everyone froze.

“I’m going to have to ask you to step back, Molly. That letter bears the Ministry seal. If you interfere with it I will be forced to arrest you.”

Mrs Weasley gave Tonks a fierce glare that said she had no intention of backing down. Tonks’ expression hardened. She might have the appearance of a teenage girl with bright pink hair and tiny nightwear, but there was no mistaking the threat in her eyes.

“You have five seconds to comply, Madam. After that you’ll be spending the day in a Ministry holding cell. Five... Four...”

“Step back Molly,” ordered Mr Weasley, calmly. “Auror Tonks is correct. You mustn’t interfere with Ministry communications.”

“Three... Two...”

I SAID STEP BACK MOLLY! DO IT NOW!” Mr Weasley bellowed furiously, smashing his fist on the table.

Everyone jumped, except Tonks, whose unwavering wand followed the swiftly retreating Mrs Weasley.

There was a shocked silence. Nobody had ever heard Mr Weasley shout before.

“Thank you Mr Weasley,” Tonks said calmly. “I apologise for drawing my wand in your home. Rest assured that my report will reflect that you complied with my instructions and no legal action will be necessary.”

Mr Weasley nodded woodenly, “Thank you, Auror Tonks. If you would excuse me, I need a word with my wife.”

Mr Weasley rose from his chair and hissed at Mrs Weasley to follow him. They stepped out of the back door and walked half way down the garden, where Mr Weasley proceeded to go red in the face and scream at his wife for a solid five minutes.

While everyone was watching the drama outside, Harry grabbed the letter and broke the seal. Inside he read:

DEED OF EMANCIPATION

By order of the Minister for Magic
HARRY JAMES POTTER
is hereby declared legally EMANCIPATED.

As such, he is declared to be an ADULT in every respect,
with all the rights and responsibilities attached thereto.

Dated: This thirty first day of July, in the year nineteen hundred and ninety six.

Signed: Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic.

There followed lots of tiny legalise small-print, overlaid with the large and ornate official seal of the Ministry.

Harry’s expression clouded for a moment, but then he grinned and showed it to Tonks.

“Congratulations Cousin,” she whispered and kissed him on the cheek.

Harry scowled, “Please stop calling me that.”

Everyone else was still crowded around the windows watching Mr Weasley give Mrs Weasley an earful... except Hermione, who was looking at Harry and Tonks. She was clearly desperate to know what the Ministry letter was about, but she no longer had Harry’s confidence. Her eyes glistened as the reality of the situation hit home – she had been replaced. It was Tonks that Harry shared his secrets with now, not Hermione.

Harry abruptly rose from his chair, “I need to write to Dumbledore.”

He headed for the stairs. Tonks followed closely behind, levitating all his presents. Hermione’s shining eyes followed them silently as they left, clearly mystified as to what might be going on.

Back in his room, Harry quickly pondered what to write.

Dumbledore had said he would need to return to Privet Drive one more time, after which the Blood Wards (for want of a better term) would fall on his 17th birthday. The Headmaster hadn’t felt it necessary to explain why, but Harry strongly suspected it was something to do with becoming an adult. If so, he’d known that being declared legally emancipated might bring the date forward. But he couldn’t be sure, and the only person who might know was Dumbledore. Harry certainly wasn’t going to ask him, so he’d kept his suspicions to himself.

However, as soon as he read the Ministry letter he felt the change. It was incredibly subtle, and he probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been doing so much Occlumency recently, but it was definitely there. It felt like a tiny tug on his mind, almost imperceptible to his senses, had ceased. His connection to Number 4, whatever it was, had been severed.

Harry was exultant. He would never have to step foot inside that dreadful house again! Without the Blood Wards, it was neither necessary nor safe for Harry to go there. Even better, it was neither necessary nor safe for him to ever see the Dursleys again! He was free!

This was, without doubt, his best birthday ever!

Harry rapidly scribbled a letter to Dumbledore. It read simply:

Headmaster,
The Blood Wards have fallen at Number 4 Privet Drive. I felt it.
My relatives are exposed. If you care about their safety, you should move them.
I hope you are having a pleasant summer.
Best regards, Harry Potter.

Harry had chosen his words carefully. He’d given no indication that he knew what might have caused the wards to fail, but nor did he state that he didn’t. (Dumbledore’s slippery tricks with the truth were clearly starting to rub off on him.) He’d said that Dumbledore should move the Dursleys if he cared about their safety, implying that Harry himself wasn’t bothered either way. That would annoy the Headmaster, as would the flippant pleasantries at the end, but Harry couldn’t help himself – baiting the Headmaster was one of the few ways he could get back at the man who’d consigned him to that hell hole.

As he stood by the open window watching Hedwig disappear into the distance, Harry reflected on how much his life had changed in the last few weeks. His decision to hold Dumbledore accountable for Sirius’ death had changed so much already, and it was only just beginning. He was suddenly buzzing with excitement. Being emancipated was a vital first step, but the Press Conference tomorrow would be when things really started to change.

Until then, Dumbledore would probably have his hands full relocating the Dursleys... who certainly wouldn’t leave without a fight. Harry almost felt sorry for him. Of course when the Headmaster learned of Harry’s emancipation tomorrow he would know that Harry was responsible for the Wards falling, but Harry could simply claim ignorance that his emancipation would have that effect. Dumbledore had never explained the Wards to him, after all. How was Harry to know?

Harry snorted. Using Dumbledore’s secrecy against him felt deliciously fitting.

The question was... would Dumbledore still honour their agreement to make Harry the Head Boy? If he did, Harry’s victory would be all the more satisfying. If not, Dumbledore would lose Harry’s support. It was a lose-lose situation for the Headmaster, which made Harry smirk – after everything the old man had put him through, Harry was very much in the mood to make Dumbledore’s life difficult.

Scrimgeour had suggest they meet at 3pm to discuss tomorrow’s Press Conference, so Tonks spent the rest of the morning teaching Harry some more Auror duelling techniques and spells. By the end of it, she declared that he now fought like a fifteen-year-old girl.

At least he was making progress, Harry reflected.

The Weasley matriarch was nowhere to be seen at lunch time, so they made themselves sandwiches. They showered in plenty of time for their meeting and at 3pm they entered the kitchen to floo to the Minister’s office. Mrs Weasley was back preparing for Harry’s birthday dinner.

She studiously ignored Tonks but gave Harry a warm smile, “Harry dear how’s your birthday going?”

“Great, thank you Mrs Weasley, but the Minister has asked me to pop over to discuss the first Press Conference. Could we use the floo?”

The ginger woman practically glowed with vindictive satisfaction, “OOOOOOH, don’t you worry about that dear! Dumbledore said he’ll get you out of it. Why don’t you go play Quidditch with Ron? You’ve got plenty of time – your birthday party won’t start until six.”

Harry had been expecting this, but he was still taken aback, “We can’t use the floo?”

“No need dear, no need! Dumbledore will take care of everything. Off you go now!”

She practically shoved them out of the kitchen.

Tonks looked extremely cross, “Want me to hex her? Or maybe chuck her in a holding cell for the night?”

Harry laughed, “Tempting, but no. Let’s go back to our room and switch to plan B.”

Plan B was of course to get Dobby to take them to the Ministry Atrium. The elf could probably have taken them straight to Scrimgeour’s office, but Harry didn’t want to advertise that fact. Dobby wished Harry a Happy Birthday and Harry thanked him profusely for the socks, which he was actually wearing. Dobby was over the moon.

Scrimgeour raised an eyebrow when they were shown into his office rather than arrive via the floo.

“Happy Birthday Harry. Was there a problem?”

Harry shook his head, “Thank you Rufus, and no, nothing to worry about – just Dumbledore being Dumbledore. Anyway, thank you for the emancipation. Very much appreciated. You’ve come through for me and now it’s my turn. So, what’s the agenda for tomorrow?”

They spent just over an hour thrashing out the details. A few different ideas were discussed. In the end they decided to keep it relatively simple. This was their first Press Conference, so they just wanted to set the stage, as it were, and see how that went down with the Wizarding public. Harry also had the impression that Scrimgeour was worried that Harry wouldn’t actually deliver. So far, Harry had given him information and ideas, but this was the first real test of Harry’s commitment to their arrangement. Harry’s public support for the Ministry was what Scrimgeour had been after originally, and he was still very keen to achieve that. Anything else was probably icing on the cake.

Harry and Tonks arrived back at the Burrow in plenty of time for the party.

Tonks made Harry turn round while she changed, so he didn’t ‘spoil the surprise’.

When she said it was okay to turn round, he was indeed surprised. Tonks was wearing an incredibly pretty and flattering white summer dress. It was quite short – ending about mid-thigh, but was reasonably conservative up top. She wore a pink cardigan over it, which made her look super-cute. The most amazing thing though... was that she was wearing high heels. Harry wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a witch wearing high heels (apart from the Yule Ball in fourth year) but he certainly never imagined Tonks wearing them. As always, she looked utterly breathtaking.

A very naughty image leapt into his mind... of Tonks bent over with that dress pulled up, her knickers round her ankles and Harry taking her from behind. Harry flushed bright red and frantically screened his thoughts. God, he was so horny! All her sexy new clothes and daily stripteases were driving him crazy with lust, and he’d had no opportunity to take matters in hand (as it were). If he didn’t do something about it soon there was every possibility that his insanely full testicles might explode and kill everyone.

“You look amazing,” he managed to croak.

Tonks grinned and took his arm, “Thank you Harry.”

They wandered downstairs since it was just before six. Mrs Weasley had put on a huge spread of buffet food. Ron was already tucking in, while everyone else waited for Harry to arrive.

“Wow, Mrs Weasley, this looks amazing!” Harry gushed, earning him a delighted grin from Mrs Weasley as she handed out drinks. Once everyone had a glass Mr Weasley stepped forward.

He lifted his glass, “Happy Birthday Harry!”

The rest followed suit, toasting Harry, who smiled self-consciously in thanks.

Everyone looked very smart, he realised. Even Ron had made an effort, though Harry suspected he’d been bullied into it by someone. The women, in particular, looked amazing. Fleur was wearing a spectacular curve-hugging little black dress that showed off her legs and cleavage to great effect. Harry suspected she was wearing it more for Bill’s benefit than anyone else’s though – her fiancé couldn’t keep his hands off her. Hermione had chosen a royal-blue knee-length A-line dress with multi-coloured shoulder straps and royal-blue court shoes. She looked very pretty, and she’d managed to tame her hair into a very fetching set of waves, with a parting on the left. Ginny, meanwhile, had gone for a three-quarter-length pale gold smock dress with strappy sandals that matched her hair.

“Now let’s tuck in,” Mr Weasley advised, looking pointedly at Ron, “while there’s still some food left...”

“I was hungry!” Ron exclaimed, as if that explained everything.

Once everyone had enjoyed at least one trip to the buffet, Mrs Weasley brought out a huge chocolate cake with ‘Happy Birthday Harry’ and a large number sixteen iced on top. Harry made the first cut, to cheers and applause, and then Mrs Weasley took over, handing out generous slices to everyone.

Harry was half way through his slice when a surprise guest arrived – Remus Lupin. He was looking gaunt and grim, his brown hair streaked liberally with grey, his clothes more ragged and patched than ever. Tonks swore and tried to sink into the background.

Lupin wished Harry a brief happy birthday, and then spoiled the cheerful atmosphere with grisly tidings.

“There have been another couple of Dementor attacks,” he announced, as Mrs Weasley passed him a large slice of cake.

“And they’ve found Igor Karkaroff’s body in a shack up north. The Dark Mark had been set over it – well, frankly, I’m surprised he stayed alive for even a year after deserting the Death Eaters; Sirius’s brother Regulus only managed a few days as far as I can remember.”

“Yes, well,” said Mrs Weasley, frowning, “perhaps we should talk about something diff...”

“Did you hear about Florean Fortescue, Remus?” asked Bill, who was being plied with wine by Fleur.

“The man who ran...”

“... the ice-cream place in Diagon Alley?” Harry interrupted, with an unpleasant, hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach. “He used to give me free ice creams. What’s happened to him?”

“Dragged off, by the look of his place.”

“Why?” asked Ron, while Mrs Weasley glared at Bill.

“Who knows? He must’ve upset them somehow. He was a good man, Florean.”

“Talking of Diagon Alley,” said Mr Weasley, “looks like Ollivander’s gone too.”

“The wand-maker?” said Ginny, looking startled.

“That’s the one. Shop’s empty. No sign of a struggle. No one knows whether he left voluntarily or was kidnapped.”

“But wands – what’ll people do for wands?’”

“They’ll make do with other makers,” said Lupin. “But Ollivander was the best, and if the other side have got him it’s not so good for us.”

Harry stepped away from the morose group surrounding Remus. He didn’t really want to hear this sort of thing at his birthday party, but Lupin was intent on talking about it. Harry ended up chatting to Tonks, who seemed equally keen to avoid Lupin, and was hitting the Firewhisky pretty hard.

They were lost in conversation when Lupin’s voice interrupted them, “And who is this lovely young lady, Harry?”

Tonks glared at Lupin in disbelief, “It’s me you jackass! Tonks! You remember me? The girl you bored senseless on four lousy dates...”

Lupin was completely wrong-footed, “Nymphadora?

“Oh my God, you senile git, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”

“Why do you look like a teenager?”

“Well, you said I was too young for you, so I decided to embrace that.”

“Dora, that’s crazy...”

“I wasn’t serious, you plonker. I’m undercover, aren’t I? Guarding Harry! And don’t call me Dora. That’s what my Dad calls me. Despite appearances to the contrary, you are not my Dad.”

“What’s happened to you, Dor... Tonks? You look taller...” He eyed her up and down. “Are you wearing heels? You even smell different... you smell... younger.”

“Oh that’s lovely! I smell different! You’re a right charmer aren’t you? What the hell did I ever see in you?”

“You know what I mean – I have a more sensitive nose...”

“Oh who cares what you and your massive nose mean? Why are you here anyway? To spoil Harry’s party with your depressing news or to spoil my day with your ugly face?”

“You’re being rather immature, don’t you think?”

“Immature? I’ll show you immature, you patronizing bag of sh...” She lunged at Lupin, but Harry grabbed her round the waist and pulled her back. Tonks kept struggling to get at the older man, shouting obscenities, so Harry slapped his hand over her mouth. The obscenities continued, but were largely muffled.

“Would you excuse us for a moment?” Harry said calmly “I think Tonks needs a little air.”

Harry stepped out the back door, carrying a struggling Tonks as best he could. His hand was still covering her mouth but every now and again Tonks would struggle free to scream a few words back at Lupin.

“... maybe it’s you that’s shorter because your head is so far up your arse...”

“... you’ll smell different once I’ve kicked seven kinds of cra...”

“... I’d rather date a syphilitic troll than a mouldy old hermit like...”

“... you’re probably hung like a baby carrot anyway, unlike Har...”

Harry carried her out of earshot, and then walked her round the orchard a few times, which seemed to sober her up a bit.

When they returned to the house half an hour later, Lupin had gone, much to Harry's relief.

Tonks visibly relaxed and was soon having a wonderful time. Harry thoroughly enjoyed the party, especially when Tonks produced a gramophone from somewhere and encouraged everyone to start dancing. In Harry’s opinion there was only one thing more wonderful than beautiful women in posh frocks – beautiful women in posh frocks dancing. It really showed off their feminine curves.

The festivities gradually wound-down around midnight and everyone retired for the evening.

Once they were alone in their room, Tonks apologised, “I’m sorry about what happened earlier, Harry.”

Harry laughed, “Don’t worry, I thought it was hilarious. Lupin’s face! Anyway, he can be a bit stuffy sometimes.”

Tonks snorted, “You’re telling me! I really was bored senseless on our dates. But I’d fallen for him, you know? It didn’t seem to matter that he was really dull. Thank God it was only four dates. We never even kissed. I suppose I should be thankful for that.”

Harry’s expression became serious, “I thought about a lot of things after Sirius died. Do you know what I realised about Lupin? That it’s his fault that Voldemort is back. For all his grandiose posturing and sanctimonious advice, it was his incompetence that led to Voldemort’s return. If it weren’t for Lupin, we wouldn’t be in this mess! After I killed Quirrell in my first year, Voldemort’s shade fled back to Albania where it had spent the previous ten years. It would probably still be there now, except that Peter Pettigrew brought him back in my fourth year and helped him regain a body. The thing is... we captured Peter Pettigrew in my third year. We were moments from handing him over to the Aurors and clearing Sirius’ name... but he escaped because Lupin transformed into a werewolf and tried to kill us all. Pettigrew escaped in the confusion. Lupin had forgotten to take his Wolfsbane potion, you see. Forgotten!

“You’re kidding!” Tonks exclaimed. “He certainly never told me that!”

Harry scoffed, “You don’t say? Shocker! Yeah, he turned into a werewolf and tried very hard to kill Hermione and me. We’d be dead right now if Sirius, then Snape and then Buckbeak hadn’t saved us. Everything that’s happened since then can be traced back to that one moment. Every event and every death, including Cedric and Sirius... they’re all Lupin’s fault. So he’s right – he doesn’t deserve you. He’s never shown any remorse for his failure that night, which tells me that he can’t be relied on not to do it again. Being a werewolf doesn’t make him unsafe, being an arrogant and incompetent moron does.”

Harry was working himself up into quite a fury as more of Lupin’s shortcomings occurred to him.

“Another thing I realised is that he’s a selfish coward. He was supposedly one of my parents’ closest friends, but when they died he made no attempt to look after their baby son. He never visited me, or checked up on me, or sent me a birthday present. In fact, do you know how many birthday presents I’ve had off Lupin in my entire life? None! Not a single one. He didn’t bring one tonight either, did you notice? He just turned up, depressed everyone, ate cake, and ran away when things got tough.”

“He was a professor at Hogwarts for eight months before he told me he was a friend of my parents, and he only did that because I’d caught Sirius and the whole story came out. When Snape blabbed to the school that Lupin was a werewolf he didn’t even attempt to stay. He was packed and gone in minutes. Couldn’t get out of there fast enough! He talks a good game, but he’s a quitter. Given half a chance he’ll always run away.”

“But that’s not all. Do you know how many times he contacted me after he left? None! I was entered into the deadly Triwizard Tournament, faced challenges far beyond my abilities, and Lupin made no attempt to help me. None at all! He didn’t even contact me. He just disappeared from my life like he did when I was a baby. The next time I saw him was the day I met you.”

“He always has an excuse, of course. Usually something to do with being a werewolf, but they’re just excuses. Nothing about him being a werewolf would have prevented him from helping me in the Triwizard Tournament; even if it was just suggestions by owl. But no, he just left me to die. Fleeing Hogwarts the way he did was cowardice. Leaving you the way he did was cowardice. So you’re much better off without him, because he’d have abandoned you eventually... probably when you needed him the most, like he did with me... twice!”

Tonks grabbed Harry and hugged him tight, but Harry wasn’t quite done.

“You know what the worst thing is though,” Harry asked in a serious tone, “the thing that really turns my stomach?”

Tonks shook her head against his chest.

“It’s that stupid wispy moustache!” Harry declared forcefully. “I mean seriously! Ick!”

Tonks had not been expecting that at all. She burst out laughing.

“It’s like a furry little caterpillar stuck to his face,” Harry continued. “It’s impossible to take him seriously.”

Tonks was laughing really hard now.

“Someone should put that thing out of its misery,” Harry declared. “It’s animal cruelty, that is.”

Harry was all set to continue his fake rant, but Tonks reached up, put her arms round his neck and kissed him full on the lips. Harry froze. Oh God, he was kissing his cousin again!

He should stop.

Yes, he should definitely stop.

He didn’t stop.

Her lips just felt so amazing. Harry closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her.

A long time later, Tonks pulled back and looked him in the eye. “Thank you Harry. I needed a good laugh. Remus doesn’t mean anything to me anymore, but it’s still a bit raw, you know?”

Harry shrugged, “Sure, and you’re welcome.”

Her eyes glittered, “Now I have one more birthday present for you Harry...”

She stepped away and gave him a twirl. She really did look quite breathtaking in that summer dress and those heels. The skirt flew up as she turned, giving him a fabulous view of her toned thighs and a flash of lacy pink knickers. They matched her cardigan, he noticed. Why would she match something that nobody would see?

“Your final present,” Tonks declared, “is me!

“You?” Harry replied, startled.

“Yes me! You’re an adult now Harry, which means we can do whatever we want... and I want you to do me. I’ve seen the way you look at me Harry. I’ve seen how much you like this body. I see it every time I get undressed. I know it’s been torture for you, having constant erections and not being able to do anything about it. I’m sorry about that, Harry, but I couldn’t help myself. I love seeing how attracted you are to me, and I love the fact that you never did anything about it. You never even tried to talk me into anything, or hint at anything, or whinge or moan or any of the other things teenage boys usually do. You never touched me unless I touched you first. You always let me decide how far things should go. You’ve been a perfect gentleman the last two weeks and... quite frankly... it’s been really frustrating.”

That last bit startled Harry so much that he gawped like a fish.

Tonks snorted, “Nice expression Harry. The last few weeks have been just as bad for me as they have for you. The jackrabbit is my patronus for a reason you know – they’re well known for their extraordinary libido. You’re such an amazing guy, and you’ve got such a sexy body! Whenever I gave you an erection I got super horny. I’ve also been dreaming about that amazing orgasm you gave me every damned night. I’ve been waking up absolutely gagging for you to shag me. I’m wound up so tight I’m going to start humping the furniture soon.”

She poked him in the chest with her finger. “So don’t give me any trouble, Potter. I don’t care if you are my cousin. You are going to shag me tonight, and you are going to shag me hard. I’ve never been so horny in my entire life, and it’s entirely your fault, so you are going to fix it!”

Harry froze like a deer in headlights. Was she serious? She sounded serious...

Tonks giggled, “I think I broke Harry Potter!”

She grabbed him by the hand, “Come on, we’ll use your bed. I don’t want mine to smell of sex.”

Chapter 17: An Unexpected Present part I

Notes:

Warning: Extreme smut ahead... and even more in part II! :-D

Chapter Text

Tonks led him to the bed and indicated that he should lie down. She then crawled on top and sat straddling his waist looking down at him. The skirt of her summer dress settled around her, drawing Harry’s attention to the fact that only her thin lacy knickers separated her bare flesh from the growing bulge in his trousers.

“Did you silence the door?” he asked in concern.

Tonks laughed, “Chill out Harry. I always silence it... unless I deliberately don’t silence it to tease the girls. Fun though it would be for Ginny and Hermione to hear us having sex, I suspect Molly would take a dim view so it would be more trouble than it’s worth. Anyway, what we’re about to do is private.”

Harry relaxed a little. He was already nervous about what Tonks said was going to happen and the idea that anyone might be listening would make him even more self-conscious. Not that he entirely believed he was going to have sex with Tonks. Despite all the wonderful things that had happened in the last few weeks (like seeing her strip and admiring her amazing body) he still didn’t trust his good luck to hold. In fact, now he thought about it, Harry was rather surprised that Voldemort hadn’t launched an attack on the Burrow just to spoil his birthday.

“You know,” Tonks said softly, distracting him from his thoughts, “I’ve learnt a lot about you over the last few weeks. I’ve learnt that if we win this war it will be because of you. Not the Minister, not Dumbledore – you. You may only be sixteen, but you’ve had to deal with a lot more than most adults. I don’t think you realise how impressive you are when you get going. Scrimgeour was completely lost until you inspired him and gave him back his confidence. I hate to think what would have happened if you hadn’t done that. I don’t know anyone who could have spoken to Scrimgeour the way you did. You don’t seem to realise it, but everyone else is completely terrified of the man. He’s a right scary bastard actually... but you don’t even notice. I suppose that’s what happens when you face Voldemort every year... but my point is that in almost every respect you’re very mature for your age.”

Harry raised a cheeky eyebrow, “Almost?”

Tonks snorted, “Yes Harry, almost. When it comes to girls you’re completely hopeless.”

Harry winced, “Oh right. Yeah...”

“I mean seriously,” she huffed. “I’ve been stripping for you like ten times a day... Stripping Harry! Stark naked! And still you did nothing! What the hell does a girl have to do to get shagged around here?”

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

Harry was a little wrong-footed, “Erm... I thought you just liked changing clothes?”

“Don’t be daft Harry. Who changes clothes that often? No. I was trying to break your resolve. I thought you’d crack and give me a good seeing-to, but you never did!”

“Why didn’t you just say?” Harry countered, a bit narked that he hadn’t got to shag her earlier.

“Because you were underage of course! I couldn’t pounce on someone who was fifteen! But if you pounced on me... well that would be a whole different thing.”

Harry frowned, “Tonks that makes no sense at all.”

I know!” she whined in frustrated embarrassment. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I couldn’t help it. Also,” she added hesitantly, “I might have become slightly addicted to giving you erections...”

What?” Harry exclaimed. “Why?

“I don’t know,” she replied in agitation. “I just did. It was nice.”

Harry grinned, “Well I’m not complaining – you looked amazing... in clothes and out of them.”

Tonks gave him a shy smile, “Thanks Harry. Well anyway, like I said, you’re hopeless with girls. But in most other respects you’re very mature. You’re also the most generous, selfless and considerate person I’ve ever met. It doesn’t even occur to you to be any other way. You put everyone else first, and they let you do it. You have people who care about you of course... but when it comes to fighting your corner you don’t have a single person to back you up.”

Harry realised she was right. Given the choice between supporting Harry and doing what Dumbledore said, everyone he knew sided with Dumbledore. Even Hermione – she’d cut Harry off last summer, for example, when Dumbledore told everyone to keep Harry in the dark. Mrs Weasley was the worst – she seemed to think that keeping Harry permanently clueless would somehow shield him from harm. Apparently his many near-death experiences, and all the times he’d saved her children from death could not dissuade her from that view. The only person who’d actually been on Harry’s side was Sirius, and thanks to Dumbledore he was gone.

“Well you do now, okay?” Tonks continued. “I will fight your corner with you. When someone like Molly tries to bully you, they’ll have me to deal with. I’m your bodyguard and your friend. I won’t let anyone take advantage of you.”

She paused, “Well... except me, obviously.”

Tonks grinned and Harry grinned back. Being taken advantage of by a gorgeous girl wasn’t exactly a negative in Harry’s opinion.

“Now,” Tonks said in a more serious tone, “Let’s talk about sex. Since this is your first time I’ll give you a few pointers. Number one, sex is a marathon not a sprint. Girls need a while to get going, so take your time. Explore with your hands and your eyes first. Take your cues off the girl. She’ll signal when she’s ready for you to step things up a gear. It’s better to take things too slow than too fast. She’ll soon let you know if it’s too slow, probably by grabbing your knob. It can be quite tricky to bring a girl to orgasm, so your best bet is to make her orgasm first before you have one yourself. She will not be happy if you peak too soon and leave her hanging. Second, be super gentle with a girl’s clitoris. You’re not strumming a guitar down there. The lightest of touches is sufficient. It’ll get her there eventually, and the longer it takes the more powerful it’ll be. Are you with me so far?”

Harry nodded mutely. His brain had already blown several fuses.

“Okay good,” Tonks resumed. “Third, the secret to good sex is to always be a good host. That’s an acronym I made up: H-O-S-T. The letters stand for Hand-Oral-Sex-Toys. If you want a girl to have multiple orgasms... and you most certainly do want that... then you should give her one with your hand first, then your mouth, then your cock, and finally with sex toys. We don’t have any toys but the first three will do fine for tonight. Just remember that acronym and do things in that order. You can mix things up once you know what you’re doing, but it’s much harder to give a girl multiple orgasms in any other order so don’t try it yet. Any questions?”

Harry shook his head. If he was honest, he was now completely terrified. He’d never really thought about giving a girl multiple orgasms. He didn’t even know that was possible. He’d thought that having sex just meant sliding his dick in and out until he and the girl climaxed together. It had never occurred to him that there might be more to it, or that the girl might not climax on cue. Also, how could you give a girl an orgasm with your mouth? With his hand he could stick his fingers inside her, but did his mouth mean sticking his tongue inside her? Admittedly the thought of that turned him on enormously, but surely his tongue wasn’t long enough? And sex toys... what the hell were sex toys?

Tonks snorted, “Don’t look so worried Harry! You’ve already given me an orgasm, remember? You’ll be fine.”

“Um... actually I do have a question,” Harry said hesitantly. “Um...well... what’s a clitoris?”

Tonks’ eyes went wide, “Oh crikey. Right... Yes... Um, good question. I think... I think maybe it’s best if I just show you when the time comes eh? No pun intended. We don’t want to spoil the mood with a biology lesson...”

Harry shrugged in mystification, “Okay.”

Tonks grinned, “Excellent! Now that’s enough theory. It’s time for some practical.” She wiggled her eyebrows, “You should start unwrapping your present Harry... but maybe you should give it a good feel first... too see if you can guess what it is... starting with this...”

She leaned forwards and kissed him full on the lips. Her eyes fluttered shut.

Harry’s heart stopped completely.

Kissing Tonks was always amazing, because her lips were so soft and she was gorgeous... but kissing her while she was crouched on top of him somehow made it even better. Harry became very aware that Tonks’ summer dress was made of extremely thin material and he could feel her boobs pressed against his chest. Entirely of their own accord, his arms wrapped themselves around her. Tonks moaned contentedly into his mouth.

They snogged for several minutes, with Harry running his hands over Tonks’ back and Tonks running her fingers through his hair. Their lips played across each other in a passionate dance and their breathing grew heavier. An ache began to grow in Harry’s chest... and another (rather different one) in his trousers.

He wanted her. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. She was wonderful in every possible way – open, genuine, thoughtful, kind, courageous... the list was endless. On top of which she was breathtakingly beautiful, with the hottest body Harry had ever seen, complemented by the sexiest clothes.

He’d spent the last two weeks devouring her with his eyes, longing to touch her, and now that he had the chance he wasn’t going to squander it. With a sudden lift of his hips and a twist at the waist Harry rolled them both over until Tonks was on her back with Harry lying half on top of her. His left arm and left leg pinned her to the bed. Tonks squealed in delighted surprise, staring up at Harry with twinkling eyes.

“Oh my,” she giggled. “I’m completely defenceless. Whatever will become of me?”

Harry plunged his mouth onto hers. Tonks' yelp was muffled by their joined lips, but she threw her arms around him and lifted her right leg to circle his waist. Her eyes fluttered shut again. Harry wrapped his own arms around her, squeezing their bodies together and moaning hungrily. He could feel every soft feminine curve of her fabulous body pressed against him. His semi-slumbering trouser snake woke instantly, and grew rapidly to full size. Harry tried to ignore it as his hand slid up her side from her waist to her ribs. The curve of her right boob was mere centimetres away, but he didn’t dare touch it. What if she didn’t want him to? Was it too soon? His thumb twitched nearer of its own accord but he pulled it back. Damn it, how would he know if she was ready?

Tonks growled in frustration. Her hand left his back, grabbed his wrist and deposited his hand firmly on her breast. Then she returned her hand to his back and moaned contentedly.

Even Harry couldn’t misunderstand that hint. He ran his palm over the delightful curve of her boob, desperately wishing that there wasn’t a dress covering it. Tonks murmured happily, encouraging him to explore further. He ran his hand in small circles and then squeezed her breast gently. Tonks growled and rammed her lips against his even harder.

Harry yearned for the feel of her bare flesh, but her neckline was too high. There was no way he could reach her chest unless he unzipped her dress, but the zip was at the back and currently inaccessible. Fortunately there was some bare skin elsewhere that was much more attainable.

Harry ran his hand back down Tonks’ side, marvelling at the warm feel of her body through the thin cotton of her dress. He paused to squeeze her waist. She made a satisfied, ‘Mmmm’ noise. His hand moved lower, over the glorious curve of her hip. He paused there too. There was something very sexual about squeezing her hip. Tonks seemed to agree – the leg circling his waist rose higher, pressing her warm crotch against his thigh.

Harry’s ardour increased and his hand slid lower again, down the dress-covered thigh she’d thrown over him to her bare knee. A thrill ran up his spine at the feel of her bare skin. He’d felt it before of course, in the bathroom that time, but it seemed like an eternity ago. She’d also been in a different body. This one was younger, slimmer, and more toned. Her skin felt even softer than it had last time, and Harry longed to experience more. His hand reversed course, slipping under her skirt and up her bare thigh.

With a feral snarl Tonks dug her nails into the shirt on his back and plunged her tongue into his mouth. Wild animalistic lust coursed suddenly through his veins and he crushed her body to his. His hand flew up her skirt and grabbed her panty-covered ass. Tonks went wild, her tongue fighting with his and her groin pressing roughly into his leg.

It wasn’t enough. Harry needed more. He drew his hand back towards her thigh. As soon as his fingertips cleared the edge of her knickers he thrust them forwards again, diving inside the leg of her lacy underwear. His fingers brushed across the smooth firm skin of her bare bum. He grabbed her entire naked butt cheek and squeezed.

Tonks went nuts, grinding herself into his thigh and savaging his mouth with hers. Harry was elated. He could hardly believe what was happening. Kissing this gorgeous girl was amazing, but this? This was in a different league. After all those weeks of admiring her beauty and wishing he could touch it, he finally was! He had his hand up Tonks’ skirt and was groping her bare arse! Incredible.

Suddenly Tonks pushed him onto his back and rolled on top of him. Her hands appeared between them, frantically unfastening his shirt buttons. Harry’s left hand was still inside her knickers clutching her bum, but his right hand was no longer trapped underneath her. There was no question about what he should do with it – he slid it straight up her left thigh and inside the leg of her panties. His heart was beating like crazy as he grabbed her bare backside in both hands.

A yelp escaped her and she gave up trying to undo his buttons. With a savage yank she tore his shirt open, popping all the buttons off, and began hungrily running her hands over his chest. It felt wonderful and Harry was briefly distracted from how amazing her bum felt in his hands. But the interruption was momentary. Her butt was simply too perfect to ignore. He started circling his palms in opposite directions, marvelling at the sensuous curves and milky skin of her astonishing behind.

Tonks leaned forwards and started kissing her way down his neck. When she reached his chest she deviated to the side and kissed around his left nipple, and then did the same on the right. Harry had never felt anything like it. Each touch of her lips sent little jolts of electricity though his body. She travelled down his sternum and abs, skipped over his navel, and worked her way lower. Harry’s breath caught in his throat as she approached his waist, but she stopped just short and began kissing her way back up again.

She was teasing him, he realised. Well, two could play at that game! He kept his hands inside her knickers but slid them forwards until his palms were on her bare hips. Then he began caressing the crease between her legs and her mound with his thumbs.

With a startled, “Eep”, Tonks completely stopped what she was doing. She fell forwards until her forehead was on his chest and she started hyperventilating. Ha! Harry thought. That’ll teach her. Harry 1 Tonks 0.

Unfortunately his plan backfired. In a frenzy, Tonks started fumbling at his belt. Oh God. What was she going to do down there? He’d cum for sure if she touched him down there! He had to distract her, but how? Sitting on top of him and leaning forwards like she was left him no access to her pussy area, and her boobs were thoroughly covered by her dress. There was no alternative – he had to get that dress off! He could just about see the zip, so he removed his hands from inside her panties and scrambled to grab onto the tiny rectangle of metal.

With one hand holding the top of her dress and the other on the zipper he pulled it all the way down to the small of her back. The upper half of the dress fell loose, giving Harry a fabulous view of Tonks chest. She wasn’t wearing a bra, he was delighted to discover. He could see her bare tits hanging loose and they looked absolutely spectacular. Harry’s cock thumped against his trousers in appreciation.

Tonks was still struggling unsuccessfully with his belt and growling in frustration. She seemed unaware of what he’d done to her dress. Seizing his opportunity, Harry grabbed her by the waist and rolled her onto her back. Tonks yipped in surprised, but before she could react Harry grabbed the shoulders of her dress and pulled it down both her arms. Tonks squealed, realising that her entire chest had been laid bare.

She slapped him on the arm, “How the hell did you do that?”

Harry smirked, “Seeker skills – I seek, I find.”

She slapped him again, “My boobs are not snitches!”

“No,” Harry admitted, kissing her on the collar bone, “they’re... more... like... perfect... pink... quaffles.”

Each word was punctuated with a kiss as he worked his way along her clavicle and then up her neck. When he reached her chin he worked his way down the other side of her neck and across the other collar bone. Tonks melted, whimpering in pleasure.

Amusingly the dress had wrapped itself around her wrists, one of which was pinned between their bodies, so Tonks was effectively handcuffed. She tried to wriggle her arms free but couldn’t, especially after Harry grabbed her other wrist and pinned it to the bed. With Tonks helpless to stop him, Harry began kissing his way down her cleavage. Tonks’ head fell back and she moaned in tormented delight. She wriggled weakly, but Harry held her firmly in place.

His lips skipped down the centre of her chest, mere inches from the breathtaking temptations to either side. Tonks twisted beneath him in a desperate attempt to redirect his attentions, but Harry tracked her movements precisely. He didn’t want to kiss her breasts just yet. Firstly because she’d said it was better to go too slow than too fast, and second because he was too busy admiring them. He’d never been this close to her boobs before and he was thoroughly mesmerised.

Unlike Hermione, whose naked body had featured various freckles, beauty spots and birthmarks, Tonks didn’t have a single blemish. Her skin was utterly flawless. Her boobs formed two seductively curved mounds of exquisitely perfect flesh, topped with areolas the size of galleons and nipples that just begged to be licked.

A shiver ran through Tonks as Harry reached her stomach. Goosebumps rose on her skin and disappeared just as quickly. She inhaled sharply with each tender caress of his lips on her wonderfully flat belly. The rolled-up top of her dress around her waist prevented him from going lower, so he deviated left and began kissing her in a straight line up towards her nipple.

The closer he got the more forcefully she inhaled, but just before he reached the curve of her breast he circled around it. Tonks mewled in protest, but gasped as his lips worked their magic on the tender skin over her ribs.

Harry worked his way around, circling his kisses just along the edge of her mammary. It drove Tonks wild with barely-satisfied lust. He passed down her cleavage once more, and then underneath the other breast before circling that one too. Tonks struggled to free herself again, but Harry held her tight. Once he’d completed a figure-eight-shaped circuit of both boobs, he reduced the diameter of his circuit and repeated it.

This time he was definitely kissing within the borders of her bust and Tonks went nuts, moaning and writhing in a frantic attempt to get him to kiss her nipples. Harry had to slip his right hand under her neck so he could grab her shoulder and hold her still. Delighted though he was that Tonks was enjoying this, Harry had been dreaming about kissing her tits every night for two weeks, so he was determined to savour every second of it. He’d kiss her nipples when he was good and ready!

A steady buzzing at the edge of his mind distracted him for a moment. What was that? He shook his head to clear it, but the insistent hum remained. It wasn’t a noise though. It was more like a feeling – a vague sense of something pulling at his subconscious mind.

He tried to ignore it as he began his next circuit of Tonks’ perfect boobs. This time he kissed just outside the circle of her areolas. Tonks went insane, her legs contorting this way and that as she writhed in pleasure. The buzzing in Harry’s mind flared abruptly, expanding like a blossoming flower... growing... growing... growing...

Something shifted...

Harry could see Tonks lying half-naked below him, but he could also feel himself lying on his back with his eyes shut. In confusion he concentrated on the latter and it grew clearer. He was pinned down, unable to move, and something truly wonderful was happening. Massive waves of pleasure were flowing out from his chest, filling his body with wanton lust and carnal hunger. He opened his eyes to see... himself looking down. He jumped in shock, and found himself back in his own body looking down at Tonks. But the connection remained, much fainter now, but still there.

He could feel what Tonks was feeling and it was glorious. No wonder she was going bananas. It felt incredible!

Tentatively, Harry focused on the connection and once again found himself in Tonks’ body. This was exactly like his connection with Voldemort, he realised. He could see what Tonks was seeing and feel what she was feeling, but she was entirely unaware of his presence. He returned to his own body and resumed kissing the beautiful girl’s boobs. This was not the time to discuss what had just happened. Her boobs were far more important!

Harry suspected he knew what it meant though. Tonks had been right – he was a natural Legilimens. That’s why he could counter-attack when Snape invaded his mind, and why he could initiate contact with Voldemort (even when the git didn’t want it). All the times Tonks had used Legilimency during his training, and the many times their minds had joined, seemed to have forged a link between them. Then, in the same way that intense emotion (usually anger) opened his connection to Voldemort, intense emotion (in this case pleasure) had opened his connection to Tonks. Or something like that.

As his lips toured the wonderfully soft pale flesh of Tonks’ tits, Harry was aware of both his own pleasure and hers. Hers was far more intense, and threatened to turn him into a blubbering wreck, so he pushed it away until it was more manageable. The emotions that went with it were fascinating though. She absolutely loved what he was doing, which was a relief and a delight. But her desires were more complex and conflicted. She was desperate for him to kiss and lick and suck her nipples, but also loved being teased and made to wait. The balance was shifting on that though – too much teasing would soon start to genuinely frustrate her, which would reduce her enjoyment.

Based on what he sensed through their connection, Harry timed his move carefully. He completed his final circuit of her breasts just as her arousal peaked, and immediately started kissing her left nipple.

Tonks went absolutely berserk, crying out in delight with each caress of his lips, “Oh God yes! Yes! Yes!”

Beneath his lips, Harry felt her nipple harden into a firm bud, while the tender circle of dark pink skin around it contracted into a rippled dome. The euphoria he could feel flowing from her jumped significantly.

Sensing that she no longer wanted to escape, Harry released her wrist and cupped the breast he was kissing in his hand. Tonks grabbed the back of his head and curled her fingers in his hair, then pressed his face firmly into her boob. Harry’s lips buried themselves in her areola and closed around her nipple.

Tonks threw her head back, “Oh sweet Merlin!”

Harry knew what she was after, and since he had little choice he gave her what she wanted – he licked the nipple she’d pushed into his mouth.

“Urgh!” she gurgled, trembling from head to foot.

Her elation was growing rapidly, gaining a momentum all of its own. The time for teasing was over. A very clear image formed in Harry’s mind. She was picturing what she wanted, and desperately hoping he’d do it... because she wanted it now.

Harry sucked on her nipple, and then flicked it with his tongue. Tonks cried out. Harry sensed waves of rapture sweeping through her. While she was distracted he slid his hand down her body to her knee, and then up her silky-soft inside thigh. She parted her legs in clear invitation and Harry’s hand flew straight up her skirt, brushing along her inner thigh.

The closer he got to her crotch the hotter her thigh became. He started circling his fingertips on her sensitive skin to delay his arrival at her knickers, which made her tremble in anticipation. But he sensed that any further delay would be unwise and continued on. A wave of glee swept through her as his fingers skimmed over her panty-covered pussy, but he didn’t tarry. He continued on, up over her mound to the waistband of her underwear.

Tonks froze. Desperation and longing flowed through the connection, building and building into a tremendous crescendo, at which point Harry did what she wanted him to and plunged his hand inside her lacy pink knickers.

Harry’s fingers brushed across her smooth and hairless mound and then straight down between her legs.

Tonks was completely overwhelmed. Euphoria flooded her mind and poured through into Harry’s. It was so powerful he had to dampen the connection for fear of accidentally ejaculating into his trousers.

He’d never touched a girl’s pussy before, but he’d dreamt about it and fantasised about it, many times. Nothing he’d imagined matched the reality. Tonks’ most intimate parts were so hot it felt like they were on fire. His fingertips gently caressed several delightfully flexible folds of skin. Her pussy was so soft! And so deliciously feminine! He literally ached to thrust himself inside it. Harry’s cock throbbed painfully. He’d never been so hard in his entire life.

With difficulty he focused on the task at hand, as it were. Tonks had pictured exactly what she wanted, and he was now in a position to deliver it. Very gently, he started rubbing his hand on her pussy the way she’d imagined, while using his mouth on her tits – kissing, nibbling, licking and sucking – first one breast and then the other.

There was no need for a connection to know that he was doing something right.

Tonks convulsed, her entire body curling in on itself, and she began panting heavily.

“Huh... Huh... Huh... Huh... Huh... Huh...”

Harry’s fingers were rapidly becoming very familiar with Tonks’ pussy. The miraculously soft skin of her inner and outer pussy lips compressed and contorted delightfully at his touch, and a moist central valley opened up. Her inner lips parted and without even intending to, Harry’s middle finger slipped into the widening cleft. Tonks cried out, but Harry’s attention was entirely on the mind-blowing feel of her pussy on his hand. He soon discovered a small depression at the base of her valley, out of which a small trickle of slick juices had leaked. That must be the entrance to her vagina, he realised. But to his surprise, that wasn’t what had her attention.

Her focus was on a point at the top of the valley, where the gentle massaging of his palm was setting off fireworks in her head. After some minor experimentation, Harry was able to adjust the pace and pressure of his stroking to maximise the pleasure she was feeling from that mysteriously sensitive area.

Tonks instantly began squealing, “Heee, heee, heee, heee, heee...”

Taking his queues from her, Harry stroked her pussy and sucked her tits at just the right times and in just the right way to make her go crazy. But her reaction surprised him. She almost went into a panic. ‘It was happening to quick!’ her emotions seemed to be saying. ‘It will be over too fast.’

Understanding came to him suddenly – if she reached orgasm too quickly it would be short and sharp, but if it built over a longer period it would be deeper and more satisfying. If he wanted her to really enjoy it, the goal wasn’t to make her orgasm as fast as possible, it was to set the pace just right, so that her arousal built steadily and relentlessly until it hit her like a tsunami. Tonks had even told him as much.

So Harry adjusted what he was doing. He caressed her pussy slightly softer and slower, while sucking her tits slightly more gently. The pace of her growing excitement dropped, but a huge sense of relief swept over her. She relaxed into it, savouring the pleasure Harry was giving her, confident in the knowledge that if he kept it up she would have a truly wonderful climax.

It didn’t take long. Her excitement grew steadily and her breathing became laboured.

Harry could sense her orgasm starting to build.

So could Tonks of course. She began crying out, “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.”

Harry could sense what he needed to do to make her climax more intense and adjusted what he was doing accordingly. Faster and faster she cried out, much more forcefully than she had two weeks ago.

“OH GOD. OH GOD. OH GOD. OHGOD. OHGOD. OHGOD....”

The tension in her body was building inexorably, but Harry kept her just shy of her climax. She was so close. So very very close. But he denied her that blissful release.

“OHGODOHGODOHGODOHGODOHGODOHGODOHGODOHGODOHGODOHGODOHGOD...”

It was like bitter-sweet torture. For almost half a minute he held her in rapturous torment, writhing in exquisite anguish as the tidal wave of her climax crested above her but refused to break. And then, just when she thought she could take no more, Harry finally let it crash down upon her. It struck with brutal force and she was totally swept away.

Her spine arched backwards and she screamed as the truly massive orgasm took her.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!”

She shuddered violently, her entire body wracked with violent spasms.

She released a long juddering scream, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAH...”

And then another: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAH...”

For two whole minutes she trembled helplessly in Harry’s arms. He didn’t take his eyes off her the entire time. Tonks having an orgasm was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

The shaking gradually died away, but she lay bonelessly on the bed, shivering and whimpering pitifully.

Harry wasn’t quite sure what to do now. He’d stopped stroking her, but his hand was still inside her knickers cupping her wet pussy. He let his eyes rove over her body. It really was amazing. Her fabulous breasts were completely exposed, glistening with saliva where he’d licked them. Her slim and toned legs were bare and her skirt was bunched up around her waist giving him a fantastic view of her knickers. The fact that his hand was inside them was a delightful bonus.

Harry was certain he would remember this moment for the rest of his life. But he didn’t want the night to be over. Incredible though it had been to touch her privates and give her an orgasm, he wanted more. He wanted to know what it felt like to be inside her. But he was conscious that she’d told him to be a good HOST. He’d done the ‘H’ for ‘hand’ part, so he had to perform the ‘O’ for oral before he could attempt the ‘S’ for sex.

He carefully lifted his hand off her muff and slid it free of her knickers. Then he removed his arm from under her neck. Tonks didn’t stir. She was still panting heavily with her eyes shut. Harry shuffled down to the end of the bed and crawled between her legs. He would need to remove her underwear to attempt oral sex, so he hooked his fingers into the waist of her knickers and pulled. Tonks helpfully lifted her hips to make it easier, and once he’d got them down to her thighs she lifted her knees so he could pull them all the way off. It was honestly the sexiest thing Harry had ever seen.

No, he took that back. What he was looking at now was the sexist thing he’d ever seen. Tonks was lying on the bed with the skirt of her dress piled around her waist, no knickers on, her legs parted, and her sopping wet pussy completely exposed. Harry’s heart almost beat its way out of his chest. Gorgeous! Absolutely gorgeous!

Chapter 18: An Unexpected Present part II

Notes:

Warning: More extreme smut ahead!

Chapter Text

Harry had no idea what he was supposed to do now, but he figured he’d work it out as he went along. Without doubt the first thing he wanted to do was kiss those fabulous legs. So that’s exactly what he did. Starting near her knee, he kissed every inch of Tonks’ beautiful inner thigh, all the way down to where it joined her body.

Tonks just lay there, hardly moving. But she moaned and the connection in Harry’s mind flared back to life.

Another image leapt into his head – something she’d fantasised about many many times, it seemed. But she was hesitant about it. She didn’t know if he’d like it, and the last thing she wanted was for him to react with disgust. Nevertheless she hoped that he would like it, because she wanted it... she wanted it very badly indeed. In the image, Tonks was lying naked on her back with her knees spread wide. Harry’s head was between her thighs and his tongue was toying with a tiny little pink dome below the hood where her inner lips met.

Harry had never thought about licking a girl’s pussy, but he was more than willing to give it a try. The fact that she wanted it so badly was incentive enough – Harry was very eager to give her pleasure – but he was also delighted by the idea of being able to get so close to her privates. Seeing Hermione’s pussy close-up had blown his mind, and he was very keen to do the same with Tonks. But of course he’d have felt like a deviant asking if he could nip down there to inspect her bits. Fortunately she wanted him down there, so the problem had resolved itself.

Tonks was worried though, and her anxiety was growing rapidly. She was about to bail in fear that he’d react badly. So Harry quickly leant forwards and ran his tongue lightly up the left side of her glistening pussy. It felt absolutely amazing! Her puffy outer lip was miraculously soft - it depressed at the slightest pressure. Tonks gasped in shock and delight, but her anxiety flared too, concerned at how he’d react. She was so wet down there... what if he found it unpleasant?

She needn’t have worried – Harry totally loved it. Not just the feel of her on his tongue, which was amazing, but the taste of her. The juices flowing from her entrance had been spread all around by his hand earlier, but he’d deliberately collected them on his tongue as he licked her, to leave her a little drier. She seemed self-conscious about being so wet, so he thought he’d help her out. He licked his lips, properly savouring her juices. Tonks tasted absolutely delicious, like caramelised sugar.

“Mmmm,” he murmered in delight and immediately licked his way up the other outer pussy lip.

Surprise, delight and profound relief flowed from the girl he was devouring. She gradually relaxed and he sensed a hunger for more, but Harry was keen to give her wonderfully toned legs further attention. He switched to her left knee and began kissing his way down her inner thigh once more. He grinned to himself when a wave of frustrated excitement coursed through her.

The other benefit to working his way down her thigh again was that he could get a really good look at Tonks’ pussy. He’d become a bit of an expert on her muff over the last few weeks, having gaped at it so often. Ordinarily it was a very tidy affair (unlike Hermione’s which had a lot more going on). Tonks had a significant gap between the tops of her legs and Harry had formed a great fondness for the cute little camel toe that always formed in her knickers. When she stripped off a neat pair of outer labia were revealed with the tantalising folds of two exquisite inner labia peaking out between them. Everything else was tucked tidily away – there was ordinarily no sign of the hood that Hermione had at the top of her folds, for example, nor the curious pink dome beneath it.

That’s how Tonks’ pussy usually looked, but that’s not how it looked right now. The whole area was soggy, flushed and inflamed. Her outer lips were much puffier and had slackened significantly. They lay open in a wide wet triangle. Within, her minor labia were similarly flushed and loose, revealing the pink valley in between and the dark cave of her vagina entrance. Most surprisingly, at the top of her valley, where Tonks’ inner lips joined together, a small pink dome was visible below a chevron-shaped hood of folded skin.

Harry couldn’t believe how different it looked compared to before, and how different it was to Hermione’s pussy.

In retrospect, perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised. His knob looked very different when he was excited and when he wasn’t, after all. And Ron’s dick (which Harry had been unlucky enough to see around the Hogwarts dorm and showers) was frankly weird-looking, so boys obviously varied. Somehow he’d thought that girls’ parts would be uniform and static, but he was clearly wrong.

Examining Tonks’ aroused chuff was seriously turning him on. The urge to plunge himself into her was almost too strong to resist. If she hadn’t said that ‘oral’ was next he’d be tearing his trousers off right now. But she’d been quite specific about it so he had to give it a try. He still wasn't clear on what was involved though, apart from licking that hooded dome. Fortunately, just as he kissed the valley between her leg and her mound, a very strong impression of what Tonks wanted formed in his mind, including what he should do, where and how hard.

Harry was struck by the extraordinary series of events that had led to this moment. If he hadn’t challenged the Headmaster, or sought help from the Minister, or suggested Tonks as his bodyguard, or taken Occlumency lessons from her... he never would have known that he had the ability to read girls’ minds during sex. (Admittedly it wasn’t a superpower he could easily use to fight crime, but it was pretty fucking awesome super power nonetheless.) Nor was it likely he'd be licking Tonks' pussy right now... or any girl's pussy for that matter. How different his life would have been!

Returning his attention to Tonks’ fantasy image, he discovered that there were also some secondary and tertiary desires, but she wanted those considerably less. Those were more like foreplay leading up to the main event, and she very much wanted him to skip straight to the best part.

Naturally, Harry did no such thing. First because he was keen to explore every inch of her gloriously feminine lady parts with his tongue, and second because he wanted her next orgasm to be at least as spectacular as the first. Tonks had said she’d become addicted to giving him erections and now he understood what she meant, because he’d become equally addicted to giving her orgasms. So he resolved to do what he’d done earlier: instead of giving her the fastest climax he could, he’d go for a slow but relentless increase in arousal, and then try to hold her on the very cusp of an orgasm for as long as he could.

Contrary to Harry’s expectation, Tonks wasn’t at all interested in him sticking his tongue inside her. She was far more interested in the hooded apex at the top of her valley, and the tiny pink dome that lay beneath it... which is why he would leave that until last. Instead, he lowered himself onto his elbows, with his head between her thighs. Then he slipped his arms under her thighs and grabbed her hips with both hands.

This is how Tonks had pictured him in her dreams – licking her pussy while his hands roamed around her hips and mound. Harry was more than happy to oblige. He began stroking her amazingly smooth stomach as he lowered his mouth towards her.

It seemed appropriate to Harry that his first kiss on her pussy should be right at the entrance to her inner sanctum. So he positioned his lips carefully and very gently kissed the bright pink indentation that formed the mouth of her vagina.

Tonks jumped in surprise, but Harry’s attention was entirely focused on the wonderful intimacy of what he’d just done, and the amazing feel of her damp entrance on his lips. It was wonderful, truly wonderful. As he pulled away Tonks moaned and a small trickle of colourless liquid leaked from the hole he’d just kissed.

Conscious that he needed to maintain a certain momentum to distract Tonks from feeling embarrassed about him being down here, he began kissing his way up the outer pussy lip on the left. It felt almost implausibly soft. Harry loved it, and it sent shivers of joy down Tonks’ spine – she began panting in pleasure.

As he approached the top, where her two inner pussy lips joined, Tonks’ breathing became very heavy. Every exhale had a hint of desperation about it. But Harry deliberately avoided the area she wanted him to kiss and circled up over her mound before descending back down the outer lip on the right. Tonks moaned in frustration and bucked her hips in an effort to redirect his attention, but Harry denied her and continued on until he reached her entrance again.

The temptation to lick her was enormous, but Harry resisted. Soon, he promised himself. Soon! First, he wanted to build her excitement once again. It had waned the further he got from the ‘v’ where her inner lips joined.

This time he kissed his way up her inner lips. They were parted but still close enough together that he had to kiss both at the same time. Tonks breathed in sharply, but her reaction was otherwise surprisingly muted. Her excitement was mostly from the anticipation of where he was headed and hope about what he’d do when he got there. Nevertheless, Harry considered this worth doing because his proximity heightened her arousal... and of course Harry himself adored it. Kissing Tonks in such an intimate and personal place was an amazing experience that he’d treasure forever.

Tonks’ inner lips were much smaller than her outer ones, so it wasn’t long before he neared the junction at the top. The aroused girl moaned and went very still, awaiting his touch on her v-shaped hood. The vivid picture coming to him through their connection was of him licking that hood like a lollipop, pushing it upwards to massage what lay beneath with his soft wet tongue. But that would be too much too soon, Harry decided. So he placed the most delicate of kisses on her hood instead.

She cried out in a mix of jubilation and vexation – she loved it but she wanted more! So much more! A new image formed in her head... of scrambling up, yanking Harry’s trousers down, shoving his cock inside her and riding him like an internal pogo stick.

She was getting too frustrated, he realised. ‘The girl will let you know if you’re going too slow’, she had said, ‘probably by grabbing your knob’. Well, what she was considering sounded like a more extreme version of the same thing.

Harry quickly placed a few firmer kisses on her hood, which he enjoyed enormously, but it wasn’t enough for Tonks. The time had come to do what she’d wanted all along – he placed his tongue on her entrance and started licking up her glistening pink valley. Tonks drew in a single huge breath and then froze.

Not a sound came from her as Harry’s tongue made its ascent up the centre of her pussy, pushing aside her lips as it went. To Harry it felt deliciously intimate, but the emotions he was receiving through the connection were intense. Tonks was displaying no outward sign of pleasure but inside she was completely overwhelmed. She had tiny explosions, like little fireworks, going off between her legs. Shockwaves were spreading out through her body, echoing around in a confusion of arousal that made her head go fuzzy and her nipples go hard. The image of her riding him scattered like morning mist.

When Harry reached half way, Tonks started to tremble and a strained sound emerged from her throat. He’d been planning to stop short of her hood, to prolong things, but he changed his mind. Tonks had completely lost control of her body – she’d become a slave to his tongue. If he failed to follow through this time she’d go beyond frustrated arousal into irritated disappointment. A certain amount of teasing was good, but too much would be counter-productive. So Harry continued his steady progress up her valley, and Tonks’ trembling grew rapidly more pronounced.

When he finally reached the top, he surprised her by continuing straight over the hood, licking it with the entire width of his tongue. Tonks abruptly pulled her arms and legs to her chest in a vast full-body spasm and let out a long fluttering moan.

“Ooooohhhhhhhohohohohoho!”

Harry licked her hood again.

“Ooooohhhhhhhohohohohoho!”

Much larger fireworks were going off between her legs now and her entire body was wracked with involuntary shudders. Harry sensed a kaleidoscope of emotions rolling off her – jubilation, profound shock, and... something like vindication? She was elated at how amazing this felt, along with acute surprise that it felt so much nicer than she’d imagined.

The implications of that weren’t lost on Harry – she’d never experienced this before.

That HOST acronym she’d made up wasn’t based on her extensive sexual experience, he now realised. It was just a theory – something she’d imagined would be the nice, and now knew to be so.

Harry didn’t have time to dwell on the deep sense of satisfaction it gave him to be the first person to do this to her. The momentum of her arousal had to be very carefully controlled or she’d climax too soon. With very precise movements, and constant adjustments, Harry continued to lick her hood just enough to drive her arousal incrementally higher without pushing her over the edge. Tonks’ breathing soon became strained. Her arms and legs fell back to the bed and she groaned in tormented delight.

On and on he went, licking her hood more or less the exact same way, but varying it just so – employing exactly the right change in pace or pressure to sustain a steady escalation. Tonks was soon clutching at the bed covers with whitened knuckles, her head swinging left and right.

“Fucking hell, that feels so good,” she muttered to herself. “So good... So damned good... Oh fuck! OH FUCK!”

Abruptly, she grabbed at her own breasts and started kneading them, twisting and squeezing and pinching her nipples.

“Oh God, I’m cumming! Harry I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

But she wasn’t cumming, because Harry wouldn’t allow it. He had to stimulate her just right, but again he held her on the very cusp of her climax, just short of tipping over the edge. It would have been impossible without the connection to her mind, but Harry could feel everything she was feeling, so he knew exactly how far to push it.

For half a minute he held her there, her entire body tingling in the bitter-sweet agony and ecstasy of an impending orgasm. Vast spasms swept through the helpless young woman, robbing her of speech. All she could do was whimper and gurgle in euphoric torment.

Finally, the anguish became too much. She began rotating her hips in an effort to make Harry’s ministrations rougher and tip herself over the edge, crying out in desperation.

“Please Harry!” she begged, “Please! Make me cum! I can’t take it anymore!”

But Harry knew it would be nicer for her if he didn’t. So he held her there for another half minute. Tonks was reduced to incoherent grunts of pain and pleasure, twisting and turning in torment. Harry had to grab onto her hips to hold her down.

“Huh... Huh... Huh... Huh... Huh... Huh...”

Then, very gradually, Harry began nudging her towards her climax.

“Huh... Huh... Huh... Huh. Huh. Huh... HuhHuhHuh... HuhHuhHuhHuhHuhHuhHuhHuhHuh...”

She was close now – really close. Harry didn’t actually need to do anything more. The momentum of her arousal had become unstoppable. But he kept on doing what he was doing, listening in delight to the sounds of Tonks’ approaching orgasm.

“HuhHuhHuhHuhHuhHuhHuhHuhHuh... Huh... Huh... Huh... Hhhhhuuuuhhhhh...”

For a moment Tonks went completely rigid. Her head flew forwards, staring at Harry in glassy-eye shock. A feeling like nothing she’d ever felt before blossomed forth from between her legs and spread through her body. Every muscle and sinew sang, her entire body vibrating like a tuning fork... and then, abruptly, a truly staggering orgasm exploded in every part of her body at once. Tonks was utterly consumed. Her head flew back and she cried out in shock.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Harry frantically clamped down on the connection, lest he be overwhelmed himself. Tonks’ orgasm was utterly mind-blowing.

On and on she howled, her scream more protracted than any Harry had ever heard. It only ended when her lungs ran out of air, at which point she started shaking violently, as if she were being electrocuted. For a moment Harry was worried she was having a seizure, but his connection told him otherwise. Wave after wave of orgasmic euphoria swept through her, throwing her body around like a rag doll.

For a full minute Harry continued licking her hood gently as she thrashed, heightening and extending her enjoyment. But once he sensed that she’d had enough he withdrew from between her legs and lay down next to her. Tonks seemed completely out of it, but when he put his arms around her she turned towards him and snuggled into his bare chest. Harry held her tight while she shivered and trembled in helpless post-orgasmic exhaustion.

It was a good five minutes before she was able to speak.

“Bloody hell Harry,” she croaked. “I guess I don’t need to tell you where a clitoris is then? Where did you learn how to do that?”

“I was following your instructions,” Harry replied. “You said I should take my time.”

Tonks slapped him on the chest, “I didn’t mean that you should try to kill me! Seriously, I thought I was having a heart attack! I’ve never cum so hard in my entire life. I didn’t know it was possible to cum that hard.”

Harry was feeling extremely happy with himself, “I aim to please.”

Tonks lifted herself up on one elbow, “Don’t get smug with me Potter! I can do things that’ll make your toes curl. Things no other girl can do.”

The grin fell from Harry’s face and his eyes widened. He hadn’t thought of that.

“Don’t worry though,” she said as she rose to a kneeling position and started undoing his belt. “I’ll go easy on you, since it’s your first time.”

She finally managed to wrestle his belt loose. His button and zip quickly followed and before he knew it, she’d pulled his trousers and boxers down to his ankles. She paused for a moment to admire his massive erection.

“Hello again,” she growled huskily and quickly resumed pulling his trousers off.

Harry lay in frozen trepidation. This was it! He was about to have sex for the first time! Anxiety waged a three-way war with excitement and extreme horniness, but all three were eclipsed by wonder as he watched the most beautiful girl in the world wriggle out of her dress. When she was done she stood with her hands on her hips, completely naked, looking down at him. The sight took his breath away.

“Stop gawking and get that shirt off,” she ordered impatiently.

Numbly, Harry shrugged his arms out of his shirt and dropped it on the floor. Tonks grinned and crawled up the bed.

“That’s better,” she said, kneeling beside him. “I’ve waited far too long for this...”

She began running her hands up his legs, from his ankles to his thighs. Harry inhaled sharply. The touch of her soft fingers sent little shivers through him. His eyes closed of their own accord as her fingertips danced over his hips and across his abs. A low moan escaped him. He was keen for her to head back south and his cock pulsed hungrily. Tonks giggled but said nothing as her hands circled upwards across his pecs.

For several long minutes Tonks ran her hands over his body, caressing him everywhere except the place he most wanted. Each time she got close his hips lifted of their own accord, and then fell back as she deliberately avoided his privates. The touch of her hands was amazing and Harry loved it, but he was also growing increasingly frustrated.

He opened his eyes and admired Tonks’ amazing naked body, marvelling at her pretty face and the gorgeous curve of her breasts. In her current kneeling position everything else was hidden to him, so he reached out to grab her bum. Tonks slapped his hand and put it back by his side.

“No touching!” she snapped. “It’s my turn!”

Harry growled and did as he was told, but he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself for long.

Tonks’ wonderfully soft hands skimmed over his body once more: across his pecs and abs, over his hips, and down his thighs. Harry’s legs parted of their own volition and Tonks ran her fingertips up his inner thighs. Harry groaned in tormented pleasure. Higher and higher her fingers trailed, leaving tracks of tingling fire in their wake. Harry’s breath caught in his throat. Would she finally touch him this time? He hardly dared to hope. And yet her fingers kept on going, closer and closer to his balls. His cock jumped at the thought and his eyes snapped shut.

Suddenly, unbelievably, Tonks’ amazing fingers were caressing his scrotum! For the first time in his life, a girl was touching his balls! And it felt absolutely incredible. Harry squirmed in delight, his arms and legs twisting and turning as Tonks ran his testicles gently between her fingers. But then, just when he thought the sensations coming from between his legs could get no more intense, her fingers began trailing upwards...

Harry’s eyes snapped open. Great tingling waves ran through his body as the beautiful girl kneeling by his side brushed her fingertips up his scrotum to the base of his cock. He watched in jubilation as she continued up his shaft, sending powerful electric shocks up his spine. His arms and legs jerked involuntarily. But when she reached the head of his penis his eyes rolled back in his head and he gasped out loud.

“Oh God!”

He’d never felt anything like it. Having a stunning naked girl touch his dick was nothing like touching it himself. Nothing at all! It was beyond anything he could have imagined. Unfortunately it was so incredible that he was in danger of losing control. If she kept touching him like that he’d cum all over himself, and that’s definitely not what he wanted.

Tonks was caught completely unawares when Harry leapt up, grabbed her round the waist and rolled on top of her. They came to a halt face to face, with Tonks’ legs wrapped around Harry’s waist and her hands on his chest.

“Oh I’m sorry Harry,” she giggled with transparently fake remorse, “was that a bit frustrating?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, but there was no anger in it. He was rather acutely aware that Tonks’ was lying naked immediately beneath him, with her mound pressed against his stomach and her warm thighs wrapped around his waist. But most of all he was conscious that his cock was mere inches from her pussy.

“Kiss me Harry,” she whispered.

No force on earth could have stopped him. He lowered himself towards her... and as he did so she hooked her ankles behind his bum and forced it down. At the very moment their lips met, his rock-hard penis found her entrance and slipped an inch inside her.

Harry’s eyes went wide and his brain shut down completely. He was utterly overwhelmed by the sensations radiating out from his midriff. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Soft and warm but otherwise indescribable and utterly perfect – the nicest feeling he could ever imagine. A confusing maelstrom of emotions washed over him – his and hers mixed together, as intertwined as their bodies. He tried to close off the connection, but he couldn’t focus. His concentration kept shattering.

Beneath him, Tonks let out a long low groan of satisfaction, “Finally! Thank fuck!”

Her feet pressed down on his hips again, encouraging him to go deeper. Harry was happy to oblige. The only experience he could imagine that might be nicer than being inside her was being further inside her.

As he pushed deeper he felt some resistance, but then it parted. Tonks cried out in pain.

Harry froze, looking down at her in concern, “Did I hurt you?

“No, no it’s fine,” she replied breathlessly. “It was just a bit of a shock, that’s all. Apparently this body doesn’t just look younger... I’d... Well, I’d become a virgin again. Just give me a second...”

Tonks screwed up her face in concentration and muttered, “Cleanup on aisle three...”

Something happened inside her that made Harry go cross-eyed and almost tipped him over the edge.

“All done,” she declared with a smile. “We don’t want things getting messy later! Now, where were we?”

Harry had no idea what she was talking about, but a growing sense of urgency was sweeping over him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out, and he very much wanted to be all the way inside her before something untoward happened. So he began pushing deeper again. Tonks sighed heavily and her eyes drifted shut.

Further and further he pressed, inch after inch of his rigid cock sliding into her, spreading her entrance steadily wider. Waves of blissful euphoria swept through him, from his own body and from hers. They both groaned in delight. Her insides felt incredible, beyond anything he could have imagined.

Now Harry understood what all the fuss was about – why the older boys talked about sex so obsessively. It was because sex was the most amazing thing in the world... and sex with someone as fabulous as Tonks... well, there could never be anything better than that. This was without doubt the most incredible experience of his life, and Harry could think of nobody he would rather share it with.

Overcome with lust and a profound appreciation for the woman who’d brought so much joy into his life, Harry planted his lips on hers and kissed her forcefully. Tonks returned his passion in equal measure, throwing her arms around him and squeezing him tight with her thighs. Harry slid an arm under her neck and lowered his upper body onto hers. The feel of her naked breasts pressed against his chest literally took his breath away.

His attention was drawn away from her fabulous tits by the only thing that could achieve such a feat – his knob had finally reached the back wall of her vagina. He could feel it pressing against the tip of his penis and Tonks flinched slightly, so he stopped pushing. It was truly wondrous to be so deep inside her. The feel of her warm pussy wrapped around his cock was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. How could he ever be happy using his hand again, he wondered, when he could be doing this? The two weren’t even in the same league. But he was slightly disappointed that he couldn’t go all the way in. Tonks was about an inch and a half too small to accommodate him.

But then something happened. The pressure on the tip of his dick eased. Tonks broke off their extended kiss.

“Keep going,” she whispered breathlessly in his ear. “I want you all the way inside me.”

Had she made herself bigger? Harry pressed deeper and discovered that she had! With a final thrust, he pushed his dick all the way home and their pubic bones met. He was as deep inside her as he could possibly go. They both sighed in blissful contentment, relishing the feel of each other’s bodies.

Tonks' insides adjusted again to conform exactly to the size of Harry’s cock. But it was too much. The incredible sensations flooding Harry’s mind, the last two weeks of sexual frustration, and his insanely full testicles all conspired against him. A sudden urgency blossomed in his midriff. Oh crap! He was going to cum! He was going to cum already! But they’d only just started! Harry began thrusting into her, knowing that his climax was approaching and hoping that by some miracle he could make her cum straight away too.

But then something strange happened. The sense of urgency began to recede, while Tonks’ excitement began to climb rapidly. Relief swept through him as his premature orgasm faded into the background. His arousal evened-out at a much more manageable level, and then began to rise steadily with each thrust.

In perfect synchronisation they both moaned out loud, “Oh God...”

That’s when Harry realised what had happened. The connection between them had communicated what their bodies were feeling, melding them together. His arousal had fallen and hers had risen until they matched, and now they were tied together in exact lock-step.

With the urgency gone, Harry was able to proceed at a more leisurely pace. He adjusted the speed and depth of his thrusts to reduce the rate at which their mutual arousal increased, and once again settled into the steady and relentless escalation that had worked so well on Tonks’ first two orgasms. As a bonus, this mean he got to enjoy her body for a solid ten minutes before his climax started to build again.

Now he could see why Tonks had cum so hard last time. He could already tell that the approaching orgasm was going to be absolutely enormous. It wasn’t just building in his cock like it did when he used his hand, it was radiating out into his torso and limbs in an ever-widening sphere.

They both started calling out, “Oh God... Oh God... Oh God...”

Harry was overcome with the need to kiss the fabulous woman beneath him.  Her lips rose to meet his and their tongues plunged into each other’s mouths. He squeezed her in his arms and she crushed his body to hers. Her knees rose up and she clamped her thighs higher around his chest. This changed the angle of her body, allowing him to press even deeper into her. Tonks threw back her head and raked her nails down his back.

Their mutual excitement jumped up a notch, sending them both into raptures of pleasure. In perfect synchronisation their breathing grew heavier and heavier, each exhalation leaving them in an explosive grunt.

“Huh... Huh... Huh... Huh... Huh... Huh...”

Harry could feel both of their climaxes approaching, their bodies wracked with pre-orgasm spasms. A memory leapt into Harry’s mind – of Tonks saying, ‘you are going to shag me, and you are going to shag me hard’. So he escalated the pace of his thrusting, pounding his cock into her with increasing force, faster and faster.

The climax that had been building inside her suddenly doubled in ferocity, driving Harry to matching heights of ecstasy. His hips pumped even harder, hammering his rock hard dick into her as fast as he could. Tonks went completely wild, screaming out in pleasure.

“Oh Harry! Oh Harry! Oh Harry!”

The waves of pleasure sweeping through him were so powerful that Harry could barely focus. But he carried on thrusting, impaling Tonks with his penis, rejoicing in the feel of her insides stroking the entire length of his shaft. His body began shuddering violently. Beneath him, Tonks went abruptly rigid, clamping her arms and legs around him.

They were about to cum! They were both about to cum... in perfect synchronisation!

Any thought of pausing on the edge of climax fled his mind. Harry had completely lost control of himself. He was thoroughly consumed by the sensations sweeping through him. The first stirrings of Harry’s approaching ejaculation began to gather in his balls. Oh sweet Merlin, he was about to cum!

Tonks was too. Euphoria swept through them both, growing impossibly intense... beyond anything Harry had ever experienced. His entire body was flooded with delirious rapture...

Tonks began screaming, “Oh God! Harry! Harry! Harry! Harry!Harry!Harry! HarryHarryHarryHARRYHARRYHA...”

For the briefest of moments they were suspended in the eye of the storm... silence reigned and all was still... and then the hurricane crashed down upon them and they were both swept away. Tonks’ vagina contracted violently in orgasm, clamping down on Harry’s cock like a fist. He exploded into her – a massive jet of hot cum squirting deep into her welcoming body.

They both cried out in sweet agony, “AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!”

Purely by instinct, Harry’s hips kept on thrusting. Over and over his penis plunged into her, spraying her insides with hot cum and driving her wild. In perfect unison Tonks’ vagina contracted around his cock, squeezing it like a vice and sending him wild in turn.

Their convulsions meshed perfectly and they both cried out together:

“AAAAaaaahhhhh! AAAAaaaahhhhh! AAAAaaaahhhhh! AAAAaaaahhhhh! AAAAaaaahhhhh! AAAAaaaahhhhh!”

Harry couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. His mind was buffeted on all sides, like a tiny boat on a raging sea. He no longer knew whose emotions he was feeling – his or hers. They all blended into one, their minds as joined as their bodies. The only coherent thought he could hold onto was that this was the best moment of his entire life. He’d never had an orgasm even close to this one, either in duration or intensity. But more important than that, he was sharing it with Tonks – his wonderful beautiful fabulous Tonks – and that made it perfect.

For a full minute he was lost in the storm of their conjoined orgasm, each of them keeping the other going, before their contractions gradually began to fade. Harry slowed his thrusts to a more leisurely pace, enjoying the post-coital feel of her sopping insides around his dick. He couldn’t believe he’d been ejaculating for so long. Tonks was absolutely sloshing with his spaff – he could feel the deep pool of warm liquid inside her as he slid in and out.

Tonks opened her eyes to look up at him. A sudden dread consumed her – an intense fear that he’d abandon her now that they’d had sex.

The very idea shocked him. Abandon Tonks? Never! She was the best thing that had ever happened to him!

He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her. It wasn’t a passionate kiss. It was a tender one, filled with affection, gratitude and appreciation. Very slowly, Tonks’ concern ebbed away and she relaxed.

Their kiss only came to an end because Harry’s treacherous knob started to shrink inside her, making him gasp in discomfort. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling exactly, but the head of his penis was super-sensitive after that incredible orgasm, and the feel of her insides stroking it as it diminished was almost too much.

Tonks seemed mightily amused by his reaction, but stuck out her bottom lip and feigned a pout of disappointment.

Harry had to move. He was also conscious that his body was on top of hers and was probably crushing her. So he gingerly lifted his hips, allowing his cock to slip out of Tonks’ wonderful pussy, causing them both to groan as it fell free. Then he lowered himself to lie down next to her and pulled her tight into his side. Tonks threw an arm over his chest and a leg over his thighs.

They lay in sweaty silence for a few minutes, just holding each other with their bodies entwined.

“Thank you Harry,” she said eventually. “That was wonderful.”

“You’re wonderful,” Harry replied, squeezing her tight. “Best birthday present ever!”

“I’m glad you liked it,” she replied, stroking his chest softly. “And just so you know, when I said you should be a good HOST... I wasn’t really expecting you to do that today. It was more for future reference...”

Seriously?” Harry replied in fake consternation. “Then why tell me now? I was terrified I was going to let you down!”

“Well, it’s important to have goals,” she replied cheekily. “And I had to say it before you boinked me or you might have taken offense. Men can be very sensitive about that sort of thing.”

“So what were you expecting?” he wondered.

“For your first time? Not much. Certainly not the three best orgasms I’ve ever had.”

Harry grinned, “Well, I’m glad you liked it. And just so you know... I can do better.”

“Not tonight you can’t,” she replied with a yawn. “I don’t think my heart can take another orgasm like that. On top of which, I’ve already got half a pint of your jizz inside me. This sperm bank is full.”

“But now that I own you,” Harry drawled, “can’t I can do whatever I want with you?”

“What do you mean ‘own me’?” Tonks replied, affronted.

“You gave yourself to me for my birthday,” Harry replied with a grin. “So you belong to me now.”

Tonks’ mouth opened and closed several times.

“That’s not what I meant!” she replied eventually. “I meant you could have sex with me.”

Harry shook his head, “I don’t think so. You said, ‘Your last present is me’. You didn’t say, ‘Your last present is to have sex with me’. The wording was very clear. That’s a verbal contract that is. You’re officially my property now.”

Tonks started slapping him across the chest, “I... am... not... your... property!”

Harry burst out laughing, “Okay okay fine! Jeez. Do you always get this violent after sex?”

“Do you always get this stupid?” she asked sleepily. “Yes of course you do,” her fading voice whispered, “because you’re a man.”

Harry lay perfectly still as her breathing deepened. Within seconds she’d fallen asleep on his chest.

It was the perfect end to a perfect day. He looked down at her beautiful naked body and his heart soared. He was without doubt the luckiest person in the world right now. And she was right – he had indeed become a man.

Chapter 19: The War Begins

Notes:

For a visual idea of how the Press Conference looks and the way Scrimgeour delivers his speech, watch the first minute of the movie Deathly Hallows Part I...

This chapter has a few snippets of text from HBP, to make the point that not everything will play out differently...

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Harry lay awake half the night, marvelling at the wonderful feel of Tonks’ naked body against his and thinking about the amazing sex he’d just had with her. It didn’t take long for his erection to return, and when he finally fell asleep several hours later he still had a painfully hard boner.

Harry woke to the most wonderful thing ever – Tonks’ naked form still draped all over him. She was clinging like a limpet to the side of his body, with her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest, and one leg across his stomach. Harry had one arm wrapped round her back and one on her waist.

“Too early,” Tonks groaned, “stop moving!”

“Sorry,” Harry replied.

He saw her smile, but she grumbled, “No talking either!” She grabbed his hand and put it on her bum. “There, play with that. Now let me sleep.”

Harry chuckled and stroked her bum as instructed. Tonks sighed and within seconds she was asleep again. Harry carried on stroking her bum. It felt wonderful. This, Harry reflected, was something he could definitely get used to.

Tonks gave a contented, “Mmmmmm” in her sleep, and snuggled in closer.

At some point Harry fell asleep again too. He woke when Tonks sat up and stretched her arms over her head. It did wonderful things to the shape of her boobs.

“Morning Harry.”

“Morning Tonks.”

“We should probably get up – busy day today.”

Harry sighed, “Yeah.”

Neither one of them moved.

“I’m still not sure what to do about the half a pint of your love juice that’s inside me,” Tonks observed.

Harry raised an eyebrow, “Love juice?

“It's just an expression!” Tonks added hastily, “I didn’t mean that you... Oh shut up Harry!

Harry smirked.

“Seriously though Harry, how can you produce so much jizz? It’s impossible.”

“Dunno,” he shrugged. “It’s always been like that for me. The first time I knocked one out I had to wipe my entire bedroom down afterwards. I had literally spaffed up the walls. It was even hanging in ropes from the ceiling like pearly Christmas decorations.”

Tonks squealed in amused horror, “You’re kidding!”

“Nope, true story. Is that normal? Guys don’t really chat about this sort of thing...”

“It’s a little erm... more than normal, but I’m not complaining – it felt amazing! Of course it’s not going to be quite so amazing later. If I’m not careful I’ll have your jizz dripping out of me all day.”

Harry tried to suppress his grin, he really did.

Tonks slapped him on the shoulder, “Oh my God, you men are all the same! Stop looking so pleased with yourself you pig!”

“Hey! Don’t blame me!” Harry protested. “You’re the one who milked me dry with your amazing vagina. Those are some crazy-strong muscles you have down there. You could use them to crack walnuts.”

Harry!” Tonks hit him again.

“What? I bet that’s really handy at Christmas. Anyway, isn’t there a spell to deal with your... situation?”

Tonks chose to ignore the first part of his response, “A jizz removal spell, you mean? Oddly enough, no. Not that I’m aware of anyway. Fortunately I’m a metamorphmagus so I can hold it in for now. I just have to remember not to let it go at an unfortunate moment. Like at breakfast... or in the middle of a Press Conference. That would make one hell of a headline wouldn’t it?”

Harry had never actually thought about what happened to a guy’s spunk once it was inside a woman. He certainly hadn’t realised it could just leak out! What kind of stupid design was that?

“Come on we better get up!” Tonks declared.

She leapt out of bed and caught sight of herself in the mirror, “Huh.”

“Is something wrong?” Harry asked.

“Not really, it’s just... well I assumed I’d revert back to my twenty-two year old body after last night. I feel more than sated sexually... and yet I still look like a teenager. Weird.”

Harry shrugged. He had no idea what might drive her appearance, but had no complaints either way – Tonks was gorgeous at any age.

After their showers they headed down for breakfast. They were a bit late so everyone else was already there. Harry and Tonks ate in contented silence while everyone else chatted about the usual nonsense. The conversation was interrupted when four owls descended on the house delivering Hogwarts Letters and booklists for Ron, Ginny, Harry and Hermione. They were all beside themselves with excitement.

Harry opened his envelope and peered inside. To his enormous surprise, alongside the various paperwork there was not one, but two badges. He reached in and grabbed them both, careful to keep them concealed. He put the gold one in his pocket, and then examined the silver one.

He’d been made Quidditch Captain! For a moment he wondered if Dumbledore had done this on purpose to overload him, but decided it was unlikely. Should he accept the Captaincy? Would he have time? He wasn’t sure. In the past he’d probably have declined on the basis that he probably wouldn’t have time. These days, he was more cavalier. Or to put it another way, he mused to himself, less chicken-shit. He decided to see how things played out. He could always stand-down later. He also rather liked the idea of having two badges.

Hermione spotted the silver badge in his hand, “Harry, you’ve been made Quidditch Captain! That gives you equal status with prefects! You can use our special bathroom now and everything!”

Ron scowled and muttered under his breath, “Great, there goes my place on the team.”

Harry was about to respond when Ginny interrupted, “Harry, what did you put in your pocket?”

“Nothing,” Harry replied innocently.

“Yes you did. You took something else out of your envelope, and put it in your pocket. I saw you.”

“I’m sure you must be mistaken, Ginny,” said Hermione, “Ron and I are the sixth year prefects, so Harry can’t be a prefect.”

Ginny folded her arms and glared at Harry, “Then Harry won’t mind emptying his pocket will he?”

Everyone looked at Harry. Harry looked at Tonks. She smirked and made no attempt to help him. With a heavy sigh he reached into his pocket and placed the other badge in the centre of the table. It was shaped like a shield with a burgundy background. Emblazoned across the front in gold letters were the words, ‘HEAD BOY’.

A shocked silence fell upon the room and then Hermione shrieked, “You’ve been made Head Boy?

Chaos erupted round the table, with everyone talking at once.

Mrs Weasley exclaimed, “Harry’s Head Boy? Our Harry?” while Bill and Fleur said, “Congratulations Harry” at the same time. Ron spat in disgust, “Bloody typical... Always has to go one better...” while Mr Weasley gave Harry a proud smile, “Well done, Harry! Well done indeed!” Ginny just stared at the badge in disbelief.

“But I don’t understand,” said Hermione, “You’re only a sixth year. The head boy is always a seventh year.”

Harry leaned forward and glared at her, “Are you saying I haven’t done enough for that tradition to be waived? I haven’t saved the school enough times, or nearly died often enough?”

Hermione paled, “No, of course not! Oh Harry, I’m sorry! That wasn’t what I meant... I was just taken by surprise. Of course you deserve it. Well done, Harry. Congratulations! I’m so pleased for you...”

Harry leaned back but his brow was still furrowed, “Thank you, Hermione.”

She looked relieved, but also crestfallen that she’d insulted him.

“Yes congratulations Harry dear,” Mrs Weasley agreed, though somewhat disapprovingly it seemed to Harry. She scanned Ron’s book list, “Well, I don’t suppose we can put off a trip to Diagon Alley much longer now you’ve got these. We’ll go on Saturday, as long as your father doesn’t have to go into work again. I’m not going there without him.”

“Mum, d’you honestly think You-Know-Who’s going to be hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?” asked Ron grumpily.

“Fortescue and Ollivander went on holiday, did they?” said Mrs Weasley, firing up at once. “If you think security’s a laughing matter you can stay behind and I’ll get your things myself!”

“No, I wanna come, I want to see Fred and George’s shop!” said Ron hastily.

“Then you just buck up your ideas, young man, before I decide you’re too immature to come with us!” Mrs Weasley replied angrily. She snatched up her clock (all nine hands of which were pointing at mortal peril) and balanced it on top of a pile of just-laundered towels. “And that goes for returning to Hogwarts, as well!”

Ron stared incredulously while his mother hoisted the laundry basket and the teetering clock into her arms and stormed out of the room.

“Blimey... you can’t even make a joke round here anymore...”

As Hermione rose to head up to her room, Tonks jumped up.

“Oh Hermione, could I ask a favour? I need you to do some research for me.”

Without waiting for a reply, Tonks pulled Hermione into the corner of the room and whispered in her ear. Hermione’s face went bright crimson and she bolted up the stairs. Tonks returned to the table as if nothing had happened.

“What was that about?” asked Ginny.

Tonks smiled innocently, “I just need some help with a little problem I’m having.”

Mr Weasley rose from his chair, “Harry, might I have a word?”

Harry started. What on earth could this be about? He stood up woodenly and followed Mr Weasley into the lounge.

The jovial man smiled reassuringly.

“There’s a lot going on in your life right now Harry,” he began. “Lots of new... responsibilities, and I’m conscious that you don’t have a father to guide you. I just wanted to let you know that if you ever need any advice, you can come to me. I’m not quite as clueless as I generally make out you know...”

“You’re not?” Harry replied.

Mr Weasley raised an eyebrow.

Harry winced, “Sorry. That came out wrong. I meant to say that I’ve noticed, but I’m surprised you’re admitting it.”

Mr Weasley grinned, “You’d be amazed what people will do and say if they think you’re a bumbling idiot. It’s like I’m invisible. But this is my home, Harry. I know everything that’s going on inside it.”

Harry swallowed heavily, “You do?”

“Yes I do, and here’s my first bit of advice – plausible deniability is your friend, Harry. In any situation, ask yourself what would be the outcome if you did something. Not what you hope the outcome would be, but what would the actual outcome be? If that’s not the outcome you want then perhaps it would be better to feign ignorance and do nothing. The recent outbreak of skimpy clothing would be a good illustration... I can imagine my diplomatic intervention bringing both sides together in harmonious compromise... but what would actually happen is that both sides would be unhappy with any compromise and they’d all blame me. Nothing good would come of me getting drawn into that debate. Fortunately, a happily married old duffer like me would never notice young women wearing skimpy clothes, so the problem does not arise.”

Harry blinked in surprise, and then grinned, “I understand, Mr Weasley.”

Mr Weasley smiled paternally, “Good lad. Exercising responsibility isn’t about micro-managing those around you. It’s about helping them find their own way to happiness. Sometimes the best thing to do... is to do nothing. Like if two of the young adults under my roof became very close, in a way that did nobody any harm... well then I see no reason why I would need to get involved in that. I would simply wish them well.”

The colour drained from Harry’s face. Mr Weasley knew that Harry and Tonks were having sex! But wait, Mr Weasley had said ‘young adults’... which meant he also knew that Harry was emancipated! Harry hadn’t told anyone yet, apart from Tonks, so Mr Weasley must have heard about it at the Ministry...

Mr Weasley gave Harry his best ‘harmless old fool’ smile, and then winked.

Harry goggled. Not only had Mr Weasley covertly given Harry and Tonks his blessing, but he’d presumably kept Harry’s emancipation a secret from Dumbledore, while maintaining plausible deniability on both counts.

Mr Weasley patted him on the shoulder, “It’s nice to see Tonks so happy. She’s a lovely girl. Right, I better get off to work. Have a good day Harry!”

With that, he strode back into the kitchen, bid everyone farewell and headed out the door.

In a bit of a daze, Harry returned to his seat. His respect and affection for the Weasley patriarch had risen even higher, but how had the man known about Harry and Tonks? He couldn’t have heard them having sex. If he had someone else would surely have heard too. Looking round the table everyone was behaving perfectly normally. Well, except for Tonks, who was practically glowing with happiness and kept shooting Harry contented little smiles. But everyone else looked completely...

Oh.

That’s what Mr Weasley had noticed. While Mrs Weasley was bustling around cooking and serving breakfast, and everyone else was tucking in and gossiping, Mr Weasley had observed them all silently from the end of the table and noticed the change in Tonks’ behaviour. Mr Weasley gave the impression that he was absent-minded and clueless, but he didn’t miss a thing.

Harry resumed eating his breakfast, wondering if anyone else knew how wily Mr Weasley actually was.

At that moment Fleur caught his eye. Her gaze flicked to Tonks, back to Harry, and then she smiled enigmatically. Oh crap! That’s two people who knew! Harry stared fixedly at his plate for the rest of the meal.

Later, as Harry and Tonks headed back to their room something occurred to him.

“So what did you ask Hermione?” he wondered.

Tonks smirked, “I asked her if there’s a spell for removing half a pint of jizz from a girl’s vagina.”

Harry gave her a shocked look.

“I know, I know! I’m sorry Harry, but Hermione’s just so damned cute when she’s flustered.”

Harry shook his head in exasperation, “Tonks, you’re awful!”

Tonks grinned cutely, “I can’t help myself... it’s an illness.”

Harry sighed in defeat, “Come on, we better get ready. The Press Conference is in an hour.”

Everyone else seemed to have forgotten that Harry had mentioned Press Conferences. Presumably they were under the impression that Dumbledore had cancelled them. Harry was actually rather curious to see what Dumbledore had up his sleeve. He’d no doubt asked Mrs Weasley to restrict Harry’s access to the floo. The flower pot with the floo powder in it had long since disappeared from the mantelpiece, he’d noticed. But what else?

Tonks pulled a set of brand-new Auror robes from her wardrobe and put them on. Harry had never actually seen her in Auror robes before. She looked quite formidable apart from the whole ‘cute teenage babe’ thing. But then she changed her appearance to that of a serious-looking thirty-something woman with plain brown hair, and she looked downright scary.

“You can change your appearance easily again?” asked Harry.

Tonks grinned, “Yeah, my subconscious seems satisfied with the heavy pounding you gave me last night.”

“So you’re cured?” he wondered, a little disappointed.

Tonks shrugged, “Maybe, but I think we better continued the treatment... just in case.”

Harry tried to affect a nonchalant look, but inside he was elated. Sex with Tonks was easily the most amazing thing ever; if she’d said it was a one-time thing for his birthday he’d have been totally crushed. With a huge sense of relief he focused on gathering his clothes for the day.

They’d discussed what Harry should wear to the Press Conference with Scrimgeour, and decided that it should be something that would inspire confidence and make Harry look older than his years. Aurors were generally undercover when they were out in the field, so they rarely wore their uniforms outside of ceremonial occasions. Nevertheless, they did have a uniform. It had quite a military look to it, and came in different colours depending on rank. In a fight it would be completely useless, but it definitely looked impressive.

Harry had argued in favour of something more functional – dragonhide boots and trousers with a white shirt, dragonhide waistcoat and full-length overcoat. He’d seen an old photograph of a Macusa Auror wearing that in a newspaper article once and thought it looked both effective and seriously cool. Unfortunately Scrimgeour had argued that while it was undoubtedly more effective in a fight, it wouldn’t create the right impression with the public. There was a reason soldiers had different uniforms for the field and the parade ground, he’d said. This Press Conference was effectively a parade – they needed to look impressive, so they needed the ceremonial uniform. Since the Press Conference was Scrimgeour’s baby, Harry bowed to his preference and they went for the ceremonial uniform. Harry did get Winky to order him a custom-made set of the dragonhide Macusa-style gear for other occasions though, because why not.

The Minister had a set of identical Auror-style uniforms made just for Harry and Tonks. They were modelled on the design of the Head of the Auror Office’s formal robes, but with a much plainer appearance. They didn’t want to go overboard with the parade-ground look. This would be a sombre occasion not a celebration. For colour, they decided that both Harry’s and Tonks’ robes should be entirely charcoal grey. The darker colours tended to be the more senior, so this conveyed a certain prestige, while being a colour that was not currently associated with any particular rank. It would keep people guessing about Harry’s status – the Ministry was implying that he was an Auror, without actually stating it.

Once Harry had donned his uniform, he checked-out his new look in the mirror. It was... well it was fucking awesome to be honest. It made him look extremely serious – like he meant business and shouldn’t be messed with. He particularly liked the jacket, which was straight-cut and buttoned all the way up to a standing collar at his neck.

“What sort of collar is this?” he asked Tonks over his shoulder.

“It’s called a choker,” she replied. “Not to be confused with other types of choker.”

“Other types?”

“Don’t worry about it Harry. Ask Hermione when you’re older. She’ll probably have several by then...”

Harry had the distinct impression that someone was being mocked, but he wasn’t sure who. He returned his attention to the uniform.

“I like it,” he decided. “What do you think, Tonks?”

“I think we need to do something about the mop on your head that you call hair,” she declared, approaching him with a jar of something in her hands. She dunked a couple of fingers into the jar, smeared the sticky contents around on her palms, and then applied it liberally to Harry’s hair.

“This is Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion. It was invented by your Grandfather, Fleamont Potter, to ‘tame even the most bothersome barnet’.”

“How do you know that?” Harry wondered as she began styling his hair with her fingers.

“It says so on the jar,” she replied, stepping back. “Right, let’s have a look at you... Perfect!”

Harry checked his hair in the mirror.

“Wow,” was all he could say. He hardly recognised himself. For the first time in his life he didn’t look like he’d just woken up and been dragged through a bush backwards. His hair looked shiny! Tonks had moulded it into a loosely slicked-back style that gave him a severe and dangerous air.

“You look badass, Harry!” she enthused, “and damned sexy. I think we nailed it... and I’d quite like to nail you right now actually. I suspect I won’t be the only one either – I’ll be beating the women off you with a stick.”

Harry grinned, “Brilliant! That’s what I was going for actually.”

Tonks snorted and rolled her eyes, “Sure you were, Romeo. Come on, let’s go.”

Harry and Tonks headed down just as Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Mrs Weasley were gathering in the kitchen for lunch. Mrs Weasley heard them coming down the stairs, “Ah Harry, just in time! Take a seat. I’ve made a lovely...”

She fell silent and gawped at him. The others all turned to look.

“Holy crap!” exclaimed Ginny.

Neither Mrs Weasley nor Hermione scolded her for language. Even Ron was lost for words.

“We’re just nipping out for a Press Conference,” said Harry. “See you all in a few hours.”

Mrs Weasley made a very clear move to block the floo, but Harry and Tonks went straight out the back door. Mrs Weasley came running after them, but was too late: Tonks side-along apparated them both straight to the front steps of the Ministry.

This was part of Harry’s deal with Scrimgeour – that he would be seen entering the Ministry from time to time. The Press Conference was being held in the Entrance Hall, so a huge crowd of journalists and photographers was gathered on the steps waiting to be allowed in.

Tonks started forging a path through the crowd, “Coming through! Make a space. Step aside. Coming through! Thank you!”

Heads turned and within seconds they were mobbed.

“Harry Potter!”

“Why are you here?”

“Who are you meeting?”

“Do you have a statement for the Press?”

Are you the Chosen One?”

Questions came from every direction. Half a dozen Ministry security guards descended on the crowd and made a path for Tonks and Harry to pass through. When Harry finally emerged, he ascended to the top of the steps and turned to face the Press. The shouting died down.

“Hi everyone!” he shouted. “Thanks for coming. The Minister and I will begin the Press Conference in a moment. That should answer most of your questions. See you all shortly.”

He smiled warmly and waved. Cameras flashed wildly all around him. That would be a feature photo for sure – Harry standing on the Ministry steps waving. He turned and followed Tonks into the building.

Scrimgeour was waiting just inside. He shook Harry’s hand and they both smiled. Harry felt they had a genuine respect for each other now, maybe even a friendship, albeit one founded on getting something they needed from the other. Cameras flashed at them through the Ministry windows – another feature photo. The papers loved getting these supposedly candid shots. Harry and Scrimgeour strolled away towards the other end of the atrium. Scrimgeour put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and more cameras flashed wildly behind them – another feature photo. Harry chuckled. Scrimgeour was definitely milking this for all it was worth.

“Any problems getting away Harry?”

“No. Smooth sailing thanks Rufus. What do you think of the uniforms?”

“Excellent, excellent... just what we need, I think.” They arrived at the podium and turned to face the empty atrium. “We’ll let the jackals through in just a moment. As we discussed, I’ll start, then hand over to you.”

“Understood. Right, let’s do this!” Harry said with more bravado than he actually felt. He had no particular fear of public speaking, but neither did he relish the limelight. He was only doing this because he had to.

Scrimgeour waved to the security guards holding the doors. All six of them were pulled open at once. A flood of humanity poured through and sprinted toward them. Harry was convinced he was going to be trampled, but a wall of security guards formed in front of him and held back the tide. The atrium quickly filled up to capacity. Harry wondered who all these journalists wrote for. Apart from the Prophet, the Quibbler, the WWN and Witch Weekly he wasn’t aware of any other Wizarding news media. Maybe each one had sent all their reporters?

They were certainly a dour lot. Stretched out in front of him was a sea of greys and browns, not a single bright colour anywhere... with just one exception – standing out like a sore thumb in cyan robes and elaborately curled golden-blonde hair was Rita Skeeter. She was looking quite foxy actually, for an older woman... so Harry gave her a saucy wink. Her mouth dropped open in shock.

Once the reporters had settled, the security guards withdrew and Scrimgeour stepped up to the podium. He quickly thought better of it and stepped in front of the podium instead. Harry stood to one side, hands behind his back like a soldier standing at ease. Cameras flashed as Scrimgeour began to speak.

These are dark times, there is no denying.

His deep and powerful voice filled the atrium. For the first time, Harry got a glimpse of the Scrimgeour that everyone else saw. He sounded formidable and scary... dangerous even – definitely not someone you wanted to mess with. This wasn’t the indecisive person Harry had seen at their first meeting – this Scrimgeour looked and sounded like a leader. His booming words settled like a thick blanket upon the audience, weighed down by the status of his office and Scrimgeour’s considerable personal gravitas.

Our world has perhaps... faced no greater threat... than it does today.

Harry marvelled at how well the Minister delivered his speech. He had no notes in front of him, it was all from memory, but it would seem spontaneous to the audience. Even more subtle was his use of dramatic pauses. Each sentence was punctuated with a heavy pause at the most critical moment – not at the end of a sentence, like you’d expect, but in the middle. It added tremendous weight to his words. Scrimgeour was quite a gifted orator.

But I say this to our citizenry: We... ever your servants...
Will continue to defend your liberty...
And repel the forces that seek to take it from you!
Your Ministry... remains... strong!

Harry nodded, expressing his solidarity with Scrimgeour’s words for the benefit of the reporters. That was the rousing introduction, Harry knew. Next would be the ‘call to action’ that Harry and Scrimgeour had agreed.

This is only the beginning... This is only the first sip...
The first foretaste of a bitter cup...
which will be proffered to us year upon year...
Unless we rise up and make our stand for freedom!

We must be united against this enemy.
We have faced him before... We know the villainy of which he is capable.
And so we know... that he will not stop...
UNLESS... WE... STOP HIM!

Scrimgeour’s powerfully raised voice echoed deafeningly around the atrium. When the reverberations faded away he spoke again, more quietly.

You have appointed me... to this great office...
To defeat this enemy... And I tell you... that I will not fail you.
But we have before us... an ordeal of the most grievous kind.
We have before us... many long months... of struggle and suffering.

You ask, what is our policy? And I say this: it is to WAGE WAR!
With all our might... we will wage war against this monstrous tyrant.
Because upon this great struggle... hangs the survival of our civilisation.
Upon this battle... depends our very way of life.

Nevertheless... our brave Aurors... undaunted by the odds...
Unwearied... by their constant challenge... and mortal danger...
Will turn the tide of this conflict...
By their prowess... and by their devotion.

His voice rose again, projecting his words into every corner of the enormous space:

And WE THE PEOPLE... will SUPPORT THEM...
With everything that we have!
With our blood... and our sweat... and our tears... we will support them.
Because our victory... or our defeat... will rest in their hands.

Scrimgeour paused for several seconds, and then continued much more quietly, as if hesitant to speak the rest out loud:

But that is not all...
We face an enemy... so steeped in evil... that some say he cannot die.
You may have heard of a prophecy... and a Chosen One...
You may have heard... that only the Chosen One can defeat him.

The audience had been quiet throughout Scrimgeour’s speech, but now there was complete and utter silence. No cameras flashed, no quills scratched. This was beyond anything they had expected to hear. Politicians didn’t talk about difficult subjects. Not ever. It was thoroughly unheard of. You could have heard a pin drop as Scrimgeour broached a subject none of them had expected him to even acknowledge.

And so... in the name of the people...
I have spoken with our rumoured saviour. I have spoken with Harry Potter.
And I have come to the conclusion... reluctantly I admit...
That he is indeed... the Chosen One.

Gasps rippled through the crowd, but Scrimgeour spoke over them:

As your servant I ask... is it prudent... however much we might desire it...
to turn our backs upon the truth? I say no!
And so... ladies and gentlemen of the Press...
I give you THE TRUTH! I give you HARRY POTTER!

Scrimgeour backed away, surrendering the stage, and all eyes turned to Harry. He approached the podium, and unlike Scrimgeour he did actually use it. He placed the parchment containing his speech upon the lectern, then put his hands on the front corners of the wooden rostrum and leaned forwards to inspect his audience. It was a pose he’d seen Dumbledore use, on occasion. It projected strength, confidence, and self-belief. Cameras flashed.

“Thank you, Minister, and thank you ladies and gentlemen of the Press for coming here today. These are indeed dark times. We are under attack, and already some of our citizens have lost their lives. I myself lost a loved one just a few weeks ago. War has once again been declared upon our society and death has come to our shores.”

“Fifteen years ago, this same enemy attempted to destroy us, and almost succeeded. We must not repeat the mistakes of the past. We must recognise that we are at war, and that victory will be hard won. But we should also realise that the greater our resolve, the sooner we will triumph. That is why I fully support the Ministry’s Declaration of War against the organisation known as the Death Eaters, and the individual who calls himself Lord Voldemort.”

Screams and gasps echoed around the hall. Harry waited for the noise to die down.

“As the Minister mentioned, there have been rumours of a prophecy. I can tell you that those rumours are true – there is indeed a prophecy.”

A ripple of shocked muttering filled the room.

“There are also rumours of a ‘Chosen One’ who can defeat our enemy... and that I am that ‘Chosen One’...”

Harry paused and let that statement hang in the air before he resumed, “Those rumours... are also true.”

Gasps and shrill whispers filled the room.

“For much of this year our enemy has been trying to gain access to the prophecy. We have been working very hard to prevent that, for fear that he might derive some advantage from hearing it. However, the Minister and I have discussed it at length... and we have decided that the citizens should know the truth. You deserve to know what the prophecy says. You deserve to know what we’re up against. So ladies and gentlemen, here it is, the prophecy in full, as it was given in 1980.”

The entire audience edged forwards, hanging on Harry’s every word. His voice echoed ominously in the silent Atrium:

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...
Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...
And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...
And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...

Absolute pandemonium broke out. Cries of dismay mixed with countless screamed questions. It took several minutes for order to be restored.

“Prophecies can be tricky things,” Harry resumed, “but it’s hard to escape the conclusion that only I can defeat this enemy. Indeed, I have faced him five times, and I can tell you that he is a formidable opponent. It is clear to the two of us now, I think, that it will ultimately come down to him versus me. Our fates were sealed the day he killed my parents and ‘marked me as his equal’.” Harry pointed at the scar on his forehead. “But as he will realise, when he hears the prophecy, he himself has forged the weapon that will ultimately destroy him.”

Harry’s voice rose, his tone angry and determined. “So I accept the role of the Chosen One, and I do it gladly. For my parents, for my Godfather, and for all those that we have lost, I will face this enemy and I will send him to the grave he so richly deserves!

A profound silence fell upon the room. Quills stopped scratching and cameras stopped flashing. Harry’s eyes scanned over the crowd, daring them to doubt him. His gaze was as cold and as hard as steel. Voldemort had taken too much from him already. It was time for Harry to take the war to Voldemort. It was time for Death Eaters to start dying. It was time to end this.

Harry’s voice dropped low. The audience almost had to strain to hear him. “These few who seek to subjugate us think they can murder and terrorise, and yet still walk among us with impunity.” Harry’s voice rose. “Let us show them how wrong they are!” Harry’s fist crashed down on the podium with deafening boom, “This land is our home! This is where we raise our children and live our lives in peace, but they seek to take that from us.”

He was shouting now, “Will we let them? Will we meekly stand aside and let them murder those we love? No we will not, because our enemy has made a grave mistake! We are not sheep who wait meekly for the slaughter. We are witches and we are wizards. To our enemies this is not a land of peace IT IS THE LIONS’ DEN! What do lions do when an enemy enters their territory? They unite and they destroy that enemy completely. So we will bring UNHOLY WAR down upon these Death Eaters, and we will wipe them from the face of the earth. Let it be known the world over that those who attack us in our home will find nothing but cold oblivion here.”

In the shocked silence that followed, Harry abruptly switched to his normal speaking volume. “To the citizens of the Wizarding World I say this: Support your Minister! Support your Ministry! Together we – the Minister, the Ministry and I – have the resolve to do what’s required to defeat this enemy and win this war. With your support we will do so. Thank you.”

The room erupted as reporters screamed questions at him and the Minister. A deafening tidal wave of sound buffeted them. Scrimgeour stepped forward and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. He waited patiently until the noise subsided, and then he spoke again.

“As of this moment, Wizarding Britain is at war. In recognition of the unique role that Harry Potter will play, I yesterday gave the order for Harry to be emancipated. He is now legally an adult, and can perform magic at will. As of today, the Auror Office has been given authorisation to use deadly force against suspected Death Eaters, including the Unforgivable Curses. Harry has also been given authorisation to do so. Furthermore, any citizen is hereby authorised to use the Killing Curse in defence of themselves or their family, against any individual wearing Death Eater robes. Please standby for further announcements. Thank you.”

The room descended into total chaos.

Notes:

Thank you to everyone who’s taken a moment to hit the Kudos button. I’m writing this story for you guys!

There are currently 6400 Harry Potter fanfics on AO3 with more Kudos than this one. If everyone who’s faithfully reading every chapter of this story hit the Kudos button it would make the top 400. Just saying...

Chapter 20: Direction and Misdirection

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Security guards ran forward to restrain the surging audience. Reporters screamed themselves hoarse trying to get their questions heard, but Harry and Scrimgeour ignored them. They shook hands again, to a flurry of camera flashes, and then strode off toward the Minister’s office like two old friends, closely followed by half a dozen Aurors, cameras flashing constantly behind them.

Once they were safely alone on Scrimgeour’s office, Tonks reverted to her teenage self and Harry breathed out heavily. Scrimgeour poured three Firewhisky’s and handed them round, “I think that went well.”

Harry nodded, “I agree. You’re a gifted speaker, Rufus. If the Press and the people don’t back us after that speech... we may as well give up now and move to the Bahamas.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself, Harry. Grab a seat; you too Tonks. Relax for a few minutes. We might not get the chance again anytime soon. Whichever way things go, the next few days will be hectic.”

Harry could see relief written across Scrimgeour’s face. He felt much the same himself, actually. He’d projected a lot more confidence during his speech than he actually felt, because that was the whole point of the Press Conference – to reassure the population. There would be no point doing it if he was going to be all humble.

Nevertheless, he was actually quite hopeful that Voldemort would be defeated. Not because his recent victories had made him more confident, but because his goals were so modest. Harry’s aim was wasn’t to kill Voldemort permanently it was just to deprive him of a body until a more permanent solution could be found. With the full backing of the Ministry that was a very achievable objective, especially if they could disrupt or destroy Voldemort’s support base. There was also the chance that they’d flush Voldemort out and someone else would hit him with a fatal curse, thus saving Harry the trouble. If Harry’s goal had been to kill Voldemort permanently with just his school friends to help him, he’d be feeling a lot less optimistic.

In the meantime, Harry’s work for today was not yet complete. He wasn’t just here to reassure the population. He also had to keep Scrimgeour moving in the right direction. With the Press Conference that Scrimgeour had desired so desperately finally under his belt, it was possible that the Minister might not follow through on the measures they needed to implement to actually win this war.

As the three of them relaxed into their usual seats in front of the fire Harry gathered his thoughts in readiness. Scrimgeour seemed to value Harry's input regarding Dumbledore and Voldemort, and some encouraging words might go a long way towards shoring up the Minister’s resolve. Despite that, Harry had no illusions about Scrimgeour seeing Harry as any sort of equal. He was just a resource – Scrimgeour’s only insight into what his competitors might be up to.

“You still think that disclosing the prophecy was the right move?” Scrimgeour asked.

Harry nodded without hesitation, “Yeah, I do. It was an unprecedented display of honesty, and the public will appreciate that. It gives me undeniable legitimacy as the ‘Chosen One’, and it’ll enhance your reputation for being open and trustworthy. If people believe in us they’ll be more likely to accept some of the things we’re going to do. It also completely relieves everyone else of the burden of having to deal with Voldemort – they can just let me handle him. The British Wizarding public loves to leave all the hard work to someone else, so they’ll grab onto that with both hands.”

Scrimgeour chuckled in amusement, “They do rather favour that approach yes...”

Harry took a sip of Whisky, “Dumbledore will go ape-shit of course. That’s mostly because he’s obsessed with secrecy for secrecy’s sake, but he also thinks it’ll give Voldemort some vital information. I’ve thought about it many times, and I just can’t see any downside to Voldemort knowing what the prophecy says. He knew the first two lines already, and the last line is basically the same as the first, so it all comes down to lines three and four. The ‘marking me as his equal’ bit will probably enrage him, because he’ll realise that he never should have attacked me in the first place. If he hadn’t, he’d never have ‘marked me’ and the prophecy would have been broken. In fact he’d have won the last war and he’d be sitting in this office right now instead of us. That will make him think twice about everything he does from now on. He’ll also agonise over what it means by ‘equal’. He’s obsessed with being the best, because he’s fundamentally a coward. That’s why he avoids anyone who might be his equal.”

“You think so?” Scrimgeour asked sceptically.

“I do,” Harry confirmed. “Look at how he avoids Dumbledore! Dumbledore isn’t even his equal, but he’s close enough that Voldemort won’t risk it.”

“And what about the rest of the prophecy?” the Minister enquired.

“The ‘either must die at the hand of the other’ part tells him that he has to kill me himself. I’m pretty sure he already knows that, and he’s been trying to kill me all along, so it doesn’t exactly change anything. In fact it might reduce the chance of his Death Eaters taking pot-shots at me, which will help me out. That leaves us with the ‘power he knows not’. That’s the part Dumbledore must be worried about. Presumably he’s thinking that Voldemort will figure out what that power is and neutralise it. But frankly, I think that’s unlikely. If Dumbledore’s right and it’s ‘love’ then Voldemort’s had plenty of hints about that already. When he tried to possess me during our fight in the Atrium recently, the love I felt for my parents and Sirius caused him tremendous pain. If he hasn’t got it after that blatant clue he’s never going to. But if he has figured it out already then we didn’t tell him anything new did we?”

Harry chose his words carefully now. He didn’t want to give any hint that Voldemort’s defeat fifteen years ago had been his mother’s doing rather than his own.

“Personally, I think Voldemort’s already figured it out. In the Little Hangleton graveyard he talked about an ‘old magic’ which he’d overlooked, and which prevented him from touching me. He said that’s why he went to such lengths to trap me in fourth year – he wanted to use my blood in the ritual that recreated his body. By doing so he thought he would neutralise the problem, and sure enough he can touch me now. But when I told Dumbledore about that his eyes flashed in triumph. Dumbledore knows more about this sort of magic than Voldemort, so I think Voldemort has miscalculated. I don’t know how, because of course Dumbledore hasn’t told me, but I’m pretty certain of it. So, all in all, what have we lost by telling Voldemort the prophecy? Nothing. But we’ve gained plenty. I think we did the right thing.”

Scrimgeour swirled the whisky in his glass thoughtfully, “I’m inclined to agree. It’s imperative that the populace believe in the Ministry. The two of us standing together and revealing the prophecy achieved that goal handsomely, while also providing a roadmap for how we’ll bring You-Know-Who down. How do you think Dumbledore will react?”

Harry shrugged, “He’ll probably do nothing straight away. He avoids confrontation like the plague and prefers to think things through before he acts. When he does, he operates in the shadows, using proxies and subtle manipulation to get his way. He never goes head-to-head with those who challenge him. Half the time he does absolutely nothing, as far as I can tell. When Lucius Malfoy got Hagrid thrown into Azkaban in my second year, for example, Dumbledore didn’t confront Malfoy and did nothing to get Hagrid out. When Lucius arranged for Buckbeak to be executed in my third year, Dumbledore got Hermione and me to break the Law to save the poor creature instead of doing anything himself. When someone ordered me killed by Dementors in fifth year, the Headmaster did nothing to identify them. That left Umbridge free to torture me and others for the rest of the year, and eventually get Dumbledore himself thrown out of his own school. At no point did he make any attempt to stop her.”

“And yet Dumbledore is still around,” Scrimgeour observed. “He always seems to win in the end.”

“Indeed,” Harry agreed. “And that’s the problem. All the Headmaster cares about is winning the final battle. He doesn’t mind losing a hundred skirmishes along the way. Fudge ran rings around Dumbledore for years, wreaking havoc, but I’ve never seen anyone look as smug as Dumbledore did when he finally defeated Fudge. I wouldn’t call that a victory myself, given the price we paid, but the Headmaster takes no account of who gets hurt or killed while he’s working towards his eventual triumph. He’s like the King in a game of chess – he stays safe while everyone else does all the fighting, so it’s always other people who come to harm. Fortunately, his reticence should actually work in my favour for once – I’m fairly confident that whatever he does won’t inconvenience us much. If he does anything at all, that is. Most likely he’ll want to find out what Voldemort’s reaction is and then pace around his office for a few weeks pondering on it...”

The Minister chuckled quietly, “I hope you’re right. The last thing we need is Dumbledore working against us. He's a canny foe, and this is one fight where the final outcome is rather critical, I think you’d agree. What about the rest of the Press Conference?”

Harry gave a satisfied smile, “I think we struck the right balance. We both sang from the hymn sheet that people wanted to hear, without divulging too many specifics about what we’d do. It will also look like I’m the young militant while you’re the experienced and conservative ‘safe pair of hands’. That should give everyone something to get behind. Some, like the Order of the Phoenix, will be concerned that I’m too militant of course... but that should work well for us. While they’re trying to rein me in you should have a free hand to pursue a more ‘conservative’ agenda. Hardly anyone will notice that your conservative agenda is vastly more militant than they would have accepted if they didn’t have me to focus on.”

“That’s rather devious Harry,” Scrimgeour noted shrewdly. “Are you sure you don’t want a career in politics?”

“God no,” Harry replied emphatically. “I have no head for it. I learned that particular trick from Fudge – while Dumbledore and I were fighting Dolores Umbridge, he had a free hand to do whatever he liked. The man was a buffoon, but he had a real gift for getting what he wanted.”

They continued chatting until they’d finished their drinks and then said their goodbyes.

Tonks led Harry to the Atrium, then side-along apparated him back to the Burrow.

- § -

They walked into the kitchen to find a rather irate Mrs Weasley waiting for them. The others must have got bored waiting, Harry guessed. He was rather glad of that, to be honest. He didn’t feel like dealing with Hermione or Ron right now.

“Harry dear! I thought I told you that Dumbledore had sorted out this silly Press Conference business!”

“Yes you did Mrs Weasley but I thought I’d go along just to be sure. It’s a good job I did. Dumbledore hadn’t sorted it out at all. Everyone was waiting for me! Can you imagine if I’d just not turned up? The Minister would have been publicly humiliated. I don’t know what Dumbledore was thinking. Is he trying to get me thrown into Azkaban?”

Mrs Weasley was completely wrong-footed, “No of course not! I don’t understand... He told me he’d sort it...”

“Well, no harm done,” Harry said brightly. “We had a pretty good time, didn’t we Tonks? The Minister’s ever so nice – didn’t ask me to do much at all really. Just read out a short statement he’d prepared for me – simple. Anyway, I need to get out of these formal robes. See you later!”

- § -

Harry and Tonks came down for dinner a few hours later to find the table full. Mrs Weasley had laid out a huge spread, but nobody had started eating yet (not even Ron) and the mood seemed tense.

“There will be no discussion of today’s events until we’ve all enjoyed the meal that Molly has prepared for us,” Mr Weasley declared, deliberately looking at Hermione then Ron then Ginny.

All three of them looked fit to burst, but grumbled or nodded their reluctant agreement.

Conversation was muted while everyone ate. There was clearly an elephant in the room and nobody was quite able to ignore it. Several times Hermione went to say something, glanced at Mr Weasley and thought better of it. Bill and Fleur chatted in subdued tones about their day, but most of the meal was held in awkward silence.

Mr Weasley finally sighed and put his napkin down next to his empty plate.

“Thank you Molly, that was delicious.”

Bill, Hermione, Ginny, Harry and Tonks all expressed their agreement and thanks while Ron grunted something appreciative through a mouthful of fourth helpings. Fleur, who’d only had a tiny portion and picked at it with little apparent relish, was daintily dabbing at the corners of her mouth with her napkin so it was unclear if she said anything.

“I heard you gave an interesting Press Conference today Harry,” Mr Weasley said, bringing the moratorium to an end.

“What happened Harry?” Hermione asked immediately. “We haven’t heard anything. We were going to listen on the Wizarding Wireless Network but... well...”

“Mum wouldn’t let us,” Ginny finished for her.

This gave Harry the chance to establish the story that he wanted Dumbledore to hear. As he’d planned from the start, he was going to paint himself as a hapless victim of the Minister’s manipulations. He wasn’t sure if everyone would fall for it, but some of them would, and that might sow enough doubt to prevent them taking any actual action to obstruct him. As Harry had learned last year, most people are unwilling to fight something if they aren’t entirely sure there’s anything to actually fight. Fudge and Umbridge had abused that fact mercilessly when they’d undermined Harry’s claims that Voldemort was back.

In a way, Harry was using a variant on Mr Weasley’s plausible deniability approach. Some of his audience might suspect that he was more actively involved than he made out, but they wouldn’t be sure, and would therefore be uncertain about how to react.

“It was nothing really,” Harry replied cheerfully. “The Minister prepared a statement for me to read out and it looked pretty harmless to me, so I thought... why not?”

Mr Weasley raised an incredulous eyebrow, “Harmless? You read out the prophecy Harry.”

Mrs Weasley, Bill and Hermione all shouted, “WHAT?

Harry faked a cringe and sank into his seat, “Oh well yeah. It was harmless apart from that bit. But you see, Scrimgeour already knew the prophecy. He talked me into telling him when I was drunk.”

Hermione favoured him with a look of profound pity, “Oh Harry.

It was so typically Hermione that he almost burst out laughing, which would have ruined everything.

He soldiered on, trying to sound apologetic, “The Minister was just going to read it out himself, so I thought I may as well do it. We did discuss it though, and he convinced me that there was actually no harm in disclosing it. Voldemort doesn’t learn anything useful from it. In fact he learns a few things that should make him hesitate.”

Hermione sat forward, her expression earnest and worried, “But Harry don’t you see? Now he’s knows there’s a power he knows not! He might figure out what it is and neutralise it!”

Harry turned to face her, “But how exactly would he do that? If I were to tell you, right now, that somebody was going to kill you using a power you knew not, how would you go about figuring out what it was?”

“Well I’d go to the Library,” Hermione began, “and then I’d... hunt for all the branches of magic I didn’t know... and make a list... and then...”

“So let’s suppose Voldemort does that,” Harry interrupted, “and makes a list of everything he doesn’t know. Even if that’s quite a short list, there are still countless ways they could be used to kill him. Also, he’s only identified the known branches of magic that he’s unfamiliar with. But there could easily be obscure or unknown branches of magic that aren’t in any Library. Either way, he’ll never know for sure if he’s found the right one.”

“Maybe,” Hermione conceded, “but wouldn’t it have to be something you know about? That would narrow it down.”

“Unlikely,” Harry replied immediately. “If he could be defeated by something on the Hogwarts syllabus I’m pretty sure anyone could do him in. No, it would have to be something that only I know. But I can tell you right now that I don’t know any magic that you don’t, because let’s face it you taught me most of it!”

Hermione smiled shyly at the complement.

“In any case,” Harry continued, “Dumbledore thinks the power is ‘love’. Even if Voldemort figures that out, how do you think he’d protect himself from it?”

A frown creased her brow. Everyone else looked a bit confused too.

“There’s also the possibility that Dumbledore could be wrong,” Harry noted. “I can think of at least two far more likely ‘powers’ that Voldemort knows nothing about.”

“Really?” Hermione asked in surprise. “What?”

Harry hadn’t given much thought to what the ‘power he knows not’ might be, because he wasn’t currently trying to destroy Voldemort permanently. All he wanted to do was deprive Voldemort of his body. But a couple of ideas had occurred to him. First, like practically everyone else, Voldemort was blind to the power of the elves. Second, despite growing up in a muggle orphanage, Voldemort seemed to entirely dismiss muggle technology.

“I think I’d better keep those to myself,” Harry replied.

He didn’t want to endanger the elves, or tip his hand about muggle tech. He had no immediate plans to acquire a muggle weapon, but he’d like to keep the possibility open. The Minister could probably acquire one for him...

To everyone’s surprise, Ron interjected. “If You-Know-Who has heard the entire prophecy, he now knows that only you can kill him. Won’t he realise that he’ll live forever if he just avoids you?”

Harry laughed, “Oh God I hope so! That would be awesome!”

“Awesome for you maybe,” Ron growled angrily. “What about the rest of us?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Harry replied hastily. “I meant that if he thinks the prophecy makes him immortal that would be awesome, because he’d be wrong. He most certainly is not immortal but he might become reckless if he thought he was, making it much easier for someone other than me to kill him. Think about it! If that’s what the prophecy meant then I’d be immortal too. Do you think I’m immortal? If you chopped off my head do you think I’d survive? If you drop a ten tonne boulder on me will it bounce off? Do you think I’m impervious to spells now? Anyone fancy casting the Killing Curse at me to find out?”

Nobody volunteered.

“Exactly!” Harry resumed earnestly. “I’m not immortal and neither is he. The prophecy can’t possibly mean that.”

“But what if Dumbledore’s right about the power,” Ron replied, looking a little disgruntled at having his first theory shot down, “and You-Know-Who does figure out how to protect himself from it?”

Harry shrugged, “I’m pretty sure he’s already done that, actually.”

Everyone looked shocked at that statement.

“Harry, you have to tell Dumbledore!” Hermione said, clutching at his arm.

“He already knows,” Harry replied evenly. “When I told him, the Headmaster looked... triumphant.”

Mr Weasley suddenly shot up from his seat, “STOP!

An astonished silence fell over the room.

“I think perhaps we should say no more on that subject,” Mr Weasley continued more calmly. “We’re at war now. Careless talk costs lives.”

WE’RE AT WAR?” Mrs Weasley shrieked.

Hermione, Ron and Ginny looked equally appalled.

“Did I not mention that?” Harry asked innocently.

“No, you did not mention that!” Hermione screeched.

Harry tried to look sheepish, “Oh right, yeah. The Minister declared war on Voldemort and the Death Eaters.”

“Not just the Minister,” Mr Weasley interjected, “you said we would wipe the Death Eaters from the face of the earth. Isn’t that going a bit far?”

Harry’s patience was running thin. He decided to be provocative to see if anyone would back him up, “No I don’t. If we’d dealt with them properly last time they wouldn’t be killing us again now, would they? What did Dumbledore’s much-vaunted forgiveness achieve? Another war with the exact same people, that’s what!”

Mrs Weasley immediately leapt to the Headmaster’s defence, “You have no idea what it was like after the last war! Dumbledore helped us all to move on and allowed Wizarding society to heal. He has his reasons for everything he does. You need to trust him Harry! Stop interfering and let Dumbledore handle this!”

Her reply didn’t surprise him in the least. Looking around the table he could see Bill, Ron and Ginny all nodding. Mr Weasley was watching him closely, while Hermione just looked a little panicky and Fleur's expression was entirely neutral.

“Is that so?” Harry replied coldly. “If I’d let Dumbledore handle things when a troll was loose in the school Hermione would be dead right now. If I’d let him handle things when Ginny was lying on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets she’d be dead right now. If I’d let him handle things last year when Mr Weasley was attacked by Nagini he’d be dead right now. If I’d blindly trusted Dumbledore like you all apparently want me to, three of you wouldn’t even be here!”

Mrs Weasley’s expression oscillated between horror and outrage, while everyone else exchanged awkward looks.

“On top of which,” Harry continued quickly, “the Headmaster’s views are self-contradictory. He himself told me that prophecies do not actually foretell the future, and that this one is only important because Voldemort believes it. If it’s nonsense, why would it matter if Voldemort discovered what the 'power he knows not' actually is? Dumbledore also stated that this prophecy would have been broken if Voldemort hadn’t killed my parents. So if prophecies are nonsense or can be easily broken... why the hell did Dumbledore risk so many lives trying to prevent Voldemort hearing this one? There are only two possibilities. Either he did it just to sow fear in Voldemort – fear that there was something he didn’t know – but I’d hardly call that sufficient justification for gambling with our lives! Alternatively, despite what he said, Dumbledore does actually believe in prophecies. Either way, he’s using us like pawns on a chess board, to be sacrificed if that gets him closer to victory.”

“I’m sure that’s not true Harry,” Mr Weasley countered.

“Are you?” Harry retorted. “Do you know what the Headmaster said to Voldemort when they were duelling in the Ministry Atrium a few months ago?”

Harry paused for moment, despite knowing full well that nobody but him knew what had taken place. Mr Weasley shook his head.

“Voldemort asked why Dumbledore wasn’t trying to kill him, and Dumbledore replied, ‘Merely taking your life would not satisfy me’. What do you suppose the Headmaster meant by that?”

Mr Weasley frowned. Harry glanced around the table. Everyone was looking rather puzzled, except Mrs Weasley who was glaring at Harry furiously. She really didn’t like anyone contradicting her. She was one of those parents who demanded unquestioning obedience from the children around her, even the ones that weren’t hers. It was a trait that Harry found increasingly irritating. It spoke of lazy thinking and an unforgivably selfish desire to retreat into the comfort of self-delusion. Mrs Weasley refused to even listen to alternative points of view, never mind actually consider them, and became quite irrational in the face of evidence contrary to the reality she desired to exist. There was no point even attempting to reason with people like her, he realised.

Harry turned his attention back to her husband, “I think Dumbledore has become so wrapped-up in his desire to inflict an elegant and crushing intellectual victory on Voldemort that he’s lost sight of all the people who’ll get hurt in the process. But I have no interest in elegance. I just want Voldemort to die as quickly as possible. He’s not invulnerable – someone just has to land a Killing Curse on him. I will gladly be the one to do it, but I don’t actually care who does it as long as someone puts him down.”

Before anyone could reply, four owls landed on the ledge outside the window and began squawking loudly. Mrs Weasley hastened to let them in. They were carrying special editions of the Evening Prophet – one each for Mr Weasley, Bill, Harry and Hermione. Written on the front in huge letters was the headline:

MINISTRY DECLARES WAR!

Within seconds everyone was clustered around one copy or another: Mrs and Mrs Weasley... Bill and Fleur... Hermione, Ron and Ginny... Harry and Tonks... It was a huge edition – plastered with headlines, photos, background stories, interviews, reaction and commentary. Harry scanned the main headlines:

PROPHECY REVEALED: HARRY POTTER IS THE CHOSEN ONE

MINISTER AND HARRY POTTER CALL FOR UNITY

ROUSING SPEACHES – FULL TEXT

HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT IN SUPPORT OF MINISTRY

HARRY POTTER EMANCIPATED AT 16

AURORS AND HARRY POTTER AUTHORISED TO USE UNFORGIVABLES

CITIZENS AUTHORISED TO USE KILLING CURSE AGAINST DEATH EATERS

Mrs Weasley shrieked at almost every headline. She clutched her chest and sank heavily into a chair.

Hermione shrieked next, “You’re emancipated?

She stared at him with an expression that he couldn’t place at all, and then she glanced at Tonks, who smirked at her.

Mr Weasley rose from his seat and addressed the room, “Could you get the floo powder Molly? I’m sure the Order will be meeting tonight. Tonks, I assume you’ll be staying to guard Harry?” She nodded. “Good. We’ll leave the children in your hands. Bill and Fleur, you’re with us.”

Moments later, the ‘adults’ were all gone.

Harry was keen to avoid Dumbledore, so he made no effort to join them. Not that they’d have let him of course, even though they were meeting at 12 Grimmauld Place, which was his house. That was an issue he’d have to deal with eventually, but not right now... he could only fight one battle at a time.

Notes:

Harry will not be using elves or muggle tech against Voldemort in this story.

Chapter 21: Pushback

Chapter Text

Harry wasn’t too concerned about what the Order might discuss without him. If the past was any guide, there would be a lot of talk and very little action. Dumbledore would reveal nothing of course, and everyone would accept that. Then he’d send them all off with orders to gather information of one sort or another, and they’d all feel like they were doing something useful and important. In comparison, Harry now had the Minister and the entire Ministry behind him. Nothing Dumbledore and a dozen civilians got up to could compare to that, especially since the Order never did anything pro-active.

Tonks grinned and spoke up, snapping him out of his reverie, “Right! I don’t want any trouble from you children, or it’ll be straight to bed with you!”

Hermione, Ron and Ginny all scowled at her.

“Technically I’m an adult,” Harry noted.

“Oh yeah,” replied Tonks, “Sorry Harry. You can do whatever you want.”

That set Hermione off, “Exactly how did you end up emancipated, Harry?”

“Well, the Minister thought it was a bit daft that the only person who could kill Voldemort was forbidden from using or practicing magic outside school. It’s kind of hard to argue with that, wouldn’t you say? If you think about it, Dumbledore should have emancipated me years ago. It’s almost as if he’s trying to get me killed.”

Hermione looked uncertain and confused, but Ron jumped in, “What about us? We’re in danger too, from being your friends!”

“You were my friends, Ron”, Harry replied contemptuously, “but then you decided to undermine me all year, remember? I could probably have convinced the Minister to emancipate all of us, but I no longer feel inclined to do so.”

Ron looked furious and Hermione looked like she might throw up. Harry knew what she was thinking – the ability to do magic all year had been within her grasp and she’d blown it.

“Actually,” Tonks reminded them helpfully, “the Trace can't tell who's performing magic within a magical household, so you can practice magic at home as much as you like Ron; you too Ginny; you just need to get your parents’ permission. It’s only muggleborns like Hermione who can’t.”

That made Hermione even more furious. Harry wondered if she realised she could do magic here with Mrs Weasley’s permission too? Maybe she did, and realised (just like Ron did) that Mrs Weasley would never give it.

“Come to think of it, I do have two friends left,” Harry mused, “Tonks, could you remind me to ask Neville and Luna if they’d like to be emancipated?”

Luna’s only fifteen!” Hermione shrieked.

Harry ignored her and spoke to Tonks again, “Actually, scratch that. Neville and Luna are both purebloods. They can do magic at home already.”

Hermione screamed in frustration.

Harry noticed Tonks turn away and bite her knuckle in an obvious effort to suppress a giggle. She turned back with a stern look on her face.

“Now now, Hermione, we’ll have less of those tantrums, or I might have to put you over my knee.”

Hermione’s and Ginny’s mouths fell open, while Ron looked like Christmas had come early.

Tonks seemed to mull it over, “Yes, I think a good spanking might do you the world of good. Look! Ron seems to agree with me”.

Everyone’s eyes snapped to Ron, who quickly dropped the leer he was giving Hermione. Ginny and Hermione both turned a bit green.

Harry laughed, “Maybe you should just confiscate Hermione’s wand. It’s not like she can use it.”

If looks could kill, Harry would be six feet under from the one Hermione gave him at that comment.

What?” he asked innocently. “I’m just saying...”

Hermione glanced at Tonks uncertainly and chose not to reply, so Harry turned back to his copy of the Prophet and gave it another once-over. The photos turned out as he’d expected – they portrayed him and the Minister as if they were best buddies and Harry was pleased with how the uniform looked. The biggest picture was on the front page. It showed Harry and Scrimgeour standing together, with the Minister’s hand on his shoulder. It was exactly the image Harry wanted – of the Minister being in charge, not Harry. It would have been disastrous if the Press had portrayed them the other way round. Harry wasn’t sure how Scrimgeour’s ego would have coped with that. He wasn’t obsessed with image like Fudge had been, but he’d come up through the ranks of the Auror Office so respect for the chain of command was important to him.

To be fair, Scrimgeour had the bigger job by far. Harry might be the one who had to deal with Voldemort, but the Minister would be dealing with everything else. Whether it was harder was open to debate, but it was definitely bigger. In any case, Harry had no love of the limelight; he was happy for Scrimgeour to take the attention and the credit. Harry just wanted this all to be over, so he could get on with his life.

At that moment, to everyone’s surprise (and Ginny’s eternal mortification) another unexpected owl arrived. Ginny tried to get to it first, but Ron beat her to it.

“You have a subscription to Witch Weekly,” he announced gleefully. “How long have you been covering that up?”

Ginny snatched it from Ron’s hand and tried to hide it, but Harry saw the picture of himself on the front with the headline, ‘Special Commemorative Edition: Harry Potter – Heroic Stud Muffin’

Beside him, Tonks whipped out her wand and cried, “Accio teenage porn.”

Ginny’s magazine flew through the air into Tonks’ waiting hand.

“Thanks Ginny,” Tonks said sarcastically, “you can have it back in a minute. I know you’ll want to use it... I mean read it... in bed later.”

Ginny flushed bright red and fumed impotently.

“Let’s see what this says shall we?” Tonks continued, flicking through the magazine. “Ah, here we go:”

Harry Potter, 16, arguably the hottest piece of teenage beefcake in the country, just got hotter!

At a Ministry press conference this afternoon, Harry was confirmed as the Chosen One, and pledged to save us all from You-Know-Who. As if that wasn’t enough to get teenage witches’ hearts pounding across the nation, he was also declared emancipated.

That’s right, ladies. Harry Potter is legally an adult and officially FAIR GAME!

We can therefore state, without fear of censure, that Harry Potter is looking EXTREMELY SHAGGABLE these days. One beautiful blonde witch, 25, who asked not to be named, said, “I’d definitely bang him. It would be a night he’d never forget.” She gave us her contact details if you’re interested Harry, but please don’t tell her husband. Another pretty young witch, Romilda Vane, 16, who attends Hogwarts with Harry said, “I hope he dumps that awful Granger girl this year. She doesn’t appreciate him at all, and she never let’s anyone near him. Someone else should get a turn.”

We at Witch Weekly would have to agree. Pictures of Harry smiling have been as rare as Basilisk teeth in the three years he’s been dating muggleborn Hermione Granger. Has Harry finally escaped his ball-and-chain’s jealous clutches? Is Harry back on the market? We certainly hope so, because what he was wearing today has everyone at Witch Weekly very hot under the collar. One vivacious reporter (whose details are also on file, if you need them Harry) noted that Harry’s butt looked so tight you could bounce galleons off it...

Harry’s face felt like it was on fire. He snatched the magazine from Tonks’ hands and threw it back to Ginny. “Thank you, Tonks. I think we’ve all heard enough of that.”

Ron gave Harry a furious glare and stormed off up the stairs. Hermione looked angry too, but when she caught Harry looking her way she quickly lifted her copy of the Prophet to hide her face.

Tonks smirked, “Are you sure Harry? There’s like... another thirty pages of that. Plus close-up photos of your arse.”

“Yes I’m very sure, thank you.”

“Well, I guess it’s all yours then Ginny,” replied Tonks. “Try not to stick all the pages together later.”

Ginny snatched the magazine off the table and seethed silently.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Tonks exclaimed. “Any luck with my research project, Hermione?”

Ginny’s eyes went wide. Hermione had obviously told her about it.

Hermione dropped her newspaper. “What?” she cried in disbelief. “I thought you were just messing with me!

“Er... no!” replied Tonks. “The problem is very real!” She leant forward conspiratorially, “and it will be getting worse later tonight, if you know what I mean...”

Hermione and Ginny both stared at Harry, who felt his cheeks burn even hotter and hid behind his paper.

Hermione stumbled over her answer, “Well um... I’m not sure where I would um... locate reference texts for um... that sort of thing.”

Harry lowered his paper just enough that he could see them over it.

“You’ll figure something out,” said Tonks brightly, “You’re a genius at research. Think of it as forward planning. You two may need it yourselves some day. I’m not averse to sharing...” Tonks wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Hermione and Ginny both looked from Tonks to Harry and back again. Tonks winked and they both quickly looked down, shuffling in their seats.

After a moment, Ginny muttered, “I might know where you might find something...” Tonks raised an eyebrow and Ginny looked sheepish, “Mum has quite a lot of books about... that sort of thing... in her closet.”

“Well, she does have seven children I suppose,” Tonks mused. “Ok, you two go have a look while she’s out of the house.”

Hermione and Ginny quickly ran up the stairs. Twenty minutes later they came back looking very red-faced. “We’ve um... borrowed a couple of books. I’ll see what I can find,” said Hermione.

“Thanks girls,” said Tonks, “I appreciate it!”

Everyone moved to the sitting room to resume reading the Prophet. On the whole, Harry was very pleased with how the newspaper had reported everything. Hopefully Scrimgeour would agree and start moving things along.

Hermione folded her newspaper and placed it on the sofa with a sigh, “What did you mean by ‘unholy war’ Harry?”

Of all the things she would ask him first, that was not one he’d anticipated. He considered what he should say carefully. Hermione was without doubt an idealist, but she wasn’t a pacifist like Mr Weasley, so he didn’t have to shy away from the harsher realities of war. In the end he decided to be honest.

“I meant that we’re not going to hold back. We can’t win this war if we fight it with one hand tied behind our backs. Those of us on the front line won’t be messing around. By their actions, Voldemort and his Death Eaters have lost their right to the protections that society usually provides. They won’t be treated gently, because they’re no longer citizens. They’re enemy combatants. We won’t be using stunners we’ll be using Unforgivables from day one and we’ll shoot to kill, just like they do.”

“But doesn’t that make us as bad as them?” Hermione asked in alarm.

“Dumbledore would certainly say so,” Harry admitted. “But we only have the luxury of that sort of sentiment in times of peace. Once an enemy has declared war, that attitude will just lead to defeat. Pacifists like Dumbledore can’t lead us in times of war. He’ll get us all killed, like last time. My parents died on his watch. Many people did. I don’t want that to happen again.”

“That’s just semantics Harry!” Hermione insisted. “Whether we call it a war or not, if we’re doing what they’re doing that makes us the same!”

“We are not the same” Harry replied equally vehemently, “and I find that statement offensive. Don’t you understand the difference between an aggressor and a victim? Voldemort and his followers are indiscriminately killing the innocent just because they feel like it! Are you seriously saying that defending ourselves from murderers makes us as bad as murderers?”

“No of course not,” she replied indignantly. “But it’s how you defend yourself that matters.”

“I agree. If we started indiscriminately killing the innocent then we would be as bad as them. But we’re not going to do that. We’ll still be following legal procedures. Deadly force will only be used against those we have good reason to believe are Death Eaters, and only if they refuse to comply with orders to surrender.”

“But why do you need to kill to do that?” she persisted. “Can’t you just stun and capture them?”

“We could try, but it would be extremely costly. As we discovered in the Department of Mysteries a few months ago, if you stun an enemy in a fight they just get back up. Even if we succeeded and threw them into Azkaban, Voldemort will just set them free again. Our numbers will rapidly dwindle while theirs stay the same, so it’s a recipe for failure. No, the time for being soft on these bastards has long-since passed. We need to defend our society effectively, and we know for a fact that your way – Dumbledore’s way – doesn’t work. He and the Ministry were on the verge of losing the first war. Just think about that for a moment. If I hadn’t got rid of Voldemort fifteen years ago, what sort of country would we be living in now? It would be a hellish totalitarian state. Millions would have died. Millions! I refuse to risk that for the sake of a few terrorists’ lives.”

Hermione wasn’t so easily deterred, “But Harry, what’s the point of winning the war if you lose your humanity in the process?”

“That depends on how much you value your humanity,” Harry replied. “Dumbledore clearly values his more than the lives of anyone around him, since he refuses to kill no matter what the circumstances. Then again, perhaps that’s no great surprise. He sees death as the gateway to another grand adventure. He’s almost looking forward to it. But most people don’t feel that way. If your parents were attacked by Death Eaters, for example, what would you do? If it was just you against ten Death Eaters, so you have no chance of winning unless you killed them, would you do it? Or would you put your humanity above the lives of your parents, attempt to use stunners, and watch your parents die?”

“You know the answer to that question Harry,” she replied, looking a little hurt.

“Yes I do,” he acknowledged. Hermione had always defended him without hesitation. He knew she would do what had to be done, if she had no other choice. “But shouldn’t we try to prevent that from happening in the first place? The Ministry has a responsibility to ensure that citizens aren’t over-run by Death Eaters in their own home. It’s already too late to save some people, like Susan’s aunt, Amelia Bones. How many more must die before we accept the inevitable and do was has to be done?”

“I don’t think it is inevitable though!” she insisted. “There must be other things we can try...”

“We’re not the only smart people in the country, Hermione. By all accounts my mother was pretty smart. Sirius, Professor Lupin and my father weren’t stupid either. And I’m sure you’ll agree that Dumbledore is no slouch. If there was a way to win without killing, they would have found it last time. But they didn’t, so they were about to lose. In desperation, the Ministry was on the verge of doing everything we’re about to do, but it would have been too late and they knew it. The war was lost. Fortunately I got rid of Voldemort and everyone was saved. But he’s back and he’s picking up where he left off. We need to do the same.”

Hermione didn’t look convinced. Harry hadn’t really expected to persuade her straight away. Like most people, she would need to think it over and make up her own mind. Harry glanced at the clock. It was gone midnight. He was debating whether to head up to bed when a noise in the kitchen drew everyone’s attention. Without even thinking about it Harry and Tonks both drew their wands. They put them away again when Bill and Fleur’s voices reached them, closely followed by Mr and Mrs Weasley.

“I’ll put the kettle on,” Mrs Weasley offered.

Harry, Tonks, Hermione and Ginny all wandered into the kitchen as a herd of elephants in the shape of Ron came thumping down the stairs.

“What happened?” he demanded loudly. “Were Fred and George there? What’s the Order going to do?”

“Never you mind!” Mrs Weasley fired back immediately. “Why aren’t you all in bed?”

“Dad?” Ron appealed to his father.

“Take a seat everyone,” Mr Weasley suggested. “You know we can’t discuss Order business, but we can at least share a cup of tea before we all turn in.”

Ron shot Harry a rather spiteful look as everyone took a seat, “Come on Dad! What did Dumbledore say? Is Harry expelled?”

Hermione gasped, “He wouldn’t!”

“I’ve never seen Dumbledore so angry...” Bill noted, before his father’s look silenced him.

Harry had expected Dumbledore to be furious of course, but the news still sent a chill of fear through him. He wasn’t the only one: Tonks, Hermione and Ginny all paled too. Once again Harry wondered what instinct made everyone fear Dumbledore so much. He also wondered why Ron was looking so gleeful. Had his jealousy of Harry’s popularity with Witch Weekly been so great that he’d see Harry expelled?

“No,” Mr Weasley replied to Ron’s question. “He’s not going to expel Harry, but he is reconsidering Harry’s position as Head Boy.” He turned to face Harry. “The Headmaster has asked me to retrieve the Head Boy badge. He says that revealing the prophecy was reckless and irresponsible, which are not the characteristics of a Head Boy.”

Hermione slapped a hand over her mouth and grabbed Harry’s arm, but he hardly noticed. A sudden cold fury swept over him. In the past he’d have swallowed his anger and accepted whatever punishment was meted out... but not anymore. There was no way he could win this war if he allowed people to keep walking all over him. These days he was determined to give as good as he got, and if Dumbledore thought he could renege on their agreement like this he was very much mistaken.

Ron turned to see how Harry had taken the news, but something in Harry’s expression wiped the smirk from his face. Harry ignored him and met Mr Weasley’s gaze. Harry was boiling with rage and made no attempt to conceal it.

“Perhaps you could pass on a message for me?” Harry growled through gritted teeth. “Please tell the Headmaster that I will return to Hogwarts as Head Boy... or I will not return at all.”

“Harry no!” Hermione cried.

Harry’s gaze didn’t waver from Mr Weasley, but in his peripheral vision he saw everyone exchanging stunned looks.

“Dumbledore doesn’t respond well to threats Harry,” Mr Weasley observed in poorly veiled dismay.

“Neither do I,” Harry replied icily. “Nor do I appreciate the Headmaster attempting to renege on our deal.”

To Harry’s right Mrs Weasley stepped forward holding out her hand.

“You can have the badge back if Dumbledore decides you deserve it,” she told him.

Now Harry could see where Ron got his vindictive streak from. Mrs Weasley’s expression had a distinct look of self-satisfied triumph. She even shot Tonks a victorious look. Harry felt a flare of anger from his left and Tonks started to rise. Without looking, Harry placed a hand on her forearm to calm her. After a moment she sank back into her chair.

Very deliberately, Harry reached into his pocket and grabbed the badge. He ignored Mrs Weasley and placed his closed fist, palm down on the table.

“I appreciate you having me in your home Mr Weasley, I really do, but if you continue to hinder my efforts to defeat Voldemort then your hospitality will take on an altogether more sinister appearance. I’m your guest, not your prisoner. You have no authority to take this badge from me, just as your wife has no authority to prevent me meeting with the Minister. I suggest you tread very carefully, because the person with the most to lose right now isn’t me, or Dumbledore, it’s you. By acting as Dumbledore’s enforcers, you and Mrs Weasley have positioned yourselves squarely in the middle of a power struggle between the Headmaster and the Ministry. Past experience suggests that if those two sides collide, anyone in the middle will be crushed, and Dumbledore won’t lift a finger to save you.”

“Is that a threat?” Ron asked incredulously.

“No,” Harry replied, turning to face his former friend. “It’s a warning. If your family stand in my way I’ll just leave. I won’t harm you. But I can’t guarantee that your family won’t suffer collateral damage if Dumbledore's and the Ministry get into a fight over it. When they faced off in our second year Hagrid ended up in Azkaban. In third year my Cousin, Sirius and I were almost killed by the Ministry’s Dementors, and the Headmaster did nothing to stop it. In fourth year he made me compete in the deadly Triwizard Tournament to flush out the Ministry official who’d entered me. In fifth year he did nothing to prevent me being tortured by the Ministry, but happily fled the school to save his own skin when Aurors turned up to arrest him. All in all, the Headmaster’s record for protecting anyone but himself is far from reassuring.”

“You’re right that we have no authority to take the badge from you,” Mr Weasley accepted, his tone conciliatory. “And you are certainly not a prisoner. We’re just trying to keep you safe, Harry. I can appreciate that you might find that frustrating sometimes, but we have the benefit of greater experience. We would merely like to save you from making the same mistakes we made in our youth, because the consequences for you would be severe. Whether you are Head Boy or not is surely a small matter in the context of everything else that’s happening. I suggest you think carefully about what outcome you want, and whether the actions you’re considering would genuinely bring about that outcome.”

Harry could see what Ron’s father was trying to do – he was implying that it would be foolish to anger Dumbledore, and equally foolish to lose the support of all his friends... because if Harry did that he would be completely alone. What Mr Weasley didn’t realise was that those events had already come to pass. But there was a more important point he was missing.

“You have the situation backwards,” Harry replied. “It’s me who’s trying to protect you. I have the might of the Ministry behind me now. I don’t need your protection, I need your cooperation. And while you may have more experience of life, I’m the one who has more experience of dealing with Voldemort. I’ve faced him several times, and I’ve even been inside his head. Can you say the same? I’ve also had five years of being Dumbledore’s pawn, and I know what it can cost. My parents died under his leadership, and last year my Godfather joined them. I’m all too aware that the next person I lose will most likely be someone at this table.”

Mrs Weasley snatched back her outstretched hand and whimpered. She backed away from Harry as if proximity to him might bring that awful event to pass. She only stopped when her back hit the wall. Mr Weasley rose from his seat and hurried over to comfort her.

“You have repeatedly advised me to let the adults deal with this,” Harry continued. “But we have gone beyond the point where amateurs like the Order should be involved. So I’m giving you the same advice – let the professionals deal with this. You are not equipped to do it. Unfortunately I don’t have the luxury of staying out of it, and neither does Tonks, but the rest of you do. Stay home and stay safe! Don’t let Dumbledore put you in harm’s way. He’s going to get some of you killed. In the meantime, I warned the Headmaster what would happen if he screwed me over on the Head Boy position, and that promise is unaffected by his use of others to enforce his trickery.”

Harry slowly turned his fist palm-up and uncurled his fingers to reveal the Head Boy badge.

“Now we’ll find out who believes in Prophecies,” Harry snarled. “If anyone takes this badge from my hand I’ll be gone within the hour, and you will never see me again. So take it if you like... but you’d better be pretty fucking sure that you can kill Voldemort without me.”

Nobody berated him for his swearing. Nobody spoke at all. They just gaped in mute shock as, one by one, Harry stared them down. His eyes finally came to rest on Mrs Weasley. She clutched tightly to her husband, her bravado completely gone.

“That’s what I thought,” Harry spat scathingly.

“There’s no need to be so hostile Harry,” Mr Weasley said angrily. “We’re all friends here.”

“I wish that were true,” Harry replied bitterly. “But the only friend I have in this room is Tonks. Despite me saving Hermione’s life, Ginny’s life, your life, and arguably Fleur’s sister’s life, you all routinely keep secrets from me – things I should know; things I need to know. Whenever Dumbledore and I are at odds, you all support him over me. I have no use for friends like that. Dumbledore made sure that I entered the Wizarding World weak and ignorant, and you lot are helping to keep me that way. Defeating Voldemort is going to be hard enough without my so-called friends standing in my way. Being Head Boy isn’t a huge thing, but it will make my life just a little bit easier. Without it any of the Slytherin prefects, including Draco bloody Malfoy, has the authority to put me in detention every night.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Hermione insisted. “There are rules about what a prefect can...”

“Come of it!” Harry scoffed. “We put his father in Azkaban for fuck’s sake! You think Malfoy will just let that slide? And since when did Malfoy ever obey the rules? He breaks them constantly, safe in the knowledge that Snape will back him up. Then Dumbledore backs up Snape! Well I’m sick of it! If that’s how Hogwarts is going to be this coming year then you can count me out.”

“But you have to complete your education!” Hermione replied, her voice rising in desperation.

“Do I?” Harry countered. “There’s no legal requirement for me to return, since I’ve already taken my OWLs. I’m also rich, famous, and emancipated. I don’t need qualifications and I don’t need a job. I could walk out that door right now and nobody would have any right to stop me. I could go sip cocktails on a beach somewhere and forget all about killing Voldemort for the ungrateful people of this country. But if I do stay, why would I waste my time on the Hogwarts curriculum? Have you looked at the sixth year syllabus? What use will brewing a Hiccoughing Solution be in my fight against Voldemort? Or the Knitting Charm? Or transfiguring Cauldron Cakes into Cabbages? How valuable will an education be to me if I'm dead?”

Hermione’s mouth opened and closed several times. She clearly had difficulty processing the idea that a well-rounded education might not be someone’s top priority.

Mr Weasley raised a hand to forestall any further discussion, “Very well Harry. I will convey your... sentiments to Dumbledore and let you know what he says.”

“You do that,” Harry responded. “And tell him his attempt to break our agreement will cost him. In addition to being Head Boy, I now want immunity from professors giving me detention. He will overrule any professor who attempts to give me one this year, no matter what the circumstances, or I’ll leave and he can fight Voldemort himself. That is my price for his treachery. He can take it or leave it.”

Every single person, even Tonks, looked astounded by that. It was obvious that Harry wasn’t playing around, but going up against the Headmaster so blatantly? That was unheard of.

For Harry, this conversation had made him realise something – he really didn’t have to return to Hogwarts. In the past that would have been inconceivable, because the alternative was returning to Privet Drive. But now the Blood Wards had fallen, and he was emancipated, and he had a home of his own and the backing of the Ministry... there were lots of other options. His desire to return was also severely blunted by his friends’ betrayal. Without Ron and Hermione by his side, he had a lot less to look forward to at school. Perhaps he really should abandon his education to focus on defeating Voldemort?

“You all need to stop seeing me as a child,” Harry advised. “I’m fighting in a war, and unlike the rest of you I’m guaranteed to have blood on my hands at the end of it, or be dead. I can no longer afford to be forgiving or tolerant, so let me be clear about this. If you stand in my way, I'll consider our friendship terminated. If you push me, I'll push back harder. If you behave like an enemy, I'll assume you are one.”

Harry rose from his chair and threw the Head Boy badge across the table. It tumbled end over end until it came to a stop in front of Mr Weasley’s vacated seat.

“Return that to me if the Headmaster agrees to my terms,” Harry instructed. “If not, or you no longer want me in your house, Tonks and I will leave at nightfall tomorrow.”

He spun on his heel and stalked angrily up the stairs.

“Enjoy your tea,” Tonks said sweetly, and then hurried after Harry.

Chapter 22: The Badge

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Bloody hell Harry”, Tonks exclaimed as she locked and silenced the bedroom door. “Talk about shooting the messenger!”

Harry sighed wearily, “Not quite. I wasn’t shooting the messenger, I was shooting the enforcer. That’s an important distinction. A messenger isn’t part of the problem, but an enforcer is.”

Tonks blew out a breath, “Okay, but did you have to give him both barrels? Poor Arthur...”

“No I didn’t,” Harry admitted. “But I’m exhausted and Dumbledore really pushes my buttons. Thanks to the Dursleys I’ve spent my whole life bottling up my anger for fear of upsetting those around me, but it just encourages them to treat me even worse. I’ve had enough... and an example had to be made. Dumbledore and Mrs Weasley were getting out of control so I had to stamp on them. Hard.”

“Then why direct it at Arthur?”

“Because he was the enforcer on this occasion,” Harry replied. “And he can take it. He’s the patriarch and doesn’t need anyone’s support. Targeting anyone apart from him wouldn’t have the same impact, and would most likely result in everyone leaping to their defence. Directing my anger at Mrs Weasley would have been a huge mistake. It would look like a personal vendetta rather than an ideological disagreement, and I’d appear ungrateful for all the kindness she’s shown me.”

“But surely some of them would support you?” Tonks responded.

Harry shook his head, “That’s another lesson the Dursleys taught me – very few people take a side based on the merits of the situation. They pick the side that’s most convenient for them and then manufacture arguments to justify it. Nobody in Little Whinging wanted to deal with child abuse in the neighbourhood, so they believed the Dursleys’ claims that I was a delinquent instead. Nobody here really understands or cares why I want to be Head Boy. They’re not affected by it, so they see no upside for themselves. Mr Weasley will therefore support his wife because it would make his life difficult not to. Fleur might have backed me, but her opinion carries little weight in this house and I doubt she really cares. Bill would back Fleur if he thought she cared, but his Mum otherwise. Ron, Hermione and Ginny would have sided with me in the past, because they wanted to be actively involved, but they no longer do so they’ll back Mrs Weasley now. They’d all come up with other reasons not to support me of course, but they’d just be rationalisations.”

“What about when Arthur backed me up against Molly?” Tonks wondered.

“He did that because he had no choice,” Harry replied. “There was a real risk of his wife getting thrown in jail. He knew she’d become unbearable if that happened, and also that he might lose his job over it. He normally leaves his wife to it, even when he disagrees with her, but being unable to provide for his family is one of the few things that will make him take a stand.”

Tonks absorbed that for a moment, “That’s true I guess... So should I start packing now or leave it until morning?”

“No need,” Harry replied as he sat down on his bed. “We won’t be going anywhere. Whatever convoluted scheme Dumbledore’s hatching seems to centre on me. He needs me at Hogwarts, so they’ll return the badge to me tomorrow.”

Tonks was sceptical, “I don’t know Harry... Giving you immunity from detentions would undermine school discipline. Dumbledore would never agree to that.”

Harry snorted, “School discipline! That’s a good one. As if there is any! But you’re right – he would never grant me immunity. Fortunately he doesn’t need to. If he returns the badge via a proxy like Mr Weasley it will imply that he’s agreed to my terms, but he won’t have explicitly said so, and I can’t pin him down on it if he isn’t here. He also won’t have to actually deliver on that implied promise unless I’m actually given a detention. If that never happens he’ll have lost nothing. If it does... well, by then he’ll have me safely back at Hogwarts, and he’ll find a way to weasel out of it.”

“Won’t capitulating now make him look weak to the Weasleys?”

Harry shrugged, “Maybe, but if there’s one thing the Headmaster definitely doesn’t care about its appearing to be weak. He routinely allows himself to appear weak. In fact he encourages people to think he’s a bit senile. It baffles his enemies and prevents his allies from figuring out his true motives. In any case, their belief in him is pretty solid so I doubt it’ll be dented much by anything I do. My guess is that the badge will be returned quietly in private, leaving everyone in the dark about exactly what Dumbledore has agreed to. With nothing definitive to get riled up about, people fall back to their default assumptions. The Weasley’s will conclude that Dumbledore has everything under control.”

The pink-haired girl frowned, “You really think Dumbledore is that manipulative?”

“Definitely,” Harry replied without hesitation. “But a lot of it is instinctive, I suspect. He does what he needs to do to get the results he wants, without realising how devious it is. To him they're just sensible habits.”

“Okay, but why are you demanding something he definitely won’t give?”

“Because I had to push back or Dumbledore and everyone else will keep walking all over me... and it was the only thing I could come up with at the time. In retrospect, forcing him to do something the Weasleys and Hermione will see as unfair will probably strengthen the Headmaster’s influence over them. But maybe that’s for the best. I need to distance myself from them anyway. They’re too obvious a target – being Dumbledore’s allies is bad enough, but if they remain mine too that’ll put them firmly at the top of Voldemort’s hit list. I can’t afford to have friends who aren’t trained Aurors anymore. Nor can I have friends who aren’t one hundred percent behind me.”

Tonks looked uncertain, “It’s Dumbledore I’m more worried about. Asking for immunity from detentions is just a bit...”

“Immature?” Harry suggested. “Yes it is, but that was deliberate. This is all a distraction. I want Dumbledore to think I’m still a child being led astray by the Minister. I need him to put my behaviour down to teenage rebellion and dismiss what I’m doing. The last thing I want is for him to take me seriously and start interfering.”

“That’s why you’re returning to Hogwarts?” Tonks asked.

“Exactly,” Harry agreed. “I can’t really avoid it. I’m not ready to face Voldemort just yet, so I need somewhere safe to prepare. I don’t have much to go back for, but Hogwarts is as good a place as any to learn to fight, and it has a decent library. But mostly I’m returning because Dumbledore would move heaven and earth to get me back if I didn’t. Returning to school like a good little boy should keep Dumbledore’s attention elsewhere.”

Harry yawned deeply. He was absolutely shattered, and talking about this was sapping what little energy he had left. He’d only had a few hours sleep last night and his exhaustion was becoming very apparent as the anger-fuelled adrenaline left him. He wearily undressed and climbed into bed naked.

“I’m going to rest my eyes for a moment,” he mumbled.

Sleep took him before his head even hit the pillow, but he half woke up when Tonks slipped into bed beside him and snuggled in close. Some of his tension immediately drained away. He wrapped his arms around her naked body and sighed... then knew no more.

- § -

Harry gradually surfaced from a very deep slumber. The faint grey light of dawn was just visible through the curtains. He was dimly aware that something had woken him, but he wasn’t sure what. As his senses returned he discovered that Tonks was looking down at him with her finger tracing little circles on his chest.

“Is it time to get up?” he croaked.

Tonks’ expression turned mischievous, “No, but I noticed that you’ve been up for a while...”

Harry blushed. He pretty much always woke up with an erection. He had no idea why. But waking up with a naked girl draped over him? A raging hard-on was absolutely guaranteed.

“It would be a shame to waste it,” Tonks grinned and slowly crawled on top of him.

Harry groaned in pleasure. It felt wonderful to have her slim and lithe body pressing down on his. She’d positioned her legs either side of him, so his morning erection was pointing straight at her entrance. He was still half asleep and his limbs felt heavy, so even if he wanted to he couldn’t muster the energy to object.

The beautiful pink-haired teen looked up at him and batted her eyelashes in transparently fake innocence. That fact was confirmed when she shuffled down the bed a bit until her pussy touched the tip of his cock. Harry’s eyes closed and his head fell back in delight. When her labia parted of their own accord and he felt the warmth inside her entrance stroking the tip of his penis, he gasped out loud. Tonks was already dripping wet. He wondered how long she’d been admiring his morning wood.

“Mmmmmm,” she moaned, “that feels amazing.”

Tonks lifted her head so they were face to face and smiled at him. “Don’t move. It’s my turn to shag you this time. Just lie there and let me take care of you.”

Before he could answer, she leant forward and touched her lips to his in a gentle kiss. It was wonderfully soft, full of tenderness and affection. Their mouths opened and closed as their lips danced over each other, and all the while Tonks was moving her hips in small circles, caressing his cock with her increasingly moist pussy. Harry was desperate to plunge fully inside her, but she’d said not to move, so he didn’t. The urge to do so was increasing every second though.

Suddenly, Tonks pressed down a little further and the head of his penis plunged into her warm vagina. They both groaned in pleasure through their joined mouths. She lifted up and the head of his dick slipped out, then she pressed down so it slipped back in again. Harry gasped and Tonks’ legs trembled. Her face fell to his shoulder.

“God that feels good,” she mumbled. The connection to her mind flared faintly into life, giving Harry a small taste of the pleasure she was feeling, but his mind was still fuzzy with sleep and it quickly faded into the background.

Over and over, she made the head of his cock slip out, then part her lips and slip back in. The gentle pressure of his knob pushing her open seemed to send her into raptures of bliss.

For minutes, that’s all she did, and Harry had no complaints at all. It was like he was making love to her anew each time. They’d had sex once yesterday, but today they were having sex hundreds of times and it felt truly wonderful. Waves of pleasure were radiating out from his midriff into his body. He was pretty sure he was going to cum soon, and he desperately wanted to go deeper, but Tonks had said not to move, so he just groaned in torment.

His frustration seemed to turn her on – her breathing had become increasingly ragged and she started to pant.

“Oh God,” she moaned as she pushed down harder.

His cock finally went an inch deeper. Harry cried out and Tonks squealed.

It felt like she tormented him like that for hours – plunging his dick into her pussy over and over, pushing her open each time, but not going any deeper. His frustration would grow until he growled. Only then would she let him go an inch deeper, and he’d cry out at the joy of it. Harry was in a world of ecstasy, but he desperately wanted to be all the way inside her.

In the end he couldn’t take it any longer. She’d said not to move, but he had to. He started thrusting his hips in an effort to go deeper, but Tonks adjusted her position to deny him. He snarled in irritation, which made Tonks moan in pleasure. She was enjoying torturing him, he realised. She found it a huge turn-on.

The rapturous torment continued. Only a few more inches to go... but they were very important inches. Harry longed desperately for the sensation of being fully inside her – of feeling the top of her vagina pressing against the head of his cock and her mound pressed firmly against him. He grabbed her hips with both hands and tried to push her down onto his shaft, but she was having none of it. Her strong thigh muscles resisted him and he was denied once again.

Harry’s dick was sliding in and out of her unimpeded now – her opening wasn’t closing-up between penetrations. That realisation almost made him cum, but he just about held on. He didn’t want to ejaculate until he was all the way inside her.

Tonks began squealing with every thrust, and she kept losing her rhythm. Abruptly she pushed herself up until she was sitting on his cock with her hands on his chest. Harry saw his opportunity and cupped both her breasts in his palms. Tonks shuddered. He caressed the soft skin of her glorious chest and she shuddered again, then he circled her nipples with his thumbs. The pretty girl’s head flew back and she cried out. Her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth dropped open in a low moan. Harry flicked his thumbs across her nipples, and then squeezed her breasts gently.

All pretence of rhythm or toying with him deserted her. She rammed herself down on his cock, plunging him all the way in, and they both cried out. Tonks was frantic now. She rode up and down on his dick, slamming it all the way into herself repeatedly.

“Oh Harry... Oh Harry... Oh Harry...”

Her excitement drove Harry’s arousal higher, and he loved the fact that she was calling out his name. He was seconds away from cumming, and it was the most glorious feeling in the world. He looked up at Tonks’ elated face, her fabulous breasts bouncing as she rode him, and was astounded once more at her beauty. A massive orgasmic tsunami began to build inside his balls and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He wasn’t the only one. Tonks was wheezing his name faster and faster, “OhHarry! OhHarry! OhHarry! OhHarryOhHarryOhHarry! OhHarryOhHarryOhHarryOhHarryOhHarry OHARRY OH...”

Suddenly Tonks screamed as her climax crashed over her, “AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!”

Her spine arched backwards and her hands slapped onto Harry’s forcing him to knead her breasts with his fingers. That made her cry out in heightened delight, her body shaking violently as her pussy repeatedly clamped down on his cock.

“AAAAaaaahhhhh! AAAAaaaahhhhh! AAAAaaaahhhhh! AAAAaaaahhhhh! AAAAaaaahhhhh! AAAAaaaahhhhh!”

The sight of Tonks having an orgasm, and the feel of her vagina convulsing around his dick were too much for him. The tidal wave of his orgasm smashed into him and Harry was no more. Wave after wave of delirious euphoria wracked his body in savage spasms. He could feel the hot liquid spurting from his penis as he ejaculated violently into Tonks’ pulsing vagina. Over and over he came, his dick spraying her insides like a fire hose. Harry was completely helpless - the sight of a naked ‘teen supermodel’ Tonks riding his cock, her breasts bouncing wildly and her face contorted in the ecstasy of orgasm, stripped him of all control. His body was no longer his own. He’d become a slave to the pink-haired girl’s staggering beauty, and the amazing feel of her insides on his dick.

After minutes or hours, Harry couldn’t tell, Tonks finally fell forwards and collapsed onto his chest. Her body was still wracked with occasional aftershocks as she rotated her hips in slow circles, making his cock slide gently around inside her. Harry could feel the muscles of her vagina entrance gripping his cock, milking it for every drop of cum.

For several minutes they just lay there, neither one of them able to move. The pulses of Harry’s cock and the contractions of Tonks’ vagina became less frequent as the waves of pleasure slowly subsided.

Eventually, Tonks lifted her head and smiled at him, “Now that was a seriously fabulous morning shag! Nice one Harry! You’re an absolute natural at this.”

“I’m not sure I can take any credit for that,” he replied. “I just lay here. But you were amazing!”

Tonks grinned and adopted an angelic look, fluttering her eyes sweetly, “Why thank you, kind sir.”

Harry laughed at her antics, but was also keenly aware that the impossibly cute girl was also still impaled on his penis. He grabbed onto her hips and stared up at her, savouring the moment and cementing it into his memory. Tonks sighed happily and leaned forward to kiss him passionately on the lips.

Unfortunately Harry’s erection began to subside, so Tonks clambered off him (making him wince) and lay by his side stroking his chest. Harry honestly couldn’t remember ever feeling so content. Within moments the soothing touch of Tonks’ fingers and the wonderful feel of her naked body against his lulled him back into sleep’s tender embrace.

- § -

When he woke again he was alone in the bed. He reached over to the bedside table and scrambled around for his glasses. Blinking at the bright light beaming in through a gap in the curtains, it was several moments before he realised what he was looking at.

Tonks was hanging out of the window, stark naked, with her fabulous bum in the air. Before Harry could make any sense of it, she tipped herself back into the room and backed up towards him leaving two pink strings in her wake. Extendible ears, he suddenly realised. She’d lowered a pair of extendible ears out of the window.

With an impish grin she sat on the bed and passed him one of the strings.

“I heard Ron stomping down the stairs,” she informed him, “and now there are voices in Ginny’s room below.”

Harry inserted the flesh-coloured tube in his ear.

“What’s Harry got to be so angry about?” Ron’s voice asked petulantly. “He’s rich, he’s famous, and every witch in the country wants to shag him! He’s living the dream! But that’s not enough for the glorious Chosen One is it? Oh no, he has to be Head Boy as well!”

“Not everyone’s obsessed with money, fame and sex Ron!” Hermione replied indignantly. “Being Head Boy is a great honour, and Harry deserves it! I hope Dumbledore gives him a second chance. Anyway, Harry has Voldemort and all his Death Eaters trying to kill him! I wouldn’t call that living the dream.”

“Yes well, they’re trying to kill all of us aren’t they?” Ron replied. “But we don’t have smoking-hot personal bodyguards to protect us do we? If anything, we’re in more danger than Harry is!”

“It’s to be expected, I suppose,” Hermione replied, ignoring Ron completely. “After losing Sirius we knew he’d be in mourning, and then we all let him down. It’s no surprise that he’s become a bit... short tempered.”

Short tempered?” Ron scoffed. “He’s gone completely bonkers! He seriously thinks he can beat You-Know-Who without Dumbledore’s help. He’s delusional.”

“He does have the support of the Ministry now...” Ginny offered uncertainly.

Ron snorted, “No he doesn’t! Scrimgeour’s just using him as a figurehead. You know what the Ministry is like. They’ll make a lot of noise but they won’t actually do anything. That’s why Dumbledore created the Order of the Phoenix – to actually do something.”

“The Ministry did declare War...” Ginny noted.

“Yeah and it made a great headline,” Ron admitted, “but what does that actually mean? What’s changed? What are they actually going to do? Nothing! It was just the usual sabre rattling. Meanwhile, Dumbledore’s trying to actually defeat You-Know-Who but Harry’s undermining his efforts.”

“Maybe,” Hermione replied dubiously, “though it has only been a day. The Ministry might still do something...”

“They won’t,” Ron insisted confidently, “which is why we have to support Dumbledore. He’s the only person You-Know-Who has ever been afraid of. Without Dumbledore we don’t stand a chance.”

“Oh I wish I knew what to do!” Hermione whined. Harry could almost see her pacing the room and wringing her hands in worry. “This is a disaster! What we did was supposed to help! I thought it would give Harry a nice quiet year. But we’ve made everything a hundred times worse!”

“It’s not our fault he’s gone mental!” Ron objected. “But Dumbledore will sort him out. I reckon he’ll come here at breakfast and put Harry in his place. Once the arrogant git is back in his box everything will go back to normal.”

“Is that why you’ve emerged from your pit so early,” Ginny asked, “to see Harry get stomped?”

“He threatened our family!” Ron screeched.

“It wasn’t a threat Ron,” Hermione responded, “he was just...”

I know a threat when I hear one!” Ron interrupted, almost yelling.

“Ron that’s ridiculous!” Hermione shot back. “This is Harry we’re talking about! He’s our friend!”

“He was our friend, you mean. He’s made it very clear that he isn’t any more.”

“He doesn’t really mean that,” Hermione said in a small voice. “He’s just upset...”

“Well you would know I suppose,” he retorted bitterly, “since he’s been your boyfriend the last three years!”

A brief silence fell over the room before Hermione spoke again.

“That was just Witch Weekly making stuff up,” she mumbled.

In the background Ginny could be heard sniggering, which probably didn’t help.

“If you say so,” Ron muttered grumpily, “but I’ve seen the way you look at Harry... with his fancy clothes and poncy hairstyle and ridiculous uniform. You’re like a dog in heat.”

Harry and Tonks both snatched the Extendible Ears out as Hermione shrieked in outrage.

Are you calling me a BITCH?” Hermione screamed, loudly enough that they could hear her without the Extendible Ears.

What?” Ron replied, sounding confused, “No, of course not!”

“He did call you a dog though,” Ginny noted helpfully.

In heat,” Ron repeated with heavy emphasis, as if he expected that to actually defuse the situation.

Oh that’s rich coming from you!” Hermione scoffed. ”You’ve been drooling over Fleur and Tonks like a love-sick puppy all bloody summer!

A bitter argument ensued, in which Hermione and Ron both accused the other of fawning all over someone else, without ever explaining why they would care. The dispute eventually culminated in Ron storming from the room and slamming the door behind him.

Tonks raised an eyebrow at Harry, who quickly wiped the grin from his face. He was saved from having to explain his reaction by a knock at the door. Harry stared at Tonks in wide-eyed alarm.

Just a minute!” he called out.

They both scrambled frantically to put some pyjamas on, then Tonks messed up the covers on her bed, grabbed her wand and opened the door cautiously. Mr Weasley was standing in the hallway with a resigned expression on his face. He glanced back towards the stairs, where Ron could be heard stomping angrily back up to his room. Mr Weasley sighed heavily, and then turned to face Tonks and Harry.

“Sorry to disturb you. Dumbledore asked me to return this.”

Mr Weasley held out the Head Boy badge. Tonks glanced over her shoulder towards Harry, who was standing a couple of meters behind her. He shot her an ‘I told you so’ look and conspicuously failed to step forward to accept the badge.

“Thank you Arthur,” Tonks answered on Harry’s behalf. “I can’t help noticing that you chose to take it in front of an audience, but you’re attempting to return it in private. Did Dumbledore tell you to do that?”

Mr Weasley was momentarily flumoxed, “No of course not! I just...”

“Instinctively knew that’s what he would want?” Tonks finished for him.

Mr Weasley opened his mouth to reply, but then snapped it shut again.

“Maybe you should think about that for a while,” Tonks suggested as she closed the door in his face.

- § -

After a quick shower Harry and Tonks descended the stairs for breakfast. They bumped into Hermione leaving Ginny’s room. The bushy-haired girl looked startled and gave Harry a slightly fearful look, as if worried that he might fly off the handle at the drop of a hat. She quickly looked away and pulled a scrap of parchment from her pocket, which she handed to Tonks rather awkwardly.

Tonks unfolded it and read the contents, “This is it? This spell will do the job?”

Hermione nodded.

“No matter how much there is?”

Hermione withered, but nodded.

Tonks stepped in close, whispering right into Hermione’s ear, “No matter how hard and deep it was pounded in there, this will get it out?”

Hermione wilted even further, wincing at the words ‘hard’ and ‘deep’ and ‘pounded’, but nodded again.

“Wow! Thanks Hermione!” Tonks gushed. “Phew! That’s a relief! I’m starting to feel like a mobile sperm bank with all these swimmers sloshing around inside me.”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed bright red.

Tonks had a thought, “Hey, would this work if Harry went exploring... Ain Alley?”

Hermione gave her a blank look, “Is that near Diagon Alley? And why would Harry need...”

Tonks snorted, “No Hermione, I’m talking about... you know... the Honeydukes Hallway.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “The Chocolate Chimney, the Hershey Highway, the Tradesman’s Entrance, the Rusty Sheriff’s Badge, the Bakerloo Line, the Backstage Passage...”

Harry had thought it was impossible for Hermione to blush any brighter than she already had, but he was wrong. He could almost feel the heat from her face, though his cheeks were burning too. Hermione stared resolutely at the floor and nodded in mute mortification.

Tonks was delighted, “Awesome! Something new for us to try Harry! You’re a star, Hermione. I owe you one.”

With a squeak, Hermione fled down the stairs. Tonks watched her go and then collapsed into fits of giggles.

“That girl is hilarious,” she declared, then dragged Harry down the stairs. “Come on let’s go, I’m starving!”

They were the last to take their seats for breakfast. Ron and Hermione had taken chairs at opposite ends of the table and seemed to be studiously ignoring each other. The only spaces left were on opposite sides – one between Ron and Mr Weasley, the other between Fleur and Hermione.

Tonks surprised Harry by taking the one between Mr Weasley and Ron, but the reason for that became clear when Mr Weasley rose from his seat. Without a word, he strode over to Harry and placed the Head Boy badge on the table in front of him. By taking the seat next to Mr Weasley, instead of Harry taking it, Tonks had forced Mr Weasley to draw attention to himself when he returned the badge.

“Thank you Mr Weasley,” Harry said neutrally.

“I have some news,” Mr Weasley announced as he returned to his seat. “Professor Snape has reported You-Know-Who’s reaction to hearing the prophecy.”

Everyone suddenly sat up straight. Mr Weasley had their complete attention.

“At first he was furious,” Mr Weasley disclosed. “He flew into a rage and crucio’d several of his followers, starting with Peter Pettigrew. But then he went very quiet, pacing back and forth thinking, and finally he burst out laughing. He was jubilant for the rest of the evening.”

A broad grin split Harry face, “Let me guess. Dumbledore was delighted when he heard that?”

“Yes he was,” Bill confirmed. “How did you know?”

Mr Weasley gave Bill a sharp look. Clearly Bill wasn’t supposed to reveal that.

Harry shrugged, “They both think they’ve outsmarted the other. Voldemort believes he was right about what the power is, and that he’s neutralised it by using my blood. Dumbledore believes he’s wrong, for some reason.”

“And what are you looking so smug about?” Ron spat. “Do you think you’ve outsmarted them both?”

“No,” Harry replied calmly. “I’m happy because the Occlumency lessons that Tonks has been giving me have worked. When Voldemort flew into a rage I felt and saw nothing. He can no longer invade my mind.”

Oh Harry that’s wonderful!” Hermione said with genuine delight. She leant towards him to give him a hug, but then thought better of it and looked away in embarrassment. Tonks gave Harry a warm smile. Nobody else commented.

The rest of breakfast was somewhat awkward and subdued. Everyone was absorbed in their own thoughts. Mr Weasley had no more news to impart, and refused to disclose anything else that the Order had discovered. Harry strongly suspected that Dumbledore had deliberately instructed Mr Weasley to reveal Voldemort’s reaction in an effort to make Harry feel bad. To most people, Voldemort’s joy at hearing the prophecy would imply that disclosing it had been a terrible mistake. Dumbledore would expect Harry to be devastated at his mistake, and resolve to do what he was told in future. Sadly for the Headmaster, Harry had reached a different conclusion.

In any case, far from his thoughts being filled with regret about the prophecy, Harry felt strangely heartened by the baleful glances that Hermione and Ron kept shooting at each other. He did note that Dumbledore had successfully distracted everyone's attention away from the return of his Head Boy badge though.

- § -

As soon as they were back in their room Tonks stripped naked and grabbed an empty half-pint glass.

“You might want to turn away for this Harry.” She shrugged, “Or watch? I’m not sure – your call.”

Without waiting for him to decide, she put the glass between her legs and breathed out heavily. A torrent of pearly white liquid gushed out of her pussy, rapidly filled the glass half way, and then slowed to a steady trickle. After a minute or so, it looked like there was no more. Tonks wiped a few hanging ropes of sticky spooge from herself and held up the glass. It was almost three quarters full.

“Crikey Harry!” Tonks exclaimed. “That’s just from this morning!”

“Not yesterday too?” Harry replied in confusion.

Tonks gave him a look, “Don’t be daft Harry. I did go to the loo yesterday you know.”

“Oh right. Well um... sorry?”

“Don’t be sorry! It’s bloody marvellous and it felt amazing. We’re gonna have some fun with that, don’t you worry. Anyway, let’s see if Hermione’s jizz-hoovering spell works.”

Tonks put the glass down on a table and waved her wand at it, “Exsorbeo sperma!

The thick liquid flowed upwards out of the glass and hovered in an undulating ivory ball in the air. Tonks waved her wand and the ball floated towards the sink, then dropped into it with a wet splash. Tonks examined the glass. “Clean as a whistle. Nice!”

She skipped over the bed and lay down on her back with her knees in the air.

With her wand pointing between her legs she repeated, “Exsorbeo sperma!

More creamy liquid poured out of her and formed a growing pearly sphere rotating slowly in the air.

“Ooo, that feels weird!” she exclaimed, grimacing.

Once the flow dwindled she levitated the ball of sperm over to the glass and dropped it in. It landed with a dull splat.

“Another quarter of a glass, Harry! That’s some pair of magical testicles you’ve got there. You’re producing about ten times as much spunk as your balls can possibly hold.”

She poured the jizz down the sink. “You know what I think? I think you like defiling me so much that you’re performing accidental magic, you beast.”

Harry gave her a sheepish grin. It was a bit of a turn-on knowing he’d pumped all of that into her, and he was feeling rather pleased with himself.

Tonks groaned, “Ugh! Typical man!”

Her expression became more mischievous, “You better watch yourself though Harry. What do you think will happen if you inject that much baby-batter into a girl?”

The grin fell from Harry’s face.

Tonks sidled up to him, ran her finger down his chest and looked up at him with sultry eyes.

“I might be up the duff right now Harry. I’ve had your little tadpoles inside me for most of the last thirty two hours. Maybe there’s another little Potter on the way...”

Harry felt all the blood drain from his face. Oh God, he hadn’t thought of that! Tonks might be pregnant! She might be carrying his baby! Harry wavered on his feet. A baby! Tonks was wonderful... and someday he would love to have children... but not yet! He was only sixteen! He had a war to fight! He started to hyperventilate.

Tonks burst out laughing, “Oh Harry, your face! Classic!”

“You mean... You’re not...” he stuttered, “You were j... joking?”

Tonks rolled her eyes, “Of course I was joking you prat. Men might be daft enough to have sex without thinking of the consequences, but women aren’t. Well, not usually. There are potions to prevent pregnancy Harry.”

“There are?” he replied numbly.

“Of course there are!”

“And you took one?”

“Actually no,” Tonks admitted.

No?” Harry squeaked in alarm.

Tonks snorted, “Relax Harry. I’m a metamorphmagus. I can stop myself ovulating. I won’t get pregnant unless I want to.”

Harry exhaled massively in relief, and his heart began its slow journey from his throat back to his chest.

Notes:

Four more chapters at the Burrow (excluding “bonus smut chapters”) and then it’s back to Hogwarts...

Chapter 23: Draco’s Detour

Notes:

Trigger Warning: This chapter includes the mention of the theoretical possibility of a non-consensual sex act, but nothing like that will actually happen in this story.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The rest of the day was uneventful. Harry spent most of it learning destructive spells with Tonks on the far side of the orchard. Hermione and Ginny came out to watch them blow stuff up for a while, then went back to the house.

That evening Tonks once again joined Harry in his bed. She leaned on one elbow to stare down at him, “There is something I need to talk to you about.”

“There is?” Harry asked sleepily.

“Yes Harry. You’ve been a very naughty boy.”

He wondered vaguely where this was going. Her tone was cheerful and light-hearted though, so he wasn’t particularly worried.

“Naughty how?” he enquired.

“Naughty when you told me that pack of lies about Scrimgeour sending everyone in the Order of the Phoenix to Azkaban.”

Harry’s blood suddenly ran cold. Icy shards ripped through his heart, shredding the joy he’d built over the last few weeks.

Oh God. His amazing new life was ruined. Tonks had discovered his lie!

Panic overwhelmed him. Tonks was going to desert him, just like everyone else had. A rock landed in the pit of his stomach and his eyes prickled. He turned his face away wretchedly, unable to look at her. There was no point making excuses. He’d been caught. It was over. He felt like he was drowning in a bleak and endless sea of misery...

“Harry, look at me.” Tonks said gently.

He shook his head. He couldn’t. He couldn’t look at her. He was too heartbroken. Bitter tears of despair gathered in the corners of eyes and a lump the size of a grapefruit formed in his throat. He fought desperately to keep his emotions bottled up, but they slipped relentlessly though his fingers, refusing to be contained.

She leaned forwards and kissed him on the cheek, “Harry, I’m not going to leave you. I forgive you, Harry.”

He didn’t dare believe her. He didn’t dare hope. He could barely hold on as it was.

Tonks kissed him again on the cheek, and then on his forehead, and then every other part of his face.

Over and over she kissed him, and each time she said, “I forgive you.”

A faint flicker of light began to blossom in his chest, but he ignored it. Glimmers of hope were just cruel taunts sent to lift him up before his broken body was smashed upon the rocks once again. Gaining and then losing Sirius had taught him that. Nothing good in his life ever lasted. Nothing! How could he have forgotten that?

When Harry first came to Hogwarts he thought he’d finally escaped the cruelty and bullying of the Dursleys, but it was merely replaced by the cruelty and bullying of Snape, Malfoy, Fudge and Umbridge. He also discovered that the magical world held many dangers. Barely a term went by without someone or something trying to do him serious harm. Harry’s hopes for happiness had been lifted by the prospect of moving in with his Godfather, but were soon dashed when Lupin’s failure to take his Wolfsbane led to Pettigrew’s escape and Sirius going on the run. The few remaining bright spots in Harry’s tormented existence – Ron, Hermione, Quidditch and Dumbledore – had all been stripped from him in subsequent years. Ron abandoned Harry at the start of his fourth year, Dumbledore blanked Harry for the whole of fifth year, Harry had been banned from Quidditch, and then he’d lost Sirius. The final nail in the coffin of his happiness was when Hermione betrayed him just a few weeks ago. Harry had absolutely nothing left.

Miraculously, he'd been saved from total despair by Tonks. She'd stumbled into his life when he desperately needed a friend, and now he couldn’t imagine living without her. She was the only bright light in the dark landscape of his existence, and the only thing that kept him going. Even Mr Weasley, who had briefly seemed like a trustworthy father-figure, had turned against Harry and become Dumbledore’s puppet. If Tonks left him, Harry would have literally nothing to live for – he might as well put his wand to his head and finish the job that Voldemort started sixteen years ago.

Tonks placed a hand on his cheek and forced him to turn his face towards her. She kissed him tenderly on the lips. It felt wonderful and heartbreakingly cruel at the same time. How could he go on without Tonks in his life?

When she drew back, Tonks held his gaze, daring him to doubt her. “I forgive you.

What little control he’d managed to maintain crumbled completely. He grabbed Tonks and pulled her close so she wouldn’t see his tortured expression, but his emotions quickly got the better of him. He’d almost lost her! He’d almost lost Tonks! It was too terrible to even contemplate. All the times he’d kept his emotions bottled up... all the times he’d been beaten down and refused to show his grief... they all came back to haunt him now. He’d built a damn to contain his anguish, but the last five years had chipped away at the fabric of that barrier, battering him with one setback after another, while his grief deepened like a coastal shelf. Losing Sirius had left his defences catastrophically weakened and the prospect of losing Tonks hit him like a wrecking ball, utterly smashing his resolve. A torrent of suppressed pain burst free and quickly overwhelmed him.

A strangled sob forced its way between his lips, and then the flood gates opened. Harry suddenly found himself weeping uncontrollably, his body wracked with vast shudders. He tried to pull himself together, but there was no holding his grief in check now. He’d felt like his life was over. Nothing mattered if he lost Tonks! Nothing!

For several long minutes Harry bawled into Tonks’ increasingly damp shoulder, until he became aware that she was stroking his head soothingly and saying, “Shhhhh, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here...” over and over.

Abruptly mortified at his unmanly display, Harry fiercely wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to escape from the bed. But Tonks was having none of that. She pinned him down and looked him resolutely in the eye.

“Harry, I know you didn’t lie for your own benefit. You lied to save others. I can hardly hate you for that, can I? I think you’re an amazing person, Harry, and I’m determined to keep you that way. I’ve seen all three sides that are fighting against Voldemort. In fact,” she snorted wryly, “I’m on all three sides – I’m an Auror for the Ministry, a member of Dumbledore’s Order, and a bodyguard to you. I’ve seen all three, and I chose you Harry. You’re the one I want to follow. You’re the one who’s going to win this war, not them. So you can rely on me, okay Harry? I won’t desert you and I won’t betray you. It’s you and me against the world now Harry... you and me together, okay?”

Harry wiped his eyes again and nodded, sniffing loudly. He still refused to meet her gaze though.

She pulled him into a hug and squeezed him tight, “Just don’t lie to me again Harry. There’s no need.”

Harry tried to speak but his voice failed him. He had to cough twice before he could get any words out.

“Okay,” he mumbled. A few seconds later he managed a few more, “How did you... how did you figure it out?”

“I was suspicious the day after I arrived at the Burrow. It just... didn’t ring true somehow. Honestly, I don’t think I’d have fallen for it if I hadn’t been such a mess that day. And then every time we practiced Occlumency I sensed the intense guilt you suffered whenever you thought about that meeting.”

“So you’ve known all along?” Harry asked quietly.

“Pretty much,” she confirmed.

“Oh right,” he replied self-consciously. In some ways that made it better, and in some ways that made it worse. “Well um... thanks Tonks... for... you know, not deserting me. I... I don’t think I could stand to lose you. Everyone I’ve ever loved or trusted has left me. I couldn’t bear it if you did too.”

“I won’t Harry.” She assured him as she wiped away his tears with her thumbs. “In any case, I lied to you too.”

“You did?”

Tonks shifted uncomfortably, “A little bit. You know how I said we had to have showers together for security reasons?”

“Yeah...” he replied uncertainly.

“Um, well... that was total hippogriff dung. I’ve fancied you since the first time we met... and well... I just wanted to get your kit off. I’m sorry Harry, can you ever forgive me?”

Despite everything, a laugh escaped him. The notion that she’d done anything wrong was beyond silly.

“I don’t know,” he replied with transparently fake solemnity, “that’s an awful thing to do...”

“I know,” she replied mournfully, lowering her eyes. “I’m a terrible person. How can I make it up to you?”

“Give me a hug and we’ll call it quits?” Harry offered.

“Done!” she replied eagerly and grabbed him in a fierce embrace.

They stayed like that for a long time, just enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies, until sleep eventually claimed them.

- § -

Saturday finally arrived. At breakfast Mrs Weasley seemed very tense about their shopping trip to Diagon Alley. Bill, who would be staying at home with Fleur (to shag her senseless, Harry suspected), passed a full money bag across the table to Harry.

“Where’s mine?” demanded Ron at once, his eyes wide.

“That’s already Harry’s, idiot,” said Bill. “I got it out of your vault for you, Harry, because it’s taking about five hours for the public to get to their gold at the moment, the goblins have tightened security so much. Two days ago Arkie Philpott had a Probity Probe stuck up his... well, trust me, this way’s easier.”

“Thanks Bill,” said Harry, pocketing his gold.

“’E is always so thoughtful,” purred Fleur adoringly, stroking Bill’s nose. Ginny mimed vomiting into her cereal behind Fleur.

Tonks interjected, “Don’t forget to give Harry his key back, Bill. He’s an adult now. He’s going to need it.”

Mrs Weasley frowned in disapproval, but Bill was unfazed.

“Oh, right! Yes of course. Sorry Harry!” Bill handed over the key, which Harry hadn’t seen for three years. Apparently Dumbledore and the Weasley family thought it was okay to just pass his vault key round among themselves without asking him. With difficulty, Harry repressed the irritation that caused him. He did wonder how Winky and Dobby had gained access to his vault though. Did Winky automatically have access, since she was his bonded elf? What about Dobby? Did Dobby just ask Winky to do it? Or did they know where the Weasleys kept his vault key and just took it when they needed it? He resolved to ask next time he saw them. Also, now he thought about it, maybe he should get them to request a statement of what he had in his vaults. Right now all he knew was that he had shitloads of money.

It was an overcast, murky day. One of the special Ministry of Magic cars, in which Harry had ridden once before, was awaiting them in the front yard when they emerged from the house pulling on their cloaks.

“It’s good Dad can get us these again,” said Ron appreciatively, stretching luxuriously as the car moved smoothly away from the Burrow, Bill and Fleur waving from the kitchen window. Ron, Harry, Tonks, Hermione and Ginny were all sitting in roomy comfort in the back seat. Harry looked back at the Burrow and caught sight of Bill and Fleur in a passionate embrace. He wondered idly if Bill was going to shag Fleur right there on the kitchen table. He very much suspected that he was.

“Don’t get used to it,” said Mr Weasley over his shoulder, “it’s only because of Harry”.

He and Mrs Weasley were in front with the Ministry driver; the front passenger seat had obligingly stretched into what resembled a two-seater sofa. “He’s been given top-grade security status. And we’ll be joining up with additional security at the Leaky Cauldron, too.”

“Because the rest of us don’t matter at all,” Ron mumbled bitterly, too quietly for his parents to hear.

Hermione gave Ron a sharp look, but everyone else ignored him. Harry was thinking about the car. It was clearly magically-enhanced, which Harry found puzzling. Wasn’t it illegal to enchant muggle objects? Hadn’t Mr Weasley got in trouble for doing the same thing to the Ford Anglia that Harry and Ron flew to Hogwarts in second year? The car also travelled at impossibly high speeds, weaving in and out of the much slower muggle traffic a lot like the Knight Bus did, but without throwing passengers all around the interior. It was actually a surprisingly comfortable ride and Harry’s deliberations gradually faded into the background as he nodded off.

“Here you are, then,” said the driver a surprisingly short while later, speaking for the first time as he slowed in Charing Cross Road and stopped outside the Leaky Cauldron. “I’m to wait for you, any idea how long you’ll be?”

“A couple of hours, I expect,” said Mr Weasley. “Ah, good, he’s here!”

Harry peered through the window and his heart leapt. There were no Aurors waiting outside the inn, but instead the gigantic, black-bearded form of Rubeus Hagrid wearing a long beaver-skin coat, beaming at the sight of Harry’s face and oblivious to the startled stares of passing Muggles. A broad grin split Harry’s face. How had he forgotten Hagrid, his first ever friend in the magical world? He had two friends – Tonks and Hagrid. Three if he counted Dobby, which Harry decided firmly that he should, and of course Neville and Luna... Suddenly the world didn’t seem quite so dark.

“Harry!” the half-giant boomed, sweeping Harry into a bone-crushing hug the moment Harry had stepped out of the car. “Buckbeak – Witherwings, I mean – yeh should see him, Harry, he’s so happy ter be back in the open air...”

“Glad he’s pleased,” said Harry, grinning as he massaged his ribs. “We didn’t know ‘security’ meant you!”

“I know, jus’ like old times, innit? See, the Ministry wanted ter send a bunch o’ Aurors, but Dumbledore said I’d do,” Hagrid stated proudly. Harry wondered if Dumbledore knew something he didn’t, because surely one Killing Curse from a Death Eater would take Hagrid down?

The Leaky Cauldron was, for the first time in Harry’s memory, completely empty. They walked through the bar and out into the chilly little courtyard at the back where the dustbins stood. Hagrid raised his pink umbrella and rapped a certain brick in the wall, which opened at once to form an archway on to a winding cobbled street. They stepped through the entrance and paused, looking around.

Diagon Alley had changed. The colourful, glittering window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden behind the large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them. Most of these sombre purple posters carried blown-up versions of the security advice on the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over the summer, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of Death Eaters known to be on the loose. Bellatrix Lestrange was sneering from the front of the nearest apothecary. A few windows were boarded up, including those of Florean Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlour. On the other hand, a number of shabby-looking stalls had sprung up along the street. It was quite a shock to see the Alley like this, and really drove home how bad the situation had become. Harry felt a new sense of urgency to move his plans along.

At Mr Weasley’s suggestion, he and Mrs Weasley took Ginny to Flourish and Blotts to get all their books, while Hagrid accompanied Harry, Tonks, Hermione and Ron to Madam Malkin’s. Harry noticed that many of the people who passed them had the same harried, anxious look as Mrs Weasley, and that nobody was stopping to talk anymore; the shoppers stayed together in their own tightly knit groups, moving intently about their business. Nobody seemed to be shopping alone. Hagrid stood guard outside the shop while the rest of them trooped in.

It appeared, at first glance, to be empty, but they heard a familiar voice issuing from behind a rack of dress robes. A teenage boy with a pale, pointed face and white-blond hair appeared from behind the rack wearing a handsome set of dark green robes that glittered with pins around the hem and the edges of the sleeves. He strode to the mirror and examined himself; it was a few moments before he noticed Harry, Ron and Hermione’s reflections over his shoulder. His light grey eyes narrowed.

“If you’re wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in,” said Draco Malfoy nastily.

“I don’t think there’s any need for language like that!” said Madam Malkin, scurrying out from behind the clothes rack holding a tape measure and a wand. “And I don’t want wands drawn in my shop, either!” she added hastily, for a glance towards the door had shown her Harry and Ron both standing there with their wands out and pointing at Malfoy.

Hermione, who was standing slightly behind them, whispered, “No, don’t! Honestly, it’s not worth it...”

“Yeah, like you’d dare do magic out of school,” sneered the blond boy.

“Did you fail to read the newspaper recently, Malfoy?” Harry wondered.

“That’s quite enough!” said Madam Malkin sharply, looking over her shoulder for support. “Madam – please...”

Narcissa Malfoy strolled out from behind the clothes rack.

“Put those away,” she said coldly to Harry and Ron. “If you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do.”

“Is that so?” said Harry, taking a step forwards and gazing into her smoothly arrogant face. He was as tall as she was now. “Auror Tonks, I do believe that two suspected Death Eaters have just threatened my life. That would be grounds for arrest and questioning, wouldn’t you agree?”

Tonks, un-noticed by everyone, had been circling the room and now stood with her wand trained on Narcissa Malfoy’s back. “Yes Harry, I would.”

At exactly the same time, Harry and Tonks both cast, “Stupefy!

Harry’s wand was already pointed at Draco and Tonks’ was already pointed at his mother. The Malfoys didn’t stand a chance. Both crumpled to the floor.

Mrs Malkin shrieked as Hermione gasped, “Harry! You can’t do that!”

Harry stepped towards Malfoy’s prone body, “No? Watch me.

He grabbed the blond boy’s sleeve and yanked it up to reveal a fresh and rather sore-looking Dark Mark tattoo.

“I have a confirmed Death Eater over here, Auror Tonks!” Harry shouted to Tonks.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Ron exclaimed, as Hermione shrieked in shock.

“Understood,” Tonks replied in clipped tones as she checked Mrs Malfoy, “No Mark on this one, but we’ll still need to question her.”

A second later, Tonks’ jackrabbit patronus leapt through the wall and was gone.

“Please take Madam Malkin into the back, Hermione.” Tonks instructed firmly. She didn’t wait for a response.

Harry began searching Draco, while Tonks thoroughly searched Narcissa. The Malfoys’ wands were quickly confiscated, and then Tonks cast Petrificus Totalus on them both.

With a pop-pop-pop-pop four Aurors appeared inside the shop, which had become quite crowded.

Tonks was all business. “One confirmed Death Eater and one suspected Death Eater to be taken in for questioning under Veritaserum,” she reported, handing over their wands.

The four Aurors were similarly efficient – in seconds, they’d grabbed the prisoners and disapparated. The shop fell abruptly quiet.

“Bloody Hell!” Ron swore into the sudden silence. “That was amazing!”

“New procedures,” Tonks replied evenly. She shouted over her shoulder, “Hermione, Madam Malkin, you can come back now. We’ve taken out the trash.”

“Sorry about that Madam Malkin,” said Harry as they reappeared uncertainly from the back, “it seems you had a couple of Death Eaters in the shop. All sorted now.”

Madam Malkin looked like she might faint. She was distracted all through the fitting of Ron and Harry’s new robes, tried to sell Hermione wizard’s dress robes instead of witch’s, and when she finally bowed them out of the shop it was with an air of needing a stiff drink and a friendly ear.

“Got ev’rything?” asked Hagrid brightly when they reappeared at his side.

“Just about,” said Harry, wondering once again about Hagrid’s value as a bodyguard. He must be as deaf as a post to have missed what took place inside Madam Malkin’s.

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks, but before they could tell Hagrid what happened, Mr and Mrs Weasley and Ginny appeared, all clutching heavy packages of books.

“Everyone all right?” said Mrs Weasley. “Got your robes? Right then, we can pop in at the apothecary and Eeylops on the way to Fred and George’s – stick close, now...”

Neither Harry nor Ron bought any ingredients at the apothecary. Ron was no longer studying Potions and Harry didn’t know for sure that Snape wouldn’t be teaching it. Instead they both bought large boxes of owl nuts for Hedwig and Pigwidgeon at Eeylops Owl Emporium. Then, with Mrs Weasley checking her watch every minute or so, they headed further along the street in search of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop run by Fred and George.

“Whoa,” said Ron, stopping in his tracks. Set against the dull, poster-covered shop fronts around them, Fred and George’s windows hit the eye like a firework display. Casual passers-by were looking back over their shoulders at the windows, and a few rather stunned-looking people had actually come to a halt, transfixed. The left-hand window was dazzlingly full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced and shrieked; Harry’s eyes began to water just looking at it.

The right-hand window was covered with a gigantic poster, purple like those of the Ministry, but emblazoned with flashing yellow letters:

Why Are You Worrying About You-Know-Who?
You SHOULD Be Worrying About U-NO-POO –
the Constipation Sensation That’s Gripping the Nation!

Harry started to laugh. He heard a weak sort of moan beside him and looked round to see Mrs Weasley gazing, dumbfounded, at the poster. Her lips moved, silently mouthing the name, ‘U-No-Poo.’

“They’ll be murdered in their beds!” she whispered.

“No they won’t!” said Ron, who like Harry was laughing. “This is brilliant!”

Harry led the way into the shop. It was packed with customers; Harry could not get near the shelves. He stared around, looking up at the boxes piled to the ceiling: here were the Skiving Snackboxes that the twins had perfected during their last, unfinished year at Hogwarts; Harry noticed that the Nosebleed Nougat was most popular, with only one battered box left on the shelf. There were bins full of trick wands, the cheapest merely turning into rubber chickens or pairs of pants when waved; the most expensive beating the unwary user around the head and neck; boxes of quills, which came in Self-Inking, Spell-Checking and Smart-Answer varieties. A space cleared in the crowd and Harry pushed his way towards the counter.

Hermione had managed to squeeze through to a large display near the counter and was reading the information on the back of a box bearing a highly coloured picture of a handsome youth and a swooning girl on the deck of a pirate ship.

One simple incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly realistic thirty-minute daydream,
easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable
(side-effects include vacant expression and minor drooling).
Not for sale to under-sixteens.

“You know,” said Hermione, looking up at Harry, “that really is extraordinary magic!”

“For that, Hermione,” said a voice behind them, “you can have one for free.” A beaming Fred stood before them, wearing a set of magenta robes that clashed magnificently with his flaming hair. “How are you, Harry?” They shook hands. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour...” Harry and Tonks followed him through the shop, leaving Hermione behind. “Oh, here’s George...”

Fred’s twin shook Harry’s hand energetically. “Giving him the tour? Come through to the back, Harry, that’s where we’re making the real money.” George pushed back a curtain and Harry saw a darker, less crowded room. The packaging on the products lining these shelves was more subdued.

“We’ve just developed this more serious line,” said Fred. “Funny how it happened...”

“You wouldn’t believe how many people, even people who work at the Ministry, can’t do a decent Shield Charm,” said George. “Course, they didn’t have you teaching them, Harry.”

“That’s right...” Fred took over, “and we thought Shield Hats were a bit of a laugh. You know – challenge your mate to jinx you while wearing it and watch his face when the jinx just bounces off. But the Ministry bought five hundred for all the support staff! And we’re still getting massive orders!”

“So we’ve expanded into a range of Shield Cloaks, Shield Gloves...”

“I mean, they wouldn’t help much against the Unforgivable Curses, but for minor to moderate hexes or jinxes...”

"And then we thought we’d get into the whole area of Defence Against the Dark Arts, because it’s such a money-spinner,” continued George enthusiastically, holding something up that looked like a lump of coal, flecked with shards of sparkling blue crystal. “This is cool. Look, Instant Darkness Powder, we’re importing it from Peru. Handy if you want to make a quick escape.”

A young witch with short blonde hair poked her head round the curtain; Harry saw that she too was wearing magenta staff robes. “There’s a customer out here looking for a joke cauldron, Mr Weasley and Mr Weasley,” she said. Harry found it very odd to hear Fred and George called ‘Mr Weasley’, but they took it in their stride.

“Right you are, Verity, I’m coming,” said George promptly. “Harry, you help yourself to anything you want, all right? No charge.”

“I can’t do that!” said Harry.

“You don’t pay here,” said Fred firmly.

“You gave us our start-up loan, we haven’t forgotten,” said George sternly. “Take whatever you like, and just remember to tell people where you got it, if they ask.”

George swept off through the curtain to help with the customers and Fred led Harry back into the main part of the shop to find Hermione and Ginny still poring over the Patented Daydream Charms.

“Haven’t you girls found our special WonderWitch products yet?” asked Fred. “Follow me, ladies...”

Near the window was an array of violently pink products around which a cluster of excited girls was giggling enthusiastically. Hermione and Ginny both hung back, looking wary.

“There you go,” said Fred proudly. “Best range of love potions you’ll find anywhere.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow sceptically, “Do they work?”

“Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question...”

“...and the attractiveness of the girl,” said George, reappearing suddenly at their side. “But we’re not selling them to our sister,” he added, becoming suddenly stern, “not when she’s already got about five boys on the go from what we’ve...”

“Whatever you’ve heard from Ron is a big fat lie,” said Ginny calmly.

Tonks snorted. Ginny glared at her.

“Are you, or are you not, currently going out with a boy called Dean Thomas?’” Fred pressed.

“Yes, I am,” said Ginny. “And last time I looked, he was definitely one boy, not five. What are those?” She was pointing at a number of round balls of fluff in shades of pink and purple, all rolling around the bottom of a cage and emitting high-pitched squeaks.

“Pygmy Puffs,” said George. “Miniature puffskeins, we can’t breed them fast enough. So what about Michael Corner?”

“I dumped him, he was a bad loser,” said Ginny, putting a finger through the bars of the cage and watching the Pygmy Puffs crowd around it. “They’re really cute!”

“They’re fairly cuddly, yes,” conceded Fred. “But you’re moving through boyfriends a bit fast, aren’t you?”

Ginny turned to look at him, her hands on her hips. There was such a Mrs Weasley-ish glare on her face that Harry was surprised Fred didn’t recoil. “It’s none of your business. And I’ll thank you,” she added angrily to Ron, who had just appeared at George’s elbow, laden with merchandise, “not to tell tales about me to these two!”

Tonks leaned over and whispered in Harry’s ear, “Bet she’s shagging boys in broom cupboards before the end of the year.”

Harry ignored her and grabbed Fred, “Can I talk to you two in the back?”

Fred gave him a curious look then nodded. Harry and Tonks slipped away, followed shortly after by Fred and George.

Tonks stood guard outside the curtain while Harry spoke to the twins. “Guys, I really like the Defence products, but I’d like to get them into the hands of the public, not just the Ministry. Could you give some thought to how fast you could ramp-up production? Hire as many people as you need. Buy whatever raw materials or facilities you need. I’ll provide the start-up capital. Speed is of the essence here, not profit, so don’t worry about what it costs. I’ll have twenty five thousand galleons transferred to you tonight.”

Twenty five thousand!” the twins gasped at the same time.

“If you need more just say, okay?”

More?” Fred whispered, incredulously.

“If you have any other ideas for how to protect the population let me know. We’re going to start kicking the hornets’ nest soon. When we do, they’ll hit back by going after civilians. We need to be ready. You’ve done an amazing job with the shop, and you were way ahead of me on the Defensive Products, so well done guys. I’m in awe, really.”

George grinned, “Thanks Harry. We’ll have a think and get back to you, okay?”

“Perfect, thanks guys. One other thing – can the Defensive charms be applied to any clothing, including Dragonhide?”

Fred shrugged, “Pretty much, yeah, though for mass-production we obviously have to limit the range. Magically resistant materials like Dragonhide are a bit harder, because the spells have to be applied to the inside surface and yet still be effective on the outside surface. That would require a few tweaks to the charms, but it can be done.”

“Great. If I send you some clothes can you get them charmed for me? I’m happy to pay whatever it costs.”

“Harry we told you – your money is no good here,” George reiterated.

“Well if you’re sure... Thanks guys!” They shook hands again and Harry left for another browse round the shop with Tonks. She was scanning the crowd more than the products, but they both took some Peruvian Darkness Powder, which looked like it might be handy. Mrs Weasley soon gathered everyone up and hustled them back to the car.

A few minutes into the journey, Harry noticed that Tonks had been eying Hermione and Ginny for some time. He was about to ask about it when Tonks spoke, “So girls, I noticed that you were checking out the Love Potions.”

“We were just looking,” replied Hermione, a little too quickly.

Tonks raised an eyebrow, “So if I were to look in your bag, I wouldn’t find one then?”

Don’t you dare!” Hermione screeched, and then blushed as everyone turned to look at her. “A girl’s bag is private,” she added weakly.

“Bit of a moral minefield, Love Potions,” Tonks continued in a casual tone. “I’m surprised they’re not illegal. I mean, suppose some really vile and odious boy who you thoroughly despised slipped you a love potion, and while you were infatuated, you willingly had sex with him. Is that rape?”

Hermione, Ginny and Mrs Weasley all turned various shades of green, while Ron and Mr Weasley looked fit to murder someone.

Tonks continued to eye Hermione and Ginny, “Now what if a girl did the same thing to a boy? Is that rape? Or imagine if some other girl did that to your boyfriend. How would you feel about that? Would that be okay? Would you giggle about it?”

Nobody would meet Tonks’ eyes.

“Of course for all you know, it might have already happened,” Tonks continued. “Suppose one of you girls was working alone in the Library one night and someone like Malfoy or... who were those other two thugs you told me about Harry?”

“Crabbe and Goyle?” he replied.

“Yes them. Suppose they hit you with a stunner and forced a Love Potion down your throat...”

“We would know!” Hermione interrupted, looking deeply sickened. “We’d remember! And there would be signs... evidence!”

“Not if they obliviated you,” Tonks replied, looking Hermione in the eye, “and not if you swallowed the evidence.”

“That’s enough!” Mr Weasley shouted forcefully.

The pink-haired Auror threw up her hands in conciliation, “Hey, I’m not the one buying date-rape drugs, but whatever...”

A very uncomfortable silence filled the car for the rest of the journey. Hermione and Ginny both looked rather pale, while Mrs Weasley kept her gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead and steadfastly refused to make eye contact with anyone.

- § -

As soon as they arrived back at their room in the Burrow, Harry wrapped up his dragon-hide clothes and his Auror-style uniform and asked Winky to deliver them to Fred and George. Tonks did the same.

Notes:

There are lots of fanfics where Hermione's sudden infatuation with Ron, and Harry's sudden infatuation with Ginny, are explained by Love Potions. This will not be one of those stories, but those authors do have a point...

Chapter 24: Martial Law

Chapter Text

The mood was subdued at dinner that night. Tonks’ comments about Love Potions seemed to have unsettled everyone. Conversation was quiet and sporadic until four owls arrived carrying another special edition of the Evening Prophet. Hermione was already scanning her copy as Harry untied his own. The headline read:

MINISTRY DECLARES MARTIAL LAW!
CURFEW BEGINS TOMORROW!

“Oh my God!” exclaimed Hermione, “They’ve declared Martial Law!”

Ron shrugged dismissively, “So? What does that even mean?”

“It means, Ronald,” Hermione replied waspishly, “that the country is now run by the military – the DLME in this case. All democratic processes are suspended and trials are handled under Military Law not Civilian Law. It’s a huge thing! It means we’ve lost all our civil liberties and now live in a police state. Listen!”

She began to read from the paper:

The Minister for Magic has today declared a State of Emergency. As a result, the Wizengamot is suspended until further notice, as is our membership of the International Confederation of Wizards. All the responsibilities of those bodies now fall under the control of the Ministry. In particular, all trials will now be conducted by the DMLE under Pius Thicknesse. A strict Curfew will be also enforced during the hours of darkness, starting at sunset tomorrow.

The following have been declared to be Capital Offences:

Casting the ‘Dark Mark’ in the sky
Wearing a Death Eater robe or mask
Bearing the so-called ‘Dark Mark’ upon your person
Being a member of the organisation known as the Death Eaters

The following offences are punishable by automatic imprisonment in Azkaban:

Aiding or abetting the organisation known as the Death Eaters
Being in possession of a Death Eater robe or mask
Being outdoors during Curfew
Looting

In a statement the Minister said, “These measures are necessary to preserve our liberty. Martial Law gives our Aurors the power they need to come down hard on those who seek to destroy our society, and to fast-track their trials and convictions. It is no longer safe to be out after dark, so the Curfew will have no impact on law-abiding citizens. Only those who are up to no good are out after dark these days. Once victory is ours, this State of Emergency will end and we can live once again in peace and freedom.”

“What’s a Capital Offence?” asked Ron.

“Honestly, Ron!” replied Hermione in exasperation. “It means punishable by death.”

“Bloody Hell!” he replied in surprise.

Mrs Weasley didn’t even twitch at his language. She was staring at the paper in horror, “Martial Law, Arthur! Martial Law!

Mr Weasley put his hand over hers, “I think it’s necessary, dear. This is what happened last time, remember? Barty Crouch was Head of the DMLE and chaired all the trials. He also initiated a ‘kill don’t catch’ policy. They just didn’t call it Martial Law.”

Mrs Weasley stared mutely into space, looking terrified.

“Scrimgeour isn’t messing around, is he?” Bill commented. “I knew he was tough, but wow!”

That sparked a debate that Harry suspected was being duplicated all over the country right now. Bill and Mr Weasley surprised him by being broadly in favour of Scrimgeour’s hard line, Hermione and Mrs Weasley were against it, Fleur and Ginny weren’t sure, and Ron didn’t seem to give two hoots.

Harry and Tonks stayed out of it, until Hermione asked, “Tonks, you’re an Auror, what do you think?”

Tonks shrugged, “I think you’re missing the most important point. It’s all very well talking about the merits of Martial Law in abstract or philosophical terms, but I think of it this way... There are nine people sitting round this table, and I’m confident that without Martial Law some of us would be dead in a year’s time.”

Mrs Weasley visibly paled.

“So the question is,” Tonks continued evenly, “what’s more important to you – the temporary suspension of your civil liberties... or the lives of the people around this table?”

That pretty much ended the conversation. Hermione still looked pensieve, but didn’t reply. Mrs Weasley started bustling around clearing the table to make room for desert, in a transparent attempt to distract herself.

Harry suspected that Hermione objected to Martial Law for the same reason as Mrs Weasley – because she didn’t want it to be necessary. Harry could understand why she’d feel that way – it was hard to accept something that went against everything you believed in – but he couldn’t understand why she failed to realise that what she wanted just wasn’t feasible any more. Mrs Weasley, on the other hand, seemed to believe that if you denied something for long enough it would simply go away. In that regard she was rather typical of the Wizarding population as a whole, but Harry had no time for such catastrophic self-delusion.

There was silence for several minutes, but then Ron suddenly sat up straight.

“Does this mean that Malfoy might be sentenced to death?” he asked with a conflicted expression.

Tonks shrugged, “He had the Dark Mark... so yeah he might be.”

“What are you talking about?” Ginny demanded with a frown.

“Draco Malfoy and his Mum were in Madam Malkins when we went for our fittings,” Ron replied excitedly. “They threatened us so Tonks arrested them and had them hauled away like common criminals.”

“You’re kidding!” Ginny exclaimed. “The ferret got arrested and I missed it?”

“Yep,” Ron confirmed. “It was awesome. Harry checked his arm and he had the Dark Mark!”

Mrs Weasley, who was busy plating up a pudding for desert, gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth.

“I hadn’t thought of that!” Hermione said, looking shocked. “Having the Dark Mark is a Capital Offence now!”

“I’m sure his youth and inexperience will be taken into account,” Mr Weasley assured them. “I can’t see Rufus sentencing a sixteen-year-old to death. He’s a hard man, but he’s not uncaring.”

“Depends what crimes Draco has committed,” Tonks countered, “and in particular what he did to earn that Mark. Speculation among the Aurors is that you have to murder a muggle.”

No!” Hermione gasped.

“That’s enough on that subject I think,” Mr Weasley declared firmly. “Let’s all enjoy the desert that Molly has made for us, and not dwell on such grim speculation.”

The conversation moved on to other topics, but Harry was left wondering not just what Draco might have done to earn the Mark, but what all of Voldemort’s followers had done. Harry knew for a fact that Pettigrew was a murderer – Harry had seen him kill Cedric Diggory with his own eyes. Pettigrew had also killed twelve muggles when he framed Sirius. Had Malfoy’s father and Snape done the same? Hundreds, or possibly thousands of people had been killed by Death Eaters in the first war, and people were already being killed in this one. How likely was it that senior Death Eaters like Snape had never murdered anyone in all that time? Even if the nasty git was genuinely working for Dumbledore now (which Harry very much doubted) nothing Snape did could ever make up for murdering an innocent. Dumbledore might think it was okay to turn a blind eye to murder, but Harry most definitely did not.

- § -

Shortly after Harry and Tonks retired for the evening, there was a hesitant knock at their bedroom door.

“Who is it?” Tonks called.

“It’s um... it’s Hermione,” a small voice answered hesitantly.

Tonks and Harry both frowned. Without being told, Harry grabbed his wand and stood out of sight. Tonks nodded in approval before grabbing her own and whipping the door open unexpectedly.

“Eep!” Hermione exclaimed, as Tonks’ wand appeared in her face.

Tonks glanced left and right down the hallway. Apparently satisfied that Hermione was alone and not under any sort of coercion, she lowered her wand.

“What can we do for you Hermione?” Tonks enquired.

“Can I come in?” Hermione asked, glancing back towards the stairs. “It’s a bit... personal.”

Tonks hesitated for a moment, and then stepped aside to allow Hermione into the room.

“Put your wand on Harry’s nightstand please,” she instructed.

Hermione scowled slightly, but did as instructed without complaint. Harry emerged from behind his wardrobe and eyed his uncomfortable-looking former friend curiously. She, in contrast, seemed to be trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t there.

“It’s um...” Hermione began, wringing her hands nervously, “it’s about what you said in the car.”

“About Love Potions,” Tonks replied with a disapproving look. “So you did buy one?”

“No of course not,” Hermione responded immediately, but then squirmed. “Well I mean... not really. I did buy one, but it wasn’t for me. I bought it for... a friend.”

Tonks snorted, “Ah yes the old, ‘it’s not for me it’s for a friend’ excuse – a thoroughly unconvincing classic.”

“No really!” Hermione insisted. “But I wasn’t referring to that. I meant the other thing... about being forced to take a Love Potion and then obliviated.”

“Ah,” Tonks replied, as if knowing where this was headed. She relaxed for the first time since Hermione had entered the room.

Hermione glanced at Harry and squirmed in discomfort. When she spoke again her voice was hardly more than a squeak, “Could you... could you check if that’s ever happened to me?”

Harry’s eyes went wide. He felt suddenly very uncomfortable and glanced towards the door. He should leave. Hermione wouldn’t want him here for this. But would Tonks allow him to leave? He suspected not, so he stood rooted to the spot, unsure what to do.

The pink-haired Auror sighed heavily, “Yes I can check. Obliviation is a very blunt instrument, a bit like a sledgehammer – it leaves traces, even in the most experienced hands. A Hogwarts student certainly wouldn’t be able to cast it undetected. But are you sure you want me to? Despite what I said in the car, the chances of someone doing that to you are extremely low. I was just making the point that Love Potions aren’t harmless bits of fun.”

Hermione slumped onto Tonks’ bed and sat there looking conflicted, “I don’t know. If it has happened I’ll be devastated, but if I don’t check I’ll always wonder... and it’s already driving me mad...”

Tonks gave her a sympathetic look, “If you’ve been obliviated all I’ll be able to tell you is what time period is missing. Generally speaking, the memories are permanently lost... unless the perpetrator had no idea what they were doing, of course. You won’t know for sure what happened during the time you lost unless you can identify the person who did it and force the information out of them. That could take a while, or prove impossible. You might never know what happened, so are you absolutely sure you want me to do this?”

After a few seconds of hand-wringing Hermione’s back straightened as she said firmly, “Yes. I need to know.”

“Okay,” Tonks replied softly. “Take a seat on the floor and I’ll do it now.”

Hermione’s determination quickly evaporated and her expression turned fearful, but she sank unsteadily to the floor. The two young women sat cross-legged facing each other while Harry tried very hard to become invisible. Allowing no time to reconsider, Tonks aimed her wand between Hermione’s terrified eyes and cast, “Legilimens!

Harry had never seen the spell cast on another person, so he was both curious and worried. Hermione might no longer be his friend, but he still cared about her. The thought that anyone might have done something like Tonks had suggested turned his stomach and left him burning with rage. He swore to himself that if anyone had done anything to Hermione, Harry would find them and make them pay.

As it turned out, there was surprisingly little to see when someone was having their mind read. Hermione’s eyes had closed while Tonks muttered to herself, waving her wand in small circles. That was it. Harry was half expecting Tonks to go flying when Hermione threw her out, but it didn’t happen. Ten long minutes passed, at the end of which Tonks simply stopped chanting and Hermione opened her eyes, looking a bit dazed.

“You’re all clear,” Tonks told her immediately. “No signs that you’ve ever been obliviated.”

A look of the most profound relief swept across Hermione’s face. She wiped away the tears of relief than sprang up in the corners of her eyes and smiled weakly. But the smile quickly faded, replaced with a look of profound mortification.

Oh my God!” Hermione exclaimed. “Did you see...?”

She stopped mid-sentence and both her hands slapped over her cheeks in horror.

“Don’t worry Hermione,” Tonks replied with a wink, “your secrets are safe with me.”

Without another word Hermione leapt up and bolted for the door. She was out and pounding down the stairs to Ginny’s room before Harry had even blinked. Tonks chuckled in amusement.

“What was that about?” Harry asked.

Tonks gave him a wry look, “Let’s just say that Hermione is in many ways a very typical teenage girl... with a very... active imagination... and leave it at that.”

- § -

Harry was still feeling a bit raw about bursting into tears yesterday, and he wasn’t at all sure that Tonks would want to sleep with him anymore. What grown woman would want to be with a teenage cry baby? He even felt awkward about the idea of undressing in front of Tonks now, in case she reacted in a way that made her contempt clear. So he delayed and dawdled and tried to find any excuse to put off going to bed. To his enormous relief, Tonks didn’t seem to share his discomfort. She calmly changed into a very cute pink and white stripy pyjama top with matching (and very tiny) pyjama shorts, then climbed into his bed.

“Hurry up Harry,” she told him as she snuggled under his duvet, yawning widely.

On all previous occasions they’d slept together naked. Harry wasn’t sure what to make of her wearing pyjamas this time, so he was still none-the-wiser about whether Tonks still wanted to have sex with him. Still, sharing a bed with her was better than nothing. He scrambled into a set of pyjamas as quickly as he could and slid into bed bedside her. Tonks immediately snuggled up to his side and kissed him on the chest.

“Night Harry.”

“Night Tonks,” he replied, wrapping an arm around her.

She actually felt rather cuddly in her pyjamas, he decided. Like a super-cute teddy bear. He still preferred the feel of her naked body draped over his of course, but this wasn’t so bad.

Within minutes Tonks’ breathing deepened, indicating that she’d fallen asleep.

Harry lay awake for several hours, reflecting on how important Tonks had become to him, and musing that the painfully hard stiffy he was now unable to shake could be used as a truncheon if Death Eaters chose this moment to attack to Burrow...

- § -

Harry woke just a short time later when Tonks stretched contentedly. Blinding beams of light streamed through a gap in the curtains and pierced his exhausted brain like needles. He threw an arm over his eyes and groaned.

“Mmmm, I slept like a baby,” Tonks crooned.

At least one of us did, Harry thought wearily.

“Come on, we’re late for breakfast!” she declared and leapt energetically from the bed like a gazelle; a sexy gazelle in cute jim-jams.

Harry sighed heavily, but at least his erection had finally waned. He dressed quickly before it figured out he was awake and made another unwelcome appearance.

Ron, Hermione and Ginny were almost finished eating when Harry and Tonks arrived in the kitchen. At the sight of the young Auror, Hermione went bright red and ducked her head low over her cereal, hiding her face behind a wall of bushy hair.

Tonks caught Harry’s eye and winked. She glanced around the table and when nobody was looking she tapped Harry’s ear with her wand. Abruptly everything he was hearing in that ear became much louder. He shot her a questioning look.

Super-sensory charm,” she whispered, and tapped her own ear to cast it on herself.

With a smirk she placed a second wand on the table and slid it towards Hermione.

“You left this on Harry’s bedside table again,” Tonks said innocently.

Ron immediately went bright red, pushed his empty plate away and stormed off up the stairs. Harry couldn’t remember the last time they’d actually exchanged two words with each other. Apparently they wouldn’t do so today either.

Ginny leaned in close and whispered angrily at Hermione. Without the Super-sensory Charm it would have been far too quiet to hear, but Harry could make out the words easily.

I knew it!” Ginny hissed. “You used the potion I asked you to buy on Harry didn’t you?

Hermione’s hand surreptitiously grabbed the wand without looking at Tonks and stuffed it into her robes, “No I poured it down the sink like I told you!

A likely story,” Ginny hissed back. “If you wanted Harry you could have just said, instead of warning me off last term and then sneaking upstairs last night for a midnight booty call!

It was not a booty call!” Hermione snapped vehemently. “I was talking to Tonks, if you must know... about a private matter.

Having trouble removing Harry’s jizz are you?

Ginny!” Hermione gasped in outrage. “I have not had sex with Harry! Or Ron! Or anyone else for that matter!

Ginny sounded unconvinced, “If you say so...

“I do say so! I’m saving myself for someone special...

Ginny snorted, “Definitely not Ron then.

Ron’s not so bad,” Hermione responded, though even she didn’t sound too sure.

Seriously?” Ginny replied incredulously. “After the way he’s behaved this summer? Even Percy would be a better choice than Ron!

Hermione visibly shuddered, “Percy’s not my type...

So what is your type? Men who drool over other women and treat you like crap?

Ron’s just been a bit... distracted,” Hermione insisted. “He’ll be fine once we get back to Hogwarts.

Now he won’t,” Ginny disagreed firmly. “He’s a massive prat no matter where he is. What about Victor Krum then?

Hermione looked suddenly bashful, “What about him?

It’s common knowledge that you snogged him in the gardens during the Yule Ball...

I most certainly did not!” Hermione replied indignantly. “We’re just friends.

Ginny gave her a sceptical look but chose not to reply.

Honestly!” Hermione grumbled. “Why do people keep making things up about me?

That seemed to end the conversation and the room fell quiet for several minutes, punctuated only by the sounds of cutlery on crockery. Tonks cancelled the Super-Sensory Charms and Mrs Weasley left the room to do whatever she does after breakfast.

“That spell you gave me worked a treat Hermione,” Tonks stated abruptly, breaking the silence. “Really, it’s an absolute life saver. Anyway, we’re heading outside so I can teach Harry to apparate. I’ll teach you too if you like, by way of thanks?”

Hermione looked delighted and then suddenly crestfallen, “I’m not allowed to do magic.”

Tonks laughed, “Sure you are. Like I said, it’s up to the adults to police underage magic here. I’m an adult and so is Harry. We give you permission to do magic, don’t we Harry?”

Harry shrugged, “Sure.”

Hermione’s mouth opened and closed several times as she struggled with conflicting emotions. She was obviously happy to be able to learn some new magic, but rather put out that she’d needed Harry’s permission.

Tonks turned to Ginny, “I don’t think Molly would be happy if we gave you permission to do magic, Ginny. Sorry! You’re welcome to watch though... and if you try to do it without my permission... well, I’ll probably be too busy to notice.”

Ginny smiled in understanding.

With that settled Tonks led them outside to a secluded clearing in the orchard. She conjured three circular hoops and placed them on the ground a couple of meters apart.

“Harry and Hermione will be offered Apparition Lessons at Hogwarts in the coming term,” Tonks noted. “It won’t be much use inside Hogwarts, but Harry has a habit of finding himself in trouble outside of school grounds, even in term time, so I think it would be a good idea for him to learn it early. The Ministry Apparition Instructor would teach you that the key to Apparition is the three D’s. Those stand for ‘Destination, Determination, and Deliberation’. The guy loves the sound of his own assonance. What he means is that you must first concentrate on where you want to go – in this case the interior of the next hoop. Second you must focus your determination on occupying that space, letting your yearning to enter it flood from your mind into every particle of your body. That wording is his, by the way, not mine. The dirty old bugger. Anyway, thirdly, he’d tell you to turn on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with deliberation to your desired destination.”

Harry frowned. That third step sounded like gibberish.

“Simple eh?” Tonks asked.

All three members of her audience looked at each other uncertainly.

“No of course not,” Tonks conceded, “because those instructions are dreadful. The first step is easy, the second is a little harder, but not much... and the third is damned near impossible because how the hell do you ‘feel your way into nothingness’, or ‘move through it’? As Harry already knows, only the worst sort of teacher tells you to do something by describing what you need to achieve rather than how to achieve it. Most of the teaching at Hogwarts is done like that, to be honest. It’s amazing we learn anything at all really! But we do, because we all have an instinct for magic so we just keep trying it over and over, and eventually we get it... most of the time. Some people never learn to Apparate though, just like some never learn the Patronus. I think it’s because they’re taught so badly.”

Harry glanced over at Hermione. He could tell she was bursting to disagree. The effort of holding back was making her look constipated.

Tonks was oblivious, “Today we’re going to do something different. The way they teach Apparition is, in my option, recklessly dangerous. The chances of someone getting splinched are really high. The way we’re going to do it, splinching should be impossible. First, let’s practice steps one and two.”

They spent ten minutes doing exactly that, with Tonks giving helpful hints on how to be more effective and ignore distractions.

“Okay, I think we’ve probably got that nailed. Now for the next step you’ll need to work with me, one at a time. Any volunteers?” Nobody moved. “Ginny, did I see your hand go up? Yes, I’m sure I did. Right, so Ginny will go first. I’m not teaching you of course Ginny; I’m just using you to demonstrate to the other two.”

Ginny grinned conspiratorially.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” Tonks continued. “You will hold on tight to my arm, and then run through steps one and two. When you get to step three, close your eyes and lift your leg as if you’re going to step from where you are to where you want to be. Don’t turn on the spot. That’s daft and just makes you fall over. God knows why he says that. Just step, as if from one place to the other, with all your body parts still attached. I will take over from there. I’ll side-along Apparate you to the hoop as slowly as I can, so you can feel what’s happening. Then we’ll do it again, but the second time, you’ll try to make it happen. I’ll stay with you, and take over if you falter. Then we’ll do it again, and again, and again. Each time we do it, you’ll get more of a sense for how it should feel, and you’ll be able to control more of it yourself. Having your eyes closed will help you realise what’s going on. I’ll give you five goes each, and then move onto the next person. That’ll give you time to recover, and for the feeling to bed itself into your mind. Okay?”

All three of them nodded mutely. Apparition was a daunting skill, and Tonks’ explanation didn’t make it sound any simpler.

“I think that’s enough explanation. This is all about feeling it, so let’s get going. Ginny, grab my arm. That’s it. Now run through steps one and two, then close your eyes and step forwards.”

Harry and Hermione watched as Ginny screwed up her face in concentration then closed her eyes and stepped... two meters forwards into the hoop. She staggered on landing, but Tonks kept her upright.

“You okay, Ginny? Take your time. When you’re ready, nod and we’ll start again.”

Ginny took a few deep breaths and nodded; a moment later they Apparated to the next hoop. This time Ginny landed better, and had the ghost of a smile on her face. She nodded almost immediately, concentrated, stepped... and Apparated again. This time, she landed perfectly and had a broad smile on her face. She nodded and they went again.

On the fifth landing she leapt into the air in excitement, “I was doing it, wasn’t I? I was doing some of it!”

Tonks grinned, “Yes you were. I think you’re about a quarter of the way there. Nice job, Ginny.”

Ginny threw her arms in the air, “Woohoo!”

Harry was delighted for her. And really enjoyed how firm and bouncy her breasts looked in that top right now. God, was he ever going to stop being so horny?

“Right, Ginny’s seen how it works,” Tonks declared. “Hermione can go next, I think, since Harry’s so distracted by Ginny’s boobs.”

Ginny glared at him in shock and dropped her arms. Harry snapped his eyes away guiltily, while Tonks laughed at him.

“Come on Hermione let’s show Romeo how it’s done.”

Five minutes later, Hermione was as excited as Ginny. “Oh that was wonderful! It was so easy to learn like that! I mean, I haven’t got it yet but I’m so close! You’re a wonderful teacher, Tonks!”

Tonks smiled, “Thanks. I’ve always thought I’d make a good teacher. I taught myself the Patronus in fourth year, and successfully taught it to a couple of the other students. Anyway, you’re more than half way there, I’d say. Impressive! Okay, Harry, you’re next. I hope you’re not going to let these girls show you up. That would be embarrassing! But you know... no pressure.”

Harry scowled.

He needn’t have worried. The many Occlumency lessons he’d shared with Tonks had left them highly attuned to each other. When he lifted his leg to step, he could sense not just what it felt like to Apparate, but what she was doing to make it happen. By the fifth jump, he was pretty sure he’d done it all himself.

Tonks pulled a face, “Show off.”

Ginny took her turn again, and was just as excited at the end of it. Tonks said she was almost half way there. Hermione got to about three quarters. By Harry’s second round fourth jump Tonks said he basically had it, and suggested he try it without her. It was quite a lot harder without Tonks there nudging him in the right direction and providing a safety net, but Harry gave it his best shot. He fell over when he landed, but he did it – he apparated and landed in the hoop, with all his limbs still attached!

Harry was elated. Hermione and Ginny clapped excitedly.

“Well done Harry,” Hermione effused. “You did it! That was brilliant!”

Harry was amazed to see that Hermione showed no sign of jealousy that he’d succeeded before she did. After that Tonks suggested that Harry practice on his own while she helped Ginny and Hermione. Within twenty minutes Hermione was apparating on her own too. Half an hour after that, so was Ginny. They were all a little ragged with the landings, but they were doing it! Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the girls so jubilant.

Tonks called a halt, “Okay, that’s enough for today. If you do too much you’ll get tired and make mistakes. Tomorrow we’ll try longer distances and then places you can’t actually see, where you’re working from memory...”

Ginny raised her hand, “What happens if you apparate to a place where someone is already standing?”

Tonks took on a pained expression, “Nothing good. Basically you’ll end up splinched together, and yes that’s as bad as it sounds. We’ll cover this tomorrow, but if you can’t see your destination then you have to be less specific about where you want to end up. Instead of visualising a specific point in space, you visualise a general locale – like a room or a field, rather than a specific place within that room or field – and focus your intention on apparating to an unoccupied part of that general location. After tomorrow you should all have apparition pretty well nailed, but you should practice with someone watching over you for at least a week until you’re sure you’ve got it, okay?”

Tonks had barely finished speaking when Hermione cannoned into her and hugged her fiercely, “Thank you Tonks! You were amazing! That was... I can’t believe it! You taught us to Apparate in less than two hours!”

Tonks laughed, “It’s not quite as impressive as it sounds. The standard course is twelve weeks at one hour a week, so only twelve hours in total. Apparating is pretty easy really.”

As soon as Hermione let Tonks go, Ginny grabbed her, “Thank you for including me Tonks!” She had tears pooling in her eyes. “Nobody’s ever taught me anything... except Mum with her stupid cooking spells. I have six older brothers and they never taught me a thing. Not even how to fly a broom! I always had to teach myself. But now I can apparate!”

Tonks coughed, “Yes, well... Let’s keep that to ourselves shall we, since none of you have licences. Harry, you can take your test whenever we have an hour to visit the test centre. You two girls will have to wait until you’re seventeen.”

They were all laughing and joking around when they tumbled into the kitchen to find Mrs Weasley making lunch.

“And what have you lot been up to?”

All four of them said, “Nothing!” at exactly the same time. They couldn’t have looked more suspicious if they tried.

Mrs Weasley gave them a dubious look, “Well at least you’re all friends again! Ah, Ginny, just who I needed. Give me a hand with these potatoes would you.”

Ginny rolled her eyes at the others and slouched over to help.

Chapter 25: Cream Dress part I

Notes:

The next two chapters are “bonus smut chapters” – they’re almost entirely smut and not actually essential to the story. I decided to add them while I work on a few issues with later chapters. Feel free to skip them if you’re not here for the smut.

I've added some links to GIFs showing the sexual positions used in this chapter - see the notes at the end. I'm aware that I could insert them as in-line images within the story, but I don't want to do that in case you're reading the story somewhere public. ;-)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Tonks suggested they nip up to their room to freshen-up before dinner.

To Harry’s surprise, she dodged behind her wardrobe door and emerged moments later wearing a cream-coloured short-sleeved A-line dress. It was made of material just about opaque enough to hide her skin below. Just about. It successfully hinted at what lay beneath, without quite revealing it. The dress was tightly fitted to her upper body and flared out into a loose skirt ending at mid thigh. The high neckline gave it a conservative look despite the short skirt, while the A-line profile was reminiscent of a fifties retro style. It was perfectly accentuated by a green leather belt and matching high-heel court shoes.

Harry was in awe. Tonks looked spectacular – the dress showed off the wonderful curve of her breasts and her narrow waist, implying sexuality while still looking classy. Meanwhile, her bare legs looked truly amazing, especially her thighs... which definitely hinted at the wonders to be found underneath that skirt.

As Tonks checked herself in the mirror, she added the final touch – her hair and eyes turned green to match her belt and shoes. She looked very exotic, and absolutely stunning. Harry hadn’t told her this, but of all the things she wore, A-line dresses and summer dresses were the ones that made him the most horny. (Well, those and the ‘finishing school’ outfit, though he’d never admit to that.) His pulse raced at how sexy she looked and he had to resist the impulse to take her in his arms and ravish her here and now.

“Are you ready to head down Harry?” she asked brightly, turning to face him.

“Um,” Harry said uncertainly, “aren’t you forgetting something?”

Tonks frowned, “Like what?”

Harry pointed at the underwear she’d discarded on the floor, “Like a bra and knickers?”

The green-haired teen waved a hand dismissively, “Nah. What’s the point? They’ll only get in the way when we shag later.”

“Shag?” he squeaked, completely wrong-footed.

“Yes Harry,” she responded, favouring him with a hard look. “In case you haven’t noticed, it has been almost three days since you last shagged me. Three days Harry! That’s a serious dereliction of duty, and I won’t stand for it. A woman has needs you know!”

Harry swallowed heavily. Several emotions assailed him at once. He was overjoyed that she still wanted to have sex with him, while at the same time incredibly nervous about it. He was also massively turned-on by the idea of her going out in public with no knickers on. He had no idea why, but it set his heart pounding.

“So you’re... you’re going to go downstairs and eat dinner with no underwear on?” he stuttered.

“Oh don’t be such a prude Harry!” Tonks chided him. “Women go without knickers all the time.”

They do?” he blurted in a rather high-pitched voice.

“Sure they do,” she insisted, taking his arm and leading him towards the door. “If knickers spoil the look of the dress, we just go without. I can pretty much guarantee that half the girls at the Triwizard Tournament Yule Ball a few years back weren’t wearing any knickers.”

Harry gawped at the image that conjured in his head – the Great Hall full of girls dancing in formal ball gowns... with no knickers on underneath. Did Hermione have any underwear on that night, he wondered? Had he spoken to her while she was completely exposed under her dress?

“So knickers would spoil the look of this dress?” he wondered, looking down at the flared skirt sceptically.

“Actually yes,” Tonks insisted, “because the material shows up whatever is beneath it. I’d have to match my skin tone exactly otherwise you’d be able to see my underwear. Anyway we’ll only be downstairs for an hour, so it hardly seems worth the effort. I’ll just avoid walking over any subway vents.”

“Huh?”

“It was a Marilyn Monroe reference Harry. I thought you grew up in a muggle household?”

“I did, but I wasn’t allowed to watch much TV...”

Tonks squeezed his arm in sympathy as they left the room, “Oh yeah, I forgot. Sorry. Well, as compensation I might demonstrate later... or maybe even do the Kelly LeBrock version...”

Her eyes twinkled, but Harry had no idea what she was talking about.

They were the last to arrive for dinner so they had to take the only two remaining seats – facing each other on either side of Mr Weasley. Tonks sat next to Ginny, who rolled her eyes at the sight of the designer dress. Harry sank into the seat next to Hermione. On the other side of her Ron had been staring open-mouthed at Fleur’s low-cut top when Harry entered the room, but his eyes followed Tonks from the moment he spotted her.

“Oof!” Ron gasped as Hermione elbowed him sharply in the kidney. “What was that for?” he whined.

“Sorry,” she replied sarcastically. “Your face had gone slack. I thought you might be having a stroke.”

“She has green hair!” Ron hissed, “who wouldn’t stare?”

“Maybe so,” Hermione spat back, “but I’m pretty confident there’s no hair on the body parts you were looking at!”

Ron scowled and jabbed angrily at a pork chop, cramming the whole thing into his mouth in one go. At the sight of him chewing with his mouth open, Hermione turned away and faced more towards Harry. Unfortunately he was still flustered at the thought of Tonks sitting there with no knickers on and knocked his fork flying. It clattered onto the floor under the table, just beyond the reach of his outstretched foot.

Harry ducked under the table to retrieve it... and was greeted with a view straight up Tonks’ skirt to her exposed pussy.

That alone would have been enough to make him jump like he’d been electrocuted, but the muff he was looking at wasn’t Tonks’ usual one. She’d changed it to look like Hermione’s, complete with elaborately gorgeous labia and neatly trimmed brunette pubic hair. With a startled jolt, Harry smacked the back of his head on the underside of table.

A chorus of rattling plates and cutlery drew everyone’s attention to him as he reappeared rubbing the back of his skull. Harry’s cheeks flushed red hot, but nobody paid him much attention... except Tonks, who lifted an amused and knowing eyebrow at him. Harry blushed even harder. He glanced round the table again to find Hermione looking back and forth between him and Tonks with a suspicious expression on her face.

Harry tried to act nonchalant, but Hermione clearly wasn’t convinced. Very deliberately, she wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin and then ‘accidentally’ dropped the square of white linen on the floor. With a theatrical shrug, she ducked under the table to pick it up. Harry heard a sharp intake of breath and when Hermione reappeared her face had gone bright crimson. Tonks smirked and winked at her. Hermione’s face burned even brighter.

The rest of dinner was blissfully uneventful, though Harry struggled to swallow any of it thanks to a strangely arid mouth. Hermione seemed to be having issues too and soon fled up to her room. Fortunately, everyone else seemed completely unaware that anything was going on, for which Harry was enormously thankful. Nevertheless, he was unable to focus on anything except the fact that Tonks had no underwear on. Nor was he able to forget the delightful sight he’d glimpsed under the table. As a result, his napkin remained firmly deployed in his lap throughout the meal, hiding the chubby that was pressing insistently against the inside of his trousers.

Tonks seemed to be revelling in his discomfort. Her eyes twinkled as she placed a forkful of food in her mouth, closed her lips over it, and sucked seductively on her silverware as she slid it free. Harry choked on a potato and had to thump himself on the chest to free it. Tonks suppressed a giggle and favoured him with an entirely innocent look, which didn’t help him at all – it just made her look even more alluring. Harry once again felt the very strong desire to rip her clothes off and shag her right here.

Somehow he managed to make it through the meal without doing that, and when Tonks rose to deposit her plate in the self-washing sink Harry slid from his chair and tucked in behind her, hiding his woody from everyone else by sticking close to her.

“Goodnight everyone,” Harry declared with an ostentatious yawn. “Need an early night I think.”

For a moment it looked like Tonks might say something to embarrass him, but she relented after Harry gave her a hard glare.

“Yes goodnight everyone,” she agreed instead.

They proceeded up the stairs in silence until they were out of earshot.

“Sneaky move dropping your fork Harry”, Tonks said with amusement in her voice.

“That was a genuine accident!” Harry insisted.

“Sure it was, you perv.”

Harry scowled.

“I think Hermione got more than she was bargaining for though,” Tonks continued merrily. “She probably thought you’d seen a flash of my knickers, but that girl just can’t resist investigating a mystery. I wonder if she recognised her own topiary...”

“Topiary?” Harry asked without thinking.

“Yes topiary – the ancient and noble art of trimming bush.”

With a mental face-palm at walking into that one, Harry asked a follow-up question.

“Why did you use Hermione’s... um, features anyway?”

Tonks chuckled, “To get a rise out of you of course.” She glanced over her shoulder at Harry’s distorted trousers. “Looks like I succeeded.”

Harry slid his hands into his pockets to disguise the bulge, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Tonks locked and silenced their bedroom door as Harry slumped down onto his bed. He was hellishly horny, but he still felt self-conscious about weeping so pathetically the other night. His brain was suddenly devoid of any inspiration about how to initiate sex with Tonks, and an irrational fear gripped him that he’d somehow disappoint her and confirm what he was certain she was thinking – that he was just a boy, not a man.

While Harry was stewing in self-doubt, Tonks began riffling through the cupboards and bedside drawers.

“Ah, here it is!” she cried in triumph, emerging with a small wooden radio.

Wizarding wirelesses look very different to muggle radios. This one had a circular base upon which sat a single very large and dusty light-bulb. One side of the bulb was adorned with a wooden arch, along with a small white frequency scale and two circular dials. The left dial clicked as Tonks rotated it and the radio burst into life. She adjusted the knob until the hissing static was at a comfortable volume, and then began turning the other dial. After several seconds the white noise gave way to crackling music. With careful adjustment, Tonks was able to get a nice clear signal and the light bulb lit up with a warm yellow glow. Harry wasn’t familiar with the music that was playing, but it sounded like a Weird Sisters song.

“In the fifties, Marilyn Monroe starred a movie called the ‘Seven Year Itch’,” Tonks explained, taking up position in the middle of the room. “She stood on a vent and the draft from a subway train below made her skirt fly up. All the audience got to see was a bit of thigh, but it caused quite a sensation. Thirty years later an actress called Kelly LeBrock did something similar, but much racier, in a movie called ‘The Woman in Red’. She was wearing a scarlet dress and actually danced on the vent, revealing her scarlet bikini-style panties. It went something like this...”

To Harry’s amazement, Tonks began dancing to the song that was playing on the radio, rotating slowly on the spot while gyrating her hips around in sensual circles. The skirt of her dress flowed around her, whipping left and right, giving him occasional glimpses of her upper thighs. But then she swished her wand and suddenly her skirt started flying up as if a strong breeze was flowing up from the floor. Tonks continued dancing, using her hands to prevent her skirt flying up too high. Nevertheless, Harry was treated to a fabulous flash of naked hip, and then a brief glimpse at one butt cheek. His erection hardened into a painfully firm steely rod.

On and on she danced, fighting to keep her wayward skirt down and repaying his eagle-eyed scrutiny with all-too infrequent peeks at her bare flesh – an inner thigh, the beautiful valley between her hip and her mound, her bum crack...

Harry’s breathless vigilance was eventually rewarded when the skirt escaped her control and flew up to expose her pussy. Harry’s cock throbbed hungrily, especially when he realised it was her own smooth and hairless muff he was seeing, not Hermione’s.

Much as he enjoyed seeing Hermione’s pussy, it was Tonks he wanted to shag right now.

The music came to an end and so did Tonks’ dance. She cancelled the spell on her dress and clicked the radio off. With a grin, she pinched the sides of her skirt and bobbed a quick curtsey. Harry had never seen anything so cute in his entire life... or anything so sexy.

With a mischievous grin, Tonks batted her eyelashes at him.

Harry had no conscious memory of how he got there, but he was suddenly standing in front of her.

“Did you see anything you like Harry?” the beautiful green-haired woman asked innocently.

That was the last straw. He had to have her. He had to have her right now. All his earlier doubts and insecurities were washed away in the tsunami of his desire. The only thought his mind could grasp onto was how much he wanted her. Tonks yelped in surprise as his arms suddenly encircled her waist and his lips crashed into hers.

Oh God he’d missed this! Her lips felt warm and welcoming, and her slim feminine curves pressed delightfully against his masculine frame. The connection to her mind flared instantly to life, plunging him into the swirling maelstrom of her emotions.

Intense sexual desire and profound relief flowed into his mind from hers, along with deep regret that she’d upset him. She really didn’t care that he’d lied to her, he discovered, and she wished she’d never mentioned it. His terror at the thought of losing her had taken her completely by surprise, but in retrospect she felt she should have anticipated it. Everyone he cared about had left him, so of course he was sensitive about it! Tonks was so furious with herself – she’d almost ruined the best thing that ever happened to her by raising an issue she didn’t even care about! Even worse, Harry had fallen into a depressive and self-destructive funk because of it. Not to mention the fact that he hadn’t shagged her for days! After the amazing orgasms she’d been having, suddenly going cold-turkey had sent her mad with lust. She’d become so horny that she’d been giving serious thought to humping a pillow while Harry was asleep.

Harry’s heart almost burst at the revelation that she thought he was the best thing that ever happened to her. He felt the same way! But even that thought fled his mind as Tonks wrapped her arms around his neck and began snogging him hungrily. As usual Harry could hardly believe this was happening. He had no illusions about it – Tonks was way out of his league. She was amazing in every possible way, while he was nothing special. But for some unfathomable reason she liked him, and even he wasn’t stupid enough to miss the chance to be with someone as incredible as Tonks.

Harry’s desire grew as he ran his hands up her back. Tonks groaned and lifted a leg, wrapping it around his waist and grinding her crotch into his hip. Harry’s hands took on a life of their own, grabbing her bum and squeezing her butt cheeks through the dress. A low moan emerged from their joined mouths as they both growled in pleasure.

Using her elbows on his shoulders as leverage, Tonks leapt up and clamped both legs around his waist. Fortunately Harry’s hands were already on her arse, so he was easily able to support her weight while she devoured his mouth with hers. She was as hungry for him as he was for her, it seemed, and Harry was more than happy to let her lead the way. Tonks was an amazing kisser, and there were few things more wonderful than being kissed by a jaw-droppingly beautiful woman.

Except perhaps being kissed by a jaw-droppingly beautiful woman while groping her bare bum.

With that in mind, Harry removed one hand from her dress-covered butt, quickly slid it under her knee, up her skirt, and grabbed her bare arse. Tonks squealed and thrust her tongue roughly into his mouth. Harry repeated the manoeuvre with his other hand, until her entire weight was being supported by his hands on her naked backside. Meanwhile, her legs were now lying across his elbows, giving her more control over the angle of her hips, but removing her ability to get down. She was now a prisoner in Harry’s arms, unprotected and vulnerable.

Harry was well aware that he should be following the ‘HOST’ system (use his hand first, then give her oral, then sex, and then use toys... though he still didn’t know what those were) but he couldn’t. He was consumed by the need to be inside her. So he fumbled clumsily with the fly of his trousers in a desperate attempt to free his throbbing cock, while trying to hold her up with one hand. Annoyingly, he just couldn’t get the damned zip undone. In frustration, he yanked his belt lose and tore his trousers open, popping the button off and mangling the zip. His trousers fell to the floor around his ankles. A few firm tugs on his boxers soon sent them the same way, freeing his steely shaft from its cotton prison.

Without hesitation, Harry lifted Tonks up a few inches and then lowered her towards his waiting penis. He couldn’t see anything of course – she was still wearing her dress so the skirt obscured his view – but he knew she wasn’t wearing any panties, so her exposed pussy was there for the taking.

Almost immediately, the tip of Harry’s cock touched something slick and warm. Sweet Merlin, he’d found it on the first try! Harry sensed the helmet of his penis push her moist labia apart. It felt incredible to him, and even more amazing to Tonks – an explosion of relieved anticipation flowed into his mind from hers.

The pink valley at the centre of Tonks’ pussy began guiding his penis towards her vagina entrance. She was so wet that his dick slid straight inside her and plunged five inches deep before he’d even realised what had happened. Her head flew back and she gasped in delight.

“Ooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Harry went completely cross-eyed as the glorious softness of her insides sent waves of pleasure through him. For several seconds he simply revelled in the fact that he was inside her, enjoying the warm embrace of her vagina. But he knew he could go deeper, and he desperately needed to do that. So he relaxed his arms and allowed her bodyweight to press her down onto his dick. They both cried out at the same time, overwhelmed by the feel of his rock hard erection driving as far as it could go into her sopping-wet pussy. Only the firm collision of their pelvises brought his plunging penis to a stop.

For a while they both just held each other, rejoicing in the feel of each other’s bodies.

Tonks lowered her head to stare at him in wonder. Then, without a word, she rotated her hips to pull her pelvis back slightly. Harry’s dick slid a few inches out of her. With a delighted sigh, Tonks drove her pelvis forward again, taking him all the way back inside. Her eyes closed and she groaned in blissful contentment.

“Oh thank fuck!” she moaned. “I’ve missed your cock Harry. I’ve missed it a lot.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he whispered, “and you looked so amazing tonight that I just had to have you.”

The stunning green-haired woman giggled, “I thought you might like this dress, that’s why I wore it.”

Had she planned this whole thing, Harry wondered? Had she chosen a sexy dress that she knew he’d like, and deliberately not worn underwear to get him horny?

His attempt to say so was thwarted by another rotation of her hips. A few inches of his penis slid free of her wonderfully moist vagina and then plunged straight back inside her. His eyes rolled back in his head and his words became an incoherent gurgle in his throat. Before he’d even recovered she did it again, and again. Harry’s desire to devour her body became a ravenous hunger.

The next time she pulled her hips back Harry did the same. His dick slid out much further, and when she thrust forwards again only half of it slid home. Harry paused for half a second. Just long enough for her disappointment and irritation to reach him through their connection, and then he thrust fully back inside her. Tonks cried out in elation, confirming his suspicion that she was turned on by an element of the unexpected. Tonks began thrusting her hips back and forth with renewed vigour, her ardour tinged with a hint of desperation. She was massively aroused and extremely keen to have an orgasm, he sensed.

Harry allowed her to dictate the pace for a while, grinding her crotch onto his with increasing delight. For his part, Harry absolutely loved the idea of Tonks pounding away on his cock with her legs wrapped around his waist, while he supported her weight with his hands on her naked arse. It was a massive turn-on mentally and emotionally, but he found this position – having sex standing up – surprisingly un-stimulating physically. Is that what the word ‘erotic’ meant, he wondered?

If so, he found it particularly erotic that she was still wearing her dress while they shagged. Not for the first time, Harry was left with the impression that his sexual tastes were a bit deviant, but he consoled himself with the observation that Tonks seemed to love it too. That alone made this position a winner, but the fact that he wasn’t being pushed towards an orgasm allowed him to really appreciate the experience, without being swept away by his own climax.

With that in mind, Harry focused on the connection between them to assess what Tonks was feeling. As he’d suspected, her arousal was blossoming rapidly towards what would be a pretty decent orgasm. But Harry saw no reason to settle for ‘pretty decent’ when a few minor adjustments would make it utterly mind-blowing.

Her bum was a significant erogenous zone for her, according to the fantasy images flashing through her head. Having his hands all over her naked arse while she was wearing a dress with no knickers on... and being fucked by him standing up... was all a massive turn-on for her. But she wanted more. So he started squeezing her arse with his fingers, ‘kneading’ her butt cheeks. Tonks went absolutely wild.

“Fuck yes!” she cried in frenzied glee as she rode his cock even harder. “Fuck yes! Fuck yes! Fuck yes!”

Harry grinned to himself. He wasn’t the only deviant, it seemed.

Next he began pulling his hips back at just the right moment to heighten her pleasure, and then thrust them forwards again when her frustration and longing had reached a peak. It was all carefully judged so that each time he did it her arousal leapt higher, increasing the strength of her forthcoming climax, but without bringing it significantly closer.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, “Oh my God, oh my God.”

That was pretty much all he needed to do. She’d already been horny after three days without sex, and sitting through a meal with no knickers on had made her massively randy. Having Harry look up her skirt had given her a thrill, but Hermione looking up there had been a very guilty pleasure. Tonks had been dripping wet by the time they got back to the bedroom, and Harry lowering her onto his cock while standing up had almost tipped her over the edge.

Should he be jealous that Tonks was turned on by Hermione seeing her pussy, he wondered? Strangely, he wasn’t jealous at all. In fact, he found it oddly arousing. He had no idea why, because he certainly didn’t want Tonks to leave him for Hermione. Had Hermione been turned on by it, he wondered? She’d gone very red, so maybe she had. The idea rather excited him.

Harry shook those thoughts from his head. He had more important things to attend to.

Tonks’ orgasm was speeding towards her now, he sensed. It was inevitable and unavoidable, but Harry had a few more tricks up his sleeve. As her climax began to gather he made tiny adjustments to the angle of his hips. Tonks would probably be unaware of them, they were so small, but each one was designed to delay her impending release just a little bit.

Tonks began panting in blissful rapture, crying out in desperation, “I’m so close! I’m so close! Fuck me Harry! Fuck me!”

This was definitely one of his favourite positions, Harry decided. Not only was Tonks doing all the work, but she though he was doing all the work! His tiny changes in hip position were having such a massive effect on her that she thought he was pounding into her like a jack hammer. In addition, he got to enjoy the incredible sensation of her soft insides stroking his shaft without an orgasm cutting his pleasure short.

Tonks hovered on the cusp of her climax, and Harry kept her there as she became increasingly desperate.

“Oh please! Oh please! Oh please!” she begged, “Make me cum Harry! Make me cum!”

Harry pushed her to the very edge of her climax.

“Oh God Harry! I’m coming! I’m coming! I’m coming!”

Finally, he amended his hip thrusts so he wouldn’t just tip her over the edge, but accelerate her towards a sudden and truly spectacular climax. Her response was immediate. Her arms squeezed tight around his neck and she frantically rammed up and down on his dick as fast as she could.

“Fuck yes! Fuck yes! Fuck yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yesyesyesyesyesyes... yes... YES... Y...”

Her orgasm erupted like a volcano, throwing her head flew back as she screamed in ecstasy.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!”

She wanted to keep pounding on his steely shaft but she’d lost control of her legs – they’d clamped around Harry’s waist and refused to obey any further instructions. So Harry pulled back his hips and began pumping them back and forth, ramming into her repeatedly, in time with her screaming. Her orgasm exploded for a second time, making her gasp in shock.

HOLY FUCK! Aaaahhhhh! Aaaahhhhh! Aaaahhhhh! Aaaahhhhh! Aaaahhhhh! Aaaahhhhh!”

Over and over she came, her pussy contracting in violent spasms around his plunging cock, as if she were trying to imprison it within her body. But she was far too aroused for that – his dick was coated in her juices and her insides were sopping. There was no way she could stop his penis, even if she wanted to.

For almost sixty seconds she was wracked with savage orgasmic convulsions, yelling out his name.

“Oh Harry! Oh Harry! Oh Harry! Oh Harry! Oh Harry! Oh Harry! Oh Harry!”

Finally her climax began to wane. Her arms went limp around his neck and her head fell forwards onto his shoulder.

Fucking hell...” she gasped breathlessly into his chest. “Fucking hell...

Her legs gradually relaxed around his waist and her entire body shuddered. For two whole minutes she trembled pitifully, wracked with aftershocks and clinging to Harry’s neck while his strong hands supported her by her bare arse.

Harry held her silently, not wanting to disturb her post-coital bliss. All those hours of gripping and steering a broom during Quidditch practice with Oliver Wood hadn’t been wasted after all, Harry mused – he’d used the same muscles just now to grip a beautiful woman’s bum as she rode up and down on his wood. Harry was sure there was as better joke in there somewhere, but that’s the best he could come up with on the spur of the moment.

Unfortunately Harry’s legs were starting to wobble with fatigue. He held on as long as he could, but eventually he had to sit down or risk collapse. He shuffled awkwardly towards the bed, shaking his shoes, trousers and boxers off his feet as he went, and sank gratefully onto the edge of the mattress with Tonks still skewered on his dick. She didn’t notice him moving until her knees came into contact with the covers.

She lifted her head in surprise and then winced, “Ouch! Ouch! Cramp! I’ve got cramp in my leg! Lift up!”

Harry half stood, allowing Tonks to straighten her legs out behind him, and then sat down again.

She sighed heavily, rubbing her legs vigorously behind his back, “That’s better! Thanks Harry.”

Harry’s legs were burning too, but his attention wasn’t on his legs. It was on the fact that Tonks was now literally sitting on his cock.

She looked down at him and grinned, “Mmm... this feels nice.”

It wasn’t quite so nice for Harry though – his dick was currently angled a little too low for comfort – so he shuffled forwards while pulling Tonks’ hips towards him until their pelvic bones met and his shaft slid straight up into her. It felt absolutely divine, and with gravity pressing her entire weight down onto his cock, he was driven further inside her than he’d ever been before.

Tonks inhaled sharply and fell forwards, “Oh my God!

“Are you okay?” he asked in concern.

“Yes... yes I’m fine,” she replied into his chest, sounding strained. “It’s just... you’re just so deep!

“Is it uncomfortable?” he wondered.

“No it’s nice,” she reassured him, rolling her hips a little and closing her eyes. “But don’t go any deeper or you’ll hit my tonsils.”

To his surprise, Harry could feel her excitement rapidly rising again through their connection. Despite having just had a very powerful orgasm, she was still massively aroused and keen for another. Harry was more than happy to make the attempt, since he hadn’t had one himself yet.

“Unzip me Harry,” Tonks whispered.

Obediently, Harry reached up and slid the zip on her dress all the way down to the small of her back. Tonks shrugged her way out of each arm, loosened the belt, and then yanked the entire dress off over her head. She threw it across the room to land on a chair, leaving herself completely naked apart from her high heel shoes. For some reason Harry found that a huge turn-on.

Without a word, Tonks grabbed his sweatshirt, lifted it off over his head, and dropped it on the floor. Harry was now completely naked too (except for his socks, but he certainly wasn’t going to interrupt proceedings to remove them).

“That’s better,” the green-haired teen crooned.

Enclosing Harry’s face in her hands, she leaned forwards and kissed him firmly on the lips.

“Now it’s your turn,” she whispered, and began rotating her hips.

Notes:

GIF images (NSFW!) of the sexual positions used in this chapter: standing (except that Harry's hands were on her bum; this is an advanced manoeuvre requiring a strong core and lots of lean muscle... be careful not to do yourself an injury) and sitting (except that it’s better if the man’s sitting on the edge of the bed with his feet on the floor... just be careful not to let the woman fall backwards or she might snap his dick off).

If those links stop working let me know in the comments and I'll find new ones.

Chapter 26: Cream Dress part II

Notes:

I've added some links to GIFs showing the sexual positions used in this chapter - see the notes at the end. I'm aware that I could insert them as in-line images within the story, but I don't want to do that in case you're reading the story somewhere public. ;-)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Harry’s still-rock-hard penis began circling around inside Tonks’ vagina, like a wand stirring a cauldron – a very stiff thick wand and a very sexy cauldron. It felt absolutely incredible and Harry groaned out loud.

The experience was further enhanced by the fact that her amazingly perky boobs were jiggling right in front of his face, and his hands were still gripping her fabulous backside. Most surprising of all though, was the discovery that once again there was very little physical stimulation. For reasons Harry couldn’t comprehend at all, his dick was being massaged wonderfully by her insides, but it wasn’t driving him towards an orgasm. This was particularly remarkable given how far he was up inside her. Nevertheless, Harry found himself once again able to enjoy the perfection of her body without the distraction of an impending climax.

With a deep sigh of contentment Harry slumped backwards to lie down flat on the bed.

Tonks squealed.

Harry scrambled back up to a sitting position, “Sorry, did I hurt you?

“No, no it’s fine,” Tonks reassured him a little breathlessly. “It was just... for some reason your cock goes really deep when you lie down.”

Resolving to remain sitting up for now, Harry immediately availed himself of the opportunity to cup both of her fabulous breasts in his hands. Tonks gasped out loud, closing her eyes and tipping her head back in rapture. To Harry’s delight, her hips resumed their slow rotation, massaging his cock with her amazing insides... or possibly massaging her insides with his amazing cock – they both seemed to be loving it just as much as the other.

He did have one advantage over her though – her hands were on his shoulders, but his were on her breasts... and they felt incredible! The skin of her boobs was indescribably soft, the size and weight of them felt absolutely perfect on his palms, and they squished sublimely at the slightest pressure. Looking at her naked tits always took his breath away, but they were even more amazing from this angle. Watching them twist and turn as she rode his cock was a sight he would treasure forever, and touching them was pure heaven.

Harry ran his eyes over the rest of her body, admiring every gorgeous millimetre of exposed flesh. His gaze finally settled on her writhing hips, and the beautiful pussy at their centre. As she rotated her pelvis in slow circles, Harry was rewarded with tantalising glimpses of his cock buried deep inside her. He could see that her puffy and inflamed labia were stretched wide around his shaft, and at the junction of her lips, the fleshy hood had pulled back to expose her tiny pink clitoris. Each time she circled her pelvis that seemingly unremarkable little dome brushed against the base of his dick and sent bursts of hungry desire radiating out into her body.

Tonks’ breathing became more laboured. She was trying to bring him to orgasm, but she was so aroused from her own climax a few minutes ago that she was inadvertently turning herself on even more. Harry was quite happy with that – he was in no rush to cum himself, and was enjoying her naked wriggling enormously. It was also a rare treat to be able to fondle her tits while they had sex. Normally her boobs were crushed against his chest, so he couldn’t get his hands on them. Harry decided he liked this position a lot – it might not bring him to climax, but he got to really enjoy her body, which was more than sufficient compensation.

As before, Harry made tiny adjustments to his hips to enhance and delay her climax. Her excitement built rapidly, and she quickly forgot that she was meant to be pleasuring him, not the other way round. When the time was right, he switched from caressing her boobs to kneading them gently. Tonks went wild, as he’d know she would – her chest was another erogenous zone and she loved it when he played with her tits. Her excitement took a huge leap and she started bouncing up and down on his cock, using the bedsprings like a sex trampoline and digging her high-heels into the mattress for purchase.

Harry had become a spectator once more – a willing sex toy for Tonks to pleasure herself with – but he was far from complaining. If a breathtakingly beautiful woman wanted to repeatedly impale herself on his knob... who was he to object? In fact it would be quite rude to say no, he decided, and Harry liked to think he had better manners than that.

Tonks’ breaths shortened until she was panting with each bounce, “Hee! Hee! Hee! Hee! Hee!”

Through their connection Harry could feel the euphoria flowing through her. She’d lost all perception of the room around them. Only Harry’s dick and the wonderful way it was making her feel managed to penetrate the rapturous fog of pleasure clouding her mind.

Harry decided that his release could wait. It was much more important to him that Tonks enjoyed herself. In fact he wanted her to enjoy it so much that she kept coming back for more. It was a crude plan, but what else did an unremarkable teenage boy have to offer a grown woman like Tonks? He was desperate, so he had to take full advantage of the meagre resources available to him. And yes, he admitted to himself, using the connection between them to enhance her orgasms was cheating, but what choice did he have? He couldn’t lose Tonks, he just couldn’t, and if giving her earth-shattering orgasms was the way to keep her around... then that’s what he would do.

There was another reason too, he rationalised – Tonks deserved it. She was such an amazing person that she deserved to have amazing orgasms. It was only fair. In fact, the more Harry thought about it, the more he realised that it would be horribly unfair if he didn’t use their connection to give her the best orgasms possible. Why would he deprive her of that? What sort of person would he be if he had that ability and simply didn’t bother? Not a person worthy of her, that’s for sure.

So really he had no choice in the matter, he concluded – none at all.

Satisfied that he was doing the right thing, Harry refocused on Tonks’ pending climax. Her excitement was building relentlessly, and thanks to his constant adjustments she was building towards an even more powerful orgasm than the last one. But there were still a few things he could do to augment her experience.

First, he leaned a little further back. It was just a few millimetres, but the effect on Tonks was profound. To Harry it felt like his cock was just a little further inside her, but to Tonks it felt like his dick had grown substantially in length and girth. Her arousal leapt significantly, and she rode him even harder, crying out exuberantly.

“Oh Harry! It’s so big! Oh my God! Oh my God!”

For the next several minutes Harry steadily increased the angle of his recline, just a few millimetres at a time, to amplify the arousal blossoming inside her pelvis. Each time he did, Tonks was driven to increasing heights of frenzied glee, as if he’d miraculously grown a new and improved cock. The timing was critical of course – if we went too fast it would become uncomfortable, which would be a turn-off. So Harry kept a close eye on the images in her head and the feelings washing over her. Ordinarily (like earlier) she wouldn’t be able to take as much cock as he was shoving up her right now without adjusting her vagina to a larger size. But in her current state of increasingly extreme arousal her insides were so lubricated and flexible that she could not only accommodate more, but she wanted more. When Harry felt her starting to imagine him with an even bigger cock he leant backwards a little and gave it to her.

Tonks was in paradise, and would soon enjoy a truly amazing climax, but Harry knew he could do better. She was massively turned on, and her pelvic region was ablaze with pre-orgasmic tingling, but she needed a little something extra – a little something to make it really special.

Harry knew exactly what he needed to do. Her mind was awash with images of what she wanted.

It was such a little thing that it seemed unlikely to have much of an effect, but she was undeniably desperate for him to do it. Her body was crying out for it. And so, at the precise moment that her pleasure hit a plateau, Harry did what she wanted.

He ran his thumbs over her nipples.

Tonks went absolutely insane, “Oh FUCK! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!”

Her bouncing became frenzied, screaming his name with each bump, “Harry! Harry! Harry! Harry! Harry!”

But Harry wasn’t done. She’d been riding him for quite a while now and might start losing sensitivity below the waist. He would need to move fast before her pleasure started to wane, so he began caressing her nipples with his thumbs. In seconds her previously smooth areolas had tightened into rippled circles, and her nipples had hardened into firm buds.

Tonks’ head flew back, “Oh GOD! Oh GOD! Oh GOD!”

A crescendo of bliss was building below her waist, and Harry’s gentle touch on her nipples was setting fireworks off in her head. She would reach a peak soon, he knew, but he had two more tricks to play. Timing would be everything, and he would need to get the pressure just right, but the picture in her head was very clear – his thumbs were driving her mad and she now had a new desire burgeoning within her.

“YES! YES! YES!” she cried in jubilation, realising she’d passed the point of no return – her orgasm was inevitable and unavoidable now.

Harry dialled down the connection as her climax rushed towards her, biding his time until the exact moment when his next move would have the maximum effect.

“OHGODOHGODOHGOD!”

Almost there, he thought to himself. She’d be ready soon. In fact she would be ready... right... about...

“OHGODOHGODOHGODOHGODOHGODOH...”

Now!

With just the right amount of pressure, Harry pinched Tonks’ nipples.

An explosion of ecstasy erupted from her breasts, flooding her mind and overwhelming her completely. Barely half a second later her descending hips stroked her labia down Harry’s well-lubricated cock and her clitoris erupted in orgasm.

That’s when Harry played his final card – he slumped back to lie completely flat on the bed, driving his cock straight up inside her. To him, it felt like his dick plunged about an inch deeper, and perhaps pressed against the front surface of her vagina somewhat. To Tonks, it felt like his dick had suddenly doubled in size. The tip pressed on her internal organs in an uncomfortable and at the same time fabulously wonderful way, while his helmet brushed across something else deep inside her – something she hadn’t even known was there: her G-spot.

A burst of images, thoughts and emotions flooded Harry’s mind, showing him everything she knew about g-spots. Tonks had heard women talk about g-spots, but she never really believed they existed. The whole thing sounded suspiciously bogus – like something someone would invent to make it sound like they had better sex than everyone else. Tonks certainly hadn’t sensed anything special inside her own vagina. But Harry’s penis had definitely touched something special. A single caress of his knob across that fabled spot had made her senses go completely haywire.

All further images were swept away as her entire pelvis erupted in orgasm. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before. A dam burst within her and she lost herself in the violent torrent of pleasure that gushed forth.

Harry winced as a deafening squeal erupted from her throat right by his ear, “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

And then her entire body curled in on itself, constricting in one giant convulsion. Her thighs clasped tight around Harry’s waist and her fingernails raked across his back. It was as if every muscle in her body had clenched at once, including her vagina which made a valiant attempt to crush his penis to a pulp. Fortunately for him, his cock was currently made of hardened steel, so he enjoyed it immensely.

The pressure from Tonks abated slightly, and then another convulsion wracked her.

She screamed in blissful agony, “Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Harry continued to pinch her nipples and knead her breasts while she thrashed about in his lap, her body contorting in rapturous anguish.

Another spasm gripped her, “Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!”

The helpless woman’s pussy contracted around Harry’s cock once more, squeezing his shaft for all it was worth. The strength of her vagina muscles astounded him yet again. He was fairly certain that her hand wouldn’t be able to grip him as tight as her snatch currently was. But he wasn’t complaining – for the first time since they started having sex tonight, Harry felt the early twinges of an orgasm starting to build.

A fourth paroxysm seized the helpless woman, “Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Her vagina’s vice-like grip encircled his buried member afresh, and the tingling feeling started to spread.

Harry’s attention was drawn anew to how jaw-droppingly gorgeous the woman orgasming in his lap actually was. She had exactly the figure he found most alluring – slim and toned limbs with a narrow waist, small round bum, hips to die for, and firm perfectly shaped boobs that were just a little larger than you’d expect for someone with her frame. And of course there was her face... which was breathtakingly pretty.

But it was her personality that made her truly beautiful, Harry knew. That’s what really mattered. If Tonks were the plainest girl in the world it wouldn’t change how he felt about her. Nor would it change how much he wanted to have sex with her, because it was how sex made her feel that mattered to him, not what she looked like. It was about making Tonks happy.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!” she yelled again.

The tingling in his pelvic region was definitely spreading. Harry suddenly felt a powerful urge to start pumping hips, but he resisted. Tonks was having a fabulous orgasm already. Moving his cock around would just be a distraction at this point.

To his delight, Tonks’ head fell back, revealing an expression of deep shock on her lovely face. Her mouth hung open in a wide ‘O’ of surprise as her green eyes met his and a heavy frown creased her forehead.

Harry had barely noticed that her eyes were green earlier, but now it was very obvious. They weren’t the emerald green of his own eyes, but a darker mossy green to match the high-heel shoes she was still wearing.

Tonks’ eyes rolled back in her head as another powerful contraction shook her, “Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Harry’s resolve crumbled. Tonks’ orgasmic contractions were driving him mad with lust and the look of bliss on her face was making him super-horny. His dick began to hum with pre-orgasm tingles, and his higher brain functions started shutting down. With sudden ferocity he shot up off the bed, lifting Tonks into the air. She yelped in shock and clamped her limbs around him. Harry turned around and dove back towards the bed, landing on top of Tonks with his cock still buried inside her.

YES!” she cried breathlessly. “Fuck me Harry! FUCK ME!

Harry barely heard her. His climax was dashing towards him, as unstoppable as a freight train, and his primal instincts had taken over. Of their own volition his hips pulled back, until the head of his cock was toying at the entrance of her vagina, and then they thrust it all the way back inside her. Tonks shrieked in pleasure. Again he pulled out and again he rammed his dick home. Tonks howled, raking her nails down his back.

Any further conscious thought deserted him. He began pumping the entire length of his dick into her warm and welcoming pussy as hard and as fast as he possibly could. Rapture engulfed him like a raging storm. Tingling spread from his mid section throughout his entire body, and elation filled him. But it wasn’t elation at his forthcoming orgasm. It was elation that he was having sex with Tonks. Yes, she had her arms and legs wrapped around him and he was plunging his cock into her over and over, but those were not merely sexual acts – they were acts of joining. Harry and Tonks weren’t just two people having sex; they were two lonely souls coming together as one.

Unexpectedly, Tonks exploded in orgasm beneath him, “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

Harry watched her fight to keep her eyes fixed on his, but her convulsions were just too powerful. Her head fell back and her eyes squeezed shut as she screamed at the ceiling each time he rammed into her.

“Aaaahhhhh! Aaaahhhhh! Aaaahhhhh! Aaaahhhhh! Aaaahhhhh! Aaaahhhhh!”

Barely aware of the contractions of her vagina around his rigid shaft now, Harry kept on going, hammering his cock home repeatedly. Looking down, he could actually see his dick plunging into Tonks’ pussy, pushing aside her labia and stretching her entrance muscles. The sight took his breath away. But then as he pulled back, a river of pussy juice flowed out of her, coating his shaft and spilling onto the bed. For some reason, that image filled him with a profound affection for the woman lying beneath him, but he had no time to dwell on why. His eyes travelled up her body, taking in the beauty of her thighs, her wonderfully toned abs, her amazing breasts, and her impossibly pretty face...

He’d never seen anything so wonderful in his whole life, and that tipped him over the edge. His cock exploded in orgasm and he grunted in savage ecstasy.

“Hhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhh!”

A massive blast of cum erupted forth, spraying her insides like a fire hose. At the same time, through their connection, Harry felt what Tonks felt – a sudden warmth blossomed inside her as his spunk plastered the dome of her cervix. She cried out as a deeper and more primal orgasm ripped through her.

“Uuuuuuurrrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!”

Harry kept on thrusting and ejaculated a second time, squirting another deluge of hot spunk into her waiting body. Tonks felt his shaft stretching the muscles around her entrance, and a further flood of warmth spread inside her, forcing her vagina to convulse in response.

“Uuuuuuurrrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!”

Over and over Harry came, injecting spurt after spurt of hot jism into Tonks’ wonderful pussy. They both yelled in unison.

“Aaaahhhhh! Aaaahhhhh! Aaaahhhhh! Aaaahhhhh! Aaaahhhhh! Aaaahhhhh!”

But then disaster struck. Harry pulled out too far and his cock slid free. When he thrust forward his dick slid up the outside of her pussy instead of into it. His knob parted her labia, passed over her clitoris and emerged above her mound.

With a dismayed grunt, he ejaculated into the open air.

A huge ribbon of pearly-white spaff flew from his cock and arced out above Tonks’ body.

Time seemed to slow down as Harry looked on in horror. The streamer of spunk appeared to hang in mid air for a moment, offering the miraculous possibility that it might take pity on Harry and choose to defy gravity. Alas no. It dropped from the air to land in a creamy line across Tonks’ hair, face, breasts and stomach. Before Harry could prevent it, a second cordon of cum gushed from his dick and painted another pearly-white line across Tonks’ body.

Harry was thoroughly appalled. He stared in dismay at his accidental desecration of Tonks’ body, but the ordeal was far from over. His orgasm wouldn’t be denied and another blast was building. He frantically pulled back in a desperate attempt to shove his cock back inside her. But his efforts were thwarted by Tonks herself. She grabbed his dick with both hands and began pumping it frantically.

Shock paralysed him as another string of spunk shot from his body and splashed across her torso; then another and another.

Now it was Harry’s turn to cry out in helpless orgasm: “Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!”

He was entirely at her mercy – with Tonks yanking on his dick he just couldn’t stop ejaculating. He’d never had a girl do that to him before and he was powerless to resist. The feel of Tonks’ delicate hands on his shaft was incredible in itself, and the knowledge that she was forcing him to cum was a tremendous turn-on, but the fact that she was deliberately spraying his seed all over her naked body evoked a deep and primal lust within him.

Harry’s head flew back and his eyes snapped shut. Unable to resist the spell that her hands were weaving on him, he gave in to it completely. Free will deserted him and he became a mere puppet, dancing to the tune of her controlling fingers. The tiny modicum of restraint he’d held over his wildly ejaculating penis was gone in an instant, and he began squirting uncontrollably, splattering Tonks’ gloriously nude body with even thicker ropes of creamy spooge.

As a series of ferocious contractions gripped him, Harry lost control of the link between them and the next wave of his climax flowed unchecked into Tonks’ mind. She cried out as an instant orgasm swept through her.

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

Tonks’ orgasm amplified his own, and his amplified hers, pushing them both to new heights of ecstasy. Within moments Harry’s ejaculations and Tonks’ vaginal contractions had synchronised. Tonks’ hands began pumping in time to her own orgasmic convulsions, yanking Harry’s cock at just the right moment to make him cum again.

They both cried out in unison, “Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!”

On and on it went, longer than any orgasm Harry had ever had, spraying line after line of hot semen over Tonks’ prone form.

He had no idea how many times he’d splattered her, but it was easily dozens. That realisation eventually brought some clarity back to his thoughts. Oh God! What must Tonks think of him? She must be disgusted and horrified. His plan was in tatters! She’d never want to have sex with him again!

In terror at what he might find, Harry nevertheless forced his eyes to focus on Tonks’ face. To his amazement, she looked both shocked and delighted, grinning broadly every time he ejaculated and shrieking with laughter when it hit her in the face. Harry felt a wave of relief sweep through him, and the revelation that Tonks seemed to actually be enjoying it suddenly made the sight massively erotic. More pearly blasts erupted from his cock, arcing through the air with renewed vigour to land on Tonks’ face and breasts.

By the time his climax finally waned, almost every inch of Tonks’ body was covered in creamy semen. She sighed heavily and slowed her hands down to gently milk the last few drops of cum from his body. When the final dribble fell from his knob onto her hairless mound, Tonks released his dick and fell about laughing.

“Oh my God Harry!” she screeched. “Look at the state of me! I look like I’m still wearing my cream dress!”

Harry’s eyes roamed over her body. She was right. He’d thoroughly defiled her. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

“I’m so sorry Tonks,” he wailed, “I couldn’t help it...”

“I know!” she grinned, looking down at herself. “It was me making you lose control for a change!”

She seemed genuinely thrilled.

“You don’t mind the um... mess?” he asked hesitantly.

Mind?” she laughed. “Why would I mind you finding me so attractive that you explode like a water canon? It was fucking awesome. I love making you cum. In fact, seeing it happen so spectacularly made me cum too!”

“Um... okay,” Harry replied guiltily, choosing not to explain the real reason for that.

Another concern struck him. “Do you think anyone heard us?” he wondered, eying the windows.

Tonks smiled reassuringly, “Don’t worry – the silencing spell I use is no ordinary silencing spell. I tack-on a non-verbal Auror Security Charm that silences the whole room – the door, the walls, the floor, the ceiling, and even the windows. I cast it on the door as a focus, but it actually affects all the outer surfaces of the room. You could fire a canon in here and nobody would hear you.” She looked down at herself. “Ha ha, get it? Fire a canon...”

Relief flooded him. The last thing he needed was Mrs Weasley storming in to find out what they were up to... and finding them in this state! But his relief did give him a chance to tease Tonks a little bit.

“It’s not so much the volume I was worried about,” he said solemnly, “it’s that shocking potty-mouth of yours.”

For half a second Tonks just stared at him, then she went bright red. (Or at least the parts of her that weren’t covered in spunk went bright red.)

“Oh my God!” she gasped, “I was swearing like a fishwife wasn’t I?” She looked suddenly mortified, “Oh I’m so embarrassed!

Harry burst out laughing. She was lying there naked and completely covered in spunk, but it was the swearing she was embarrassed about. Sweet Merlin she was an amazing woman!

Tonks slapped him across the arm, “Stop laughing at me! It’s your fault anyway! You drove me to it by denying me sex for three days! Honestly, that’s cruel and unusual punishment that is. I’m pretty sure you violated the Geneva Convention. I could report you to the United Nations.”

Harry guffawed.

“But I’ll let you off just this once,” she decided, “since you gave me five orgasms.”

“Five?” he queried.

“Well, definitely three... but two of them were like double orgasms – I peaked twice. That’s never happened before so I’m not sure if I should count them as one orgasm or two...”

While she was talking a dribble of cum ran down her cheek onto her lips. She licked if off without thinking and her eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh! That’s... um... unexpected. You know, I knew a couple of cum sluts in my final year at Hogwarts...”

Harry didn’t know what ‘cum sluts’ meant, but it didn’t sound very complementary. His thoughts must have shown on his face.

“Oh I don’t mean that in a nasty way,” Tonks clarified. “They were quite open about their hobby, and that’s what they called themselves. But they were lovely girls – really sweet. They just happened to have a major cum fetish. Some girls just do, I suppose, and there’s nothing wrong with that... though I’ve never seen the attraction myself. I reckon those two sucked-off half the boys in our year. Right popular they were... with the boys, I mean. Not so much with the girls. Anyway, according to them, swallowing spunk is a lot like swallowing oysters – they both taste salty and slimy, so it’s best if you just swallow them in one go without letting them touch the sides. It’s more about the erotic experience than the taste or the texture, apparently.”

She ran a finger across her nipple, gathering another dollop of spaff. She wiped it down the centre of her tongue and ran it round her mouth, sampling the flavour.

“I’m pretty sure they would have mentioned it if sperm ever tasted like yours does.”

Harry paled. Did his man-batter taste horrible?

“Easy there Harry,” Tonks laughed. “It tastes fine. In fact it’s very nice.” She smacked her lips a few times, making tasting sounds. “It’s sweet and woody... with a slight citrusy note... and a hint of spice... a bit like... cloves. It reminds me of something... Oh what is it? It’s on the tip of my tongue!”

She chuckled, “Ha ha, it’s on the tip of my tongue! Get it? Oh wait, I know what it is! It’s cinnamon! Yes cinnamon, like my body wash.”

Her eyes lit up in delight, “Oh Harry, did your flavour your cum just for me?”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that. He had no idea what spunk was supposed to taste like. Nor did he know why his tasted different. He was glad it did though, because ‘salty and slimy’ didn’t sound very nice at all.

“They’re both married with kids now, those two girls.” Tonks continued, letting Harry off the hook. “One’s a primary school teacher and the other is a vicar.” She checked her watch, “Anyway, I need a shower. Grab me some towels will you Harry?”

A shower?” he shrieked in panic. “You can’t go out looking like that! What if someone sees you?”

“Nobody is going to see me Harry,” she scoffed. “I’m sure I can get to the bathroom without being spotted.”

“You’d think so wouldn’t you?” Harry replied earnestly. “And yet someone always seems to catch us when we least want them to!”

“Don’t be daft Harry! What are the chances that someone will just happen to walk past this floor at the exact moment that I walk out of here covered in spunk?”

“Can’t you just use Hermione’s jizz removal spell?” Harry pleaded.

“No, that’s for removing jizz from inside something. And I’d rather not use any other cleaning spells either, before you ask. They’re very harsh on the skin. I’d look like a lobster if I cleaned this lot up magically!”

Harry sighed deeply and rose to grab some towels while Tonks cracked the door open and peered out.

“Hold on,” she whispered, holding up a hand and listening intently. She waited a solid two minutes. Just as Harry was about to suggest they give up, she whispered, “Okay let’s go,” and stepped out into the hall.

Harry goggled. He had expected her to wrap a towel around herself, at least, but no. She left the room completely naked, with just her wand in her hand and high heels on her feet. Harry held the towels over his genitals and hurried after her. They both tip-toed quickly and silently down the hallway.

They were half way to the bathroom door when a noise on the stairs brought them to a sudden halt.

Immobilised with terror, Harry watched in dismay as Hermione appeared at the end of the hall, descending the stairs from above. Before Harry had time to do anything other than panic, she crossed the landing right in front of Tonks. Neither Harry nor Tonks moved a muscle. In his head Harry began frantically praying that Hermione wouldn’t glance their way.

Hermione glanced their way.

She stopped in her tracks and stared.

In mute horror, Harry imagined the scene from Hermione’s point of view. Oh God! Tonks and Harry were both stark naked and Tonks was plastered in spunk! There was absolutely no way to explain this as anything other than what it was. At least he had towels covering his privates, he thought, but as silver linings went that was a pretty thin one.

Time seemed to slow down. He saw Hermione’s eyes widen in shock, her jaw dropped and the half-full glass of milk in her hand slipped from her numb fingers. Harry watched in dismay as the glass tumbled inexorably towards the floor... at which point it would shatter and bring the entire house out to investigate.

But then a miracle happened. The glass stopped in mid-air! Most of its contents spilled onto the floor, but the glass itself slowly rose back up to Hermione’s waiting hand. As it pressed into her palm, Hermione’s fingers closed around it reflexively. Meanwhile, Hermione seemed to be struggling to process what she was seeing. Her eyes ran up and down Tonks’ naked jizz-covered body several times, flicked to Harry, took in his lack of clothes and then reverted back to Tonks.

“Wotcha Hermione!” Tonks said cheerfully, lowering the wand she’d used to rescue Hermione’s glass. “You seem to have spilled your milk. Would you like to try some man-milk instead? I’ve got plenty...”

With a startled, “Meep!” Hermione bolted down the stairs, spilling her remaining milk all over the place.

Tonks snorted in amusement and continued down the hall to the bathroom.

For a moment Harry was rooted to the spot, but then he scurried after her.

You did that on purpose!” he accused as she locked and silenced the bathroom door behind him.

Tonks eyes twinkled mischievously, “How on earth could I have arranged that Harry? Are you suggesting that I took note of the fact that you finished boinking me just before eleven o’clock, which is the exact time that Hermione goes to bed every night, and then I delayed our exit from the room until I heard her saying goodnight to Ron? Well that’s just plain crazy! Who would do such a thing?”

Harry put a hand to his forehead and groaned.

Tonks’ tinkling laugh filled the room as she climbed into the shower and drew the curtain.

This is absolutely the last time I’m going to fall for that!” Harry yelled, raising his voice over the sound of the shower.

If you say so Charlie Brown,” Tonks shouted back.

- § -

Breakfast was a rather strange experience the following morning. Harry couldn’t look at Hermione, he was so embarrassed. Hermione wouldn’t look at him either, but he could see her shooting him glances out of the corner of her eye. He had no idea what to make of that.

In contrast, Tonks seemed unfazed by the previous night’s events. Oddly, she’d chosen a sort-of platinum-blonde colour for her hair this morning. Hermione seemed to wilt at the sight of it, which puzzled Harry until he realised that it was rather similar to the colour of his jizz. But that was a coincidence, surely?

Tonks cheerfully helped herself to a bowl of cereal and drowned it in cream. She placed the jug in front of Harry and then made a fuss of offering it around.

“Cream anyone? Hermione, would you like Harry to shoot some cream your way?”

Hermione’s face instantly burned crimson. Harry’s eyes narrowed. Was Tonks being crude?

Ginny snorted, trying desperately not to laugh, and then chimed-in herself.

“Yes Harry... Come on Hermione... You’ll both love it. Who doesn’t enjoy lashings of cream?”

Ginny!” Hermione hissed, firing a mortified look at her and glancing at the adults in alarm.

Harry wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. Hermione had clearly told Ginny what she’d seen last night, but there seemed to be more to it. He replayed Ginny’s words back in his head, and nearly choked on his cornflakes when he noticed the double-entendre.

Had Ginny said what he thought she’d said... or had she said, ‘Yes Harry, cum on Hermione! You’ll both love it!’

The phrase ‘lashings of cream’ could also have another meaning...

“No I’m fine thank you,” Hermione said pointedly, refusing to look up.

Tonks shrugged, “Another time perhaps... Oh, I forgot to ask – what did you think of my cream dress last night?”

“It was very pretty,” Hermione mumbled.

“Yes I thought so,” Tonks agreed, smiling sweetly, “and it felt lovely. Maybe Harry will give you one just like it someday...”

Harry could barely see Hermione’s face, but the moment she realised Tonks wasn’t talking about her actual dress was very obvious – a flush spread over Hermione’s face, down her neck, across her chest and along both arms. Her entire body was blushing!

Harry was very confused. Tonks was the one who’d been caught in a compromising position – walking naked to the bathroom covered in jizz... and yet Hermione was the one embarrassed about it. What had he missed?

Ginny seemed to know what was going on too. Both she and Tonks had anticipated that Hermione would be embarrassed about seeing Tonks covered in Harry’s man-batter. But why? Why would Hermione be embarrassed about that? It was an awkward moment, yes... but surely it was Tonks and Harry that should be embarrassed?

Unless...

Had Tonks seen something in Hermione’s head when she read her mind?

Perhaps something that, in a moment of foolishness, Hermione had subsequently confessed to Ginny?

Could it be... a dream or a fantasy where someone ejaculated all over Hermione’s naked body?

Harry stared at Hermione in disbelief. Surely not! Not Hermione! She was so straight-laced!

Hermione seemed to sense his gaze and glanced his way. As soon their eyes met he knew he was right.

The guilty truth was written all over her face.

Notes:

Two more chapters at the Burrow, and then it’s back to Hogwarts...

When Tonks called Harry ‘Charlie Brown’ she was alluding to this.

GIF images (NSFW!) of the sexual positions used in this chapter: sitting (except that it’s better if the man’s sitting on the edge of the bed with his feet on the floor... just be careful not to let the woman fall backwards or she might snap his dick off), missionary1, missionary2, ejaculating1 and ejaculating2.

If those links stop working let me know in the comments and I'll find new ones.

Chapter 27: The Lion Bites Back

Notes:

In case you missed it, I added GIF images to the notes at the end of the last two chapters, showing (something like) the sexual positions used... ;-)

Nice long chapter this one...

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The next few days were relatively quiet. Harry’s Occlumency was coming along nicely – he could now keep Tonks out of his head completely if she gave him time to prepare, but not if she took him by surprise. So she started hitting him with Legilimency probes at completely random moments. That’s how she learnt about all the lurid dreams Harry was having about Tonks and Hermione getting busy with each other in various steamy lesbian scenarios.

Harry was absolutely mortified, and Tonks teased him about it mercilessly. She eventually relented, telling him, “I don’t think muff-diving is Hermione’s sort of thing. You might have more luck with that other dream you had though – the one where I'm spanking Hermione’s naked bum with a copy of ‘Hogwarts, a History’ and she’s begging for more...”

Harry’s mortification reached new heights, which served as an extremely effective motivator to improve his mental defences. Tonks taught him some exercises to make his Occlumency more instinctive, which Harry practiced diligently every chance he got.

To Harry’s relief, he and Tonks were having sex every night now, and most mornings too. They both agreed that sometimes it was nice to just snuggle in the morning, but more often than not their resolve would crumble and their snuggling escalated rapidly into full-on sex. For some reason Tonks was especially keen to take charge in the mornings, which suited Harry just fine – he was always a bit out of it when he’d just woken up, so it was nice to let Tonks do all the work.

Harry made a point of being the one to check that the coast was clear before they went for their showers though. Tonks chuckled in amusement to begin with, but eventually she called him on it.

“Don’t you trust me Harry?” she asked with a sulky pout.

“No I don’t,” he replied gruffly, trying very hard to ignore how cute she looked.

She was wearing very skimpy baby-blue pyjama shorts and a rather skin-tight white t-shirt that left very little to the imagination. Printed across her chest in large letters were the words, ‘Yes I’m a virgin’ and underneath that in tiny letters ‘(Information correct at time of printing)’.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” Tonks replied in a weirdly deep and gravelly voice.

“I’m not dumb enough to fall for your tricks anymore,” Harry declared, refusing to be distracted by her odd intonation.

“Don’t sell yourself short Harry.” Tonks replied in her normal voice. “You’re a man, so you’re plenty dumb enough.”

“Very funny. I don’t want us to get caught, that’s all! If you keep pulling stunts on the way to the shower Mrs Weasley or Ron will catch us eventually, and then what would we do?”

“You worry too much,” Tonks replied nonchalantly. “If that happened I’d just obliviate everyone.”

You would?” Harry exclaimed, flabbergasted.

Tonks gave him a withering look, “Of course not! As if I would do such a thing!”

Harry expelled a heavy breath, “Phew! Okay good...”

Or would I?” Tonks wondered out loud, putting a finger to her cheek in thought.

Seriously?” Harry gasped.

“I was joking! I’m insulted that you would even think that!” Tonks replied, looking offended.

“Sorry!” Harry replied hastily. “I didn’t really think...”

Or am I?” she added, impishly.

Harry scowled, “Be serious Tonks! Would you really obliviate everyone?”

“Do you genuinely think I’m the sort of person who would do that?”

“No,” Harry admitted, “no of course not. Sorry Tonks.”

“Exactly!” she stated huffily, but then turned mischievous. “Or am I?

Tonks!” Harry shrieked. “Stop mucking about! Would you do it or not?”

“Okay okay, fine!” Tonks whined. “Jeez! No, of course I wouldn’t do that.”

Harry huffed, “Finally! Excellent. Good. Okay. That’s a relief...”

Or would I?” Tonks added under her breath.

“Gah!” Harry howled. “Stop it Tonks! Tell me, once and for all! Would you obliviate everyone, YES OR NO?

“No I wouldn’t,” she declared solemnly... while nodding her head.

“You were nodding!” Harry shrieked. “You said no but you nodded yes!”

“No I didn’t,” Tonks insisted, while nodding again.

“You did it again!” Harry screamed in exasperation.

“Harry, you’re totally imagining it,” the pink-haired woman maintained, while shaking her head in contradiction.

Harry slapped a hand to his aching brow. He didn’t know what to believe now! Each time she said something she seemed totally sincere, but then she’d say the exact opposite equally sincerely! So would she do it or would she not? He had absolutely no idea. The only thing he knew for sure was that she was definitely messing with him.

“Tonks I’m serious! Would you or wouldn’t you?

Tonks sighed and visibly wiped the smirk from her face, looking suddenly grave.

“Okay Harry. I’m being serious now – no more messing around. I absolutely would not obliviate you all. I promise. There! Satisfied?”

“Yes. Good. Thank you. Finally!

A moment passed.

Tonks grinned, “Or would I?

“Aaaarrrggghhh!” Harry screamed.

“I’m kidding!” she declared with a giggle. “There’s no way I’d do something like that!”

Harry glared at her, waiting for the other shoe to fall.

Tonks blinked at him innocently.

Harry began to relax.

Or would I?

Harry could feel himself going bright red. He wouldn’t be surprised if steam was coming out of his ears.

“Alright alright I’ll stop!” Tonks declared. “Seriously, I wouldn’t obliviate everyone. Honest!”

Harry squinted at her, “You’re definitely being serious this time?”

“Yes. I promise.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“Well this time I mean it.”

“So you wouldn’t obliviate everyone?”

“No,” Tonks affirmed, “definitely not.”

Harry glared at her suspiciously for several long seconds, waiting for her to say something else, but she remained silent.

Harry finally relented, “Okay then.”

Not again anyway,” Tonks mumbled quietly at the floor.

WHAT!?!” Harry screeched.

I’m JOKING!” she howled, doubling up in laughter. “Oh my God you should see your face! Hilarious!”

“Are you telling me you’ve already obliviated some of us?”

“Don’t be daft Harry! I would never do that!” Tonks insisted.

Harry visibly relaxed until she added, “Tell you, I mean.”

Tonks!

“Okay okay!” she held her hands up in surrender, “I swear that I have never obliviated any of you.”

Harry glared at her, daring her to say, ‘or have I?’...

Tonks beamed her most angelic smile, looking suddenly very sweet and harmless.

Harry stared at her suspiciously.

Tonks twirled a strand of hair around her finger.

Harry stared some more.

Tonks raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

Harry stared some more.

Tonks’ eyes started roaming around the room in a vaguely child-like and bored manner.

Harry finally relaxed.

Or have I?” Tonks whispered.

God damn it Tonks!

The infuriating woman merely grinned and patted him on the cheek, “Stop worrying about ‘what-ifs’ Harry. Instead, think of the regrets you’ll have if you never risk anything...”

- § -

As August slipped away the seemingly endless summer suddenly felt very short. Days passed in an alarming whirl.

Harry, Hermione and Ginny practiced apparating whenever they could. The Ministry had placed an anti-apparition charm over the Burrow, so they were forced to sneak out to the orchard to do it, but they managed. Ginny and Hermione also spent quite a lot of time with Ron, to make sure he didn’t get suspicious that there was something going on without him. Once they all were all reasonably proficient, Tonks gave them some tips on how to apparate quietly. Most people didn’t bother, but Aurors sometimes had to arrive or depart stealthily. It wasn’t easy, but with practice some people could get quite good at it. Elves could do so too if they felt like it.

The Daily Prophet was still full of stories about suspected Death Eater attacks, but also carried several articles about shady characters being arrested and imprisoned for breaking curfew. Among them was a certain Mundungus Fletcher. Harry wondered if Dumbledore would attempt to get him freed... and was almost certain that he wouldn’t.

Scrimgeour contacted them to request another midnight meeting in his office. Tonks could have side-along apparated Harry to the Ministry herself of course (since Harry wasn’t quite ready to try it himself), but they’d have had to leave the Burrow first. They decided to avoid the risk of bumping into Mrs Weasley by getting one of the house elves to transport them straight from their bedroom. Harry summoned Dobby just before midnight.

“Harry Potter called for Dobby?” the diminutive elf enquired.

“Hi Dobby,” Harry greeted him in genuine delight. “We need to go to the Ministry, but first... I was wondering how you and Winky manage to access my Gringotts vault without a key?”

Dobby answered eagerly, “When an elf is bonding with a new master, they is having to register the bond with the House Elf Placement Agency in Carkitt Market. Gringotts is then allowing that elf to access their master’s vault using the Gringotts spare key.”

“So that’s how Winky did it,” Harry reasoned, “but what about you?”

“When Harry Potter asked Dobby to put a letter in his vault, Dobby had to register himself with the Agency.”

“So the Agency thinks you’re my bonded elf?”

Dobby’s ears suddenly drooped and he started punching himself in the head, “Bad Dobby! Bad!”

Harry leapt forwards and grabbed him by the wrists, “Dobby stop! It’s fine! You didn’t do anything wrong! In fact I’m glad – it’ll make things much easier. I’d rather send you to my vaults than Kreacher, that’s for sure!”

It took a few minutes to calm the excitable elf down, but by the time Dobby side-along apparated them to the Ministry Atrium he was back to normal, as if he hadn’t just tried to brain himself.

Harry and Tonks breezed past the security guard with a friendly wave. The Minister had left standing instructions that Harry was always to be allowed in.

As before, it was just the three of them present in Scrimgeour’s office. The Minister poured three Firewhiskys and they moved to the sitting area, but Tonks surprised Harry by sitting next to him on the sofa. Scrimgeour raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. As the Minister took a sip of his whisky, Harry thought he saw the tiniest of smiles.

Scrimgeour interrupted his thoughts, “Well Harry, I think we can call stage one a success don’t you? The Press Conference and the Martial Law announcement went without a hitch. There has been almost no resistance to anything we’ve done so far. So now we move to stage two.”

Harry nodded, “Indeed. It’s time to teach our enemies not to enter the Lion’s Den. We need a few quick wins, and then we need to start piling on the pressure. Tonks and I sent a couple of ‘volunteers’ in, have they been interrogated yet?”

Scrimgeour smiled coldly, “Oh yes – Draco and Narcissa Malfoy. They were both questioned under Veritaserum, but both had sufficient Occlumency training to resist it.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise, “Even Draco?”

Scrimgeour nodded, “Surprisingly, yes. Unfortunately for the two of them, Draco has the Dark Mark, so he was automatically found guilty of being a Death Eater. Even more unfortunate, he was found guilty just after I declared it to be a Capital Offence... most lamentable. However, salvation was at hand. To avoid the immediate execution of her son, Narcissa became much more co-operative. She wouldn’t give us the current location of Voldemort, but she did tell us that he gave Draco the job of killing Dumbledore.”

“What? That’s ridiculous!” Tonks declared. “There’s no way Draco Malfoy could take out Dumbledore.”

“Quite,” Scrimgeour agreed. “Narcissa thinks it’s punishment for her husband’s failure to secure the prophecy orb. Draco has spent the summer being taught Occlumency by his dear Aunt Bellatrix so Dumbledore can’t read his mind when he returns to Hogwarts. Narcissa also gave us some useful information on various low-level members of the organisation. Once we’d exhausted that line of enquiry, we hit them both with the Imperius.”

Harry sat forward. He was very keen to know whether it had worked.

“As you may know,” Scrimgeour continued, “Occlumency doesn’t help you resist the Imperius, and vice-versa.”

Harry hadn’t known that in fact, but it made sense – Harry himself had been able to resist the Imperius almost from day one, but had been completely defenceless against mind reading.

“Neither Draco nor his mother had much resistance to the Imperius,” the Minister continued. “Once they were under they both sang like canaries. Unfortunately they don’t know where Voldemort is, but they confessed to multiple counts of aiding and abetting Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and gave us the names of a large number of his inner circle. Draco had several plans for how to kill Dumbledore, mostly by smuggling cursed objects or poisons into Hogwarts, but he also had a plan that involved a pair of Vanishing Cabinets – one in Borgin and Burkes, and the other in something called the Room of Hidden Things at Hogwarts. The one at Hogwarts is currently broken, apparently, but once repaired Draco planned to use these cabinets to get Death Eaters into the school.”

Bloody hell!” Harry swore. “He was going to let Death Eaters into Hogwarts?” Harry could hardly believe it. He knew that Draco was a nasty little git, but this? “Plotting to kill Dumbledore is bad enough, but letting Death Eaters into the school is truly despicable. It would fall in minutes if Voldemort got enough of his people inside. Who knows how many students would have been killed?”

“Quite,” Scrimgeour agreed, “and I’m afraid young Mr Malfoy’s offences don’t end there. To prove himself worthy of the Dark Mark, and demonstrate his dedication to the pureblood cause, Draco was required to perform the Cruciatus Curse on a group of muggles. He did so willingly... and with considerable glee, according to his own confession. That’s an automatic ten year sentence in Azkaban for a minor, but combined with all his other crimes...”

That little shit!” Harry spat. “I assume we’ll be throwing the book at him for this?”

“Indeed we will. Their sentences will be announced in tomorrow’s papers. They’re both going to be serving long stretches in Azkaban, but I suspect they’re hoping to be rescued before long. In the meantime, they were also fined an amount in excess of the value of their assets. Their vaults have already been seized and Narcissa (under the Imperius, naturally) helped us gain access to the Manor. She also led us to a large stash of very dark magical items. They’d have been doing some serious time just for those. I’ve also ordered the cabinet at Borgin and Burkes to be seized.”

Tonks made no effort to hide her astonishment.

Harry smiled grimly, “It’s amazing what you can achieve when you take the gloves off, isn’t it? In fact, we’ve been fighting with gloves on and both hands tied behind our backs! Is it any wonder they’ve been running rings around us?”

Scrimgeour nodded gravely, “We’ve acquired more intelligence about Voldemort’s operation in the last three days than the previous twenty years. I’ve already given the order to start making arrests. Narcissa confirmed all the Death Eaters you named in the Quibbler and a whole bunch more. She also confirmed that Pettigrew is still alive... and she knows where he is.”

Harry nearly jumped out of his seat. He held a deep and abiding hatred for Pettigrew, not just for betraying his parents, but for killing Cedric without a second thought and bringing Voldemort back.

Where is he?” Harry growled.

Scrimgeour paused before answering, “Therein lies the problem – he’s at Severus Snape’s house.”

Harry was both dumbstruck and furious. Snape was harbouring Pettigrew! With a start Harry realised he was on the edge of his seat, and that Tonks’ calming hand was on his leg. He put his hand over hers, sat back, and breathed out heavily.

“I see.”

Scrimgeour inclined his head, “You’ve grown up a lot this summer, Harry. From what I’d heard, you had a reputation for being a bit of a hot-head. I must admit, it gave me some concerns.”

With a jolt, Harry remembered Scrimgeour’s smile earlier... and suddenly their first meeting began to replay in his head... Scrimgeour had seen the state that Tonks was in... he’d seen the look on Harry’s face when her boob fell out... he’d wanted his arrangement with Harry to work out... he’d wanted Harry to have an adult role model... someone Harry could trust... who’d help Harry grow up... a horny teenage boy and a lonely young woman... and Scrimgeour had insisted that they share a room...

The sly old bastard! The Minister had moulded Harry and Tonks into a team and helped Harry to grow up faster... by setting them up with each other!

Harry took a swig of Whisky. It was absolutely outrageous! It was shocking, disgraceful, manipulative... and deeply inappropriate. But try as he might, Harry couldn’t bring himself to feel anything other than profoundly grateful. He couldn’t imagine how lonely he would be right now without Tonks. Maybe that, too, was what Scrimgeour had intended?

Harry squeezed Tonks’ hand and smiled at her, “Yes, it’s been quite a summer, that’s for sure.”

Scrimgeour pretended not to notice them holding hands, “So you see the problem Harry? To get Pettigrew we need to move against Snape, but to move against Snape is to move against Dumbledore... I’m not saying we shouldn’t do that, but we need to think it through very carefully first.”

Harry sighed again, “Agreed. In the larger scheme of things, Pettigrew is a small fish. He’s done incredible damage, but I don’t think he’s a priority right now. I hope not anyway. He’s such a slippery little shit, it’s hard to know what mischief he might cause, but we have bigger fish to fry.”

Scrimgeour nodded, “Good... Good... my thoughts exactly. Do mull it over though. If you can think a good reason to grab Pettigrew now, we will.” The Minister took a swig of Whisky and seemed to be choosing his next words carefully, “Unfortunately, that’s not all... At the risk of testing your new-found maturity to breaking point, Narcissa also told us that Snape took an Unbreakable Vow – if Draco is unable to kill Dumbledore, then Snape has agreed to do it.”

Harry went rigid with fury, grinding his teeth and clenching his fists. Tonks grabbed his forearm in a tight grip. Through a clenched jaw Harry asked, “What happens if someone breaks an Unbreakable Vow?”

“They die,” replied Scrimgeour simply. Harry grappled with his overwhelming hatred for Snape while the Minister continued, “Dumbledore has always claimed that Snape is his spy in Voldemort’s camp, but it’s hard to see how that can be true if Snape has taken an Unbreakable Vow to kill him.”

“Yes it is,” Harry said absently, while trying to think it through. “If Draco goes to Azkaban, will Snape have to take over? How soon would he have to kill Dumbledore?”

“That’s a very good question Harry, and demonstrates why Unbreakable Vows are such tricky things. The best answer I could get from the Unspeakables was that it depends on what the Vow Taker himself believes. If Snape genuinely thinks there’s a chance that Draco can be freed from Azkaban and thus complete the mission, then Snape won’t have to take over yet. In principle there’s no time limit on that, but as soon as Snape thinks it’s no longer a realistic possibility, he has to make a genuine attempt within a timeframe that he subconsciously believes is reasonable. It’s all a bit woolly I’m afraid, because it’s the persons own magic that kills them if they fail to meet the terms of the Vow.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief, “I can’t even begin to get my head around that right now. Dumbledore’s faith in Snape has never made any sense to me. The man’s an odious creep who enjoys bullying children. I don’t believe for one second that he got to be a marked Death Eater without murdering anyone either. Dumbledore’s judgement has always been suspect, but to consort with someone like that is indefensible.” Harry found himself on the edge of his seat again and deliberately sat back. “I appreciate you telling me – it makes a very pleasant change to be kept in the loop, let me tell you. Rest easy, Rufus. I won’t do anything without consulting you first. Snape and Dumbledore require very careful handling.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say. In the meantime I think we have plenty to be getting on with. It’s going to be an interesting month! On another topic, are you still planning to return to Hogwarts?”

“I was planning to, yes. I think there are things I could be doing there. More importantly, if I don’t Dumbledore will go ape-shit.”

“Indeed... Indeed... Rather unavoidable, as you say. Well, that’s all the news I have to impart. Is there anything else we should discuss this evening?”

Harry nodded, “I have a couple of things actually. First, it occurs to me that while we’re at it we may as well question the Azkaban Death Eaters under Veritaserum and Imperius.”

Scrimgeour smiled, “We’re already on it, Harry – after the success with Draco and Narcissa, the Auror Office was very keen to do exactly that.”

“Okay good. The last thing then... is the Order of the Phoenix.”

Harry noticed Scrimgeour’s eyes flick to Tonks and back.

“It’s okay, Rufus, Tonks knows about my little deception. She figured it out, but she’s with us now.”

Tonks nodded emphatically, and Harry thought he saw Scrimgeour suppress a satisfied smile. Had he thought of that too? Harry’s grudging respect increased a notch.

“You need to know who the Order members are,” Harry continued, “because they might report back to Dumbledore. But I’d like to emphasise that they’re all good people. We shouldn’t arrest them – they’re fighting for our side – but they might undermine what we’re trying to do, so we need to be careful.”

Scrimgeour nodded noncommittally.

“Tonks is still nominally a member,” Harry began, “but she hasn’t been to any meetings recently and they might not trust her anymore. The other members are Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur Weasley, Molly Weasley, Bill Weasley, Fleur Delacour, Remus Lupin, Dedalus Diggle, Sturgis Podmore, Hestia Jones, Elphias Doge, Mundungus Fletcher, Arabella Figg and Severus Snape. Emmeline Vance was a member but was killed a few weeks ago. I’m not sure about Fred and George Weasley. I don’t think they’re formally members and I think their mother would resist it, but they’d obviously support their family if necessary.”

Scrimgeour’s expression was hard to read, “That’s it? I thought there would be a lot more than that.”

Harry shrugged, “Those are the ones I know about. There might be a few more, but not many. Dumbledore’s information network is probably more extensive. He seemed to know that Voldemort fled to Albania, for example, but I don’t know how. And of course there are lots of others who’d help Dumbledore if he asked, like McGonagall and Flitwick.”

Scrimgeour huffed, “Okay. Well, Moody is retired, so he can do what he wants. I suppose that’s how you got dragged into this?” He directed the question at Tonks, who nodded. “I don’t know most of the others, apart from Arthur Weasley, but Shacklebolt is a... surprise.” Harry could tell he meant betrayal. “He’s the one I’ll need to be careful with... and Moody if we bring him back. Arthur I’m less worried about – his job isn’t particularly sensitive, but he knows a lot of people. I think I might move Percy Weasley to a different department as a precaution. He doesn’t seem to share his family’s allegiance to Dumbledore, but he’s a bit too close for comfort. Anyway, thanks for that, Harry – I appreciate it. It sets my mind at ease, if nothing else.”

“Don’t judge Shacklebolt too harshly,” Harry advised. “He thinks he’s doing the right thing. We all did. He’s helped to protect me for the last few years, and Dumbledore is very good at giving the impression that only Dumbledore can resolve this. Let’s face it... before you took over as Minister he was probably right.”

Scrimgeour nodded in reluctant acknowledgment of his predecessor’s many flaws.

- § -

The following morning, everyone was enjoying breakfast when four Daily Prophets were delivered. Harry and Tonks read the headline story in his copy:

MALFOYS SENTENCED TO THIRTY YEARS IN AZKABAN

The Ministry last night announced that Draco and Narcissa Malfoy had been found guilty of being members of the organisation known as the Death Eaters. Draco Malfoy was found to have the Dark Mark, while his mother confessed to numerous charges of aiding and abetting the Death Eater organisation. In recognition of his youth Draco was not sentenced to death. Instead, both were sentenced to twenty five years in Azkaban. A search of Malfoy Manor revealed a large number of dark objects which added a further five years to their sentences. Draco’s father, Lucius Malfoy, is already serving a life sentence, but it has been extended to life plus twenty years.

In addition to the prison sentence, the Malfoy family were subject to extensive fines. These were ultimately found to be in excess of the value of their estate, so the entire assets of the Malfoy family have been seized by the Ministry.

A spokesperson for the Ministry said that those who join criminal and terrorist organisations should not expect to hold onto their ill-gotten gains once they are brought to justice. These seized assets will be used to compensate victims, protect law-abiding citizens, and to hunt down more such criminals. Victims of Death Eater activity, especially those perpetrated by members of the Malfoy family, are invited to submit their testimony to Percy Weasley, Head of the newly-formed Victim Compensation Department at the Ministry.

The Prophet has learnt that the Malfoys were apprehended when they threatened the life of the Chosen One in a shop on Diagon Alley. According to an eye witness who asked to remain anonymous, it was literally over in flash. Harry Potter and his Auror bodyguard took the mother and son down before they could even draw their wands. More Aurors appeared and the prisoners were gone in seconds.

For a detailed account of the Malfoy family’s many crimes turn to page...

Further down the page another story read:

HOMES OF SUSPECTED DEATH EATERS RAIDED

In the early hours of this morning the Ministry conducted raids on the homes of two suspected Death Eaters. Their names and locations have not been released but a Ministry spokesperson confirmed that several individuals had been arrested and are now ‘assisting Aurors with their enquiries’. A number of suspected Dark Objects were also removed from the properties for further investigation.

Only two homes, Harry noted in resignation. The chronically under-funded Auror Office just didn’t have the resources to perform more than two raids per night. Not safely, anyway. Unfortunately that would alert the remaining Death Eaters to the danger, but it couldn’t be helped.

- § -

Ginny’s fifteenth birthday arrived. It was marked by another party with a huge buffet courtesy of Mrs Weasley. Lupin chose not to make an appearance this time, much to everyone’s relief – nobody was in the mood to hear any more tales of doom. Fred and George did make an appearance though, which delighted Ginny and Mrs Weasley in particular. Mr Weasley tried to act like he’d expected them to attend all along, but his beaming Cheshire-Cat grin suggested otherwise.

The women all looked absolutely stunning in their posh frocks, and Ron once again made the effort to smarten-up, though he still looked a bit scruffy next to Harry in his designer clothes. Once Ginny had opened all her presents (Harry had bought her a designer dress – with a lot of help from Tonks – which Ginny loved) and everyone had stuffed themselves silly with food and cake, the twins took Harry to one side.

“We have a present for you, and Tonks too,” Fred informed him.

“We’ve dropped your dragonhide stuff off in your room – our old room,” George explained.

“Sorry it took so long,” Fred resumed. “We used a much stronger shield charm that’s harder to apply. It should protect you from all hexes, jinxes and mild-to-moderate curses.”

“If you wear several items in layers – like the coat over the waistcoat – they provide even stronger protection.”

“But they still won’t work against really nasty curses or the unforgivables.”

The conversation was cut short as Mrs Weasley came bustling their way, suspicious about them whispering in a corner.

“Pop into the shop some time and we’ll have a proper chat,” George said hastily as the twins scampered off trying to look innocent.

- § -

The Daily Prophet the following morning brought sobering news:

DEATH EATERS EXECUTED

The two houses raided yesterday have been named as those of the Gibbon and Selwyn families. The heads of both families were found to have the Dark Mark and confessed to a shocking number of crimes. Many of those are listed below, but some were too heinous to recount here. Both men were condemned to Death via beheading. The sentence was carried out yesterday evening by the newly-appointed Ministry Executioner, Amos Diggory. (The previous Executioner, Walden MacNair, was one of the Death Eaters who fought with Harry Potter and friends in the Department of Mysteries a few months ago. See page six for more information on MacNair and the position of Ministry Executioner. Also see further down this page.)

Mr Diggory, who previously worked for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, is understood to have stepped forward when the Minister for Magic requested volunteers for the position of Executioner. Mr Diggory’s son, Cedric Diggory, was killed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the end of the Triwizard Tournament just over a year ago. “It won’t bring my son back,” Mr Diggory told reporters, “but I think he’ll rest a little easier knowing that his father is bringing justice to those who took him from us.”

Five other Gibbon and Selwyn family members who were in residence at the time of the raids confessed under Veritaserum to a number of crimes including aiding and abetting the Death Eater organisation. Those persons, named below, were given sentences ranging from ten to twenty years in Azkaban. A substantial fraction of the assets of both families has been seized in fines and compensation.

There was silence around the breakfast table as everyone absorbed that news. Harry scanned further down the front page and found:

FORMER EXECUTIONER EXECUTED

Walden MacNair, former Ministry Executioner, has confessed under Veritaserum to murdering Broderick Bode at St Mungo’s hospital over Christmas last year. Bode was a Ministry worker recovering from injuries which were believed, at the time, to have been sustained in a ‘workplace incident’. It has subsequently come to light that Bode was an Unspeakable who was placed under the Imperius Curse by Lucius Malfoy and ordered to retrieve a Prophecy Orb containing the prophecy about Harry Potter. Bode’s attempt resulted in the injuries for which he was hospitalised.

Several months later, when Bode’s condition began to improve, MacNair arranged for a Devil's Snare to be delivered him at the Janus Thickey Long-term Care Ward. The deadly plant subsequently strangled Bode to death.

MacNair also confessed to a number of other crimes including the kidnapping, torture and murder of dozens of muggles and several muggleborn Witches and Wizards, along with various other crimes too appalling to recount. At a Court Hearing within the DMLE, MacNair was tried for these crimes, found guilty, and condemned to Death via beheading. The sentence was carried out this morning at Azkaban Prison by the new Executioner.

A Ministry spokesperson said, “Convicted prisoners are not immune from the Law. If they are found to have committed crimes for which they have not yet faced justice, they will be tried and punished accordingly.”

Hermione was the first to speak, “They’re doing it,” she said in a horrified whisper. “They’re really doing it. They’re executing people!”

Harry was surprised to find that he wasn’t annoyed at her clear disapproval. Hermione had always been an idealist. She would view execution, even in a time of war, as government-sanctioned murder. Even the well-deserved execution of the man who’d attempted to kill Buckbeak wasn’t enough to sway her. Harry was fairly certain she was one of the few though. The Wizarding world as a whole seemed to have very Victorian views on most things. The slavery of Elves, the torture of prisoners by Dementors, and execution by having your soul consumed... were all accepted as normal in the magical world. If anything, Hermione’s idealism was one of the things Harry liked about her. He didn’t agree with it right now, but he was glad that people like Hermione existed. They would eventually drag everyone else kicking and screaming into a brighter future, but right now a more ruthless mindset was required, or there wouldn’t be a future.

Harry saw no benefit to expressing that view out loud though. It seemed the others felt to same because nobody else commented on the news, except Ron.

“I thought the Executioner only executed dangerous beasts like Buckbeak,” he said through a mouthful of bacon and fried eggs.

Hermione shot him an angry look which Ron failed to notice.

“Ordinarily yes,” Mr Weasley replied, “but only because death sentences for humans are so rare. I don’t know when the last execution was. Sometime in the 1960’s I think.”

Conversation turned to other things, but was subdued for the rest of the meal.

- § -

The first week of August had been largely dry and warm but the second and third weeks were more unsettled with a couple of thunderstorms. Harry wondered if the inclement weather that had dogged much of the country this summer had finally reached this part of Devon. The weather kept them largely confined to the house, so Tonks decided to teach Harry the Disillusionment Charm.

“I know you’ve got an invisibility cloak Harry, but it’s not always practical to wander about with a blanket over your head. You might accidentally reveal a foot or rustle the material, and you can’t cast spells without sticking your hand out. Anyway, with the magical power you seem to have, your Disillusionment Charm should be just as good as your cloak. It’s a seventh year spell but I think you can handle it.”

Harry wasn’t too fussed, but certainly had no objection, so they sat facing each other on the bed while Tonks explained what to do. She demonstrated on herself, twirling her wand around her body, and slowly blended into the background. She wasn’t invisible, but she’d become a sort of human chameleon, whose skin matched exactly what was behind her. The effect wasn’t perfect though – she kind of rippled when she moved.

“You see that distortion,” she said, waving her hand around in front of them. “That’s what happens when most people cast this spell, but the more powerful you are the less distortion there is. Someone like Dumbledore is probably impossible to see.”

She cancelled the spell and reappeared in front of him, “Now you try it, but do it on me so you can see the results. The incantation is the same, but the wand movement is different – you just have to tap me on the head.”

As with every spell, the first time he tried it nothing happened. Tonks was still as visible as ever. After five more tries, he still couldn’t do it. He was reminded of when he learned the Accio spell in fourth year. It had taken him forever to get it, but once it ‘clicked’ he could soon do it easily. What was he doing wrong? Tonks said his wand movement and incantation were good, but it just wasn’t working.

“Tonks, do you mind if we try something?” he asked.

“Depends what it is. Do I have to get naked?”

Harry grinned in amusement, “No.”

Tonks pouted, “Shame... Maybe I should anyway?”

Harry laughed “Later! I’m trying to concentrate! I want to work out what I’m doing wrong, and I’m wondering if I can figure it out using Legilimency.”

Legilimency?”

“Yeah, when you were teaching us how to Apparate I felt like I could sense what you were doing. I think I was picking up your surface thoughts, and that’s why I learned it so fast. I’d like to do the same with this. I’ll close my eyes while you cast the spell on yourself, and see if I can sense how you’re doing it. I think spells are hard to learn at first because there’s a mental component that – for want of a better way to do it – we can only develop through repetition. But you taught us to Apparate by showing us how it feels and that was much faster. I’m wondering if the same will work with this spell?”

“So you want me to lower my Occlumency defences while I cast the spell?”

Harry hadn’t actually thought of that, because during sex he never seemed to have a problem sliding through her mental defences. That was extremely curious, now he thought about it. Tonks was a trained Auror, so her Occlumency defences should be top-notch. How did he get past them? Was she just so distracted during sex that her defences crumbled? Another surprising thought struck him. Voldemort must be an even more accomplished Occlumens! How on earth had Harry slipped past Voldemort’s defences?

Only two explanations occurred to him – either Harry was the most powerful natural Legilimens who ever lived (which he didn’t believe for a minute) or there was something different about the way he was accessing their minds. In Voldemort’s case Harry’s scar had somehow formed a link between them, and in Tonks’ case sexual contact had formed a link. What that link might be, Harry had absolutely no idea.

“Yes please,” Harry responded, to avoid any awkward questions.

“Okay, but don’t go wandering around in there looking at stuff, or I’ll kick your arse,” Tonks warned him.

Harry was well aware that he should tell her about what happened when they had sex. But he was also well aware that she would probably never have sex with him again if she knew. It was a tricky situation to which he saw no obvious solution.

“I promise,” replied Harry sincerely. “I don’t think it’ll work like that anyway. I won’t be casting Legilimens I’ll just be passively receiving your surface thoughts.”

Tonks seemed satisfied, “Okay then good. Here goes. You ready?”

Harry nodded and closed his eyes.

“Three... two... one... Inadspectus!

Harry definitely got a sense for how it felt to be casting the spell, almost as if he was casting it himself. But it was faint and unclear. Without opening his eyes, Harry said, “Could you do it again a few more times?”

Tonks cancelled the spell and repeated the whole process. The second time, Harry got a much clearer sense. The third and fourth times he started to feel a familiarity with the spell, like he did with spells he’d already mastered himself.

Harry opened his eyes, “Okay, I think I’ve got it. Let me give it a go.” He concentrated, and cast the spell. The air around Tonks rippled slightly, but that was all. “No, that wasn’t right. Let me try again.” He closed his eyes this time, concentrated on the feeling he’d had when Tonks cast the spell, and cast it with his eyes shut. It felt pretty close. Not perfect, but close. He opened his eyes... to find that Tonks was gone.

Then something moved and the air rippled, “You did it Harry! That’s amazing!”

Harry grinned and cancelled the spell. “It wasn’t quite there. I’m going to try again.” He closed his eyes again, and this time it felt right when he cast it. He opened his eyes to find Tonks gone once more. He waited for a few seconds but nothing happened. “Um, could you move around a bit Tonks, I want to see how it looks.”

A voice answered from behind him, “Boo!”

Harry nearly leapt out of his skin, “Bloody hell, Tonks!”

Her tittering laugh sounded from the far corner of the room, “This is incredible, Harry! I’m completely invisible! No distortion at all! You can’t see me can you?”

Harry scanned the room. There was no sign of her, “No. Where are you?”

“Don’t go anywhere, Harry, I’ll be right back.” The door opened, and then closed itself. A minute later, it opened again, and then closed again. “Okay Harry, I’m in front of the door.” Harry cancelled the spell and Tonks reappeared, grinning.

“What was that about?”

“You know when I said I had some of Ginny’s hair? Well, I didn’t. But now I do.” She waved a hairbrush in her hand. “We can’t be too careful with those two cheeky minxes.” She sat at her dresser, pulled some long ginger hairs from the brush and put them carefully in an envelope. She wrote something on the front, and then called Winky.

“Hi Winky. Would you be a treasure put this envelope in same place as the previous envelope I gave you? Thanks, you’re awesome!”

Winky smiled hugely, her eyes glistening, “Of course Mistress Tonks.” She disappeared with a crack.

Harry’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh settle down,” Tonks admonished him. “It’s just a precaution. That’s Hermione and Ginny’s hair stored safe and sound. Don’t want anyone else getting hold of them do we? Now, what other spells can I teach you? You realise you’ve just revolutionised the way magic is taught?”

Harry chuckled, “I don’t think so, Tonks. I can’t imagine a teacher letting a room full of children into their mind. Even one-on-one I don’t think most teachers would be willing. In any case, I suspect only a natural Legilimens like me could do it, or a trained one like you. I’m not sure children can even do Legilimency. It might require the bond we’ve developed through all our Occlumency lessons, the trust that we have in each other... and maybe even the sexual intimacy. All in all, I think it’ll probably just be you and me for a while.”

Tonks appeared thoughtful, “You’re probably right. I wonder if that’s how covens used to learn magic? There was an awful lot of sex involved in learning magic before Hogwarts was founded.”

Tonks suddenly looked gleeful, “Harry! You know what this means? We just formed a coven!

Notes:

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” is a Darth Vader quote from Star Wars Episode IV - A New Hope.

No, Tonks has not obliviated anyone in the house. She would never do that!

... Or would she?

:-D

The incantation for the Disillusionment Charm is never actually specified in canon, so I chose Inadspectus, which is Latin for ‘out of sight’.

The coven thing is a plot point that may or may not prove important. It's not smut-related. (Not directly, anyway.) This is not going to become a Harry-Harem story where the coven is his harem. That's been done before and I prefer to be a bit more original. :-)

Chapter 28: Sticky-Fingered Thief

Notes:

I know I said there would be one more chapter and then it would be back to Hogwarts... but this chapter grew so long I had to divide it in two. I’ll post the second half in a few days and it’ll definitely be back to Hogwarts after that.

There are some French phrases in this chapter. Translations are provided at the end. (Thank you to elbris and kakalazen for correcting my usage!)

There’s some more smut in this chapter, but the next ten will concentrate on plot and be relatively smut-free... unless I can think of some minor smut to slip-in along the way (as Thundramon suggested in the comments). We’ll see...

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

A coven?” Harry repeated, taken aback. “Um... what does that entail exactly?”

Tonks gave him a withering look, “I wasn’t serious Harry. The knowledge of how covens were formed and what they got up to was lost centuries ago.”

That news came as a great relief to Harry. He already felt out of his depth dealing with Tonks. Girls were still a complete mystery to him. The thought of a whole coven full of witches tormenting him with their confusing behaviour filled him with terror.

“Oh right,” he said quickly. “I mean, I knew that... obviously.”

Tonks snorted, “Sure you did.”

- § -

After lunch Tonks began the next step of what she called Harry’s ‘Concealment and Infiltration’ training.

“Becoming invisible is all very well,” she explained, “but there’s more to remaining concealed than that. You have to move silently, avoid bumping into people or obstacles, and pass through doors without attracting attention. Basically you need to be able to sneak around, and that’s a surprisingly difficult thing to do. I’m absolutely hopeless at it.”

Harry wasn’t surprised by that at all – Tonks could hardly enter a room without wrecking it.

“So here’s what we’re going to do,” she continued. “You’ll make yourself invisible and then move around this room. After ten seconds I’ll try to hit you with a stinging hex.”

A stinging hex?” Harry whined. Even an underpowered stinging hex was quite painful. Tonks had hit him with quite a few during their combat training. “Is that really necessary?”

“Yes,” she replied with a mischievous grin. “It’s a good motivator... and you scream like a girl whenever I hit you with one; it’s hilarious.”

For the next half hour Harry suffered countless painful jolts on various parts of his body, before he started to get the hand of sneaking around silently. It required a huge amount of situational awareness – he had to identify literally anything that might produce a sound and then plan a path through that minefield from wherever he was to wherever he wanted to be. But he had to do it almost instantly, because if something changed (like Tonks leaping suddenly to the left) he’d need to adapt on the fly. He also figured out the best way to walk silently – slightly crouched, lowering his heel first and favouring the outside edge of his foot, while taking small steps and keeping his weight centred. Mostly it was just instinct though. The more he practiced, the better he got. And the better he got, the less effort it took, so his balance and his breathing improved.

“I think you’ve got that,” Tonks declared. “Let’s talk about doors. The best way to get through a door is to do it when nobody is around, so the first thing you need to do is check for observers. You can do that visually for the side you’re on, but you’ll need to use a Supersensory Charm to listen for movement on the other side if the door's closed. When you’re confident there’s nobody around, turn the handle while simultaneously lifting the door slightly. That will usually prevent the hinges from squeaking. As a general rule, you should stand to one side while you do that, using the wall for cover. Then let the door swing open as if it was blown open by a breeze and listen for movement. If the room’s silent, crouch down and take a peek. When you think the coast is clear proceed cautiously into the room, under the assumption that some sneaky bugger is hiding in the room waiting to curse you.”

“Okay...” Harry replied, committing all of that to memory.

“And finally,” Tonks concluded, “you need to have a backup plan. That’s a plan for what you’ll do if you get caught. That’ll depend on the circumstances, but wherever possible you should stun your opponent and obliviate them so you can make a clean getaway.”

“Make sense,” Harry agreed, though it did make him wonder again about whether Tonks made a habit of obliviating people.

“Good!” Tonks grinned. “In that case you’re ready for your assignment.”

The smile fell from Harry’s face, “Assignment?”

“Yes. As you’ve already discovered, the best way to hone your concealment skills is to actually put them into action. So your assignment is to sneak into Bill and Fleur’s room and collect some of Fleur’s hair from her hair brush.”

What do you want that for?” was Harry’s immediate question.

Tonks shrugged dismissively, “Just a precaution. Anyway we need a real mission for you and hair is something that won’t be missed. You can grab a pair of Fleur’s knickers if you prefer?”

Harry swallowed heavily, “No, hair is fine.”

“Okay, so what’s your plan?”

Harry wasn’t at all sure about this idea, but Tonks was teaching him some really useful skills so he didn’t want to seem ungrateful by questioning her judgement. Also, Tonks had already snuck upstairs herself to get a sample of Ginny’s hair, so was it really such a big deal? She’d returned in less than thirty seconds. Could he really justify refusing such a simple task?

“Um... well... Fleur is here pretty much all the time, but Bill goes to work most days. I guess I should do it on a work day, so I only have to avoid one person instead of two. I could make the attempt while Fleur is having lunch, maybe?”

“You could,” Tonks agreed, “and normally that would be a great idea, but it would rather undermine the purpose of this exercise. I want you to risk encountering Fleur, but slip past her undetected.”

Harry chewed his lip, “The only other time she’s out of the room for more than a few minutes is when she showers, so I guess I’d have to do it then?”

Tonks shrugged noncommittally.

“No,” Harry back-tracked. “She always comes down to breakfast fully clothed, so she must shower before that, when Bill is still here. Okay, it’ll have to be when she nips to the loo then.”

“Quite,” Tonks agreed. “So your window of opportunity will be quite narrow, which is frequently the case. You need to be in and out as fast as you can. I’d like you to disillusion me too, so I can keep an eye on you and step in if things go tits-up.”

Harry nodded numbly. He was probably making too big a deal out of this – he should be in and out in seconds, so what was the problem? But he still felt nervous; he couldn’t help it. He’d be mortified if he got caught and everyone in the house learned that he’d been sneaking around Fleur’s room. He’d never live it down.

“How are you going to monitor me if I’m invisible?” he wondered.

“Ah yes!” Tonks brightened, snapping her fingers. “I forgot to mention that! The Disillusionment Charm has one massive weakness – the human-presence-revealing spell, Homenum Revelio. That charm reveals the presence of humans to the person who casts it. If you ever suspect there might be an invisible person in the room, just cast that spell. You’ll see them as a glowing outline, even if they’re invisible or under an invisibility cloak. We can practice that later if you like.”

“Yeah that would be good...” Harry’s eyes went wide, “Hold on a minute! That’s how Dumbledore can see me under my Invisibility Cloak! He must be casting Homenum Revelio wandlessly!”

Tonks shrugged, “Most likely, yeah.”

Harry growled angrily. Instead of Dumbledore teaching him this simple and very useful spell, the Headmaster had chosen to give Harry the impression that he could see through Harry’s Cloak simply because he was so damned powerful. The man was more interested in grandstanding than helping Harry to survive!

“That big-headed old fraud,” Harry muttered.

“Never mind that now,” Tonks admonished impatiently. “Are you ready to attempt your assignment?”

“You want to do it now?” he replied in alarm.

“Why not – there’s no time like the present Harry. Anyway, we don’t know when Fleur will next visit the toilet, so this could take a while. The sooner we start the more likely it is that we’ll be successful before Bill gets home.”

With a heavy sigh, Harry agreed. “Okay.”

Two minutes later Harry found himself sneaking invisibly up the stairs. A disillusioned Tonks was following somewhere behind him. He assumed she was anyway. Glancing over his shoulder, he couldn’t see any sign of her.

Bill and Fleur’s room was on the third floor, one floor up from Harry and Tonks’ room, but on the far side of the house. Ron’s room was two floors up from there, but directly above, which is why Fleur’s squealing orgasms were audible from Ron’s room but not from Harry’s. Now that he thought about it, Harry wondered if the problem was that Bill and Ron were both leaving their windows open. Perhaps Bill was silencing the door but forgetting about the window? That might explain why Mrs Weasley hadn’t put at stop to their pre-marital exploits – her room was on the other side of the Burrow, like Harry’s, so she couldn’t hear anything.

Further speculation was cut short by two voices coming down the stairs. Harry was half way to the third floor, so he darted up the remaining stairs and dove into an alcove. Beside him a vase of flowers on a small table wobbled alarmingly until Harry grabbed the vase to steady it. A few seconds later Ginny and Hermione passed within inches of his hiding place, whispering quietly to each other.

“I’m telling you,” Ginny hissed insistently, “Ron throws us out of his room at this time every day so he can knock one out!”

“Why on earth would he do that?” Hermione muttered, looking queasy.

“Because he’s a pig,” Ginny replied, curling her lip in disgust. “And Fleur was flashing her cleavage at lunch.”

The girls both fell silent as they descended the stairs past Harry and Tonks’ room. A few moments later their footsteps were silenced by the sound of Ginny’s bedroom door closing. For several seconds Harry remained frozen, letting out the breath he’d been holding.

With his heart hammering in his chest he slid silently from his hiding place and crept along the hallway towards Bill’s room. Was Tonks still behind him, he wondered? Or had she been trapped behind the girls and forced back down the stairs? There was no way for him to tell since he hadn’t learnt the Homenum Revelio spell yet and he certainly couldn’t cast it silently.

Bill’s bedroom door came into view and to Harry’s surprise it stood wide open. He immediately hugged the wall and crouched low, listening for any sounds. Complete silence reigned over this portion of the house. Very cautiously, Harry crawled closer and poked his head around the door frame.

What he saw surprised him. The entire room had a very feminine look to it. The colour scheme wasn’t too bad – a mix of off-white and Beauxbatons-blue – but there were far too many accessories for this to be a man’s room. Every horizontal surface had an elaborate piece of lace over it, for example, and the bed was so overrun with throw cushions that the top half was completely unusable. Both bedside tables featured framed photos of Bill and Fleur gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, while the top of the chest of drawers was packed with photos of Fleur’s family. Fleur had clearly taken it upon herself to redecorate, and no trace of whatever Bill’s room had originally looked like remained.

Cursing himself for becoming so easily distracted, Harry focused on the matter at hand – checking for observers. He quickly scanned every corner of the room and confirmed that (unless Fleur was hiding in the wardrobe for some reason) the room was currently unoccupied. Even better, Fleur’s hair brush was sitting out in the open on the bedside table. Hardly able to believe his luck, Harry slinked stealthily into the room, taking care to avoid any bare floorboards, and circled around the bed. With a quick glance towards the door, he verified that nobody was looking and grabbed the brush. To anyone else it would look like the brush rose into the air of its own accord, hovered briefly while a clump of long golden hair pulled free and disappeared, then floated back to its place on the bedside table. In reality, Harry had removed the handful of hair and dropped it into an envelope in his pocket.

A wave of relief passed over him as he turned and made his way back towards the door. He’d done it! He was home free! Only a few more steps and he’d be in the clear!

Inevitably, Harry’s capricious luck chose that moment to desert him. He almost yelped in terror when Fleur padded silently into the room and closed the door behind her. To Harry’s further dismay, she then locked it and placed the key on the dresser.

Oh crap! He was trapped!

Fleur was clearly unaware of Harry’s presence, but strode straight towards him. In a panic, Harry leapt out of her way and pressed himself up against the wall. Barely half a second later Fleur swept past him, so close that he had to suck his chest in to avoid brushing against her shoulder. A waft of cool air washed across his face in her wake, along with the heady scent of her floral perfume.

Paralysed with fear, Harry’s eyes followed Fleur around the room as she collected up a bewildering array of mysterious cosmetic items and placed them all into a wooden box. Harry hadn’t even realised that Fleur wore make-up. She always looked so naturally perfect. But whatever she was doing clearly worked – she never looked anything less than stunning.

Today she was wearing a thigh-length ruffled burgundy skirt with an expensive-looking white blouse. The latter was decorated with black trim at the cuffs and a black strip down the front where the buttons fastened. It was made of sufficiently diaphanous material that Fleur’s black lacy bra was clearly visible beneath. In typical Fleur style, she had left the top three buttons undone, so her entire cleavage was on display. Overall, it was a rather chic and sophisticated ensemble. It was a little too suggestive to suit the average office environment, but Harry could imagine a twenty-something woman wearing it to work at a fashion magazine or something. It definitely wasn’t a look that teenage girls like Hermione or Ginny could pull off yet.

Before this summer Harry would have said that Fleur was without doubt the most attractive woman he’d ever met. She was slim and elegant, with an easy grace that elevated her amazing looks to a whole different level. When she moved it seemed as if she floated across the room like a prima ballerina. If he was honest, Harry had a bit of a thing for long straight hair too, so Fleur had that going for her. But then Harry had got to know Tonks, who definitely didn’t wear any make-up and still looked incredible. Tonks wasn’t elegant or graceful at all, but there was a fire in her that outshone Fleur like the sun outshines the moon.

Harry had grown to quite like Fleur during the Triwizard Tournament, but she was admittedly rather snooty and inconsiderate much of the time. He definitely couldn’t imagine himself ever dating someone like her, despite how pretty she was. Tonks, on the other hand didn’t seem to have a selfish bone in her body, and that really appealed to Harry. The young Auror’s personality easily made her the more beautiful of the two women, in Harry’s opinion.

He tore his eyes away from Fleur and glanced at the door. There was absolutely no way he could unlock it without attracting her attention. A key floating across the room in mid air and unlocking her door would be rather difficult to miss. So he was stuck in this room until she chose to leave. Given that she’d most likely just been to the toilet, he might be here for some time.

His attention returned to Fleur as she crawled onto the bed and lay across it, leaning over the edge to reach underneath. The short skirt she was wearing rode up, giving Harry a fantastic view of her black lacy knickers, fabulous milky-white upper thighs and the perfect round orbs of her underwear-covered bum. He even got a glimpse of the panty-covered pussy between her legs.

Harry swallowed heavily, desperately trying to tell himself he’d seen it all before... since he sort-of had... sort-of. During the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, Fleur had worn a one-piece swimsuit that left very little to the imagination. As a fellow Champion, Harry had been afforded a close-up view. He hadn’t really been able to appreciate it at the time, but in the weeks that followed he’d dreamt of it frequently. He was a teenage boy, after all...

Even now he could conjure a very clear image of that swimsuit in his mind. It was a sort-of silvery gold colour and rather tight-fitting, made of a material that was opaque but quite thin. As a result, Fleur had displayed a very cute camel toe, along with the clear outline of a broad triangle of pubic hair across her mound. She also had a beauty spot on her inner thigh, just below the panty-line on her left leg, he recalled, in almost exactly the same place that Hermione had one. There had been no sign of her nipples, unfortunately, and by the time Harry completed the task she’d been wrapped up in a thick robe, so he never got to see if the cold water of the Lake had encouraged them to make an appearance. He had been rewarded with a good look at her bum when she dove in at the start though, so he knew it was rather fabulous.

Fleur wriggled back up onto the bed, clutching a thin book in her hand. She smiled happily and settled back into the mountain of throw cushions with the clear intention of reading it. Harry almost groaned out loud. He’d be here for hours! The gorgeous woman opened the book somewhere near the middle and removed a book mark, then began reading.

For want of anything better to do, Harry scanned the cover. Judging by the text on the back it was a French novel – ‘L'Image’ by someone called Jean de Berg. Harry had never heard of it. On the front was a sepia-tone photo of a completely naked young woman kneeling on the floor with her head bowed in submission.

For several minutes Fleur simply read her book, occasionally turning a page, but then she yelped in surprise.

Mon dieu!” she gasped, and then covered her mouth with one hand, giggling and wide-eyed.

As she read on, her breathing quickened steadily until her bosom was heaving laboriously.

Hermione, espèce de petite perverse!” she exclaimed in wonder, turning another page.

A blush coloured her cheeks and spread down her neck. Then, to Harry’s utter astonishment, Fleur transferred the book to her left hand and slid her right hand up her skirt. From his vantage point, pressed against the wall at the foot of her bed, Harry now had an unobstructed view of Fleur rubbing her panty-covered pussy. It felt like his heart had leapt into his throat in an effort to asphyxiate him. He was clearly witnessing a very private moment, but he couldn’t leave. He was stuck in here!

He should close his eyes, Harry told himself. Yes, he should definitely close his eyes. But then Fleur lifted her skirt up, moving it out of the way of her hand... and simultaneously gave Harry a fabulous view of her entire panty-covered mound. Oh God, he moaned to himself mentally. She looked so damned hot! Harry could hardly believe this was happening. He was trapped in a room with Fleur while she lay on the bed playing with herself!

Harry kept telling his eyes to close, but somehow they just wouldn’t do as they were told. The final nail in the coffin of his resolve was firmly struck home when Fleur lifted and parted her knees, then slid her fingers inside her panties and began rubbing her bare pussy. Despite his best intentions, something began to stir in Harry’s trousers. He fought it, but the head above his neck and the one below his waist had very different ideas about whether he should find this situation a turn-on.

Just to make things even more difficult, Fleur started panting and moaning.

Harry turned his head away and looked out the window. As he’d suspected, it was wide open, allowing Fleur’s groans to float out into the world. What he hadn’t expected, though, was to see the unmistakable shape of an extendible ear hanging down from somewhere above. No wonder Ron had thrown the girls out of his room! He was indeed knocking one out... while listening to Fleur knocking one out! She must read a chapter of this bawdy novel every day at about this time, Harry realised.

Fleur suddenly hooked her fingers into the waistband of her knickers and yanked them down. She quickly pulled them over her knees and dropped them onto the floor, then resumed rubbing herself. Oh God! She was naked below the waist!

Harry couldn’t help himself; he stared in wonder at Fleur’s bare pussy.

The top was partially obscured by her fingers, which were gently rubbing her clitoris, but he could clearly see the rest. Fleur’s gorgeous milky-white thighs framed her most private place beautifully. Like Tonks, her legs didn’t quite meet at the top, leaving an enticing gap where her vagina and labia could be seen quite easily. Of the three pussies that Harry had now seen – Tonks’, Hermione’s and Fleur’s – Fleur’s was by far the hairiest. Not that it was particularly hairy, but it was much hairier than Hermione’s (and Tonks’ since hers was hairless). Apparently Fleur trimmed hers but didn’t shave or shape it. Was it a French thing to go ‘au naturel’, Harry wondered? Regardless, her outer pussy lips were covered in a thick fuzz of short blonde hair which rose up to form a wide triangle covering her mound from one thigh to the other. It’s a good job her swimsuit had been so well fitted, Harry realised, or some of that pubic hair would have been visible to the world.

Nestled between Fleur’s soft-looking outer labia were two delicate inner lips. They looked quite small to Harry, suggesting that Fleur had quite a narrow or small vagina. Not that he really knew if her outer appearance reflected her inner dimensions. In fact, now that he thought about it, Tonks had said that Hermione was quite small on the inside, but Hermione’s labia were huge, so it certainly didn’t seem to hold in her case.

As Harry watched, Fleur’s circling fingers pushed her lips to one side and then the other, flexing her pussy delightfully. He watched in rapt fascination, marvelling at the breathtaking tableau she’d created for him. She was an astonishingly beautiful woman when she was fully clothed, but half naked like this... she was truly spectacular. Harry grinned. Oh how jealous Ron would be if he knew! But of course Harry would never tell. No matter how he tried to explain it away, sneaking invisibly into Fleur’s room just made him sound like a pervert.

So it would remain Harry’s secret, but right now he couldn’t help being aroused by the experience, and his cock began to harden rapidly. Unlike Ron though, Harry wasn’t tempted to pleasure himself. Being here was an accident, but taking advantage of it wouldn’t be. Fleur deserved more respect than that, and it would feel like cheating on Tonks. The fact that Fleur would probably notice if huge jets of spunk started appearing from nowhere and splattering all over her exposed pussy wasn’t a factor at all. No, definitely not. The image did bring an amused smile to Harry’s face though.

With a huff of impatience, Fleur leapt from the bed and began stripping her clothes off. She quickly unbuttoned her blouse and cast it onto the floor, then unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt, which quickly dropped to join it. Reaching behind herself, Fleur unfastened her black lacy bra and let it fall free. Harry goggled. He was looking at Fleur's bare tits!

Harry had never seen much of Fleur’s boobs, apart from her cleavage, because she seemed to keep them quite well covered. Perhaps that was because they were so small – much smaller than Tonks’ (but larger than Hermione’s). They also had a very different profile to the other breasts he’d seen, with more of a ‘hanging’ appearance to them, like a teardrop. Harry wouldn’t normally have found that very appealing, but somehow Fleur’s breasts made it work.

The curvature of each breast was broader on the inside edge than the outside edge, lending them an asymmetry that was surprisingly endearing. It also gave her cleavage a ‘V’ shape – her tits were about an inch apart at the top (another gap of which Harry was a fan) and three inches apart at the bottom. Meanwhile, her areolas formed an elegant and perfectly proportioned pink circle on each breast, with a delicate and slightly darker nipple at the centre. Despite her arousal Fleur’s nipples remained soft, which Harry found fascinating. Would they go hard if he kissed them, he wondered...

Harry’s inspection of Fleur’s tits was cut short when she climbed back onto the bed and resumed her previous position – lying on her mountain of cushions holding the book in one hand and rubbing herself with the other.

Harry’s mouth went bone dry as his brain caught up with what was happening.

Fleur was completely naked! He was looking at Fleur with no clothes on! She’d stripped for him, and was now lying naked on the bed with her legs parted, showing him her pussy and pleasuring herself! What an extraordinary turn of events!

As if to emphasise that point her circling fingers caused her pussy lips to slowly draw apart, revealing the moist pink valley in between. Fleur groaned in pleasure. A bead of pussy juice formed at the entrance to her vagina and trickled downwards. It passed over her pinched anus and then dropped onto the bed. Harry’s dick pulsed hungrily.

Fleur’s body was truly a wonder. Her arms and legs were slim, bordering on skinny. If he was honest, she was a little too thin for Harry’s tastes, but he couldn’t deny finding her tremendously sexy. She had surprisingly broad shoulders, and nice hips below a narrow waist, giving her a very pleasing figure overall. She looked particularly wonderful right now, with her knees raised and her legs parted. Not only did it reveal her chuff in all its fabulous glory, it accentuated her hips in a rather inviting way. Harry couldn’t help picturing himself holding onto those hips and pounding his cock into her hot wet pussy.

Tearing his eyes away from the beguiling charms of Fleur’s vagina, Harry’s gaze wandered up to her breasts. Now that she was lying on her back they’d formed surprisingly large mounds atop her rib cage. They wobbled alluringly in response to Fleur’s circling arm, like two sexy water balloons. Harry found himself regretting the fact that he’d never get to jiggle those breasts in his hands.

Fleur’s skin was flawless over her entire body, Harry noticed, except for seven dark spots just below her cleavage. They were a curiously stark blemish on her otherwise flawless body. The shape they formed reminded him of something, but he couldn’t quite place it... They looked a bit like stars... so was it a constellation maybe? They did look a bit like Aquila (the Eagle)... Or was it a rune, perhaps? Harry had seen Hermione scribble something similar on her runes homework – the one called ‘Uz’ which meant... something to do with water. Didn’t Veela traditionally live near water? Was it some sort of Veela birthmark, perhaps?

Further speculation was interrupted by an abrupt escalation in Fleur’s excitement. Her groans became more laboured and she gasped. Her attention was still focused on the book in her left hand, but she was clearly struggling to keep it there. Her eyes kept fluttering and her mouth hung open. A steady trickle of pussy juice flowed from her vagina, forming a growing wet patch on the bed.

The gorgeous woman’s arousal was increasing rapidly. She began writhing slowly, her legs opening and closing while her hips thrust upwards repeatedly, lifting her fabulous bum off the bed. The book fell from her hand as she grabbed a cushion and crushed it in her fingers. Her head fell back and she moaned in delight, bringing the cushion to her mouth and biting down on it.

A muffled groan escaped her lips, “Mmmmmmmmmmmm....”

Fleur’s long and delicate fingers continued to play over her clitoris, circling languidly as she squirmed. The cushion in her mouth was abruptly discarded and she grabbed her left breast instead, squeezing and kneading it.

Another tremulous groan rattled in her throat, “Aaaaaaahhhhhhhahahaha....”

Harry was entranced. Her body looked absolutely amazing, and seeing her aroused like this was making it very difficult for him to stay quiet. His knob had become painfully hard, pulsing insistently against his trousers, begging to be set free. But Harry resisted. It just wouldn’t be right.

Something bumped into him. Harry nearly yelped in surprise, but an invisible hand closed over his mouth, muffling any sound. He glanced down but saw nothing. Tonks! An invisible Tonks was in the room! The unmistakable feel of her soft lips met his, and her body leaned into him. Harry’s arms closed around her, drawing her close and returning her kiss. They were both stuck in the room!

Tonks ended the kiss and patted his cheek gently with her hand. Harry took that as a signal that he should remain calm and do nothing. Sure enough, Tonks turned around and leaned back, holding him in place. His arms were still wrapped around her, so he hugged her tight and settled in to wait for however long this took.

Moments later Tonks shocked him by taking one of his hands and shoving it up her t-shirt. Harry was delighted to discover that she wasn’t wearing a bra, so his hand landed on Tonks’ bare breast. Even more startling, Tonks then grabbed his other hand, thrust it up her skirt, and then pushed it down into her knickers. His fingers closed over her bare pussy.

A heavily muffled and barely audible squeak emerged from the wonderful girl in his arms. She’d slapped a hand over her own mouth to stifle her reaction, he realised.

To Harry’s amazement, he discovered that Tonks’ muff was sopping wet. She was massively turned on. Without intending to, his middle finger slid down the well-lubricated valley between her engorged pussy lips and slipped a couple of inches inside her. Tonks bucked in delighted shock, stifling another gasp. Harry’s eyes flicked to Fleur in alarm, but she was in a world of her own, oblivious to the tiny sounds Tonks was making. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to risk them getting caught so he froze, not moving a muscle. Tonks did the same, standing motionless in his arms, though her vagina muscles did keep contracting around his finger.

On the bed in front of them Fleur writhed and groaned. Her legs twisted left and right, crushing the hand between her thighs and then spreading wide again. The other hand crushed her breast and pinched the nipple, pulling at it roughly until it went hard. Suddenly her circling fingers dove down between her legs, stroking the length of her pussy. Two fingers slid down her glistening valley, parting her inner pussy lips to reveal the soft pink flesh beneath. Then her middle finger slid into her vagina, plunging without resistance all the way to her top knuckle.

Fleur’s body convulsed, curling upon itself. Her knees rose to her chest and she cried out in bliss.

“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Tonks slammed her hand down on top of Harry’s, pushing his finger deeper into her cunt. She almost doubled up like Fleur had, bent forwards in ecstasy. Only Harry’s hands on her breast and inside her vagina kept her from falling onto the floor.

Suddenly the connection between Harry’s mind and Tonks’ flared into life. He was inundated with feelings of profound arousal. The sight of Fleur undressing and playing with herself had turned Tonks on enormously. She was consumed with desire, but not desire to have sex with Fleur. Like Harry, she found Fleur physically attractive but that’s all. Unfortunately Tonks was enjoying the view so much that (like Harry) she was struggling to resist the temptation to touch herself. Unlike him, her solution wasn’t to white-knuckle through it. Instead, she got Harry to touch her instead. She knew that made no sense, but somehow it didn’t seem so wrong if Harry was doing it. Of course all such rationalisations left her as soon as Harry’s finger slipped inside her. Now she just wanted him to fuck her.

That hunger only increased when Fleur withdrew the finger from her pussy and then slipped two fingers inside herself. With a delighted gasp the naked French woman then began ramming them in and out of her sopping vagina, making delightful slurping sounds with each repetition.

Tonks’ mind exploded with cravings for Harry to duplicate what Fleur was doing to herself. Harry wasn’t sure that was such a good idea, so he toned it down a bit. He did slip two fingers inside her, which sent Tonks insane with delight, but he was very careful to limit his palm’s contact with her clitoris. If Tonks had an orgasm right now he wasn’t at all sure she’d be able to stop herself from screaming.

Harry went suddenly very still. He could feel the tip of Tonks’ wand touching his neck. What the hell was she doing? After a few seconds a strange feeling flowed across his throat. Had she cast a spell? If so what spell, and why? He felt her pull the wand away, but her arm remained elevated. A couple of seconds later her arm lowered fully.

Then it came to him. A silencing spell! She’d silenced them both! To test that theory, he tried to make a tiny sound with his mouth. Absolutely nothing came out. As if to confirm his theory, Tonks grabbed his wrist and started pumping his fingers in and out of her vagina. With a shrug, Harry acquiesced and began duplicating what Fleur was doing to herself on Tonks – while one hand was pleasuring her pussy, he pinched her nipple with the other and pulled on it roughly just like Fleur was doing.

Tonks went absolutely mental, writhing and bucking in his arms. Meanwhile, Fleur was going equally crazy. Her fingers were still probing inside her vagina, but she was now deliberately pulling her hand upwards, stretching her entrance muscles while her palm simultaneously rubbed her clitoris. At the same time her other hand switched back and forth between her boobs, squeezing each one and pulling on her nipples.

Harry did the exact same thing to Tonks, who loved every second of it. He couldn’t hear her panting, but he could feel her chest heaving against his forearms and sense her excitement through their connection.

Fleur trembled and then convulsed. Her legs squeezed together, crushing her hand. Tonks trembled and convulsed at the sight, her legs squeezing Harry’s hand. Her vagina entrance crushed his probing fingers, just like Fleur’s entrance was no-doubt squishing her own fingers.

This is definitely not how Harry had envisaged today going, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. He had a beautiful woman in his arms while feasting his eyes on another. It was absolutely awesome! Tonks was clearly turned on by the French woman’s nudity, so Harry felt more comfortable being aroused by it himself. Absolved of guilt, he began a more comprehensive examination of Fleur’s naked body, absorbing every tiny detail.

He was in middle of admiring her milky-white thighs and enjoying the way her probing fingers stretched her vagina muscles when he felt something tickling at the edge of his mind.

With a frown he focused on it, wondering what it was... and abruptly found himself lying naked on a bed staring up at the ceiling. His eyes tracked downwards to focus on a feminine hand thrusting two fingers up into... Oh my God! He was in Fleur’s mind! With a startled and thankfully silent yelp he found himself back in his own body, staring at the frantically masturbating blonde woman again.

It took him several long seconds to convince himself that Fleur hadn’t noticed anything, but the fact that she carried on finger-fucking herself strongly suggested that she was unaware of his presence in her mind, or even her room. Emboldened by that, and the fact that Tonks had never detected him in her mind, Harry seized the connection to Fleur and followed it again.

In no time at all he was able to feel Fleur’s emotions, which were very easy to interpret – she was consumed with lust. But the fantasies in her mind were rather vivid and extremely... unusual. Harry glimpsed an image of Fleur tied naked and spread-eagled face-down on a bed while someone whipped her across the bum. He quickly withdrew from her mind again, but he did maintain enough of a connection to sense the arousal that her activities were causing her. On a hunch he reached for Tonks’ connection and began feeding Fleur’s excitement directly into Tonks’ mind.

The result was immediate. Tonks’ every movement, every gasp, and every silent groan became synchronised with Fleur. Harry even managed to synchronise his hand motions to exactly match Fleur’s in speed, pressure and timing. Tonks almost had a melt-down. To her it felt like she’d become Fleur – actually living out the erotic scene she was witnessing, rather than just seeing it.

Inspired by that success, Harry began ‘pushing’ his own arousal into Fleur. He was incredibly turned on, and was struggling to contain it, so if he could unload some of it onto Fleur that would be an enormous relief. Amazingly, it worked! His urgent need to grab himself quickly vanished.

The effect on Fleur was startling – she went absolutely wild. Her slowly building climax suddenly intensified and an expression of pure bliss swept over her face. She abandoned her breasts and dedicated both hands to stimulating her pussy area, ramming two fingers into herself with one while she rubbed her clit frantically with the other. Harry was about to duplicate that with his hands, but Tonks beat him to it. She slid her own hand into her own knickers and started frantically rubbing her clit.

A powerful and explosive climax was approaching both women fast. At the exact same moment, Fleur and Tonks began trembling violently. Fleur’s body convulsed, her knees spreading wide and lifting up high. Tonks almost collapsed as her legs lifted up in imitation, but Harry’s arm circled her waist and held her firm while his fingers continued to slam into her.

Once he was sure Tonks wasn’t going to fall, he took a moment to appreciate how gorgeous Fleur looked right now. With her knees lifted up to her chest and spread wide, Harry had a fantastic view of her pussy. Even better, Fleur’s head was visible just above her tits, angled straight towards him with an angelic look on her face. To his delight her eyes opened and by chance stared straight into his, giving the impression that she was doing all of this for his benefit.

A fresh urgency seemed to envelop the naked woman and her hands sped up significantly. Through his connection to both women’s minds he sensed their conjoined orgasm approaching. The extraordinary situation continued to turn him on enormously, but he didn’t want to lose concentration so he kept pushing his arousal onto Fleur, who unwittingly shared it with Tonks. The strength and depth of their approaching climax grew far beyond what they could normally achieve from self-stimulation.

The naked woman cried out in delighted surprise, “Oh merde!

Suddenly Fleur’s body convulsed with a strong pre-orgasmic contraction. Her head flew forwards and then fell back again. The entrance to her vagina visibly constricted, at exactly the same time that Tonks’ vagina clamped down on Harry’s fingers. A few seconds later another muscle spasm shook her, then another and another. Fleur’s head was thrown back and forth, hurling her long blonde hair around in a golden halo, as if lashed by a hurricane.

At long last, the noise for which Fleur had earned her nickname began – she started squealing with each convulsion.

“Eeeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeeee!”

As Fleur’s climax sped towards her she frowned deeply, as if she were in terrible pain. The squealing became increasingly urgent.

“Eeeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeee! Eeeeeee! Eeeee! Eee! Eee! EeeEeeEee! EeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEeeEee...”

For a moment Fleur went completely still and Tonks froze in Harry’s arms. They were both suspended on the cusp of an intense and simultaneous climax, their bodies singing with rapturous elation... and then it crashed down upon them. Fleur’s eyes rolled back into her head and she screamed out in orgasm, jerking as if she were being electrocuted.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeheheheheheheheeee!”

An expression of agonised euphoria transformed Fleur’s face from its customary mix of disdain and aloof superiority into something exquisitely tender and vulnerable. Harry had honestly never seen her look so beautiful. He experienced a moment of sorrow that he wasn’t the person who’d brought about that metamorphosis, but then he realised that he was in fact partially responsible. If he hadn’t significantly enhanced the intensity of her orgasm it was unlikely that her defences would have been so thoroughly swept aside.

Harry felt a sudden affection for the helplessly thrashing French woman. It was as if he’d peeked behind the curtain and finally seen the real Fleur. She might be thoughtlessly blunt (or even outright rude) at times, but underneath it all she was just a regular person. Like anyone else, a thoroughly mind-blowing orgasm would strip away her antisocial facade and reduce her to a defenceless quivering and squealing wreck.

“Eeeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeeee!”

Powerful jolts continued to hurl Fleur’s body around like a rag doll. It was a sight Harry wouldn’t forget. Every inch of her incredible body was displayed in the most wonderfully seductive way. Her delightfully exposed pussy was framed sublimely by the arch of her pale and flawless thighs, while her sexy and feminine feet swayed delicately in mid air as if beckoning him to come ravish her freely-offered vagina. The alluring curve of her luscious hips led to a narrow and toned waist, above which her soft breasts were being thrown around like puppies in a sack. Long elegant fingers were buried deep in her clenching vagina, while others massaged her clitoris to fresh heights of orgasmic pleasure. Harry had never seen any erotic art, but he couldn’t imagine anything more sensually magnificent than this.

The mesmerising motion of Fleur’s wildly bouncing tits held his attention for several moments. Tonks’ breasts were far too firm to fly around, and if Harry had to choose he definitely preferred Tonks’ boobs to Fleur’s, but my God... Fleur’s delicate little titties looked amazing right now.

Harry hadn’t forgotten about Tonks. She was in the throes of an equally powerful orgasm and was thrashing around just as much as Fleur was. Harry was holding Tonks tight in his arms, but of course he couldn’t see or hear her, so his eyes and ears were very much trained on Fleur. He could feel Tonks’ vagina muscles repeatedly crushing his knuckles though, and a steady trickle of warm pussy juices was flowing across the back of his hand. His attention flicked to Fleur’s chuff, which was looking equally soggy. Fleur’s soft downy fuzz of blonde pubic hair had become tangled and matted as her frantic squirming spread syrupy juices all over her vulva.

For twenty long seconds both women flailed around helplessly, enslaved by their own bodies and the overpowered orgasm Harry had gifted to them. Tonks was silent the entire time of course, but Fleur made enough noise for both of them. Harry was honestly amazed that Bill hadn’t gone deaf. Even from across the room the part-veela’s orgasmic howls were loud enough to hurt his ears. If he’d been lying on top of her, mercilessly ramming his rock-hard shaft into the soft warm embrace of her gorgeous quim, she’d probably have ruptured his eardrums by now.

Both women suddenly collapsed in exhaustion, trembling and shuddering with orgasmic after-shocks. Tonks went completely limp in Harry’s arms while Fleur slowly extracted her fingers from inside herself. They slid noisily out of her pussy with a loud slurp. Her hand came away glistening with juices, which formed sticky strings between her fingers and dripped onto the bed. Fleur held them up in front of her face and stared at them in amazement. Harry had the strong impression that she’d never been so wet from pleasuring herself before.

Putain...” Fleur mumbled to herself, “c'était incroyable.

The exhausted blonde gradually lowered her legs and flopped bonelessly back onto the bed. For a couple of minutes she simply lay there looking shocked and drained, staring at the ceiling with her mouth wide open. Long blonde hair lay in thick messy strands across her face but she made no effort to remove it. Harry smirked to himself. Fleur looked absolutely amazing – naked, slim and beautiful with a soft post-orgasmic glow and a thoroughly sodden minge. The outer lips of her pussy looked puffy and inflamed, while the inner ones had gone slack, lying in loose ripples either side of her entrance like two ruffled curtains.

Harry's Aunt Petunia had curtains like that down the sides of her lounge windows at Number 4 Privet Drive. She called them ‘Bishop Sleeves’. Harry couldn’t help but laugh, though no sound came out. Bishop sleeves! Ha ha! He was looking at Fleur’s post-orgasmic bishop sleeves! Even better, despite having removed her fingers, the entrance to her vagina remained wide open. Harry saw a dark passage plunging deep into her body. Lining the tunnel were bright pink fleshy walls that glistened like the inside of Fleur’s wide-open mouth. As he watched, a bead of pussy juice emerged from Fleur’s vagina and ran down her bum. It trickled over the pinched star of her anus and dropped onto the bed, joining the large wet patch between her thighs.

When Fleur’s breathing finally evened-out she brushed the hair from her face and slowly clambered from the bed. Harry was treated to a fabulous view of her naked arse as she did so, which pleased him enormously. With shaking hands and trembling legs Fleur struggled to put her skirt and blouse back on, fumbling with the buttons and almost falling over several times. Her damp panties and bra remained discarded and forgotten on the floor, Harry noticed. Thus dressed, she unlocked the door and stuck her head out into the hallway. Content that the coast was clear, she darted quickly towards the bathroom leaving the bedroom door wide open behind her.

Tonks was right, Harry mused – women did often walk around without any underwear on.

As soon as Fleur was out of sight Harry felt Tonk’s invisible hand grab his and drag him from the room. They hurtled down the stairs and burst into their own room. Harry sensed her wand touch his neck, and a moment later she spoke.

“Holy fucking crap!” she gasped. “That girl’s body is incredible. I’m so horny I could spit! Cancel the disillusionment charms Harry, then give me a damned good seeing-to or I can’t be held responsible for my actions!”

As the only person in Fleur’s room who hadn’t enjoyed an orgasm Harry was feeling more than a little frisky. Fortunately Tonks was very happy to help him out with that, and an hour later he finally enjoyed an explosive release. Not before giving Tonks three more orgasms of her own though, obviously – Harry was a gentleman after all. It would be rude no to attend to the lady’s needs first, he figured. He also wasn’t sure how many orgasms constituted a ‘damn good seeing-to’ so he erred on the side of caution.

As they lay naked on his bed afterwards, snuggling and breathing heavily, Harry asked about the hair he’d collected.

“Do you still want that sample of Fleur’s hair?” he wondered.

“Oh definitely!” Tonks responded eagerly.

“But haven’t you seen all of Fleur’s body now?” Harry wondered. “Can’t you duplicate it already?”

“I certainly did and I certainly can,” Tonks confirmed, with a delighted grin.

“So what do you need the hair for?”

Tonks lifted her head to gaze into his eyes, “I saw how turned-on you were when you wore Hermione’s body Harry. I reckon you were pretty close to a girly orgasm, in fact. One of these days you might decide you’d quite like to have one... and when that day comes (no pun intended) I’ll have several beautiful girls’ bodies for you to polyjuice into.”

Harry choked in shock, his eyes bugging out of his head.

“Don’t worry,” Tonks said, patting him reassuringly on the chest. “We’ll only do that when you’re ready. Let’s not wait forever though, okay? I’m rather looking forward to getting my hands on Fleur’s body and licking out her gorgeous little pussy.”

- § -

On the way down to dinner Harry and Tonks bumped into Hermione, Ginny and Ron on the stairs.

“Wotcha Hermione,” Tonks called out. “Hey, have you read a book called ‘L'Image’ by Jean de Berg?”

What?” Hermione exclaimed, looking rattled. “How did you... Er, I mean... Certainly not! Er, I mean... No, what’s it about?”

“Dunno,” Tonks replied innocently, “but I saw a copy on Fleur’s bed and wondered if you...”

Cette catin de française m'a volé mon livre!” Hermione growled to herself angrily.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Tonks enquired.

“Nothing,” Hermione replied hastily, “nothing at all.”

Notes:

The “Sticky Fingered Thief” in the title of this chapter could refer to Fleur or Harry - they both stole something and they both ended up with sticky fingers... ;-)

L'Image’ is a classic French erotic S&M novel written by Catherine Robbe-Grille under the pseudonym Jean de Berg. It features a shy and submissive girl called Anne who is tormented mercilessly by her friend Claire (and eventually by Claire’s boyfriend Jean)... but secretly finds their treatment a huge turn-on. You’ll find the cover art here. It caused quite a stir when it was first published, and was probably still quite popular in the 1990’s, but these days I think it would be considered rather tame.

Despite Hermione’s apparent interest in S&M, I’m not planning for this story to include anything like that.

- § -

“Hermione, espèce de petite perverse!” means “Hermione, you naughty little slut!”
“Oh merde!” means “Oh shit!”
“Putain... c'était incroyable...” means “Fuck me... that was amazing...”
“Cette catin de française m'a volé mon livre!” means “That French trollop stole my book!”

Chapter 29: The Lion’s Den

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Dinner that evening was very pleasant. Harry surprised everyone by taking a seat next to Fleur, for whom he now felt a curious affection. Tonks and Harry spent the entire meal chatting animatedly with the delighted French woman. Bill sat opposite, chipping in occasionally and looking very pleased that someone had finally chosen to be friendly towards his fiancée. Ron tried desperately to get in on the conversation too, but was hampered by having gone mysteriously deaf in his left ear.

Not everyone was happy though. Ginny and Hermione both had faces like smacked arses, and Mrs Weasley shot Harry and Tonks bitter glances whenever she thought Mr Weasley wasn’t looking. The patriarch himself sat at the head of the table looking content but a little mystified.

As everyone adjourned to the lounge for after-dinner tea and cake, Tonks took Ron to one side and whispered in his good ear. Within moments, Harry’s former best mate went bright red and bolted up the stairs.

Tonks returned to Harry’s side and explained quietly, “I told him I know why he’s gone deaf in one ear, and if he does it again I’ll tell Bill... who will most likely cut off both of his ears.”

Harry’s eyes went wide. No wonder Ron made a run for it. He was probably rushing upstairs to burn the extendible evidence.

- § -

In the final few weeks of August Harry began openly visiting the Ministry on a regular basis. His midnight meetings with Scrimgeour became daytime meetings, with the Press eagerly snapping pictures of him as he entered and left the building. Harry waved and answered a few innocuous questions each time, to give them something to report. His answers gave the impression that he was working closely with the Minister to rid the country of the scourge that was the Death Eaters. That was, in fact, exactly what he was doing.

When he wasn’t at the Ministry, Harry spent most of his time in combat training with Tonks. They'd all perfected their apparition skills, so Hermione spent her days with Ron or studying in preparation for the coming academic year, while Ginny spent every waking hour on her broom. She was determined to be selected as a Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, she said, and wasn’t taking any chances that someone younger and faster might try to steal her spot.

To Harry’s surprise, Dumbledore made no attempt to contact him. Nor had the Headmaster asked Tonks to attend any Order meetings to report on Harry’s activities. Presumably, the story Dumbledore had heard from Mr Weasley was convincing enough. Or perhaps Dumbledore was biding his time until Harry was once again within his clutches at Hogwarts?

On their way back from one Ministry meeting, Harry and Tonks detoured via Fred and George’s shop. It was as busy as ever. The twins herded Harry and Tonks straight into the back to chat in private.

“Hey Harry, how’s it going? Busy schmoosing the great and the good?” George enquired.

Harry laughed, “Hardly! More like a polite cream tea with Scrimgeour, a few meaningless pleasantries with the Press, then back to the Burrow. I’m just a figurehead. The Ministry’s doing all the hard work.” Harry wasn’t sure if Fred and George would pass this on to anyone else, but there was no point taking any chances. “I do have the Minister’s ear though, so if you have any ideas I’d be happy to pass them along.”

“We did have a couple of ideas, yeah” said Fred. “We used the money you sent to ramp up production on the Defence products like you said. We should receive the first shipment in the next few days.”

“We’ve also started a new ‘Premium’ line,” George continued, “based on the charms we developed for you. They’re much harder to apply, so we can’t produce them in great numbers and they cost a lot more, but the Ministry might be interested in buying Premium Defence Cloaks for senior staff. For Aurors we’re happy to provide them at cost, and offer a bespoke service to charm all their existing clothes, also at cost.”

Harry smiled, “Thanks guys, that’s brilliant.”

The twins were becoming quite animated. They were alternating sentences and Harry soon lost track of who was saying what.

“We’ve also ramped up production of Sneakoscopes and we’re stockpiling them. We think it would be a good idea for every magical household to have at least one. It should give some warning if Death Eaters approach, and go off if a member of your own family is Imperiused. If the Ministry officially recommends that people get one, we can make sure there’s enough to supply everyone, within the next six weeks or so. There might be a few false alarms if someone in the family is up to something dishonest of course, but better safe than sorry, eh?”

“For all-magical areas like Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, maybe a Caterwauling Charm should be set up that’s triggered by any unauthorised entry during the Curfew? Only Aurors would be authorised, so anyone else moving around at night would set it off. That should be pretty easy to set up. The Ministry must have people who can do it, or we could do it. They could even set up an anti-apparition and anti-portkey ward to be triggered too, so the perps don’t get away. The alarm would warn people to stay indoors while the Aurors catch whoever’s out there.”

“We’ve already set up an alarm on this shop, to wake us if anyone tries to get in at night, and we’ve had the floo connected as an escape route. All our stock is returned to our warehouse every night, so if they get in they can’t steal anything to use against us. We would set up a sneakoscope on the door during the day, but everyone who comes in here is basically up to no good.” Both the twins grinned shamelessly. “That’s it for stuff that can be done now. We’re obviously working on new products but those will take a while to develop.”

Harry knew they’d have to do more, but those measures were a pretty good start.

“I’ll pass all of those suggestions along,” he promised.

- § -

The following morning, the Daily Prophet headline story was:

ALECTO AND AMYCUS CARROW KILLED IN RAID
ONE AUROR DEAD, TWO INJURED

In the early hours of this morning the Auror Office raided the home of Alecto and Amycus Carrow. In the resultant fire-fight, one Auror was killed and two were injured before the Carrow twins were brought down. Both were subsequently found to bear the Dark Mark. The Ministry has paid tribute to the fallen Auror, and praised the bravery of those who fought to bring these two Death Eaters to justice. The Carrow twins had no other immediate family, but more distant relatives have been questioned. No evidence was found of any further links to the Death Eater organisation so they were released without charge.

The assets of the Carrow twins have been seized.

Harry sighed heavily. It was only a matter of time before they started losing Aurors. The Death Eaters were expecting them now. It was only going to get harder from here. It was time to turn up the pressure.

At his next meeting with Scrimgeour he passed on Fred and George’s ideas, and then outlined a couple of his own.

“From what Tonks has told me, the Trace detects all magic performed in the presence of anyone who’s underage. If no adult wizards are present, then it assumes that the nearest underage person performed the spell and the Trace is triggered. The underage person is issued with a warning stating what spell was performed, at what time, and whether muggles were present. If it’s a second offence they are expelled from Hogwarts and issued a summons to attend a hearing. Is that about right?”

Scrimgeour nodded, “Pretty much. We don’t advertise how it works in detail, but that’s basically it. The Trace only works when there’s an underage person present. As soon as a person turns seventeen, or is declared an adult like you were, the Trace no longer sees them. It had to be designed that way to get approval from the Wizengamot – there was no way the adults would allow the Ministry to see what spells they were performing, especially not the darker families.”

“I thought so,” Harry replied. “I’ve had two of those letters myself. I was also led to believe that if I had failed to attend the hearing, I would have been sentenced in my absence. So I was wondering... Can we re-purpose the Trace to issue a summons if dark magic is performed in the presence of anyone underage, even if adult witches or wizards are present? The summons could be addressed to the owners of the residence, not the child, and instruct them to attend the DMLE for questioning or be summarily sentenced in their absence.”

Scrimgeour scratched his chin in thought, “You know... I’m not sure. I never thought about it like that. Monitoring what the adults do in the presence of their children... it’s brilliant! I’m sure word of what we’ve done will spread pretty fast among the Death Eaters, but we’ll catch a few, and after that... it’ll make it damned hard for them to teach their kids any dark magic!” Scrimgeour was grinning from ear to ear.

“Good,” replied Harry. “I’m not sure how effective it will be, but it’ll certainly turn the screws a bit. The more pressure we put on the Death Eaters the better. They’re a bunch of lowlife cowards who’ve had it their own way for far too long. Once someone has been sentenced in absentia, for this or any other crime, we should issue large reward notices for information regarding their whereabouts. With all the assets we’ve been seizing, there should be a sizable pot.”

Scrimgeour inclined his head in agreement, “There is, so we can certainly some spare. It’s a good use for it and should pay for itself if we can catch them and seize their assets too. At present we can only seize their assets once we’ve Imperiused them to give us their vault key and sign everything else over to the Ministry. We can’t do it until they're in custody because the goblins are refusing to surrender assets simply on our say-so. We could probably force the Goblins eventually, but it would significantly damage our relationship with them, so I’m not keen to do so.”

“Okay, I’ll have a think about that,” replied Harry. “In the meantime, I had another thought. When a Wizarding family is attacked in their home, their best hope is to run away, but if they’re surrounded and the Death Eaters have put up anti-apparition and anti-portkey charms then they’re cornered. So why don’t we use some of the seized assets to hire extra staff for the Floo Network Authority? We can then offer subsidised or free connection to the floo network so that everyone has an escape route. It will also offer people a way to get to St Mungo’s if they need emergency treatment during Curfew. If it’s feasible, maybe we should also hire some extra Floo Network Regulators to monitor Floo Call communications between suspected Death Eater sympathisers?”

Scrimgeour smiled wryly, “I see that Auror Tonks has been filling you in on Ministry operations.” Tonks looked away guiltily. “Don’t worry, Tonks. It’s fine. It’s not exactly a state secret. Anyway, I think we can waive the rules in Harry’s case. He’s practically an Auror already. It’s a really good idea Harry. I’ll set the wheels in motion, and see what we can do.”

“Thanks, Rufus. One other thing... I’d like to go on some of the raids. It’ll be good practice for me and...”

Scrimgeour held up a hand and Harry fell silent, “Nice try Harry, but no. I knew you’d ask that. You’re a man of action, like me, and you don’t like others being in the firing line without you. I’m afraid that’s a cross that leaders like us have to bear. We each have our roles to play, and I’m afraid you’re a leader in this war, not a foot soldier. Trust in the Aurors, Harry. They know the risks and they know what they’re fighting for. They’re trained for this – it’s their role to play, and they feel honoured and proud to do it. Also, don’t forget that they’re playing their part so that you can play yours. It wouldn’t do any of us any good if you fell to a stray curse while trying to apprehend some minor Death Eater.”

Harry slumped back into his chair and pouted.

The Minister chuckled, “In addition, if Dumbledore got wind of it he’d go ‘ape-shit’ as you often put it.”

Tonks smirked at Harry’s expression, “You must be the only person I know who sulks about not being allowed into life and death situations.”

Harry huffed grumpily, “I know. Hermione calls it my ‘saving people thing’.”

Scrimgeour and Tonks both laughed at that, which made him scowl even more.

“You’re helping plenty, Harry,” Scrimgeour assured him. “Just because you’re not seeing the benefits of your efforts first-hand doesn’t mean they’re not there. In fact you’re helping a lot more in these meetings with me than you ever would out in the field. It’s the hardest lesson a leader has to learn – that you’ll get more done if you delegate. Even if you’re delegating to people who are half as good as you are... if there are a hundred of them, you’ll still achieve fifty times as much. This is a war, Harry. We won’t win it by trying to do everything ourselves.”

“Fine, fine, I get it,” Harry replied petulantly, which made Scrimgeour and Tonks laugh at him all over again.

The Minister was right though, Harry realised. That’s why Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix were so ineffective – a couple of dozen people could never hope to win against an enemy that numbered in the thousands.

- § -

The following morning, the Daily Prophet held another startling headline:

MINISTRY’S MOST WANTED

The Ministry has issued a list of those it wishes to question in connection with the activities of the organisation known at the Death Eaters. Those listed below are required to present themselves for questioning at the DMLE within the next seven days. If they fail to do so warrants will be issued for their arrest, on suspicion of being Death Eaters.

Harry scanned the list of names. Yaxley, Rowle and Gregory Goyle’s father he recognised, but many others he didn’t, like Scabior. There were twenty names in total. Further down the page another headline read:

KILL ON SIGHT

The Minister for Magic has issued ‘Kill on Sight’ orders to the Auror Office for the following persons:

Bellatrix Lestrange
Fenrir Greyback
Peter Pettigrew

The inclusion of Peter Pettigrew has puzzled many. He was declared dead fifteen years ago at the hands of deranged murderer Sirius Black and was posthumously awarded the Order of Merlin First Class. The Ministry has so far declined to comment on why they’ve issued a ‘Kill on Sight’ order for a war hero who’s already dead.

There were pictures of each of the three people named. Harry glowered at the picture of Pettigrew. It was a very old picture, but he was easily identifiable. Harry would recognise those rat-like features anywhere. It was unlikely that anything would come of this, he knew, but it was another turn of the screws.

A headline further down the front page took Harry by surprise:

AZKABAN DEMENTORS REPLACED

Azkaban Prison is once again being patrolled by Dementors, according to a statement released by the Ministry.

“The existing colony of Dementors have been guarding Azkaban since it was first converted into a prison in 1718”, the statement notes, “but they have proved unreliable in recent years. The mass breakout in January of this year was originally thought to have been master-minded by Sirius Black, but recent investigations prove that this is not the case. It is now clear that You-Know-Who himself orchestrated the escape, with help from the resident Dementors. Those same Dementors then defected to the side of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when he revealed himself a few months ago. They departed Azkaban and have been terrorising Muggles all over the country ever since. That being the case, the Ministry has negotiated with a sizable colony of Dementors from Australia to replace the missing rebellious colony. Under the terms of the deal, the new colony has sole right to reside within the walls of Azkaban, effectively evicting the previous colony with immediate and permanent effect.”

We at the Daily Prophet understand that the new colony took up residence just over a week ago, and has made itself very much at home. Little is known about the politics or relationships between Dementor colonies, but a site like Azkaban – with a ready supply of misery upon which the colony can feed – is extremely rare. The new colony was apparently very keen to accept the arrangement, and have already taken steps to secure their territory. A sizable number of the previous colony was chased away just last night, after a tense face-off with the new residents. We understand that the new colony is already breading, and plans to use Azkaban as a base from which they will send forth patrols to corner their rogue predecessors and eject them from UK shores.

Harry blew out a heavy breath and sat back to absorb that news. Scrimgeour hadn’t mentioned that at all, but Harry very much approved. Clearly Harry’s influence (and perhaps their successes so far) had inspired Scrimgeour or the Auror Office to develop ideas of their own.

If he was honest, Harry had forgotten that the Dementors had abandoned their guard duties when Voldemort’s return became public. Despite his intense hatred for Dementors, Harry was relieved that Azkaban would once again have a colony in residence. Any Death Eaters sent there deserved to experience the full misery of that horrific place, and not get off easy. Some day – perhaps once all the Death Eaters were dead – Harry would like to see the Dementors gone, but not right now. In the meantime, he fervently hoped that these Australian Dementors would prove more loyal to the Ministry than the previous colony had been. The last thing the UK needed was to import more Dementors to betray them and join Voldemort.

- § -

That afternoon, Tonks decided it was time that Harry learned to cast spells non-verbally.

“Honestly Harry, it’s embarrassing hearing you cast spells out loud,” she explained. “Nobody will take you seriously. You’ll have Death Eaters sniggering at you.”

Harry scowled.

“Hey,” Tonks continued with a grin, “don’t blame me! I’m just telling it like it is. Anyway, according to the textbooks being able to cast spells non-verbally gives you an advantage over an opponent because you’re not announcing your spells to them. That’s true, but there are three other advantages. First, you can cast spells much faster. Second, some spells are actually more effective when they’re cast non-verbally. And third, you don’t sound like a complete tit.”

Harry glared at her and she sniggered, “Anyway, we’ll start the way most people do it – instead of saying the incantation out loud, just say it in your head. But we’ll do it in a way that will help us later, by alternating Accio and Depulso spells on this pillow. You’ll cast one then the other, so the pillow will fly away from you, and then come back. Once you’ve got that down we’ll move on to the next step. Away you go.”

Harry wasn't sure how this was going to help, but did as he was told. He pointed his wand at the pillow and thought, “Depulso!

The pillow wobbled slightly, but otherwise didn’t move. He tried again, thinking “Accio!” in his head.

The pillow shot towards him and smacked him in the face. Tonks burst out laughing.

He definitely had the Accio spell down, thanks to all that practice for the first Triwizard task, but he was rusty on the Depulso spell. It wasn’t often you needed something to fly away from you.

It was a good ten minutes before he could get the pillow to shoot away from him without saying the incantation out loud, but he got there eventually. He was mildly elated, but saying the incantations in his head felt like he was cheating somehow – like he wasn’t really doing it non-verbally.

“Okay,” said Tonks, “you’ve got that now and it works. But there are two problems. The first is that your new-found skill isn’t transferable. Try casting ‘Wingardium Leviosa’ by saying the incantation in your head.”

Harry did as instructed. The pillow didn’t so much as twitch.

“I don’t know what the official explanation is for that,” Tonks continued, “but I think of it like this. When you’re learning a spell you’re basically building magical pathways in your brain. The more you do something the stronger that pathway becomes until you can cast the spell easily. The problem with saying the incantation in your head is that, contrary to what you might expect, you’re using a different pathway. Thinking a phrase and speaking a phrase use different parts of the brain, so you're basically starting from scratch. It takes ages to re-learn each spell, and mastering one spell that way doesn’t help you to master the next. The second problem is that saying the incantation in your head is slow. You can cast much faster – almost instantly – if you just think of the spell you want rather than speaking the incantation silently in your head. It’s like the difference between telling yourself to do something and just doing it – telling yourself takes several seconds but just doing it is instant. In addition, just thinking of the spell taps into the pathways you’ve already established. Once you’ve got the hang of it you’ll find that learning to cast any spell non-verbally becomes relatively easy.”

“Okay...” Harry said uncertainly, not really following her explanation. It sounded rather complicated.

“Don’t worry,” Tonks reassured him, “all will become clear. We’ll move onto step two. This is a little trick I figured out when I was learning, and it really helped: all you need to do is start the way you’re currently doing it – speaking the two spells in your head, one then the other, over and over – but get faster and faster every time. That achieves two things – first it focuses your mind on the spells, and second the incantations eventually blur away into nothing. You’re sort-of tricking your mind into accidentally casting non-verbal spells the correct way. Give it a try!”

It sounded very unlikely to Harry, but he was willing to give it a shot. He pointed his wand at the pillow and thought, “Depulso!

As soon as the pillow shot away from him he thought, “Accio!

Then Depulso... Then Accio... Depulso... Accio... Depulso... Accio... Depulso.. Accio.. Depulso.. Accio..

Faster and faster he cast, back and forth, back and forth... until he was going so fast that the incantations were blurring together.

Depulso. Accio. Depulso. Accio. DepulsoAccio. DepulsoAccio. DepulsoAccio.

The pillow was flying backwards and forwards so fast he could hardly keep up, but he kept increasing the pace, casting faster and faster until he didn’t have enough time to get the entire incantation out before the next one started.

DepulsAcci. DepulsAcci. DepulAcc. DepulAcc. DepAc. DepAc. DeAc. DeAc. D...

Suddenly, Harry realised he wasn’t saying the incantations in his head anymore! He was just thinking of the spell. It was so much quicker! He went faster and faster. The pillow shot back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in a wild blur... until, with a loud tear, it split in half and showered the entire room with feathers.

Tonks stared at him as the feathers slowly settled all around them. A small pile formed on her head, and one feather glided gracefully down to land on her nose. She blew if off in irritation.

“Well, I think you’ve got that now,” she said, managing to maintain a straight face.

Harry was the first to crack. He burst out laughing.

Tonks soon joined him. They laughed until tears ran down their faces.

- § -

Raids and arrests continued throughout the month, as did suspected Death Eater attacks, though they seemed to be growing somewhat less common. There were a few more Auror deaths and injuries, but the toll was much higher on the Death Eater side. None of the suspected Death Eaters came forward for questioning, so they were all found guilty of being Death Eaters in absentia and warrants were issued for their arrest. Most of them stopped appearing in public, but the few that did were soon apprehended. As the month progressed and more prisoners were questioned a steady stream of new suspects were listed in The Prophet. Life suddenly became very difficult for those who’d been named.

Harry and Scrimgeour were confident that Voldemort and his Death Eaters were starting to feel the pinch. Quite a few of their number were imprisoned (with all their assets seized) and several were dead. For the first time ever, being a Death Eater came with a real cost.

Unfortunately, Death Eater attacks on muggles were just as frequent as ever. Possibly more frequent, since they were a softer target than witches and wizards. Harry couldn’t think of any way to prevent that, other than continuing to steadily cull the Death Eater numbers.

The Ministry started offering rewards for information regarding the whereabouts of wanted persons, and also monitoring the floo network, both of which brought in a lot of information of variable quality. Ministry staff were sequestered from less important roles (like monitoring cauldron thickness) to sift through it. But the best quality information still came from questioning suspects with Veritaserum and the Imperius, including a lot of information from those currently held in Azkaban. Scrimgeour was hopeful that they now had the names of almost everyone on the upper and middle echelons of Voldemort’s organisation.

The two Daily Prophet headlines that garnered the most positive public response were:

MINISTRY RECOMMENDS SNEAKOSCOPES

The Ministry has recommended that all households invest in at least one Sneakoscope. These should be placed near the main access points to the house – doors and floos. To help citizens protect themselves, the Ministry has offered to subsidise the purchase price of up to three Sneakoscopes per household, which can now be Owl-Ordered from Weasley’s Wizarding Weazes for just one sickle each.

MINISTRY OFFERS FREE FLOO CONNECTIONS

The Ministry announced today that it is offering free floo connections to all households with magical residents. A Ministry spokesperson explained that the Ministry is keen for all witches, wizards and their families to have an escape route in the event that their home comes under attack. The floo will also provide access to St Mungo’s should emergency medical treatment be needed during the hours of Curfew. Those seeking a free connection should contact the Floo Network Authority to arrange it. The measure has been met with universal approval, especially among muggleborns who previously required special permission, which was rarely granted.

- § -

Towards the end of the month, Tonks declared Harry’s Occlumency training complete. No matter how hard she tried, or how unexpected her attack, his mind was completely impenetrable.

Harry suggested one more test, so they sat facing each other on the floor and Tonks cast Legilimens without warning. Harry felt her attack, but this time he allowed her into his mind... or at least, a part of his mind that he’d prepared for this purpose... and then he attacked.

Tonks looked around, confused. She was in a featureless room. All four walls, the ceiling and the floor were a uniform white. Without a sound, or even a tiny movement of air, Harry appeared in front of her.

“Where are we, Harry? What is this place?” she asked.

Harry smiled, “It’s a little something I’ve been working on in my spare time. Let’s call it... a prison.”

“A prison?”

“Yes, I think so. Can you get out?”

Tonks looked around again, and then screwed up her face in concentration. Nothing happened. She stamped on the floor and pushed on the walls. They didn’t move at all.

“Apparently not,” she replied.

Harry could see that she was scared, so he pulled her into a hug and kissed her gently on the forehead. That calmed her down.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you Tonks.” A wand appeared in his hand and he looked into her eyes. “I’m going to cast Legilimens. I want you to stop me getting into your head. Use every ounce of Occlumency you have, okay?” She nodded. “Okay, three... two... one... Legilimens!

Harry’s probe slipped through her Occlumency barriers like a hot needle through butter. He felt almost no resistance at all, and was instantly enveloped in flashes of memory and fantasy. Things they’d done mingled with things they hadn’t – Tonks riding his cock to orgasm... Harry taking her from behind... Tonks sucking his dick until he exploded, filling her mouth with hot spunk... Tonks tied to the bed while Harry licked her clit to blissful raptures of pleasure...

Harry ended his Legilimens probe.

“Fucking hell,” she swore, staggering backwards and sliding down a wall. “What was that?

“Nobody can defend against me here,” Harry explained gently.

The reality of her situation suddenly seemed to strike home. She was trapped in this tiny featureless room, with absolutely no means of escape. Tonks’ expression crumbled. She scrambled to her feet and rushed into his arms, burying her face in his shoulder and hyperventilating.

“I don’t like it here,” she wailed frantically. “Let me out Harry. Please! Let me out!”

The white room abruptly dissolved and Tonks found herself back in her body, sitting on the floor of their bedroom at the Burrow. She slumped sideways and curled up into a ball on the floor, gasping for breath. Harry scrambled over on his hands and knees and gently laid her head in his lap. He caressed her hair for several minutes until her breathing slowed to a normal pace.

“Sorry Tonks,” he told her, with genuine remorse. “Are you okay?”

“I was so powerless, so trapped,” she mumbled, wiping tears from her eyes. “I guess I got a bit claustrophobic and panicked. What was that place Harry?”

“I had a theory,” he explained softly, “that if you hit me with a Legilimens, then I could follow your own connection back into your mind without any resistance. It’s basically what I did to you the third time you tried Legilimens on me. I did it the third time with Snape too. It was accidental both times, but I figured if I could do it then, I could probably do it now. Then, once I was in your mind I could pull you into my mind and trap you there. Then, if I attempted a Legilimens on you, you’d have no defence against it, because I was actually already inside your head.”

Tonks nodded, “I couldn’t stop you at all. I tried to strengthen my Occlumency barriers but they just weren’t there. Nothing was there. I had no magic at all! It was like I’d suddenly become a squib.”

“I’m so sorry Tonks, I didn’t realise...”

“It was awful,” Tonks whispered, “I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life.”

She shivered.

Harry pulled her in tight, “Sorry Tonks. I won’t do it again.”

“I’m fine now,” she replied, but snuggled in closer. “I just need to lie here for a minute...”

“Okay,” Harry replied, stroking her hair gently.

Within seconds, Tonks was asleep.

- § -

While Tonks recovered, Harry slipped into another white room within his mind. It was identical to the one he’d met Tonks in, except that this one was occupied by something infinitely less attractive.

When Harry had first felt its presence in his mind, it had been a formless thing: a strangely discordant and nauseating scratch at his consciousness. And so he had focused upon it, tentatively, hesitantly, drawing closer by tiny degrees until he was near as he dared approach... and then he balked. It just felt so wrong so unnatural. He couldn’t bring himself to actually touch the thing, or connect to it. But neither could he leave it festering unattended within his mind. And so he had built a barrier around it – a barrier intended to contain whatever it was until he could figure out what to do with it. Once the barrier was fully formed, he’d pictured it morphing into a room with featureless walls. Then he envisaged himself with a wand in his hand casting spells upon it: silencing charms, imperturbable charms and unbreakable charms. But he didn’t know if any of that would actually work to contain the thing. So he’d created a second room, just like the first, to see if Tonks could get out of it. He regretted that now, but at least he had his answer – the room should suffice to isolate anything he put inside it.

He was extremely relieved about that, because once it was contained the thing had taken on a form. Despite his best efforts, Harry recoiled at the sight. The creature had the body of a small, naked child, its skin raw and rough, flayed-looking. It flapped and flailed weakly upon the floor, shuddering and struggling for breath. For several long minutes Harry simply stared at the pathetic and monstrous thing, admitting to himself that he was afraid of it. Small and fragile and wounded though it was, he had the very strong sense that it was dangerous.

A complicated mix of emotions assailed him – disgust, sympathy, horror, fear... He just didn’t know what to think about the sickening thing he’d found lurking in the dark recesses of his mind. What in Merlin’s name was it? A primitive part of his psyche, perhaps? An embodiment of his dark desire for revenge? Whatever it was, why did it look so sick and helpless? Did it bode well that the horrible thing was apparently close to death? Was it dying because he was fundamentally a good person? Or would something awful happen to him if it passed on? Should he try to save it? If so, how?

It might look vaguely human, but the child-like horror had so far been completely unresponsive to his questions, and Harry had no intention of ever attempting a Legilimency probe on it. Harry was left with a lot of questions and no answers.

The only thing he knew for sure was that there was no way he was going to tell anyone about this. No way at all.

Notes:

This will not be one of those fanfics where Harry ends up talking to the Horcrux in his head. Nor will he learn any magic from it. Those are fun tropes, but I’m not going to use them on this occasion. In this story, as in canon, the Horcrux in his head is a pitiful creature incapable of any sort of communication. But before anyone accuses me of leaving an unfired Chekhov’s Gun, let me assure you that I’ve included this scene for a reason. Part of that reason is that it would be very odd for Harry to perfect his Occlumency skills, and discover impressive Legilimency skills, without noticing that he was carrying a semi-sentient parasitic entity around in his head.

We’ll be heading back to Hogwarts in the next chapter!

While you’re waiting for me to drop the next chapter, why not read one of my favourite stories? It’s not marked as complete, but it is actually complete: The many deaths of Harry Potter by ShayneT.

Chapter 30: Hogwarts Express

Notes:

Just to repeat a point I made in an earlier author's note, some of the events in this chapter will be very similar to canon. That's deliberate, and it's not because I'm lazy. It's because this story is intended to be a "single point of departure Alternate Universe", so not everything will change. Indeed, the only things that'll change are the things that Harry's actions have a direct or indirect impact upon. As time goes by his actions will begin to affect everything though, so parallels with canon will become less frequent.

Chapter Text

Hermione stood at the window in Ron’s bedroom, staring morosely at the garden below. Behind her Ron was frantically grabbing piles of clothes from his wardrobe and ramming them haphazardly into his trunk. Hermione made no effort to help. If Ron was stupid enough to leave it until the morning of their departure before he packed for Hogwarts that was his problem. In any case, Hermione half suspected that some of those clothes hadn’t seen detergent in quite a while. Hermione wrinkled her nose as the alarmingly pungent aroma rising from Ron’s sock drawer wafted past her again. Ron’s habit of stuffing dirty socks back into his sock drawer had come back to haunt him, it seemed. Hermione fervently hoped that he had better habits where his underwear was concerned. She opened the window wider just in case, and took another deep breath of blissfully fresh air.

It was hard to believe that the long summer break had finally come to an end. Hermione had harboured such great hopes for her time here, but it had all gone horribly wrong. With Voldemort’s return finally confirmed, she had imagined that the Ministry would shoulder the burden of dealing with him, freeing Harry of that impossible task. For the first time since she’d known him, Harry could relax and just be a normal teenage boy. But when she spoke to Ron and Ginny about it they’d all realised that Harry’s ‘saving people thing’ would probably prevent him from letting others deal with it.

Ron’s solution had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Harry had always wanted a nice quiet year, but he couldn’t help sticking his oar in, so it was up to his friends (Ron had said) to protect Harry from himself. The battle in the Department of Mysteries had proved that they were ill-equipped to face fully-trained Death Eaters, so they must do whatever they could to talk Harry out of getting involved in anything. But they had to be subtle about it, because Harry would never willingly agree to stay out of things. They’d have to persuade him that nothing was going on (even if it was). That might seem a little underhand, Ron had admitted, but it was the only way to keep Harry safe.

In retrospect, Hermione should have realised what a terrible idea that was. But she hadn’t, because keeping Harry safe was paramount in her mind. He was her best friend, and she would do anything to protect him. This was the only way, so it had to be done; it was as simple as that. Hermione hadn’t stopped to consider how their actions would appear to Harry because she never expected him to figure out what they were up to.

But he had figured it out and the results were disastrous, utterly disastrous.

Not only had Harry felt betrayed, which broke Hermione’s heart, but he’d decided that his friends couldn’t be trusted. Hermione would never forget the expression on his face as he threw them out of his room. He’d been devastated. She’d never seen him look so alone.

Unfortunately Hermione had then compounded her mistake by using polyjuice to trick Harry into revealing what he knew about saving the house elves. Oh how she could have kicked herself! What on earth had she been thinking? Well, she hadn’t been thinking of course. That was the problem. She’d been blinded by her desire to help the poor little creatures, and another calamity had ensued. Not only had she been caught, she’d also confirmed to Harry that she, in particular, was thoroughly untrustworthy. On top of that he’d also seen her naked, which was beyond mortifying.

A heavy sigh escaped her. She’d spent the rest of the summer trying to rebuild bridges with Harry, and to some extent things had improved, but it wasn’t the same. With an angry shake of her head she resisted the prickling in her eyes. She should never have listened to Ron! Friends don’t manipulate each other like that. They just don’t. Harry had every right to be furious with her. As a result, she had lost her best friend, possibly forever, and she only had herself to blame.

It was all so unfair! Harry had been her first real friend, and she’d ruined it. A traitorous tear escaped one of her eyes but she wiped it away quickly. She didn’t want Ron wondering what she was upset about. The brooding girl glanced over her shoulder to see if he’d noticed, but Ron was too busy rifling through his drawers muttering about a missing shoe. Why would a shoe be in his drawers, she wondered? But sure enough, he found it buried under a pile of shirts.

Ron had been her original summer project (before things had gone quite literally tits-up with Harry) but that hadn’t gone to plan either. She’d imagined that three months in a house with Ron would be plenty of time for the clueless lummox to notice that she was a girl and ask her out. Foolishly, she’d even hoped to receive her very first kiss. But no. Instead fate had crapped all over her parade from a great height, by arranging for the two most beautiful witches in Britain to completely upstage her.

With considerable effort Hermione managed to suppress a growl of irritation. She’d always known that she wasn’t the prettiest girl in the world. She’d had front teeth that would make a beaver jealous and hair that would send nesting crows fleeing in horror. But she’d sneakily fixed her teeth and finally tamed her hair, so she liked to think she was half-way decent-looking now. She wasn’t as pretty as Lavender Brown or Parvati Patil of course, but she wasn’t too bad. So Hermione had arrived at the Burrow full of hope and teenage dreams... to find that none other than Fleur bloody Delacour was already there. Unbelievable! And then, just to add insult to injury, Tonks had turned up, transformed herself into a teenage boy’s wet dream, and started dressing like a damned supermodel. It was so infuriating!

Naturally both women had turned Ron’s head. Hermione wasn’t at all happy about that, obviously, but she could hardly blame him. He was a teenage boy after all. If anything it was Fleur’s and Tonks’ fault for being so offensively gorgeous. Hermione was rather attracted to them herself, in fact, which just made her resent them even more.

She’d never thought about girls that way before, and certainly didn’t consider herself to be a lesbian, but her subconscious apparently saw things differently. Hermione had been visited by a couple of shockingly raunchy dreams featuring Tonks in a black leather cat-suit wielding a whip. Subsequently seeing Tonks’ naked body covered in Harry’s man-batter had then spawned a whole new set of fantasies which Hermione was trying very hard not to think about. (Why she had told Ginny about those she would never know; temporary insanity, most likely.)

Hermione coughed self-consciously. Best not to dwell on any of that! Or the many dreams she’d had about Harry’s cock and what he might do to her with it. They were just dreams, after all. They didn’t mean anything. Harry was her friend! Well, ex-friend... but hopefully future-friend too. No more than that though. He was clearly with Tonks now, and while Hermione certainly wasn’t happy about that it didn’t mean she was jealous. Why would she be? She just didn’t approve of older women dating underage boys! Anyway, the point was that Harry’s cock was off-limits... no matter how fabulous a cock it happened to be... and no matter how thoroughly he could have deflowered her virginal teenage body with it.

In the corner of her eye she saw Ron fish a pair of manky-looking underpants out from under the bed. With a hasty glance at her to check she wasn’t looking, he gave them a quick sniff and recoiled in disgust. After a couple of involuntary dry-heaves he threw the offending y-fronts back under the bed. Hermione shuddered and added another item to her mental list of ‘things about Ron that need fixing’.

She was almost immune to Ron’s revolting habits now, so her attention returned to the garden outside and the term ahead. The first of September had arrived and her life was definitely not where she had planned it to be – she was a best friend down and a boyfriend short. But she was hopeful that things would improve soon. Tonks would presumably return to her Auror duties, and Fleur would remain at the Burrow, so Hermione would have Ron and Harry to herself once more. The golden trio would soon re-establish itself she was sure. Harry was a very forgiving person, after all. He’d forgiven Ron lots of times, and Ron hadn’t even apologised. Not once. When the time was right, Hermione would apologise sincerely to Harry and all would be well. As for Ron, well... Hermione was sure he would notice her once Fleur and Tonks were out of the picture. She just had to be patient.

Her brief moment of dreamy optimism was interrupted by the appearance of Harry and Tonks in the garden below. They were both dressed in their Auror-style uniforms and looked... well... incredibly sexy, if Hermione was honest. Harry, in particular, looked rather dashing – a bit like Richard Gere when he swept that woman off her feet at the end of ‘An Officer and Gentleman’, except that Harry’s uniform was a dark charcoal colour instead of bright white. But if anything that made Harry seem even more desirable, because he looked so dangerous.

Thank God Hermione’s mother wasn’t here to see this! Unbeknown to Hermione’s Dad, ‘An Officer and Gentleman’ was her mother’s favourite movie. A sudden terror gripped Hermione. Would her parents turn up at Kings Cross to see her off? Hermione was assailed by a mental image of her straight-laced mother standing on the platform drooling at the sight of Harry in his uniform. Oh fuck no! Hermione would die of shame! No, wait, it was fine – her parents were away at a conference. A wave of relief swept through her. Sweet Merlin that was a close one.

What were they talking about down there, Hermione wondered? They both looked very serious. Harry was doing most of the speaking, it seemed, while Tonks was just nodding along. It looked like he was explaining something to her, or giving her instructions maybe.

Harry had changed so much this summer, Hermione realised. He was more confident and outspoken. He took charge without realising it and generally behaved more like an adult than a teenager. But he’d also become uncompromising, volatile, aggressive and frankly quite scary. The potential for sudden violence seemed to be constantly lurking under the surface, prompting everyone to tread very carefully around him. Even Mr and Mrs Weasley didn’t dare challenge Harry for fear that matters might escalate rapidly out of control. Hermione had the uneasy feeling that if anyone tested his limits they’d discover that he no longer had any.

Down below, Tonks swirled her wand and summoned her patronus. She was sending a message to the Minister, Hermione suspected. But then something unexpected happened. Instead of a jackrabbit-sized cloud of glowing mist, a truly gigantic fountain of light burst forth. It quickly coalesced into a corporeal form, circled once in front of Tonks and then roared silently at the sky.

Hermione stared in disbelief.

So did Tonks and Harry.

Apparently it was as big a shock to them as it was to Hermione.

Tonks’ patronus was no longer a jack-rabbit. It was an enormous and majestic lion.

Tonks slapped a hand over her mouth and turned wide eyes towards Harry, who just shrugged and said something that instantly made Tonks smile self-consciously. She leaned forwards and gave Harry a long kiss on the lips. Just as she was about to withdraw, Harry’s arms closed around her and he pulled her to him. Tonks struggled unconvincingly for a few seconds, and then gave in to the extended kiss. When Harry finally released her she slapped him across the shoulder and gave him a feeble telling-off. Harry just grinned smugly.

Another sigh escaped Hermione. Why couldn’t she have a relationship like that? They looked so happy together!

Tonks gave some lengthy instructions to the patronus and sent it on its way. The huge beast leapt into the sky and was gone in seconds.

Harry relaxed against a garden wall and began twirling his wand absent-mindedly. Hermione wasn’t even sure Harry knew he was doing it, but the wand danced around his fingers in a bewildering whirl. Apparently the last two months of training with Tonks had honed more than just his combat skills. Unnoticed by Harry, Tonks had a stab at duplicating what he was doing and promptly dropped her wand on the floor. Without even breaking his rhythm, Harry absent-mindedly incorporated a downward sweep into his twirling. Tonks’ wand shot up from the floor and slapped back into her palm.

Hermione’s eyes widened. Harry’s lips hadn’t moved! He was doing non-verbal magic! The shock of that hit her hard. She’d been studying solidly throughout the summer of course, but she was prohibited from actually performing magic so her new skills were largely untested. Despite the fact that Tonks had said she had permission, Hermione just couldn’t bring herself to perform magic when Tonks wasn’t explicitly present to supervise. It was ridiculous, but she couldn’t help it. When she’d found out about Harry’s emancipation she’d been so insanely jealous that she hadn’t even thought about the fact that her seventeen birthday was only a matter of weeks away. From the nineteenth of September she would officially be allowed the perform magic at will (subject, of course, to the school rules and the moral expectations of a prefect while at Hogwarts) and yet despite that (or possibly because of it) she still couldn’t bring herself to perform magic now without an adult present. But Harry had felt no such restrictions, and had apparently leapt ahead of her in magical ability. A fierce determination blossomed inside her – she would catch up to Harry by the end of September, no matter what!

For several minutes Hermione watched the couple, feeling increasingly envious of their easy familiarity and Harry’s enhanced magical skills, but eventually their subdued and serious demeanour returned. For a moment Hermione struggled to identify what message their body language conveyed – there was something about the way they held themselves that she’d seen somewhere before, but she couldn’t quite place it. They appeared outwardly relaxed, but underneath that thin facade they were both distracted and a little haunted.

Harry’s head snapped abruptly to the left. Faster than Hermione would have thought possible he turned on the spot, scooping Tonks up in the process. He slammed to a stop with his wand trained on the sky and Tonks held protectively behind him. A moment later a tiny dot emerged from the clouds and resolved itself into the outline of an owl. How on earth had he known something was coming, Hermione wondered? Her eyesight was vastly superior to his and she couldn’t see the owl until several seconds after he’d trained his wand on it.

Harry relaxed and Tonks struggled free of the arm holding her behind him. She took note of the owl and then started punching Harry in the chest, looking furious. Harry winced repeatedly, but otherwise took no notice. As the owl swooped past overhead he raised his arm. A tightly bound scroll fell through the air and slapped into his waiting palm. Harry unfurled it while Tonks continued to punch him. She only stopped when he handed her the scroll. Tonks read it and then slipped it inside her robes. She favoured Harry with a wry grin, and then started punching him again.

Abruptly Hermione realised where she’d seen their body language before – it was in the documentaries that her father watched sometimes. The colour drained from her face as the magnitude of the chasm between her and Harry suddenly became all too clear.

Ron, Ginny and Hermione all had the look of students going back to school, she realised.

But Harry and Tonks didn’t. They looked quite different.

They had the look of soldiers going off to war.

- § -

Harry and Tonks entered the kitchen just as the Weasley’s were finally gathering for departure.

Mrs Weasley had explained the security arrangements for the journey to Hogwarts the previous evening. They had been provided with Ministry cars again and there would be Aurors waiting at the station. Harry knew that already of course – Tonks was an Auror, after all, and she had been told the plan. Mrs Weasley seemed to keep forgetting that.

Harry could have Apparated straight to the train, or used Dobby to get there, but he didn’t want to draw anyone’s attention to the fact that he could do that, so he played along. This whole transportation plan had been foisted on the Minister by Dumbledore, so Harry guessed the Order had come up with it. As plans went, it was pretty stupid – they could easily be followed from the Burrow and would be exposed on muggle roads. It reminded Harry of the stupid plan they’d hatched last year to get him from Privet Drive to Grimmauld Place – flying the whole way by broomstick! Why not just side-along apparate him? But whatever; if the cars were attacked he’d tell everyone to apparate to safety. Hermione and Ginny could apparate themselves, and one of his parents could grab Ron.

Their departure was much smoother than usual. The Ministry cars glided up to the front of The Burrow to find them waiting: trunks packed, Hermione’s cat Crookshanks safely enclosed in his travelling basket, and Hedwig, Ron’s owl Pigwidgeon, and Ginny’s new purple Pygmy Puff, Arnold, all in cages.

“Au revoir ’Arry, Au revoir Tonks” said Fleur throatily, kissing them both goodbye. Ron hurried forwards, looking hopeful, but Ginny stuck out her foot and Ron tripped, sprawling in the dust at Fleur’s feet. Furious, red-faced and dirt-spattered, he hurried to the car without saying goodbye. Harry almost felt sorry for the back-stabbing traitor.

The journey was blissfully uneventful. There was no cheerful Hagrid waiting for them at King’s Cross Station this time, sadly. Instead, two grim-faced, bearded Aurors in dark Muggle suits moved forwards the moment the cars stopped and, flanking the party, marched them into the station without speaking. (Two seemed rather inadequate to Harry, but what did he know?)

“Quick, quick, through the barrier,” said Mrs Weasley, who seemed a little flustered by this austere efficiency. “Harry had better go first, with...”

She looked enquiringly at one of the Aurors, who nodded briefly but didn’t offer his name. “After you Mr Potter, Auror Tonks,” he said respectfully.

Tonks went first, then Harry pushed his trolley directly at the solid barrier. He found himself, a second later, standing on platform nine and three-quarters, where the scarlet Hogwarts Express stood belching steam over the crowd.

Hermione and the Weasleys soon joined him. Harry motioned to the others to follow him up the platform.

“We can’t, Harry,” said Hermione, looking apologetic. “Ron and I have got to go to the prefect carriage first and then patrol the corridors for a bit.”

Harry gave her a scathing look, “And where exactly do you think I’m going, Hermione?”

“Oh! You’re Head Boy!” she realised. “I... I forgot,” she finished, lamely.

“You forgot?” repeated Harry in disbelief.

Hermione withered under his glare.

“You’d better get straight on the train, all of you, you’ve only got a few minutes to go,” said Mrs Weasley, consulting her watch. “Well, have a lovely term...”

They all said their goodbyes. Harry sincerely thanked Mr and Mrs Weasley for having him to stay and cooking such delicious meals. Despite their disagreements, he was grateful for their hospitality. It would have been a very different summer if he’d been stuck at Privet Drive on his own. There was a whistle behind them; nearly everyone had boarded the train and the doors were closing. The Aurors had already loaded his trunk so Harry climbed aboard.

“Now, dear, you’re coming to us for Christmas, it’s all fixed with Dumbledore, so we’ll see you quite soon,” said Mrs Weasley through the window, as Harry slammed the door shut behind him and the train began to move. “You make sure you look after yourself and be good and stay safe!”

Harry waved until the train had turned a corner and Mr and Mrs Weasley were lost from view, and then turned to see where the others had got to. Only Tonks and the two Aurors were there. Apparently nobody else could be bothered to wave to Mr and Mrs Weasley. Harry shook his head sadly. People didn’t appreciate what they had until they lost it.

Dumbledore had said the Aurors could leave once Harry was on the train, but Scrimgeour and Harry had decided to quietly ignore that suggestion. Instead they were under orders to stay close to Harry. Tonks maintained her teenage appearance, despite being ‘on duty’ as his bodyguard, to better fit in (or so Harry assumed, anyway).

Harry had already decided not to change into his school uniform. He wanted to make a statement – he wasn’t just some kid with a stupid nickname who could be treated any way they liked. He was someone you didn’t mess with. Everyone else was going to school, but Harry was going to war. They needed to be reminded of that.

Tonks straightened his collar and checked him over, “You look like someone who kicks ass first, and asks questions later.”

Harry grinned, “You too, which is good because that’s exactly what we intend to do.” He took two badges from his pocket, “Would you do the honours?”

Tonks pinned his Quidditch Captain and Head Boy badges to his left shoulder, then kissed him on the cheek.

“Okay Tonks,” Harry said, in a tone that was suddenly serious. “Playtime’s over. Now the real work starts.”

Harry stalked off towards the prefect carriage, with Tonks and the two stern-looking Aurors in tow.

People stared at them shamelessly, falling silent and pressing their faces against the windows of their compartments to get a good look. Harry had expected an upswing in the amount of gaping and gawking after all the ‘Chosen One’ stuff in the Daily Prophet, but even he was surprised at how severe it was. He’d always hated being in the spotlight, but he now recognised it as a necessary evil so he just nodded politely. He couldn’t win this war without support, so it would be pretty stupid to ignore the backing fostered by his image.

Harry approached Ginny, who was talking to some friends, and tapped her on the shoulder, “Fancy trying to find a compartment later?”

“I can’t, sorry,” said Ginny brightly. “I said I’d meet Dean. I'll see you later at the Feast.”

“Right,” said Harry. He felt a strange twinge of annoyance as she walked away, her long red hair dancing behind her. He had become so used to her presence over the summer that he’d forgotten that Ginny didn’t hang around with him at school. Then he blinked and looked around: he was surrounded by mesmerised girls.

“Hi, Harry!” said a familiar voice from behind him.

“Neville!” replied Harry, turning to see the round-faced boy struggling towards him.

“Hello, Harry,” said a girl with long blonde hair and large, misty eyes, who was just behind Neville.

“Luna! Hi, how are you?”

“Very well, thank you,” said Luna. She was clutching a magazine to her chest; large letters on the front announced that there was a pair of free Spectrespecs inside. She cast her eyes over Harry’s uniform, then Tonks’ uniform, and then the two Aurors. “You’re looking very formidable Harry. Have you joined the Rotfang Conspiracy?”

Harry laughed uncomfortably, “The what?”

“The Rotfang Conspiracy,” Luna repeated, “Aurors who are working to undermine the Ministry of Magic from within, using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease. I thought everyone knew about that.”

“Erm... right.” Harry glanced at the Aurors, who both seemed to be struggling to maintain their stern expressions. “No, I was not aware of that Luna. Thanks for the heads-up. The Quibbler’s still going strong, then?” he asked to change the subject. He felt a certain fondness for the magazine, having given it an exclusive interview the previous year.

“Oh yes, circulation’s way up,” said Luna happily.

“Well, I have to go do this thing...” Harry said brightly, “but if we can find an empty compartment I’ll come join you later, okay?”

Luna beamed at him, while Neville just looked surprised. The three of them set off along the train through hordes of silently staring students. At last they found an empty compartment and filed in. The two Aurors stood outside on either side of the door.

“They’re even staring at us,” said Neville, indicating himself and Luna, “because we’re with you!”

“They’re staring at you because you were at the Ministry last term,” Harry replied, as he hoisted his trunk into the luggage rack. “Our little adventure there was all over the Daily Prophet, you must’ve seen it.”

“Yes, I thought Gran would be angry about all the publicity,” said Neville, “but she was really pleased. Says I’m starting to live up to my dad at long last. She bought me a new wand, look!” He pulled it out and showed it to Harry. “Cherry and unicorn hair,” he said proudly. “We think it was one of the last Ollivander ever sold, he vanished next day – oi, come back here, Trevor!”

Neville dived under the seat to retrieve his toad as it made one of its frequent bids for freedom.

“Are we still doing DA meetings this year, Harry?” asked Luna, who was detaching a pair of psychedelic spectacles from the middle of The Quibbler.

“No point now we’ve got rid of Umbridge, is there?” said Harry.

Neville bumped his head against the seat as he emerged from underneath it. He looked disappointed. “I liked the DA! I learned loads with you!”

“I enjoyed the meetings, too,” said Luna serenely. “It was like having friends.”

This was one of those uncomfortable things Luna often said and which had once made Harry feel a squirming mixture of pity and embarrassment, but not anymore. Luna had been the first to say they’d all go with him to save Sirius, she’d come up with the idea of riding Thestrals, she’d known that Thestrals could locate the Ministry, she fought Death Eaters and she’d been injured defending him.

He put an arm round Luna’s shoulders and pulled her into a sideways hug. “We are friends, Luna – the best of friends. You and Neville risked your lives to help me save someone I loved, someone you didn’t even know. What sort of person would I be, if I wasn’t your friend after that?”

For once, Luna didn’t seem to know what to say.

“Look, I better go,” Harry apologised. “I’m late. But I’ll be back later, okay?”

As he left the compartment, there was a disturbance just along the corridor; a group of fourth-year girls were whispering and giggling together, eyeing the Aurors behind Harry warily.

You ask him!

No you!

I’ll do it!

One of them, a bold-looking girl with large dark eyes and long black hair, pushed her way past her friends.

“Hi Harry, I’m Romilda. Romilda Vane,” she said loudly and confidently. “Why don’t you join us in our compartment?”

“Romilda Vane...” Harry turned to Tonks, “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“Witch Weekly,” she replied evenly.

“Ah yes.” Harry turned his eyes back to the girl, “Miss Vane, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand. When she brought hers up to meet it, he surprised her by bringing it to his lips and kissing the back of her hand. “Sadly I have some Head Boy duties to attend to, but I’ll try to find you afterwards.”

“Ok, Harry, see you later,” she said brightly, then strode confidently back to her friends, who immediately collapsed into a frenzy of giggling and whispering as they fled down the carriage.

“Smooth,” Tonks commented.

“Gotta maintain the image,” Harry replied absently, “Lockhart taught me that.”

By the time they reached the prefect carriage, it was in absolute uproar. From the look of it, the Head Girl had completely lost control of the situation. She was a petite and pretty seventh year Hufflepuff who was being towered over by an intimidating and furious-looking Slytherin boy. Hermione and Ron were arguing with two more Slytherins, and the rest of the prefects were crowded around, shouting in support of one side or the other. It looked like Hermione and Ron had more support in terms of numbers, but the Slytherins looked more menacing.

Harry put his wand to this throat and cast a non-verbal ‘Sonorus’, then shouted, “QUIET!

His voice echoed deafeningly round the carriage, making everyone jump. Silence descended as all heads turned his way. Harry imagined what it must look like from their point of view – he struck an impressive figure in his Auror uniform. It also wouldn’t have escaped their notice that he had an Auror next to him in the exact same uniform, and two more tall and very serious-looking bearded Aurors behind her.

He cast a non-verbal ‘Quietus’ to cancel the ‘Sonorus’ and strode down the carriage, followed by Tonks and the Aurors. Prefects had to scramble to get out of their way.

“Everyone take a seat and shut up,” Harry growled angrily. “If I witness another disgraceful display like that one, I’ll start confiscating badges.”

A seventh year Ravenclaw gasped, “You can’t take our badges away!”

“Sure I can,” replied Harry. He pulled a well-thumbed pamphlet from his pocket. “It says right here in the Head Prefect Handbook that Head Prefects have the authority to suspend any prefect who, in his or her opinion, abuses their authority or brings the role of the prefects into disrepute. The scene I just witnessed very much fits the latter description, I would say.”

Harry reached the far end of the carriage, where the Head Girl was looking close to tears. He walked right up to the Slytherin that was intimidating her and pushed him roughly away.

“If I see you getting in anyone’s face like that again, you’ll lose more than your badge, understand?”

The Slytherin glanced from Harry to the three Aurors behind him and back again. “Yes,” he growled.

Harry held the Slytherin’s gaze for a moment, “Good.”

Harry turned to the Head Girl and held out his hand, “Hi, I’m Harry Potter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Her hand felt soft and delicate in his, he noticed.

“Um, hi. I’m Rebecca Carmichael. My friends call me Beccy.”

“Great. Mind if I say a few words?”

“Um, sure.”

Harry smiled at her reassuringly, and then turned to face the other prefects.

“Hi everyone, sorry I’m late. In case it’s not obvious, I’m the new Head Boy. This is Beccy, who you will call Rebecca unless she says otherwise. She’s the Head Girl. Since some of you don’t seem to know what that means, I’ll explain it. You are all prefects. We are Head Prefects. When we tell you to do something, you do it. You will not argue with us, and you will not take it upon yourselves to exceed the duties given to you. Anyone who abuses their position will be suspended. Anyone who attempts to bully or intimidate another prefect or any of the students will be suspended. Anyone who fails to perform their duties adequately will be suspended. If you have a problem with any of the things I just said, surrender your prefect badge now and I will ask the Headmaster to find a replacement.”

For a second nobody made a sound, but then the Slytherin he’d pushed away stepped forward, “You think you can give orders to me? You’re not even a seventh year! There’s never been a sixth year Head Boy in the entire history of the school. Everyone knows that position was mine. You only got it because you’re Dumbledore’s pet.”

Harry had been expecting this ever since he demanded the badge from Dumbledore. There was bound to be at least one person whose nose was put out of joint. That was presumably what everyone was arguing about when Harry arrived. But if this seventh year thought he could scare Harry he was very much mistaken.

“I was given this position because we’re at war. I’m sorry if that’s inconvenienced you. Would you like me to forward your complaints to Voldemort?” Gasps and screams filled the carriage. Harry waited for them to die down. It really was very tiresome, but he was going to have to say You-Know-Who or he’d be here all day. “Really, it’s no trouble,” Harry continued obsequiously, “I’ll just drop him an owl and ask if he minds suspending the war for a year so you can be Head Boy shall I? I’m sure he won’t mind in the slightest. He’ll probably nip down to the Caribbean to work on his tan. He was looking very pale the last time I fought him.”

The Slytherin was looking quite pale himself, now.

“Oh wait,” Harry persisted. “Are you saying you’d like to be the Head Boy and the Chosen One? I’m more than happy to step down if you think you can protect the school from You-Know-Who better than I can. I don’t have to be here, after all. I’m legally an adult. I could leave the school any time. Maybe I’ll nip down to the Caribbean myself while you deal with him. How does that sound? Should I contact the Daily Prophet and let them know that you’ve taken over? I’m sure they’d love to interview you about your superior qualifications...”

Harry’s sarcasm had clearly embarrassed the Slytherin and he became aggressive again, “You think you can defeat the Dark Lord? Don’t make me laugh! You’re nothing compared to him!”

Harry regarded the boy for a moment, “So if you were Head Boy you’d let him just walk into Hogwarts via the front door would you? Do you even know the first thing about him? Do you know how he treats his followers? I do. I’ve seen it. He tortures them into obedience. When he killed Cedric and called his followers to him do you know what they did? They literally crawled up to him on their hands and knees and kissed the hem of his robes. Is that the future you want for all of us? To fawn around him like terrified house elves? He’s a powerful wizard, yes, but he’s not someone to be admired. He covets our school and would like nothing more than to rule over it. The school may be well protected, but the Headmaster and the Professors can’t protect us from every possible attack. It will be up to all of us to support them. But it sounds to me like you wouldn’t help at all.”

“Oh and you think you can, because of some prophecy?”

“No, I think I can because I’ve been doing it my whole life. I defeated him when I was fifteen months old. I defeated him again when I was eleven...”

“Rubbish!”

Harry paused. “What exactly do you think happened to Professor Quirrell?”

“He was sick all year; he died of ill health.”

“Well, that’s one way of putting it. A more accurate way would be to say that he was possessed by You-Know-Who, so I killed him with my bare hands.” Harry ignored the exclamations around him. “Yes, I killed Professor Quirrell when I was eleven years old. Do you think it’s all rainbows and butterflies being the Chosen One? I’ve been chosen to kill or be killed. I can choose to run from that, or I can choose to put my life on the line to protect idiots like you. I chose the latter. So I defeated him when I was eleven. I killed the sixty foot basilisk he released in the school when I was twelve. I fought off a hundred Dementors when I was thirteen. I won the Triwizard Tournament and defeated You-Know-Who in a duel when I was fourteen and I fought him again in the Department of Mysteries a few months ago, when I was fifteen. So yes, I’ve been fighting him my entire life.”

Harry pointed at everyone else, “To you lot, Hogwarts is a school. To me, it’s just another place where You-Know-Who will try to kill me. I’ve sacrificed everything in my fight against him – he’s killed everyone I ever loved. I’ve even sacrificed my childhood so that you lot can have one! While you’re turning porcupines into pincushions, I’ve been killing monsters and fighting Death Eaters. So yes, I’m a sixth year, but who’s better suited than me to defend the school? If You-Know-Who comes knocking at the gates, seeking to turn Hogwarts into a battleground, would you rather I was at the front of the fight, or at the back?”

Silence filled the carriage. Even the Slytherin boy had no answer to that. Harry held out his left hand, palm up. “I said earlier that prefects will not argue with Head Prefects. You just did. Hand over your badge. You’re suspended.”

Instead of going for his badge the Slytherin went for his wand. Tonks and Harry’s stunners hit him before the wand cleared his pocket. He flew backwards, hit the wall, and crumpled into a boneless heap on the floor. Behind Harry the two Aurors looked chagrined that they’d been caught unawares, but they now glowered threateningly at everyone else to make up for it.

Harry removed the Slytherin’s prefect badge and pocketed it, then turned back to the crowd of pale prefect faces staring at him and carried on as if nothing had happened.

“I have one more thing to say before we start the usual briefing. Hogwarts has become a breeding ground for bullies like this idiot. In my entire time at the school, I have never once seen bullying prevented or punished. That will end this year. If you see any bullying, bring the bullies to me. Alternatively, give me their names and I will investigate. From this day forward Hogwarts will have a zero tolerance policy where bullying is concerned, and you lot will enforce that policy aggressively. If you fail to do so, you will be suspended.”

For the first time since he’d entered the carriage, Harry looked at Hermione and Ron. Hermione seemed to be struggling with several emotions at once. Ron, on the other hand, was looking positively gleeful. He was scanning the faces of those around him with a haughty sneer that Draco Malfoy would have been proud of, if he wasn’t banged up in Azkaban. Harry wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“Okay,” Harry clapped his hands loudly, which made everyone jump. “Beccy, would you like to start the usual briefing and give everyone their assignments?”

Ten minutes later the prefects trooped out silently to begin their patrols. Beccy, Harry, Tonks and the two Aurors were left alone with the unconscious Slytherin. Beccy breathed out a massive sigh of relief, “Thank God you’re the Head Boy and not that awful Slytherin. I’d have had the worst year ever being Head Girl alongside that pig!”

Harry put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about him. We’re going to have a little chat, him and me. He won’t be a problem.”

“Thanks Harry.”

“No worries. Thank you for standing with me. A lot of people would have run a mile after everything I just said. You’re a true Hufflepuff, like my friend Tonks here.” Tonks smiled down at her reassuringly. Beccy really was very petite. “If you ever need anything, come to me or Tonks or these jovial chaps and we’ll be happy to help; now go relax with your friends.”

“Shouldn’t we patrol the train?” asked Beccy as he herded her towards the carriage door.

“No, we’re leaders Beccy. It’s our job to lead. The foot-soldiers, I mean prefects, do the patrolling.” He sent a rather dazed-looking Head Girl out the door, and then turned back to the Aurors. “Would you mind stepping outside for a moment, Gentlemen? I want to have a little chat with our friend here.”

The Aurors shared a look, then departed without a word and closed the door behind them.

Harry grabbed the Slytherin and dumped him in a chair, then cast “Petrificus Totalus” and “Rennervate”. The Slytherin woke and struggled for a few moments, but found that he couldn’t move. His eyes focused on Harry and went wide in terror.

Harry smiled coldly, “Yes, you should be scared, because you have no idea who you just fucked with.”

Harry pointed his wand between the boy’s eyes.

Imperio!

- § -

Harry and Tonks had spent most of the last few weeks on combat training, but in the evenings they’d been learning how to cast the Imperius Curse. Tonks didn’t know how to cast it, but Harry had seen Professor Moody (well, Barty Crouch Junior to be exact) cast it dozens of times in class; five of them right in his face. Harry had successfully cast a Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange after only seeing Voldemort do it a few times, so he was pretty good at picking up the Unforgivables, it seemed. Bellatrix hadn’t been in pain for more than half a second, but he had successfully cast it. She’d told him you had to mean it when you cast the Unforgivables, so he’d made sure Tonks understood that.

Tonks had refused at first, saying she’d never need to Imperius anyone, but Harry pointed out that if she ever suspected he’d been Imperiused she’d need to cast it on him to break it. She was the only person he trusted to do it, and if he ever refused or resisted, then she’d know he was definitely imperiused.

During their practice sessions Harry cast it and meant it because he’d need this spell to defeat the Death Eaters. Similarly, Tonks cast it and meant it, because it was how she’d bring him back, if he was ever compromised.

They’d started by practicing on spiders, then mice, then gnomes from the garden and finally each other. It didn’t take long to get it working on spiders, but it was substantially harder with more substantial sentient creatures. Nevertheless, it took surprisingly little time to master the spell on humans. That was another thing that made the Unforgivables so dangerous – they were easy enough for anyone to learn and gave inbred pureblood-supremacists a false sense of superiority.

Harry could throw off the Imperius of course, but it was still an enormous display of trust to freely allow someone to cast it at him. That was even truer for Tonks, who wasn’t able to throw off Harry’s Imperius at all. She said it was just too powerful.

- § -

The Aurors outside the door both raised an eyebrow when the Slytherin boy walked out looking calm and content.

“He had some unresolved anger issues,” Harry offered. “We talked it out.”

Harry had ascertained that the boy’s family were Voldemort sympathisers but hadn’t actually become Death Eaters yet. Harry ordered the boy to keep him informed, and let Harry know anything else he overheard that might be important. He also ordered him to act normal around his house mates, but to never be unpleasant to anyone outside his house and to obey Beccy’s orders without question.

“Are you sure about this?” Tonks had asked for the hundredth time.

“Definitely,” Harry had replied. “The time for pussy-footing around is over. We’re fighting a war, and I intend to use every weapon at my disposal to win it. If that means putting a few in-bred nut-jobs under the Imperius to save potentially thousands of lives, then I have no problem with that.”

Chapter 31: The Slug Club

Notes:

In the books it’s never stated how many carriages comprise the Hogwarts Express. In the movies it’s four or five, but that’s not nearly enough to contain all the students. Each compartment can only hold 8 people and (judging by the number of windows) each carriage only has 8 compartments, so that’s 64 students per carriage. The open plan carriage(s) can similarly only contain 64 students. So 64 per carriage multiplied by 4-5 carriages = 256-320 total. There are only 40 students named in the Sorting Ceremony in Harry’s first year (which would mean 280 total if all seven years were the same size), but JKR has stated that there are 1000 students in total. (In a later interview she admitted that it might be more like 600.) The movies show about 120 per house at the Welcome Feast, which is 480 total. In PoA Chapter 15 it states that there were 200 Slytherins watching the Quidditch Final, which would imply at least 800 students in total (if the four houses are all about equal). Whichever way you look at it, four or five carriages isn’t enough, so I’ve assumed it’s more like 10-12 carriages.

Chapter Text

With a nod from Harry, the two Aurors led the way back towards the compartment where Luna and Neville were waiting. Many of the students seemed to have anticipated Harry’s return, because they crowded the corridor in even greater numbers than before. Fortunately a menacing look from the two bearded Aurors was sufficient to send everyone scrambling out of the way.

The first five carriages, including the prefect carriage, were of the ‘open plan’ variety – seats were arranged in groups of four around a shared table, in two long rows either side of a central gangway. The remainder of the train featured carriages divided into compartments. Harry preferred those because it afforded him and his friends a lot more privacy, but most of the upper years favoured the open-plan carriages. The first three carriages were therefore full of sixth and seventh year students from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Progress was slow as Harry took the time to say hello to everyone he knew, and even to return the greetings of those he didn’t. It was almost a relief when they reached the final open-plan carriage, except that this one was populated exclusively by upper year Slytherins. All eyes turned towards Harry as he entered and a sudden intimidating silence fell over the carriage.

Harry had obviously taken them by surprise when he strode through here earlier, but they were ready for his return and were clearly intent on making him feel unwelcome. The two Aurors in front of him seemed entirely unconcerned, but he could sense Tonks become wary behind him. Harry slipped his hand inside his robes and grasped his wand.

A sea of unfriendly faces followed him as he strode down the gangway, with expressions that ranged from sneering hostility to outright hatred. Passing through the Slytherin carriage always felt a bit like running the gauntlet, which is why the lower years quickly learned not to attempt it, but this was much worse than usual. Harry had known that he didn’t have any friends in Slytherin, but he hadn’t realised that they were all his enemies.

As the lead Auror arrived at the end of the carriage and reached out to slide the door aside, Harry’s instincts started screaming in warning – something he’d seen wasn’t right. The faces he’d passed flashed before his eyes, full of animosity and resentment and nervous tension. Wait... nervous tension? Why were those three boys back there tense?

DUCK!” Harry screamed, diving to the right and spinning in mid air.

But it was too late. A crackling purple hex struck Tonks between the shoulder blades, propelling her through the air to land face-down on the floor. A bright yellow curse passed straight through the spot where Harry been standing and smashed into the wall at the end of the carriage, exploding like a bomb and knocking the two Aurors off their feet. Harry landed on his back in the middle of a table full of shocked Slytherin girls, but he paid them no attention. Their wands weren’t out, so they weren’t an immediate threat.

The same could not be said of the three seventh-year boys now standing in the gangway at the far end of the carriage. All three had their wands pointed towards him, and the third was about to cast something. Without conscious thought, Harry fired off a non-verbal Reducto and rolled off the table. He landed on the floor in a crouch as something bright passed over his head.

Harry was exposed and out-numbered, with no escape route. Even worse, Tonks was still down and unprotected. He needed to buy some time and defend Tonks, so he quickly cast a non-verbal Protego Maxima. A shimmering blue wall appeared in front of him, like a vertical sheet of rippling water. It filled the carriage from floor to ceiling, cutting him off from his attackers... and vice-versa.

Through the rippling surface of the shield charm he saw one of the three attackers fly backwards as Harry’s earlier spell struck him in the shoulder. With an ear-splitting scream the boy crashed into the door at the far end of the carriage and fell to his knees. The shocked youth took one look at his ruined shoulder, with his arm bent behind him at a very un-natural angle, before his eyes rolled back into his head. He tumbled sideways, smacking his head on floor with a tremendous thud.

A groan at Harry’s feet sent a wave of relief through him. Tonks was alive!

Harry quickly took stock of the situation. Tonks was down and possibly in need of immediate medical attention. Behind him, the two Aurors were struggling to their knees, but they looked shell-shocked and wouldn’t be much use for a while. Meanwhile, Slytherin students on either side of the carriage had crammed themselves up against the windows in an effort to avoid being caught in the crossfire. None of them had drawn wands yet, but Harry couldn’t assume that they wouldn’t.

He needed to end this. Fast.

The two remaining attackers battered Harry’s shield with spells, sending shower after shower of bright sparks into the air. The unfortunate students sitting to either side cowered in fear, pinned down by the barrage. Harry ignored them and put two fingers to Tonks’ neck. Her pulse was strong. She didn’t appear to be in immediate peril. That gave him a moment to think, but also gave his anger more than enough time to swell into a boiling rage.

Slowly and deliberately, Harry rose to his feet. He lowered his wand and stuck his left hand in his pocket. From a distance he would appear quite nonchalant, but those nearest to him shrank away, because the look in his eyes promised nothing but pain and suffering.

“Throw down your wands,” he bellowed, “and you will be arrested without harm. If you don’t I will take you down, and I won’t be gentle about it. In fact I can’t guarantee that you will survive. You have ten seconds to comply...”

Arrested?” one of the boys sneered as they gave up trying to shatter Harry’s shield. “This train counts as Hogwarts grounds! Dumbledore is the law here. The worst we’ll get is expelled!”

Harry growled angrily. They thought they could hurt Tonks and get off scot-free? Not fucking likely! Dumbledore might think he had the right to forgive crimes committed against others without the actual victims’ permission, but Harry was no longer inclined to allow the Headmaster that luxury.

“You think Dumbledore is still the law at Hogwarts?” Harry laughed mirthlessly. “Don’t you read the papers? I’m authorised to use the Killing Curse against suspected Death Eaters, no matter where I find them. You three just attacked the Chosen One and three Aurors. I could kill you right now, and there’s not a thing Dumbledore could do about it. I wouldn’t even get a detention. Now drop your wands. You have five seconds left...”

The two boys both glanced at their friend lying on the floor behind them, as silent as the grave. A pool of blood was slowly spreading from under his head. Harry knew what they were thinking – was their friend unconscious or dead? Harry had cast his spell non-verbally, so they wouldn’t know if it was something deadly.

They both started to back away, looking worried. Then one of them grabbed a Slytherin girl and hauled her to her feet. She yelped and struggled, but she was too petite to escape the strong arm that encircled her. Her captor held her firmly to his chest, using her as a human shield between himself and Harry. The scumbag then pointed his wand at the girl’s head. She stopped struggling immediately. Her terrified eyes stared at Harry, imploring him to save her.

“If you come anywhere near us, she dies!” the panicking Slytherin screamed, backing away and dragging the girl with him.

The other boy grabbed a girl from the opposite side of the aisle and did they same thing. Confusingly, she looked exactly the same as the first girl. They’d been sitting on opposite sides of the carriage so Harry hadn’t noticed, but they were identical twins. He’d seen them around school over the years, but had no idea who they were. Now both his attackers had human shields.

Harry removed the hand from his pocket and positioned it in the small of his back.

His voice was as cold as ice, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Three... Two... One... Time’s up.

Unseen by his attackers, something fell from Harry’s fingers. To the untrained observer it would look like a lump of coal with sparkling blue flecks in it, but to a patron of Weazley’s Wizarding Wheezes it was Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. True to its name, the moment it struck the floor an impenetrable inky blackness immediately filled the carriage. Harry couldn’t see a thing, not even the glittering shield spell that was still active in front of him.

Mentally crossing his fingers, Harry cast a non-verbal Homenum Revelio.

The darkness powder was impervious to all Light-creating spells, Harry knew (such as the Wand-Lighting Charm and Fire-Making Spells) but he was hoping it wouldn’t affect the Human-Presence-Revealing Charm. Only the caster could see the effects of that spell, so it clearly didn’t use light. It must somehow project an image straight into the brain.

To Harry’s enormous relief, the glowing outlines of dozens of panicking students appeared in his vision. He couldn’t see the floor, ceiling, walls, tables, or anything else, but he could infer their locations based on the positions of the people. At the far end of the carriage, the two boys still held their captives close, but their wands were now pointed towards Harry. From the explosions he could hear as spells struck his shield, it sounded like they were firing down the aisle at him.

Panic and screaming erupted throughout the carriage as everyone scrambled blindly for cover.

Mentally crossing his fingers once again, Harry disapparated.

He didn’t know for sure that apparating on a moving train wouldn’t leave him tumbling along the track, but he was fairly certain. After all, planet Earth was hurtling through space at tens of thousands of miles per hour, so if apparating didn’t account for motion he’d have found himself floating in space the first time he tried it.

Sure enough, Harry reappeared at the other end of the carriage, directly behind the two remaining Slytherin attackers. He’d become quite proficient at apparating quietly, but any sound he might have made was completely drowned-out by all the screaming around him. He quickly cast a stunning spell at one attacker then the other. They both dropped like sacks of potatoes, taking their hostages down with them.

As the formerly captive twins struggled free and crawled blindly away on their hands and knees, Harry cast Reductors at the two boys’ wand arms. Then he cast Reductors at their other arms too. He was surrounded by enemies, after all. He couldn’t take any chances that someone might renervate his attackers and put them back in the fight.

Once the twins were clear, Harry felt around on the floor until he located the boys’ discarded wands. That done, Harry scanned around for any remaining threats. All he could see was terror-stricken students hiding behind benches and huddled under tables. Free of the need to fight, the savage fury that Harry had held in check since Tonks was hit quickly overwhelmed him.

He grabbed the boy who had done all the talking by his lapels and hauled him half way off the floor. This one seemed to be the ring-leader, and he’d cast the curse that hit Tonks in the back. That thought echoed around Harry’s head like the ringing of a giant bell. This fucker had hurt his Tonks! Harry had lost everyone he’d ever loved. The thought of Tonks being added to that list sickened him beyond words.

“This...” Harry snarled, punching the unconscious boy in the face with each word, “is... what... happens... if... you... attack... my... friends!”

With a final punch to the face, Harry threw the boy’s limp body back to the floor in disgust.

It was several seconds before he noticed the silence. Like smoke drifting away on the wind, the unnatural darkness had dissipated. An entire carriage of Slytherin students was staring at him in mute horror.

Harry glanced down. All three boys were lying broken and seemingly lifeless on the floor. The first lay in a pool of his own blood, the second had a bone sticking out of his arm, and Harry had smashed the third’s face into a bloody pulp.

It probably made a rather grisly sight.

“Harry?” a voice croaked, drawing his attention away from the bodies at his feet.

Tonks was hobbling towards him, her wand in one hand and the other clutching her side.

“Tonks!” he cried, rushing forward but then stopping himself. He didn’t want his relationship with Tonks to become public knowledge – it would make her a target, and maybe cause her embarrassment with her colleagues. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, rubbing her back gingerly, “Just a bit battered and bruised. I think Fred and George may have saved my life.”

The other two Aurors approached, once again all business. “Step aside please Auror Tonks; you too, Mr Potter.”

Harry and Tonks shuffled towards the corner of the carriage, allowing the Aurors to examine their downed attackers. The two men conferred briefly afterwards and then one of them approached Harry.

“Broken bones and a few other superficial injuries,” he reported in hushed tones. “Lots of blood from a cut on the head with that one,” he continued, pointing, “an arm bone that broke the skin on that one, and facial contusions when that last one... ahem, fell on his face.” The gruff Auror grinned wryly. “That’s what our report will say, anyway.”

“Might I take those wands please Mr Potter?” the other Auror requested, already holding the first attacker’s wand in his hand.

Numbly, Harry handed over the wands he’d confiscated. The Auror passed his wand over one and cast, “Prior Incantato”.

Harry could make no sense of the strange grey images that were brought forth, but they clearly meant something to the Auror because he hissed sharply. He cast, “Deletrius” to end the spell and repeated the process on the other two wands.

“Those were some very nasty curses,” he declared finally. “I honestly don’t know how you’re still alive Auror Tonks.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Tonks replied, standing up proudly and then wincing in pain.

Harry had a feeling that Fred and George would be adding those shield charms to a lot more Auror robes soon. He made a mental note to send them money to hire some more help.

“I’ll secure these lads in a compartment for now,” the first Auror declared. “They’ll be fine until we get to Hogsmeade, where they’ll be taken into custody. My colleague will escort you and Auror Tonks back to your compartment.”

The three of them walked warily back through the carriage with wands drawn, eying their silent audience in fierce challenge. If anyone else tried anything, Harry would make them regret it bitterly. The fourth member of their party followed, with three seemingly lifeless and battered bodies floating along in his wake dripping blood. None of the watching Slytherins moved a muscle.

It caused quite a stir in the next few carriages as Harry and his macabre entourage passed through. The initial excitement at Harry’s arrival quickly ebbed away, replaced by frantic whispering as the bodies passed by. Harry trudged along angrily ignoring everyone, his expression murderous.

- § -

By the time they arrived back at their compartment, Harry had managed to get his emotions under control. Thirty seconds in the toilet washing the blood off his hands and splashing cold water on his face had helped. He’d also felt calmer once their attackers were safely locked in a compartment under guard. They’d encountered another Auror patrolling the train along the way, so they were once again a party of four.

Harry was confident that news of the battle (or some sensationalised version of it) would soon work its way down the train, but it would take a while to reach this far towards the rear. He was grateful for that, because he had no desire to discuss what had happened. He certainly had no regrets about the brutality of his response, but justifying it to others would infuriate him. Fortunately, Tonks seemed to be much improved, though she said she’d probably be in a lot of pain tomorrow. Her back felt like ‘one big bruise’.

Neville and Luna both seemed rather surprised to see Harry return. Luna was now wearing her free Spectrespecs, which gave her the look of a demented multicoloured owl, while Neville wrestled with his pet toad Trevor (or Houdini, as Harry thought of the little green menace).

“We thought you’d find some cooler people to sit with than us,” said Luna, once again displaying her knack for embarrassing honesty.

“Nobody’s cooler than you,” said Harry truthfully. “None of that lot out there was at the Ministry. They didn’t fight a dozen Death Eaters with me.”

“That’s a very nice thing to say,” beamed Luna, and she pushed her Spectrespecs further up her nose and settled down to read The Quibbler again. Harry sank down next to Luna while Tonks sat next to Neville. The two Aurors stood guard outside.

“We didn’t face him, though,” said Neville, diving under the seat and emerging with fluff and dust in his hair and a resigned-looking Trevor in his hand. “You did. You should hear my gran talk about you. ‘That Harry Potter’s got more spunk than the whole Ministry of Magic put together!’”

Tonks choked on her own saliva and started wheezing, “Plenty of spunk... yes... very true...”

Harry laughed uncomfortably and changed the subject to O.W.L. results as quickly as he could.

The weather beyond the train windows was as patchy as it had been all summer; they passed through stretches of the chilling mist, then out into weak, clear sunlight. It was during one of the clear spells, when the sun was visible almost directly overhead, that Ron and Hermione entered the compartment.

“Wish the lunch trolley would hurry up, I’m starving,” said Ron longingly, slumping into the seat beside Harry and rubbing his stomach.

Before Harry could speculate on why Ron was suddenly deigning to sit with him, the compartment door slid open again. One of the Aurors stepped inside, handed a scroll to Harry and stepped out again, closing the door behind him. Harry broke the seal and unrolled the scroll to reveal the short message within.

Harry, you were right. It’s done. – Rufus.

Rufus?” said Ron in disbelief, reading the message over Harry’s shoulder. “As in Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister for Magic? Bloody hell, you’re on first-name terms are you? What’s he talking about then? What does he mean ‘it’s done’?”

In some distant part of Harry’s brain he felt a flash of irritation that Ron was reading his private mail so blatantly, but he couldn’t think about that right now. He rose woodenly from his seat and stepped to the window, staring sightlessly at the scenery outside. He felt numb.

“Harry?” Tonks asked in concern from behind him. “What is it?”

Fighting to control his emotions Harry turned around and handed her the scroll. She scanned it quickly and then grabbed him, pulling him into a fierce hug. Her display of sympathy was almost his undoing – he had to fight back the tears.

Hermione appeared over Tonks’ shoulder, standing just behind her.

“What is it Harry?” she enquired, her tone mirroring that of Tonks a few moments earlier.

Harry gave Tonks a firm squeeze of thanks, which made her face crease in barely-repressed pain. He mouthed, ‘Sorry’ to her, and then coughed self-consciously as they pulled apart.

“I need to talk to Luna,” he announced, ignoring Hermione and making eye contact with the peculiar blonde girl instead. Luna’s mildly curious expression instantly morphed into one of surprised bafflement. She turned her head sideways, as if looking at him that way would clarify matters.

Harry wondered why he’d never paid more attention to Luna. She was a little strange, it was true, but she was also honest and loyal. There was no deceit or guile in her – what you saw was what you got. After his friends’ treachery over the summer, Luna’s artless sincerity suddenly seemed like a rare and precious thing. No matter what the circumstances, he just couldn’t imagine Luna betraying him. Given the choice between an odd but true friend like Luna and normal but fair-weather friends like... well, pretty much everyone else at Hogwarts... why didn’t anyone choose Luna? It was simply because she was different, and people feared that they’d be mocked for being friends with her. To a lesser extent the same applied to Neville – he was seen as low-value, so his friends were low-value by association. Well, that was bullshit, Harry decided. Luna and Neville were much better people than those who looked down on them. It was time for Harry to make that clear, and his failure to do so before now shamed him.

“Would you join me outside for a moment Luna?” he asked warmly, offering his hand.

With a puzzled but delighted smile, she placed her hand in his and stood. She had very cool and soft skin, Harry noticed. He slid the door open and stepped out, pulling Luna into the corridor. The two Aurors moved aside to give them room, blocking the passageway in both directions and glaring at anyone who got too close.  Harry slid the door firmly shut behind Luna and began speaking to her in hushed tones.

Over Luna’s shoulder he could see that Ron and Hermione were both burning with curiosity, while Tonks perched on the edge of the window frame smirking. For a good ten minutes Harry and Luna huddled in the corridor whispering, by which time a significant crowd of students had gathered behind each of the Aurors, waiting to pass. Rather than give up and return from whence they came, the nosey buggers milled around staring openly at Harry and Luna, straining in vain to hear what was being said.

When Harry and Luna finally re-entered the compartment, he noted that Hermione had resumed her seat. She sat with slumped shoulders and a resigned look about her. But Ron was pacing, clearly annoyed. Harry found Ron's behaviour thoroughly mystifying.

“What the hell was all that about?” the angry redhead demanded.

“Oh, Harry was just giving the Quibbler another exclusive,” Luna replied with an ethereal smile. “You can read all about it in tomorrow’s Special Edition.”

Before Ron could react, the compartment door flew open again and the Aurors allowed a breathless third-year girl to step inside.

“I’m supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and Harry P-Potter,” she faltered, as her eyes met Harry’s and she turned scarlet. She was holding out two scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon.

Perplexed, Harry and Neville took the scroll addressed to each of them and the girl stumbled back out of the compartment, eying Harry in wide-eyed wonder. At Harry’s weak attempt at a smile she made a startled, “Eep” noise and bolted.

“What is it now?” Ron fumed, as Harry unrolled his scroll.

“An invitation,” said Harry, puzzled that Ron was now taking such an interest in his affairs. The note read:

Harry, I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C.
Sincerely, Professor H.E.F. Slughorn

“Who’s Professor Slughorn?” asked Neville, looking perplexedly at his own invitation.

“New teacher,” said Harry distractedly. “I suppose we’d better go, hadn’t we?” he added, relieved to have an excuse to get away from Ron.

“But what does he want me for?” asked Neville nervously, as though he were expecting a detention.

“No idea,” said Harry, which was not entirely true, though he had no proof yet that his hunch was correct.

They soon discovered that the corridors were packed with people on the lookout for the lunch trolley. The staring seemed to have increased in intensity yet again, with students literally hurtling out of their compartments to get a better look at Harry. The only exception was Cho Chang, who darted into her compartment when she saw Harry coming. He saw her deep in determined conversation with her friend Marietta as he passed her door. Marietta was wearing a very thick layer of makeup that did not entirely obscure the pimples etched across her face spelling out the word ‘sneak’.

With a dismissive snort, Harry pushed on.

When they reached compartment C (which actually comprised the final three compartments of the last carriage at the rear of the train) they saw at once that they were not Slughorn’s only invitees, although judging by the enthusiasm of Slughorn’s welcome, Harry was the most warmly anticipated.

“Harry, m’boy!” said Slughorn, jumping up and only hesitating momentarily at the sight of the three Aurors accompanying him. “Good to see you, good to see you! And you must be Mr Longbottom!”

Neville nodded, looking scared. At a gesture from Slughorn, they sat down opposite each other in the only two empty seats at the rectangular table, which were nearest the door. One of the Aurors took up position outside the door while the other stood inside, glaring at everyone. Tonks strolled casually to the other end of the compartment, eying everyone menacingly and toying with her wand.

Harry glanced around at their fellow guests. He recognised a Slytherin from his year, two seventh-year boys he didn’t know and, squashed in the corner beside Slughorn looking as though she was not entirely sure how she had got there, was Ginny.

Slughorn introduced the Slytherin as Blaise Zabini and the other two as Cormac McLaggen and Marcus Belby. It soon transpired that Harry’s hunch had been correct – they were here so Slughorn could assess their value as networking contacts. Belby’s uncle held an Order of Merlin and had invented the Wolfsbane Potion. Sadly, Belby’s uncle and father didn’t get along, so Belby failed the test. McLaggen and Zabini seemed well connected, but Neville failed to impress.

“And now,” said Slughorn, shifting massively in his seat with the air of a compère introducing his star act. “Harry Potter! Where to begin? I feel I barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer!”

That comment raised a few eyebrows around the table, but neither Harry nor Slughorn felt inclined to explain. The rotund professor contemplated Harry for a moment as though he were a particularly large and succulent piece of pheasant, and then said, “The ‘Chosen One’, they’re calling you now!”

Harry acknowledged the statement with a nod, but otherwise remained silent. Belby, McLaggen and Zabini were all staring at him, appraising his response. Harry chose to remain enigmatic for the moment.

“Of course,” said Slughorn, watching Harry closely, “there have been rumours for years... I remember when – well – after that terrible night with Lily and James – but you survived – and the word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary...”

Zabini gave a tiny little cough that was clearly supposed to indicate amused scepticism. Had he been absent from the Slytherin carriage when Harry took down three of his housemates? Harry didn’t recall seeing him there.

An angry voice burst out from behind Slughorn. “Yeah Zabini because you’re so talented... at posing!

“Oh dear!” chuckled Slughorn amiably, glancing towards Ginny who was glaring at Zabini around Slughorn’s great belly. “You want to be careful, Blaise! I saw this young lady perform the most marvellous Bat-Bogey Hex as I was passing her carriage! I wouldn’t cross her!”

Zabini gave Ginny a contemptuous sniff and looked away as if she were beneath his notice.

“Anyway,” said Slughorn, turning back to Harry. “Such rumours this summer. And then of course there was your extraordinary Press Conference with Rufus – stirring stuff, Harry, very stirring!” He trailed off as if it was obvious to anyone that Harry would want to take up the story.

“Thank you Horace... Oh sorry, I mean Professor Slughorn.” Harry and Slughorn both smiled at each other obsequiously. “Yes, Rufus and I were very happy with how it was received. It’s a tricky business you know, announcing something like that.”

Slughorn was beside himself with delight at Harry’s response, “Oh yes, naturally! Delicate! Most delicate! But even then one doesn’t know what to believe – the Prophet has been known to print inaccuracies, make mistakes – but there seems little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was quite a disturbance at the Ministry last June, and that you were right there in the thick of it!”

“Not just me Professor,” Harry corrected, whilst also confirming Slughorn’s suspicions. “Six of us fought off twelve Death Eaters inside the Department of Mysteries. Ginny here cast a Reductor so powerful that it destroyed half the Hall of Prophecy. Unfortunately she got hit by a Reductor herself that broke her ankle. Neville disarmed Rabastan Lestrange, but Antonin Dolohov snapped Neville’s wand and broke his nose. Neville was captured and Bellatrix Lestrange tortured him with the Cruciatus Curse, but he still managed to escape, rescue the unconscious Hermione Granger, carry her to safety and stab Walden Macnair in the eye with the remains of his wand.”

Everyone around the table looked shocked, including Neville who’d obviously never thought about how impressive his actions had been. Slughorn stared at him with new appreciation.

“We held them for long enough that reinforcements could arrive,” Harry continued, “Eleven Death Eaters were captured, but Bellatrix Lestrange fled. I chased her through the Ministry and fought her in the Atrium. Then he arrived.”

Slughorn, who’d been hanging on Harry’s every word, visibly paled.

Harry chose his next words carefully. He certainly didn’t want to advertise the fact that he’d been lying on the floor while Dumbledore did all the fighting. That wouldn’t help his cause at all. In Harry’s defence he had been possessed for most of it, and he had eventually managed to fight off Voldemort’s mental attack, but still... it would be best to gloss over those details.

“I can’t talk about what happened next, Professor. I hope you understand. Suffice to say that Dumbledore and I drove him away, taking Bellatrix with him. But more importantly, I learned something during that fight – something very important. I learned his weakness.”

Harry leaned forwards to emphasise his next words, looking the professor right in the eye, “I learned how to defeat him.

Slughorn swallowed heavily and whispered urgently, “You can defeat him Harry? You’re sure?

“Oh yes Professor,” Harry replied evenly, “quite sure.”

Harry was seriously overselling this of course. He knew that thinking about his love for his parents and Sirius had hurt Voldemort, which was definitely something, but that knowledge didn’t in itself offer an obvious way to permanently kill the madman. But what Harry did know was that his partnership with the Minister would make the task more manageable. He might not have nailed-down the details, but Harry was certain that Voldemort could be defeated. Once the crazed lunatic been stripped of his supporters, Harry had every confidence someone would be able to deprive him of a body. Once Voldemort was a harmless phantom again they’d be able to figure out how to kill him permanently at their leisure. That realisation had come to him later, but claiming that Harry had been overcome by some great revelation while fighting Voldemort made a much better story – one that would be spreading through Slughorn’s network as soon as they reached Hogwarts.

The professor slumped back in his chair. It looked like he’d got a lot more than he bargained for from this conversation. So did everyone else. Zabini’s arrogance had turned to uncertainty. Belby and McLaggen looked aghast. Even Ginny was staring at Harry oddly. Had even Ginny believed the nonsense he’d just been spouting?

“You were both there too, were you?” said Slughorn, looking intently from Ginny to Neville.

“That’s right,” said Ginny firmly. “Neville and I were both there. Everything Harry said is true.”

Merlin’s beard, Harry!” said Slughorn, suddenly animated again. “None of that was in The Prophet!” He beamed at Harry in a way that suggested that Harry had more than passed the test. “Of course I remember dear Gwenog telling me – Gwenog Jones, I mean, of course, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies...”

The jolly professor meandered off into a long-winded reminiscence that was clearly intended to change the subject and lighten the mood. The afternoon wore on with more anecdotes about illustrious wizards Slughorn had taught, all of whom had been delighted to join what he called the ‘Slug Club’ at Hogwarts. Harry was only half listening. His attention was split between the delicious finger food (a plate of which he also passed to Tonks) and anger at the fact that he (or rather, Tonks) had been attacked before they even got to Hogwarts.

Finally the train emerged from yet another long misty stretch into a red sunset, and Slughorn looked around, blinking in the twilight.

“Good gracious, it’s getting dark already! I didn’t notice that they’d lit the lamps! You’d better go and change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book on Nogtails. Harry, Blaise, Neville – any time you’re passing. Same goes for you, miss,” he twinkled at Ginny. Slughorn had said that Harry’s mother had been one of his favourites. Harry wondered if Slughorn had a thing for pretty redheads. “Well, off you go, off you go!”

As everyone made for the door, the Auror stepped forward menacingly. They all came to a halt except for Harry, who left the room first, followed by Tonks. Once they were clear the Auror turned to follow, keeping the other guests well back.

Behind him, Ginny shouted, “Harry, wait for me! Where are you going?”

“Can’t stop, got a hot date!” he shouted back.

Tonks raised an eyebrow.

“Not really,” Harry told her, “but I have a rep to maintain.”

“I’m pretty sure you don’t have a rep,” she replied. “Not one you’d want to maintain, anyway.”

“Yes well... it’s time I did then.”

They trooped back down the train towards the compartment that Harry had spotted Romilda Vane in earlier. He slid the door open and the six girls inside fell into a shocked silence.

“Hi Rominda,” Harry greeted the dark-haired girl, “mind if I join you?”

Harry and Tonks stepped inside without waiting for a reply. The two Aurors took up their posts either side of the door.

Romilda recovered her composure quickly and beamed at him, “Harry! Come and sit by me.”

She patted the gap next to her, which was all of about four inches wide. Romilda hissed at the other two girls until they moved up to make room. Harry squeezed into the gap, with Romilda crushed up against him on one side and a blushing brunette on the other. Tonks made no attempt to sit. She just stood by the door looking bored.

“Who’s she, Harry?” Romilda asked, flicking her head disapprovingly in Tonks’ direction.

“Oh that’s my bodyguard. Her name is Tonks.”

“You have a bodyguard?” said one of the girls opposite.

“Yeah, Rufus... er, I mean the Minister for Magic, insisted on it.”

Romilda eyed Tonks haughtily, “Isn’t she a bit young to be a bodyguard?”

Tonks rolled her eyes, “I think I’ll go wait outside, Mr Potter. I assume you’ll be okay alone with these um... delightful young ladies?”

“Er, yeah I think so. Thank you, Tonks.”

Tonks stepped outside and slid the door closed. As soon as she was gone, Romilda said, “She’s very pretty, Harry.”

Harry grinned, “She is, isn’t she? Did you see the other two? Imagine if I’d got one of them as a bodyguard! Yikes!”

The girls tittered as if he’d said the funniest thing ever.

“Is it true that you killed three Slytherins on the train earlier?” one of the girls whispered in horrified awe.

Harry snorted, “Do I look like the sort of person who goes around killing Slytherins on trains?”

“Yes,” replied all six girls in unison.

“Well I didn’t kill them,” Harry replied, unsure how to take that response, “I just roughed them up a bit.”

“I heard that you ripped one boy’s arm off and beat him over the head with it,” squealed one girl in horrified glee.

“No you’re an animagus!” insisted another. “You can transform into a lion and leap the entire length of the carriage.”

“And you saved two Slytherin girls from certain death,” cried a third, “so now they have to be your sex-slaves until the Life Debt is repaid!”

Harry burst out laughing, “None of that happened! Except the sex-slave thing... that’s totally true.”

All six girls shrieked in scandalised delight. Why they would find that so entertaining Harry had no idea.

Romilda latched onto his arm, “You’re so brave, Harry. You’re always rescuing damsels in distress. The year before we came to Hogwarts when the Chamber of Secrets was opened, we heard that you went into the Chamber on your own to rescue a girl who’d been kidnapped by the Heir, and that you fought Slytherin’s monster single-handed. Is that true?”

Harry smiled, “You know, there are lots of crazy rumours about me... but that one is actually true, yeah.”

The girls demanded to hear the tale in full, and proceeded to scream and gasp in a wildly overdramatic fashion through the entire story. Romilda alternated between squeezing Harry’s arm in mock terror, and stroking it saying, “Oh you poor thing!”

When he got to the part where he’d been bitten by the Basilisk and was dying from the venom, they all shrieked and put their hands to their mouths. He rolled up his sleeve to show them the scar where the basilisk fang had pierced his arm. They all crowded round and insisted on touching it (along with most of the rest of his arm, it seemed to Harry).

Eventually he continued the story. When he told them about being healed and the phoenix carrying him and the girl (who he was careful not to name) to safety, his audience all put their hands to their chests and sighed wistfully.

One of them – a pretty blonde girl – whispered breathlessly, “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard...”

How anyone could think it was romantic to be almost eaten by a giant snake Harry wasn’t sure, but that’s girls for you – Tonks was the only one he’d ever met that wasn’t at least slightly bonkers.

He felt the train starting to slow down, “I better get going. It was a pleasure to meet you all.”

Romilda held onto his arm and asked urgently, “Harry is it true that you’re not dating Hermione Granger anymore?”

Harry hung his head in mock sorrow, “I can confirm that Hermione Granger and I are not currently dating.”

Romilda twirled her hair round her finger and batted her eyelids, “I’m so sorry to hear that. But if you ever need a shoulder to cry on...”

“Thank you Romilda,” Harry replied, heading quickly for the exit, “you’re very kind.”

The compartment exploded in excited whispering before Harry had even closed the door.

Chapter 32: Snape Thwarted

Notes:

I know that some of you are waiting for the seemingly inevitable confrontation between Harry and Dumbledore, but we have the Welcome Feast first. Since that finishes quite late Dumbledore is unlikely to speak to Harry today...

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Harry was once again grateful for the presence of the Aurors as he made his way back to Neville and Luna’s compartment. The narrow corridor was crowded with students preparing to depart the train, but they rushed hastily back into their compartments as the Aurors bellowed at them.

“Step aside!” the lead Auror barked. “Coming through! Clear the corridor!”

The Aurors were being extra surly now. Having failed to anticipate an attack in the prefect carriage, and failed to do so again in the Slytherin carriage, they clearly weren’t taking any chances now. Harry suspected that they’d forgotten how vicious Hogwarts students could be, and hadn’t taken the threat that a bunch of children might pose very seriously. But seventh years could do a lot of damage, and some of the darker ones had clearly been taught some very dangerous curses by their parents. His guards had also discovered that even a fully trained Auror can be taken down by a student if they don’t see the attack coming.

Perhaps it had even occurred to them that if any of the three attackers had used the Killing Curse, then Harry’s shield would have been useless and he, Tonks and the two Aurors would most likely be dead now. Fortunately none of the attackers knew how to cast it, or they were too afraid to do so. That piece of good fortune was all that had saved Harry and his escort from death. Well, that and Harry’s quick thinking, which probably rubbed further salt in the wound of their failure – to almost die at the hands of three teenagers, only to be saved by another, must smart something fierce. Scrimgeour would probably have quite a lot to say about it when he heard too.

It was no surprise, therefore, that the Aurors were being a lot more cautious now. Any student who was too slow to clear the corridor found themselves flailing in mid air as the lead Auror levitated them into the nearest compartment and slammed the door shut behind them. Judging by the subsequent rattling, he was also locking all the doors for good measure. Meanwhile, the Auror at the rear of their group was walking backwards to prevent any more surprise attacks. To Harry this rather smacked of ‘closing the barn door after the horse had bolted’, but at least they were making rapid progress through the train.

Harry had hardly stepped inside his friends’ compartment before Hermione rounded on him, standing with her hands on her hips in that way women do when you may or may not be in big trouble.

“Harry, why am I hearing rumours that you’re engaged to the Carrow Twins?”

Huh?” replied Harry in confusion. “Who are the Carrow twins?”

“A couple of seventh year Slytherin girls,” replied Hermione impatiently. “Flora and Hestia Carrow: brunette, petite, pretty. Apparently you won them in a duel or something.”

Harry paled, “Are you serious? Is that really a thing?”

“It can be yeah,” replied Neville. “It’s a very old-fashioned custom that only the most ancient pureblood families bother with, but if a girl has a Marriage Contract with a boy and you defeat that boy in a duel, you win the girl by Right of Conquest.”

Harry’s legs went weak.

“But Harry hasn’t challenged anyone to a duel, have you Harry?” Hermione replied in confused irritation.

“No of course not,” Harry confirmed. “Well... I mean... not really. I mean... well, I suppose I might have... kind of.”

“Harry, stop waffling!” Hermione squawked. “Did you or didn’t you?”

“I didn’t intend to...” Harry muttered worriedly, “but I suppose my words could be taken that way...”

“That’s outrageous!” Hermione howled. “Even if you did challenge someone, women aren’t property to be given away! And you certainly can’t be engaged to two people at once!

“Erm... actually you can,” Neville corrected her helpfully. “If Harry challenged two boys who each had a Marriage Contract to one of the twins, and he won both duels, he could theoretically end up engaged to both of them. It’s very unusual but it is possible...”

Harry dropped numbly onto a bench and put his head in his hands, “Oh my God, I’m engaged! To two Slytherin girls I’ve never even met!”

What the hell was he going to do? He was far too young to be engaged, never mind to a couple of complete strangers! Slytherin strangers! They’d probably murder him in his sleep!

Across the aisle, Luna was still engrossed in her copy of The Quibbler. She lowered it to look at him.

“Neville’s pulling your leg Harry,” she said in her sing-song voice. “There’s no such thing as Marriage Contracts or Rights of Conquest.”

For the briefest of moments there was complete silence, and then Neville burst out laughing.

“Sorry Harry, I couldn’t resist!”

Harry stared at him in disbelief, struggling to process what was happening, “So I’m not engaged?”

“Well there is a rumour going round to that effect...” Neville replied, chuckling merrily. “But no. No, you’re fine.”

Harry glanced around the room. Hermione was as surprised as he was, but Ron was sniggering and behind him Tonks was literally doubled up with silent laughter, clutching at her sides. A wave of the most profound relief swept over Harry. He shook his head incredulously.

“I can’t believe you did that to me! I nearly had a heart attack!”

“I know,” roared Neville, “it was hilarious!”

Harry tried to be angry, but a snort of laughter burst free instead. It was rather funny, now that he thought about it.

“Bloody hell Neville, you got me there! You got me good!”

Pretty soon everyone was laughing. Everyone except Hermione, that is, who didn’t seem to think it was funny at all.

- § -

As soon as the train came to a stop, one Auror stepped out onto the platform, closely followed by Tonks and then Harry. Further up the train students were pouring out, but the platform near Harry remained empty. Once the crowds up ahead began to clear he was escorted along the empty platform by four Aurors while a fifth went through the train freeing the remaining students from all the locked compartments. Neville, Luna, Hermione and Ron trailed along in his wake, though only Ron looked disgruntled about it.

Harry and Tonks climbed into a Thestral-drawn carriage followed by the others. Two Aurors stood on the runners outside the doors, holding onto the luggage rack above. There were two more Aurors attached to the carriage in front and one behind.

Harry whispered in Tonks’ ear, “What are their names? I can’t keep calling them Gruff Auror Number One and Gruff Auror Number Two in my head.”

Tonks pointed, “That’s Proudfoot and the other’s Savage. I don’t know the two in front, but the one behind is Dawlish.”

“Dawlish... the Auror that Dumbledore attacked last year?”

“That’s right. Best to steer clear of him, I’m not sure he can be trusted. He’s quite capable but he seems altogether too willing to follow immoral orders.”

“Like when he tried to arrest Hagrid and stunned McGonagall?”

“Exactly.”

“So there are six of you in total?”

“Yep, we’ve been stationed at Hogwarts to provide protection to you and the School. Dumbledore argued for us to be housed in Hogsmeade but the Minister said that was idiotic. Given his increasing popularity with the people, and yours, the School Board backed the Minister. Scrimgeour also has virtually unlimited powers under the Declaration of Martial Law, and last year Fudge set a firm precedent for the Ministry to control Hogwarts so Dumbledore’s objections were just swept aside.”

Hermione had clearly been listening in, “So you’re staying on as Harry’s bodyguard?”

“Of course,” Tonks replied. “As we discovered on the train, Hogwarts is not a safe place for Harry.”

For some reason that news made Hermione deflate slightly.

Before Harry could investigate, Luna interjected. She was still wearing her Spectrespecs and was staring at Harry curiously.

“How did you get rid of your Wrackspurts, Harry?”

“Er... what?”

“Wrackspurts... they float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy,” she said. “I used to sense them all around you, but now they’re gone.” Harry was trying to figure out what to say to that when she continued. “Did you give them to Hermione? She’s positively infested.”

“I’m AM NOT INFESTED,” Hermione shrieked indignantly, “with anything! Anyway, there’s no such thing as Wrackspurts.”

“Well they’re usually invisible, but you can see them with these Spectrespecs,” Luna said, removing the odd-looking things and offering them to Harry.

With a mental shrug, Harry took the glasses. It would have been rude not to really, and Luna was his friend now. He didn’t want to insult her, no matter how bonkers she might be. With a bemused smile he put them on and looked at Hermione. At first all he saw was a weird kaleidoscope effect, but then...

Whoa!

In the dark twilight of the tree-shrouded lane, Hermione’s head was surrounded by a cloud of microscopic multicoloured specks, swarming around her like tiny incandescent mosquitoes.

“Holy crap Hermione, you are infested!”

Hermione folded her arms and glared at him, “Very funny, Harry.”

“No seriously!” He looked around everyone else. Luna didn’t have any, Tonks had a few, Ron, Neville and the two Aurors had quite a lot, but Hermione was the worst by far. He handed the specs to Tonks, “Take a look.”

Tonks put them on and looked at Hermione. “Gah! What the hell? What are those things?”

Hermione turned away from them in a huff, “You two are hilarious.”

When Neville and Ron had similar reactions, Hermione got really angry. She refused to try on the specs and sat in a furious silence for the rest of the journey.

- § -

As they approached the castle, Harry saw that there was a queue to enter.

“New security precautions,” said Tonks. “Everyone has to be scanned with a Secrecy Sensor.”

Sure enough, Filch was running a weird-looking device up and down everyone, front and back. It looked like Crabbe had already been pulled to one side. Flitwick was holding a shrunken head and speaking to Crabbe rather sternly.

They were eventually cleared by Filch, with a rather disappointed grunt. Harry walked into the Great Hall chatting with Tonks at his side. Proudfoot and Savage took up positions either side of the door, and the other three Aurors began patrolling the Entrance Hall. Harry and Tonks headed towards the Gryffindor table, but in the corner of his eye, Harry saw someone move to intercept them. It was only when Harry looked up that he recognised, with a rush of pure hatred, the hooked nose and long, black, greasy hair of Severus Snape.

“Well, well, well,” Snape drawled, giving Harry and Tonks’ uniforms the once-over. “Thought you’d make an entrance did you Potter?”

Harry had loathed Snape from their first encounter, but Snape had placed himself for ever and irrevocably beyond the possibility of Harry’s forgiveness by his attitude towards Sirius. No matter what Dumbledore said, Harry had had time to think over the summer, and had concluded that Snape’s snide remarks to Sirius about remaining safely hidden while the rest of the Order were fighting Voldemort had probably been a powerful factor in Sirius rushing off to the Ministry the night that he had died.

Also, as a marked Death Eater, Snape was undoubtedly a murderer. Dumbledore might be happy to consort with murders but Harry was not. He saw no difference between Snape and any other Death Eater. Snape had just been more devious than most, by claiming to be Dumbledore’s spy. Maybe he was, but he’d tried to persuade Fudge to give Sirius the Dementor’s Kiss, so he was certainly not on Harry’s side. Dumbledore might not care about that, but Harry did. Snape had tried to murder Sirius and had eventually goaded him into getting himself killed, so Snape might be Dumbledore’s friend, but he was most definitely Harry’s enemy.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor for being out of uniform Potter, another thirty for bringing an unauthorised guest to the Welcome Feast, and fifty each for the three Slytherin students you assaulted on the train,” said Snape, “plus detention every night for the entire first term if my efforts to get you expelled are unsuccessful. You know, I don’t believe any house has ever been in negative figures this early in the term – we haven’t even started The Sorting. You have set a new record, Potter.”

Harry looked over to McGonagall, who was shepherding students into the Hall a short distance away. She was within earshot but made no attempt to intervene, as usual. McGonagall was the Deputy Headmistress and hence Snape’s superior, but despite that (or possibly because of it) she never lifted a finger against Snape. She was easily the least supportive Head of House, despite being a Gryffindor and hence the one that should stand up for justice the most. Where was her Gryffindor spirit?

Fortunately Harry didn’t need her support any more. Beside him, Tonks pulled a parchment from inside her robes – the one that had arrived by owl as Harry and Tonks chatted in the garden at the Burrow earlier that morning.

In a loud booming voice that drowned-out the chattering students around them, Tonks began to read:

SEVERUS SNAPE

By Order of the Minister for Magic
You are hereby issued with a
RESTRAINING AND NON-HARASSMENT ORDER
in regard to Harry Potter, otherwise known as ‘the Chosen One’.

You will not speak to Mr Potter.
You will not in any way harass Mr Potter.
You will not approach within thirty feet of Mr Potter.

Any violation of this Order will result in your immediate arrest and imprisonment.
In light of your history, specifically your possession of the Dark Mark,
Aurors are authorised to use lethal force against you if necessary.

For the first time since Harry had the misfortune to meet him, Snape was completely at a loss for words. His mouth hung open, giving him such a gormless expression that Harry almost laughed. A silence had fallen over the students nearby, who were similarly open-mouthed at what they’d just heard. A wave of frantic whispering erupted and spread outwards like ripples on a pond. Harry also couldn’t help noticing that Snape’s eye had twitched at the phrase ‘Chosen One’.

Tonks rolled up the parchment and put it back in her pocket. She continued in a confident and officious voice.

“I am authorised to be here by the Minister for Magic, Professor Snape. I am Harry's bodyguard not his guest. Harry’s attire is also authorised by the Minister, for his protection. Three Aurors witnessed the attack on the train, including myself, and will happily give evidence that Harry acted in self-defence. I therefore suggest that you retract your unjustified point deduction, since that would constitute harassment and hence a breach of this Order. I also suggest that you retract your defence of the Slytherins who attacked us, which could be construed as support for the organisation known as the Death Eaters and is punishable by automatic imprisonment in Azkaban. Finally, you must immediately withdraw thirty feet from the Chosen One, or I will place you under arrest. You have ten seconds to comply. Ten... Nine...”

Harry suspected that Tonks had called him the Chosen One on purpose. When Snape twitched again she’d barely repressed a smirk.

The other five Aurors started walking towards them while Tonks continued her countdown, “Eight... Seven...”

Students scattered in all directions – into the Great Hall and back into the Entrance Hall towards the Main Doors, pushing others back so that a large space opened up around Harry, Tonks and Snape.

Tonks and Harry slowly drew their wands. “Six... Five...”

Snape looked enraged, and was clearly about to go for his wand when he noticed the other five Aurors closing in with their wands drawn. They moved to surround him with looks of grim satisfaction on their faces. The atmosphere grew rapidly tense.

Harry prepared to cast a spell. The end of his wand began to glow emerald green in anticipation. Snape’s eyes widened.

At the far end of the Hall, the Headmaster lifted himself from his throne-like chair. His voice echoed clearly down the Hall, “Severus!

Snape glared daggers at Harry.

Harry smiled back at him coldly, “Give me a reason, Death Eater. I dare you...”

Snape seethed with barely controlled fury, but there were now seven wands on him.

The Headmaster’s voice echoed through the Hall once again, more forcefully this time, “SEVERUS!

With a violent swish of his robes Snape whirled around and stalked off towards the Headmaster. Seven wands followed him up the Hall, and then slowly lowered. The green glow on Harry’s wand faded and went out.

Harry nodded to the Aurors, “Thank you, Gentlemen. Much appreciated.”

The Aurors nodded back and returned to their stations.

Harry grinned at Tonks, “That was fun.”

Tonks snorted, “I’ve wanted to punch that git in the face for years. That was almost as good.”

“Yeah, well... it’s not over yet,” Harry replied, stowing his wand. “Snape and I are far from done.”

They resumed their journey to the Gryffindor table.

“I think we’ll have to stop using that ‘ten seconds to comply’ line,” Harry noted wryly, “it’s starting to sound a bit cliché.”

“It wouldn’t if you hadn’t nicked it off me!” Tonks shot back.

“But it was such a good line...”

“I know it was! I was very proud of that line. I should sue you for Breach of Copyright.”

Harry looked contrite, “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

Tonks wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, “Maybe later...”

A ruckus at the High Table drew their attention. Dumbledore seemed to be having some difficulty calming a furiously gesticulating Snape. Harry and Tonks both grinned smugly.

Harry hadn’t even sat down before Hermione exploded, “Harry! Were you about to cast the Killing Curse?

“Well,” replied Harry calmly, “we’ll never know, will we? Maybe it was just a green lumos. Or maybe I was about to consign that murdering Death Eater to the grave... hard to tell.”

Several emotions flashed across Hermione’s face before she settled on flustered disapproval.

Ron and Hermione seemed to have saved him a spot between them, but Harry took the space between Ginny and Neville instead. He had no desire to be that close to Ron or Hermione. Tonks sat opposite him, next to Hermione, and scrutinised the students around them suspiciously. Dean was sitting the other side of Ginny, and Harry had little desire to speak to either of them to be honest, especially after Ginny had dismissed him on the train. So he turned to face Neville, effectively cutting Ginny out of the group. Harry was tired of people treating him like he was disposable, and then expecting him to be there when they didn’t have any better offers. From now on they’d get the cold shoulder. Quite literally, in this case.

Hermione suddenly looked like she was fit to burst, “Harry! Don’t you realise what that Restraining Order means? If Snape can’t come near you, then you can’t attend his Defence classes. If you don’t take Defence you can’t become an Auror!”

“Easy there Hermione,” responded Harry coolly, “don’t get your skimpy white knickers in a twist.” Hermione gaped, and then blushed furiously at his reminder of Tonks holding up her knickers at the Burrow... and the events that followed. “You do tend to think in very linear terms you know,” Harry continued. “I used to do the same thing, or not think at all... But that was the old Harry. The new Harry plans ahead and thinks outside the box. There’s no way I’m taking Defence if that slime-ball is teaching it. I’d already decided to drop it. Anyway, Scrimgeour will happily let me become an Auror without a NEWT in Defence.”

“But what about Dumbledore,” Hermione replied. “He’ll never let you drop Defence!”

“I wasn’t planning to ask his permission,” Harry shot back. “Anyway, are you sure about that? He did say he’d be giving me private lessons this year...”

Harry very much doubted that Dumbledore would be giving him Defence lessons, but he knew it would shut Hermione up.

“Oh yes. Yes of course!” She fell into a thoughtful silence, and then asked, “So what did Professor Slughorn want on the train?”

“To know what really happened at the Ministry,” said Harry.

“Him and everyone else here,” sniffed Hermione. “People were interrogating us about it on the train, weren’t they, Ron?”

“Yeah,” said Ron, chewing on a Liquorice Wand to keep him going until the feast started. “All wanting to know what happened. We told them to mind their own business.”

Once again, Harry was puzzled that Ron was suddenly talking to him. The moody redhead had spent all summer ignoring him and making snide remarks, but now they were best buddies again? No thanks! Harry could do without friends like that. Ron was selfish, jealous, petty and unreliable. He’d let Harry down too many times. He was also a glory hound, Harry realised, but he was too lazy to actually work for it. Was that why he was acting like Harry’s best mate again? Was he trying to big himself up via Harry’s reflected fame?

Ron had fought at the Department of Mysteries, but his role was hardly the stuff of legends. He’d taken a Jelly-Brain Jinx right at the start and was basically a drooling idiot for the rest of the fight. His contribution wouldn’t impress anyone. No wonder he didn’t want to brag about it!

Harry decided to test his theory, “Oh, feel free to tell people what happened, Ron. I’m going to. What’s the point of keeping it to ourselves? That just helps the Death Eaters maintain their mystique of invincibility. But they’re not invincible and we should say so. In fact, I might do another interview and give the whole story to the Prophet.”

Ron choked on his Liquorice Wand. Hermione had to slap him hard on the back. “The Prophet?” Ron gasped eventually. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, mate. We don’t want to er... scare people, do we? Better to leave it all a bit... vague, I reckon. Just the gist, you know – nothing specific.”

Harry almost laughed out loud. His theory was very much confirmed. But it wasn't really a laughing matter. Harry had faced Death Eaters several times, but always soldiered on. Ron, Hermione and Ginny had faced them for the first time in the Department of Mysteries. What was their response? They talked about it behind Harry’s back, decided that they should leave the adults to it, and didn’t even have the courage to tell him that. From what Hermione had said, Ron had been the ringleader on that decision. Ginny seemed more interested in boys than fighting Death Eaters, so it was no surprise that she went along with it, but Hermione was a surprise. It seemed her loyalty to Harry had collapsed in the hope of currying favour with Ron.

Harry pondered on Ron’s sudden change in behaviour, and a glimmer of understanding came to him. At the Burrow, Ron had nobody to impress – his family all thought he was a buffoon. Right or wrong, that’s how he was treated. Meanwhile, Harry was treated like visiting royalty. Add in Harry’s fame, money, and friendship with Fleur... and you had the perfect recipe for Ron to become a massively jealous prat. But as soon as they stepped onto the train, the dynamic changed completely. Ron now had people he could impress and Harry became a valuable asset once again. That was exactly what had happened after the first task of the Triwizard Tournament – as soon as Harry was a hero again, Ron was suddenly his best mate once more. Harry didn’t think Ron was doing it consciously, but subconsciously Ron was very much a ‘fair weather’ friend.

Harry had always forgiven Ron his betrayals in the past, and had formed the opinion that Ron was always there for him in the end. But that wasn’t true, he now realised. Ron was only here for him when it suited Ron. He’d always come back, but that was only because circumstances had changed, not because Ron had realised he was wrong. It wasn’t Ron’s loyalty that brought him back, it was his own self-interest. That was a huge problem for Harry, because there was no guarantee that Ron wouldn’t abandon him again when things got tough. In fact, when things got tough and Harry needed him the most, history suggested that Ron would definitely bail because (just like Remus Lupin) Ron was a quitter. Harry couldn’t afford to have someone like that in his team.

Harry’s attention switched to Hermione. At the Burrow he’d asked her why she’d changed... and she’d literally run away in tears. In the six weeks since then she hadn’t brought it up once. Harry had hoped and assumed that she’d go back to how she was before, or at least come and talk to him, but she hadn’t. Perhaps it was time to accept the fact that his Hermione was gone, and there was no place for this one on his team either?

Harry was saved from responding to Ron when Seamus Finnigan leaned forwards and glanced his way.

“Who’s your friend, Harry,” Seamus asked, indicating Tonks.

“Oh sorry, this is my bodyguard Tonks. Tonks, this is Seamus Finnigan, and that’s Dean Thomas. We share a dorm with Ron and Neville. I think you know everyone else.”

Tonks waved hello and the conversation turned to what it was like to be an Auror. Ron looked relieved at the change of subject.

Shortly after that the Hall was called to order and the Sorting Ceremony began. The Hat’s song was similar to the previous year, imploring students to be brave and strong in these troubled times. The feast was as tasty and plentiful as ever. Hagrid’s seat was empty but he turned up just before pudding and waved cheerfully at Harry.

As Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table, the talk and laughter echoing around the Hall quickly died away.

“The very best of evenings to you!” the Headmaster announced, smiling broadly with his arms open wide as though to embrace the whole room.

“What happened to his hand?” gasped Hermione.

She was not the only one who had noticed. Dumbledore’s right hand was as blackened and dead-looking as it had been on the night he had come to fetch Harry from Privet Drive. Whispers swept the room.

Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple and gold sleeve over his injury. “Nothing to worry about,” he said airily. “Now... to our new students, welcome! To our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you...”

“His hand was like that when I saw him over the summer,” Harry whispered. “I thought he’d have cured it by now, though... or Madam Pomfrey would’ve done.”

“It looks as if it’s died,” said Hermione, with a nauseated expression. “But there are some injuries you can’t cure... old curses... and there are poisons without antidotes...”

“... and Mr Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Those wishing to play for their house Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise.”

“We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn,” Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big waist-coated belly casting the table below into shadow, “is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master.”

“Professor Snape, meanwhile,” said Dumbledore, raising his voice so that it carried over all the muttering, “will be taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

Snape, who was sitting on Dumbledore’s right, did not stand up at the mention of his name. He merely raised a hand in lazy acknowledgement of the applause from the Slytherin table. Harry was sure he could detect a look of triumph on the man’s loathsome features. He wondered idly why Death Eaters got such a boner for teaching Defence – first Voldemort and now Snape. Harry had effectively held the position last year, and although it was quite satisfying, he wouldn’t say it was his life’s ambition. It was a bit tragic that it was for Snape. Most likely it was a power trip for the slimy git, an opportunity to show how superior he was. No wonder the man hated teaching potions – the only way to show how superior you were at Potions was to belittle everyone while they worked.

Harry felt Snape’s eyes on him and met his gaze. Snape’s look of triumph turned to barely concealed glee.

“Why’s Snape looking at you like that?” asked Ginny.

“He’s thinking that the Restraining Order has crushed my chances of becoming an Auror,” Harry replied without looking at her, “because I can’t take Defence now. Or possibly that I’ll get the Order rescinded and then he’ll make my life a living hell.”

With his eyes locked on Snape’s, Harry lifted his hand and scratched his cheek with his middle finger.

Just as it had when Tonks did it to Hermione, the effect was immediate and dramatic. Snape launched himself out of his chair, but Dumbledore’s hand on his sleeve stopped him. Snape glared murderously at Harry, and then slowly sat back down.

Ginny was incredulous, “Harry! Did you just give Snape the finger?

Harry feigned innocence extremely unconvincingly, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Hermione, predictably, was incensed, “Harry you didn’t!

Seamus spoke for all the boys though, “Nice one, Harry! Bloody brilliant!”

Notes:

In case nobody remembers, the chapter that corresponds to this one in HBP was called "Snape Victorious". :-)

If you like this story and haven't already done so, please hit the kudos button! That'll help draw new readers to my story, which will reward me for the many hours I put into writing it. By my calculations, of all the people who are reading every chapter of this story, only 1 in 8 has given it kudos. :-/ To those who've done it already (over 2,500 of you now)... THANK YOU! I love you guys. <3

While you wait for me to drop the next chapter, here’s another fanfic recommendation by the same author as the last one I recommended. Again, it’s not marked as complete, but it is actually complete. There are some typos and such but it’s worth the effort of powering through them. It’s an HP-Worm crossover, but you don’t need to have read Worm to enjoy it (I haven’t read Worm, for example) but there are spoilers so if you ever intend to read Worm you should read that before this: A Wand for Skitter by ShayneT.

Chapter 33: A Hufflepuff inside Gryffindor

Notes:

Apologies to those who are waiting eagerly for the Harry-Dumbledore showdown... that will happen in the next chapter, not this one.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Dumbledore cleared his throat. Harry and friends were not the only ones who had been talking; the entire Hall had erupted in a buzz of conversation at the news that Snape had finally achieved his heart’s desire. Seemingly oblivious to the sensational nature of the news he had just imparted, Dumbledore said nothing more about staff appointments, but waited a few seconds to ensure that the silence was absolute before continuing.

“Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength.” The silence seemed to tauten and strain as Dumbledore spoke. Harry was surprised nobody screamed or fainted like they did when he used Voldemort’s name. “I cannot emphasise strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle’s magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them – in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I also implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and each other’s safety.” Dumbledore’s blue eyes swept over the students before he smiled once more. “But now your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say goodnight. Pip pip!”

Harry scanned the students’ faces. “It wasn’t a classic speech, was it?” he quipped. “Not going to go down in the history books, that one.”

Hermione gave him a disapproving look, but everyone else chuckled. With the usual deafening scrapes, benches were pushed back and hundreds of students began to file out of the Great Hall towards their dormitories. Harry was in no hurry, so he lagged behind allowing most of the Gryffindors to depart before making his own exit. Hermione had darted ahead to fulfil her prefect’s duty of shepherding the first-years, but Ron remained.

“Don’t you have prefect duty, Ron?” Harry asked.

“Hermione can handle it,” Ron replied dismissively.

“Were you paying attention on the train Ron? Any prefect who fails to perform their duties adequately will be suspended. That includes you. Get going before I take your badge.”

Ron’s carefree expression turned to incredulity and then anger. With a glare he rose from his seat and stalked off.

“Harry!” boomed Hagrid as he rushed over. “Head Prefect, just like your Mum and Dad! They’d be right proud, Harry, right proud.”

Harry wondered what Hagrid would say if he knew that Harry had blackmailed Dumbledore into it. “Thanks, Hagrid. It’s nice to see my services to the school being recognised.”

“Too right, Harry! Can’t think of anyone better!”

“So why were you late?”

Harry had been a bit concerned that Dumbledore might have sent him on another ill-conceived mission to recruit the giants.

“I was with Grawp,” said Hagrid happily. “Los’ track o’ the time. He’s got a new home up in the mountains now, Dumbledore fixed it – nice big cave. He’s much happier than he was in the Forest. We were havin’ a good chat.”

“Really?” said Harry. The last time he had met Hagrid’s half-brother, a vicious giant with a talent for ripping up trees by the roots, his vocabulary had comprised five words, two of which he was unable to pronounce properly.

“Oh yeah, he’s really come on,” said Hagrid proudly. “Yeh’ll be amazed. I’m thinkin’ o’ trainin’ him up as me assistant.” They were now standing beside the oak front doors. “Anyway, I’ll see yeh tomorrow, firs’ lesson’s straight after lunch. Come early an’ yeh can say hello ter Buck— I mean, Witherwings!” Raising an arm in cheery farewell, he headed out of the front doors into the darkness.

Just as Harry and Tonks left the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall approached them. “Ah, Mr Potter. As you know, the Head Boy is entitled to his own quarters, if he so desires. Most choose to remain with their dorm mates, but the Head Boy rooms in Gryffindor Tower have been prepared in case you wish to use them. You will find them at the top of the boy’s dormitory turret, on the eighth floor.”

“The eighth floor... I thought there were only seven?”

The Deputy Headmistress gave him a withering look, “Normally there are only seven, Mr Potter. Miss Tonks, your colleagues can show you where the Auror accommodation is located.”

“Thank you Professor,” replied Tonks politely. McGonagall nodded curtly and stalked off.

“Will you be staying in the Auror quarters then?” asked Harry in concern as  they strolled back to Gryffindor Tower. He’d got used to having Tonks around and the thought of waking up without her filled him with dismay. The sex was amazing or course, but waking up without Tonks? That was unthinkable!

“Share a space with those slobs?” Tonks scoffed. “Not a chance! Anyway, they know I’ve been assigned to stick with you twenty-four hours a day. They think I’ll be disguised as a teenage boy sharing a dorm with you and Ron and the others.”

“Why would they think that?”

“Because that’s what I told them on the train while you were chatting up the jailbait.”

“Jailbait?”

“Those groupies who were squealing at your every word.”

“Groupies?”

“Good grief, Harry! Jailbait, groupies... you know – underage fangirls that follow their idol around in an attempt to shag him.”

“Oh right – Romilda Vane’s lot. They weren’t trying to shag me, Tonks. They just wanted to meet me.”

“Harry, Harry, Harry... you’re so clueless! It’s a good job I’m here. Of course they wanted to shag you. They’re fourth years! First years might want to just meet you. Second years would want to go on dates in Hogsmeade. Third years are probably a mix of half-and-half dates versus shag. But fourth years and up... they all just want to get straight into your pants, preferably as a stepping stone to becoming Mrs The-Chosen-One.”

Harry frowned. That couldn’t possibly be true, could it? Why on earth would they want to marry someone they’d never even spoken to?

Harry and Tonks arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady just as Hermione and a very disgruntled-looking Ron herded the first years into view. As usual they’d taken the simplest route, rather than the fastest, to avoid confusing the firsties. It was also the most scenic, so they were slowed down even further by the inevitable gawping.

Harry pointed, “Look at them. They’re so tiny! It’s hard to believe we were ever that small.”

As soon as the first years spotted Harry they instinctively bunched together and ground to a halt.

“Keep moving,” Hermione called out. “Don’t stop! It’s only Harry.”

Despite her encouragement the wide-eyed firsties just shuffled on the spot uncertainly.

Harry chuckled and walked over, causing them to back up against the wall with eyes the size of saucers. He dropped to one knee so he was closer to their height.

“Hi there, I’m Harry. Welcome to Gryffindor – the best House in Hogwarts!” Behind him Tonks snorted, but he ignored her. “Well, I think so, anyway, but I suppose I might be biased.” A couple of the little ones smiled hesitantly. “I’m the Head Boy this year, so if you have any problems just let me know and I’ll sort it out, okay? Or tell Hermione and she can tell me. It’s our job to look after you. Gryffindor is your family while you’re at Hogwarts so think of us as your big brothers and sisters okay?” Most of them still looked terrified, but a few nodded. “Right, off you go. You’re probably exhausted. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow on my first night.”

Hermione cajoled them towards the Fat Lady and gave the password. The portrait swung open and Harry waited while they all clambered inside. Once the last one was safely through, he followed eagerly. As soon as he emerged into the Common Room he smiled in contentment. It was as comfortable and welcoming as ever.

“Whoa!” gasped Tonks as she stepped through.

Harry turned to look at her, “Oh, right! You’ve never been in here before.”

“Nope,” replied Tonks, having a good look round.

“What do you think?” Harry asked with a grin, confident that she would love it.

“It’s a bit... angry isn’t it?” she replied. “No wonder Gryffindors are such hot-heads.”

“Angry?” Harry repeated in mild outrage. “It’s not angry, it’s warm and homey!”

“No it’s not,” Tonks replied. “It’s all sharp angles and harsh colours. The Hufflepuff common room is much more calming – lots of curves and soft pastels.”

Harry had never thought of it like that. He looked round the room again with fresh eyes and reluctantly admitted that she might have a point. His lip quirked, “You definitely wouldn’t like the Slytherin common room then. It’s like something out of a horror movie.”

Tonks raised an eyebrow, “And how would you know that?”

Harry grinned sheepishly, “Hermione brewed polyjuice in our second year. Ron and I snuck in as Crabbe and Goyle.”

Tonks folded her arms, “You know, for such an ethical person, Hermione certainly gets up to a lot of shady stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that myself recently.”

Now that Tonks had mentioned it, Harry realised that Hermione’s flexible morals weren’t a recent development. They’d always been flexible. She’d broken the rules countless times for Harry, and he’d never seen anything wrong with that. Had he corrupted her, he wondered? Had she relaxed her morals to support him, because they were friends? Was that what she was still doing, except it was Ron she was supporting now? If so, and it was okay when she did it for Harry, why wasn’t it okay when she did it for Ron? Did Harry really have any right to criticise her?

Harry quickly decided that yes he did, because the two situations weren’t the same. Harry was always trying to help others, but Ron only tried to help himself. Harry broke the rules for altruistic reasons (or at least they were intended to be altruistic), so Hermione’s actions on his behalf were altruistic too. But there was nothing altruistic about Hermione being a bitch to Fleur just because Ron couldn’t control himself around a part-Veela. Nor was there anything admirable about tricking Harry into doing nothing to fight Voldemort for an entire year.

Harry decided to shelve that thought for now. It would just make him angry. He also pretended not to notice all the pointing and whispering around him. He waved to a few people he knew, like Neville, but was quite keen to see what the Head Boy rooms looked like so headed straight up the Boys’ Staircase. Tonks followed closely behind, taking full advantage of the fact that the Boys’ Stairs didn’t have defences on them like the Girls’ Stairs did.

Sure enough, when they reached the seventh floor (which had always been the top) the stairs continued upwards to an eighth floor. With a grin Harry led the way, taking the steps two at a time in his excitement. He emerged onto the new top floor to find a single large oak door with a wooden plaque that read ‘Head Boy’ on it. He twisted the large iron ring that served as a door handle and pushed the heavy door open to reveal the space beyond.

The Head Boy rooms were, in a word, enormous.

The boys’ dormitories were arranged so that students from each year all occupied the same floor. There were therefore at least five boys sharing the space, which was divided into a shared bedroom and a large bathroom (containing several toilet and shower cubicles). But here on the eighth floor, the Head Boy had the entire space all to himself. Tonks’ mouth dropped open as she joined him.

The main room contained the largest four-poster bed that Harry had ever seen. You could easily sleep six people in it. There was a lounge area furnished with sofas and comfortable chairs set around an ornate stone fireplace, and a study area with a mahogany desk and a leather swivel-chair in front of some high arched windows. Harry rushed over to pet Hedwig, who was sitting on her perch to one side of the window. The beautiful snowy-white owl nibbled his fingers affectionately, then took off through the open window to go hunt. It was dark outside but the view from up here would be spectacular in the daytime, Harry suspected – he’d be able to see for miles.

“What do you think, Tonks?” Harry asked with a huge grin on his face.

“I think this room will do nicely Harry,” she grinned back. “All that red and gold works quite well in a boudoir.”

“A what?”

“A boudoir; it means a lady’s bedroom.”

WHAT?!? This is not a lady’s bedroom!”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Harriet. I’m going to check out the bathroom!”

Tonks almost ran from the room, and seconds later poked her head back in. “You should come see this Harry.”

The bathroom was not what Harry had been expecting at all. The room was softly lit by a splendid candle-filled chandelier high up in the vaulted ceiling. Everything was made of white marble, including the swimming-pool-sized bath sunk into the middle of the floor. About a hundred golden taps stood all around the pool’s edges, each with a different-coloured jewel set into its handle. Long white linen curtains hung at the windows and a large pile of fluffy white towels sat on a table in the corner. It was very like the Prefects Bathroom he’d snuck into during the Triwizard Tournament, in fact, but larger and more luxurious. Off to one side there was a curved wall that concealed a toilet and a shower cubicle.

Tonks was bouncing up and down, clapping her hands and squealing in delight, “Eeeee! Isn’t it great!”

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay in the Auror accommodation, then?” asked Harry cheekily.

Tonks ignored him and started turning the taps on one by one. She discovered at once that they carried different sorts of bubble-bath mixed with the water, though it wasn’t bubble bath as she’d ever experienced it before. One tap gushed pink and blue bubbles the size of footballs, another poured bright-white foam so thick that it would have supported her weight if she’d cared to test it; a third sent heavily perfumed purple clouds hovering over the surface of the water. Harry particularly enjoying the one whose jet bounced off the surface of the water in large arcs. Then, when the shoulder-deep pool was full (which took a very short time considering its size), Tonks beamed at him and ran from the room.

He found her placing protective enchantments over the door to stop anyone getting into their rooms. (Harry made a note to get her to teach him those.) As soon as she was done she threw her wand on a chair and started stripping.

“Are you coming Harry? Our bath awaits!” She was undressed in seconds, her clothes strewn across the floor in a trail behind her. Without waiting for him she ran naked from the room, “See you in there!”

Harry disrobed at a more leisurely pace, but wasn’t far behind. He found Tonks lying on her back in the foamy water, floating around in lazy circles.

“This feels so good!” she crooned.

Harry was struck breathless by the scene before him. Tonks’ flawless skin was glistening with droplets of water, which emphasised the startling beauty of her naked body. Her breasts were half floating and half submerged, giving them a new and exotic profile that he longed to caress. The mound of her hairless pussy bobbed in and out of the water as she paddled her feet gently, and her beautifully smooth arms and legs floated in lazy arcs around her.

She looked thoroughly breathtaking.

With a frog-like kick, Tonks propelled herself away from him, while also rewarding Harry with a brief flash of her vagina entrance. Had she done that on purpose to tease him, he wondered? If so, it had definitely worked. He was almost overcome by a fierce desire to make love to her right here in this pool. Instead, Harry slid into the water before his growing erection gave him away.

But he couldn’t take his eyes off her. It was like looking at a goddess. He was helpless before such beauty. Tonks drifted around humming contentedly to herself, and Harry thought his heart would burst at how cute she was. He tried to remind himself that she wasn’t the young girl she appeared to be, but he wasn’t entirely sure it was true. Either her transformation was more than just skin-deep or the events of the summer had rekindled the youthful and cheery Tonks that she’d been when he first met her. These days she behaved much more like a teenage girl than a twenty-something woman.

Harry lazed at the side of the pool with his elbows resting behind him on the rim, watching Tonks dreamily. He could stare at her spectacular body forever, he decided. Every square millimetre of her was perfect, from her brightly-coloured hair down to her matching toenails. How had he got so lucky, he wondered? It was as if all his luck had arrived at once, in the shape of the most beautiful and wonderful woman he’d ever met.

Was it coincidence that his fortunes had changed the moment he parted ways with Dumbledore, he wondered? Had Dumbledore’s influence caused the string of bad luck that had plagued him for his entire life? It was certainly the Headmaster’s influence that led to him suffering the dubious hospitality of the Dursleys. Dumbledore had also chosen to keep Harry’s fortune a secret, so that Harry would not grow up a ‘pampered little prince’. The Headmaster’s poor judgement had led to a troll being released into the school, Harry facing Quirrell alone, Harry facing the Basilisk alone, Sirius almost receiving the Dementor’s Kiss, Harry competing in the Triwizard Tournament against his will, Harry being tortured by Umbridge, Snape screwing up Harry’s Occlumency Lessons, Harry being fooled by Voldemort and Sirius losing his life... among other things.

Dumbledore’s plan, whatever it was, seemed to involve Harry being as ignorant and powerless as possible. But that left Harry completely unprepared for whatever dangers the magical world threw at him. He was forced to think on his feet whenever calamity struck, rather than plan ahead and avoid it entirely. That must surely be a recipe for ill fortune?

With a sigh Harry deliberately dispelled such thoughts from his mind. He had more important things to think about. Like how breathtaking Tonks looked right now, and how much he wanted to shag her. His flagging erection quickly recovered, becoming painfully hard as his gaze swept hungrily over her exposed flesh.

When Tonks had finally had enough of floating around she ducked under and emerged in a cascade of water, wiping the hair from her eyes. Then she strode towards him, with her breasts bouncing on the surface and her naked rippling form visible enticingly below. Staring him right in the eye, Tonks wrapped her arms round his neck and pulled herself up to kiss him firmly on the lips. Her body slowly floated closer, until it was pressed warmly against his.

“You don’t look very relaxed Harry,” she observed, glancing down. “In fact you look quite... stiff. Maybe we should go christen that bed? Then we’ll be all dirty again and need another bath...”

She batted her eyelashes at him, and ran a finger down his chest. Harry didn’t need to be asked twice.

Two hours later, they were back in the bath with blissful smiles on their faces. When they finally emerged from the bath a second time Tonks climbed out first, which gave Harry his first view of her bare back since the attack on the train.

He gasped in dismay, “Holy crap Tonks, your back looks like a hippy went crazy on it with tie-dye.”

Almost her entire back was covered in livid green, yellow and blue splotches, radiating out from a point between her shoulder blades. No wonder she’d insisted on being on top when they had sex!

Tonks flushed guiltily and padded over to the full-length mirror on one side of the room. Unfortunately, twisting to take a look over her shoulder made her yelp in pain, which firmed Harry’s resolve.

“You need to get that looked at Tonks. Come on – let’s head over to the hospital wing.”

“I suppose...” she conceded. “But I don’t need you holding my hand. I’m a grown woman you know! You stay here and unpack your stuff. I won’t be long. You know the drill...”

“Don’t go anywhere and don’t open the door,” Harry groaned in a bored tone, mirroring Tonks’ as she said exactly that.

Her eyes narrowed in warning, causing Harry to backpedal rapidly.

“Okay okay! I’ll stay put. Jeez.”

“You better! And give Winky a call would you? Ask her to bring my stuff here.”

- § -

In retrospect they both should have known better. If history had taught them anything it was that Harry being alone was a recipe for trouble. Fate seemed unable to resist that particular temptation.

Harry’s trunk had already been deposited at the foot of his mega-bed, so he busied himself unpacking it into the wardrobes and chests of drawers that were scattered around the walls. It made a very pleasant change to have somewhere to put his stuff without worrying that someone might nick it. Nobody ever had, but he still worried about it sometimes. With the crazy amounts of attention he was getting right now he couldn’t rule out the possibility that an overenthusiastic fan might try to nab a memento.

When he came across the Marauder’s Map he decided to check on Tonks’ progress. He sat at the impressive desk by the window and spread the Map out in front of him. He was hoping that Tonks would be on her way back by now, so he quickly scanned the route, but no such luck. She was still in the Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey fussing around her. Harry sighed.

With nothing else to do, he browsed the rest of the Map to see what was going on. The hour was long past curfew, so all the students should be safely in their dorms or Common Rooms. Sure enough, the corridors appeared to be empty apart from prefects on patrol. Dumbledore was in his office, with McGonagall standing to one side while Snape paced furiously back and forth. Harry smirked. Harry seemed to have ruined Snape’s day. What a shame. Two of the five Aurors appeared to be patrolling inside the school, but the other three were nowhere to be seen. That was to be expected though – from what Harry recalled of Scrimgeour’s plans, they would be patrolling the grounds outside on brooms.

Satisfied that things were largely as they should be, Harry did another sweep of the Map, checking for any names that shouldn’t be there. This turned-out to be a bit pointless though because there were plenty of names he didn’t recognise, not lease the first years who’d just arrived. But then a name did catch his eye – a name that most definitely shouldn’t be where it was.

Harry squinted at it for several seconds, trying to keep his alarm in check while he attempted to make sense of it. But he couldn’t. According the Map, Ginny Weasley was not on the Common Room downstairs. She was buried inside a wall on the third floor.

In a blind panic Harry folded the Map, stuffed it into his pocket and sprinted for the door. He rocketed down the stairs five at a time and bolted across the Common Room. He barely had time to register the startled looks of the few upper year students who hadn’t yet turned-in, before he dove through the portrait hole just as one of the fifth year prefects returned from her patrol.

“Sorry!” Harry yelled over his shoulder as the girl leapt out of the way with a startled, “Eeep!”

He didn’t have time to explain. Ginny was in trouble, of that he was certain. He hardly dared think about what he would find when he reached her. The obvious answer – that someone had killed her and hidden her body in the wall – was just too terrible to think about. Perhaps she was only stunned, or immobilised? In which case there was no time to waste, because she might suffocate to death at any second. Did the fact that her name appeared on the Map mean she was still alive? Harry had no idea. Didn’t people disappear from the Map when they went to sleep? He couldn’t remember. Damn it! He cursed himself for his laziness. Why didn't he pay more attention?

With legs pumping as fast as they would go, Harry darted along the corridor and hurtled down the main stairs. Unfortunately the staircase he chose detached from the landing below just as he stepped onto it. He was forced to vault onto the railing and leap recklessly into the air. A seven story drop passed beneath his feet as he flew towards the landing below. He made it, but landed hard and tumbled head over heels before rolling to his feet once again. He was going to have bruised shoulders later, he suspected, but he ran on, descending three more staircases and ignoring the pain in his ankles.

At the third floor he pelted down a long hallway, took the first left and second right, then skidded to a halt. This is was the nearest corridor to where he’s seen her, but it was distressingly empty. Harry frantically pulled the Map from his pocket and unfolded it. She was somewhere near here... yes! He could see the outline of his own feet on the Map, with ‘Harry Potter’ floating above them... and about thirty meters away Ginny’s footprints were motionless somewhere inside the wall on the right.

Harry rushed to that spot and scanned the stonework. It looked just like any other bit of wall – no obvious way for someone to end up buried inside it. Thinking quickly, he cast a non-verbal Specialis Revelio. It was a charm that Tonks had taught him to search for traps, but it was actually a general-purpose spell to look for traces of magic or enchantment. To his utter amazement the glowing golden outline of a stone archway appeared, and two feet to the side of it a stone in the wall gleamed the same colour.

Without hesitation, Harry pressed the stone. Nothing happened. It didn’t move a millimetre. Mentally kicking himself Harry tapped the stone with his wand instead. The wall inside the glowing arch silently disappeared, revealing a narrow and dusty stone passageway. Four sets of dusty footprints could be clearly seen disappearing into the dimly-lit distance. A secret passageway! One that wasn’t on the Map!

This was good news and bad news, Harry realised. On the one hand, Ginny wasn’t in immediate danger of suffocating. On the other, the fact that she wasn’t moving could be a very bad sign. Perhaps she’d been left to starve to death, chained to a wall?

According to the Map there was nobody else in the area, but Harry didn’t want to take any chances. Her assailants could easily have left a conjured creature to stand guard, for example, which wouldn’t appear on the Map. Harry tapped himself on the head and became invisible as he stepped lightly through the arch.

Putting all his concealment and infiltration training into practice, Harry padded silently down the stone passageway. As his eyesight adjusted to the feeble candlelight Harry saw that the passage turned sharply left up ahead. He edged cautiously forwards and peered round the corner.

The sight that greeted him made him gasp in shock.

Ginny was not alone. She was squatting stark-naked on top of a similarly disrobed Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff... and yes, Harry's eyes had not deceived him... she was bouncing up and down on the boy’s very erect cock.

“What was that noise?” Ginny whispered in alarm, coming to an abrupt halt and looking straight at the spot where the invisible Harry was standing.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Ernie replied impatiently. “Relax babe. Nobody knows about this passage, not even the professors. I found it myself, with dust all over the floor and not a single footprint.”

“You better be right,” she hissed back. “And don’t call me that! I don’t want anyone to know about us. There are already too many rumours about me. Even Fred and George have heard them and they’re not even at the school anymore!”

Ginny slowly resumed bouncing up and down on Ernie’s dick as if she were riding a space hopper. A blanket was laid out on the floor beneath them, Harry noticed, but it still didn’t look very comfortable for Ernie who was basically lying on an unforgiving stone floor while a girl jumped up and down on him. Their clothes were piled neatly to one side, with their wands balanced on top.

Harry was frozen in shock. Should he leave? Should he give them detention? Wasn’t Ginny dating Dean Thomas?

From his current vantage point there was absolutely no doubt about what was happening. Harry could clearly see Ernie’s cock (which was quite large, but not as large as Harry’s) sliding in and out of Ginny’s tight-looking pussy. Judging by the juices coating Ernie’s shaft, Ginny was very much enjoying herself. Had she been dosed with a Love Potion, Harry wondered? Or put under the Imperius?

“Merlin that’s good!” Ernie gasped.

“Don’t you dare cum until I do,” Ginny growled, stopping abruptly half way through an up-stroke.

To Harry’s surprise, and Ernie’s as well, Ginny slapped the hapless Hufflepuff sharply across the shoulder

“I’m serious Ernie! You already left me hanging once last term. If you do it again I’m gonna be seriously annoyed.”

“Okay okay,” Ernie whined, “I won’t!”

“You better not,” she muttered. “I don’t take all these risks just to leave more frustrated than when I arrived.”

Well, that seemed to rule out Amortentia and the Imperius, Harry thought wryly. There was no way she’d be so... forthright if she was under the influence.

With Ginny hovering in mid air with her legs spread wide, Harry’s attention was inevitably drawn to her chuff. Two inches of boner was visible emerging from her glistening vagina, with the rest still buried deep inside her. Surprisingly, Ginny had shaved her pubic hair into a one-inch wide ginger line running straight down the middle of her mound.

For some reason, the sight of her ginger muff took Harry by surprise. It shouldn’t have, of course, since she was obviously a natural redhead, but it was still a shock. Ginny was ginger, his conscious mind suddenly realised. She was Ginny the Ginger. She was Ginger Ginny with the Ginger Minge... Harry almost giggled, and then he baulked. From now on, whenever he called her Ginny an image of her ginger minge would leap into his mind. He wouldn’t be calling her Ginny because it was short for Ginevra, but because it was short for Ginger Minge!

Harry stifled a groan. That’s just what he needed – to be picturing Ginny’s ginger pussy every time he saw her. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He was mesmerised by the orange runway between her legs, and the sexy features to which his attention was directed. Like a neon arrow, it pointed downwards to where her inner labia were stretched wide, forming two moist pink lips sucking on Ernie’s shaft. And either side of those, her shaved outer labia looked enticingly soft and lickable.

Ginny resumed the rhythmic pounding of her hips onto Ernie’s, impaling herself once again on his penis. Ernie visibly sighed in relief, staring up at Ginny’s naked body in lustful adoration. Ginny started breathing heavily once more and her eyes fluttered shut. Harry had the strong impression that she viewed Ernie’s presence as a necessary irritation – she was using him to get herself off, but that was all. Sadly the poor schmuck was too addled with lust to realise it. Or perhaps he didn't care.

Very carefully, as if wary of attracting her attention, Ernie lifted one hand from the floor and reached towards her breast.

Without even opening her eyes Ginny slapped his hand away.

“I’ve told you,” she warned, “my tits are off limits.”

Harry shook his head in wonder. She was happy to shag him but he couldn’t touch her boobs? Ginny was a very strange girl.

The excited redhead groaned in pleasure, removed a hand from Ernie’s chest and started massaging one of her own tits. As her breathing deepened Harry couldn’t help noticing how pretty her breasts were. They might be small and rather undeveloped, but they looked fabulously soft and jiggled delightfully as she bounced. Her slim figure and narrow waist were displayed to great effect too, thanks to her widely-parted thighs. Her toned legs looked amazing as she repeatedly flexed her thigh muscles.

Tonks had introduced Harry to several different sexual positions, some of which involved her being on top, but she’d never tried that with her feet flat on the floor like Ginny was doing. Surely it would be easier if Ginny kneeled rather than squatted? This position must be murder on the thighs. It was no wonder Ginny was so good on a broom, Harry mused, if she was giving her thighs a workout like this on a regular basis. But then Harry realised why she was doing it – kneeling would work well on a nice soft bed, but kneeling on this stone floor (even with the blanket) would do her a serious injury.

One thing puzzled him though – why hadn’t Ernie appeared on the Map? He’d obviously been here the entire time, and yet only Ginny was shown. Was it because he was underneath her? That seemed unlikely. Then it suddenly made sense. Of course! Ernie was lying down! His feet weren’t on the floor!

How had Harry never figured this out before? The Map showed people’s footsteps. When they lifted a foot up it disappeared from the map and then it reappeared when they put it down again. Ginny was shown because her feet were on the floor. Ernie wasn’t because his weren’t.

Presumably people in bed disappeared from the map too, Harry speculated, not because they were asleep but because their feet weren’t on the ground? Harry would test that theory later, he decided. Right now he couldn’t risk the Map making a noise if he opened it.

A sudden inspiration struck him – that’s how the Marauders had created the Map! They’d gone round the entire castle and cast a Protean Charm on the floor of every room and corridor, and linked them to corresponding locations drawn on the Map. The fact that the Map wasn’t to scale didn’t matter (and like the moving cartoon that Malfoy had used to torment Harry once, the Map could even change if rooms moved around, as they sometimes did). Some sort of detection and identification charm must have been cast along with the Protean Charm so that the pressure of someone’s feet on the floor would show up on the Map along with the person’s name.

Harry had always wondered how the Marauders had managed to create something like the Map. It had seemed like such an advanced piece of magic that it must surely be far beyond the ability of any Hogwarts student, but he now realised that it wasn’t. It was just a bunch of fifth and sixth-year Charms linked together in an ingenious way.

There were still a few mysteries though. Like how come Ginny had been detected even though she was inside a passage that wasn’t on the Map? Did the detection spell extend somewhat beyond the walls perhaps? Was that how the Marauders had discovered so many secret passages? Had they seen people disappearing through walls and come to investigate? It seemed plausible, and they had perhaps even hidden under the Invisibility Cloak to overhear the passwords for those passages that had them. But what about the Girls’ Dorms... how had they cast the charms there? They must have snuck in somehow. Harry couldn’t see his mother, or any other girl, helping four boys to create a Map that monitored their every movement.

“Fuck yes!” Ginny moaned suddenly, drawing Harry’s attention back to the present.

With a loud groan she shoved her other hand between her legs and started rubbing her clitoris.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”

Her eyes remained firmly shut, but she was clearly hurtling towards her climax.

Harry felt a familiar tickling at the edges of his consciousness. Following that feeling had become second nature to him and before he could stop himself he’d plunged headlong into somebody else’s mind. He’d expected to end up in Ginny’s body, for reasons that now made little sense. But he was shocked to find himself lying on his back looking up at her while she bounced up and down on his cock.

He was in Ernie’s mind! Harry quickly withdrew, but he felt another prickling sensation and found himself diverted into Ginny’s mind. As he’d suspected, she had no interest in Ernie. He caught a very clear picture of the fantasy she was currently enjoying, and it wasn’t Ernie’s dick she was picturing herself riding. It was Harry’s.

He fled back to his own body in shock.

“Oh fuck, Oh fuck!” she cried. “Don’t cum! Don’t cum! I’m nearly there...”

Ernie’s face creased with the effort of holding back his climax. For a moment Harry was tempted to transfer some of Ernie’s excitement to Ginny to help them out, but then he grimaced at the thought. It wasn’t his job to help other boys shag his female friends. Nor did he want to get involved in the sex life of two barely fifteen-year-old kids.

Ginny’s fingers became a blur as she rubbed herself frantically.

“Don’t cum! Don’t cum! Don’t cum!” she gasped, crushing her breast and ramming up and down on Ernie’s cock.

“Don’tcum!Don’tcum!Don’tcum! Don’tcumDon’tcumDon’tcumDon’tcum... Don’t... Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!”

Ginny’s orgasm swept over her and she collapsed forwards, crushing one hand between her legs and the other between her chest and Ernie’s. With a noise like a hippo being strangled, the henpecked Hufflepuff gratefully succumbed to his own climax. He grabbed Ginny’s naked arse with both hands, rammed his cock as deep as it would go, and thrust his hips upwards, ejaculating into her repeatedly. Ginny twitched each time he did so, more in irritation than enjoyment, it seemed to Harry.

They’d both had an orgasm, which Harry thought was quite impressive really, but judging by the emotions leaking his way from their minds, neither one of them had a particularly intense one. If Harry had to give them marks out of ten, where ten was a really amazing climax, they’d score about a three for intensity and a one for duration. Harry and Tonks regularly scored a fifteen on both.

Barely five seconds later, Ginny pushed herself up and swiped Ernie’s hands off her bum.

“I told you not to do that!” she griped.

“Sorry Gin, I couldn’t help it. You’re just so damned hot!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to grope me,” she replied, ignoring his complement.

“Sorry Gin.”

With an angry huff, Ginny lifted herself off Ernie’s rapidly shrinking dick and stood up. Unfortunately she still had one leg either side of his waist and a stream of off-white spunk poured out of her. It splattered all over Ernie’s stomach.

“Ew!” he screeched in disgust.

Ginny howled with laughter, “Oops! Now you know how I feel having to clean up your mess every time.”

“Couldn’t you have just held it in?” Ernie whined.

“No I bloody couldn’t,” she replied bitterly. “I’m not a fucking metamorphmagus.”

With a disgruntled sigh Ernie crawled out from between her legs and rifled through his clothes. He eventually chose to wipe the semen off his stomach using a sock. Unfortunately one sock proved insufficient so he had to use the other one as well.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Ginny asked sweetly, scooping up Ernie’s sweater.

Before he could answer, Ginny used the sweater to wipe herself between the legs. It came away covered in pussy juices and dollops of spaff. Ginny dropped it on the floor, smirking at Ernie’s appalled expression.

Ernie visibly suppressed his consternation. “Fuck’s sake! You can be a right cow sometimes you know?”

“Gotta treat ‘em mean to keep ‘em keen,” Ginny informed him nonchalantly.

“Want to meet up again tomorrow?” the eager Hufflepuff boy wondered, clearly seizing the opportunity to capitalise on her potential guilt over what she’d just done.

“You know it’s Justin’s turn next,” Ginny replied, unmoved, “then Terry Boot, then Anthony Goldstein. It’ll be your turn again in about a week.”

“Oh come on Ginny,” he begged pathetically. “I can’t wait that long! Please?

“Don’t spoil it Ernie,” she admonished. “We’ve got a good thing going here: no drama, no strings. We’re both free agents. There are plenty of other girls you can shag.”

Ernie scoffed, “I wish! Every guy in the school is looking to have sex, but hardly any of the girls are willing. Of those that are, most are already in relationships. Competition for the single ones is fierce, and usually involves all sorts of ‘boyfriend’ duties...”

The expression on Ernie’s face, and his involuntary shudder, made it very clear how he felt about such an awful chore.

Ginny chuckled, “Like tea at Madam Puddifoot’s? Yeah it does. Well, you’ll just have to use your powers of persuasion. In the meantime don’t pressure me. Do you want to be cut off like Michael Corner? He kept demanding more and now he gets nothing.”

Ernie looked crestfallen, “No, sorry Gin.”

“You will be if you muck me about,” she warned him. “Anyway you all know the score. I’m dating Dean Thomas, who’s a really nice guy and I really like him, but he’s hung like a baby hamster. I really enjoy sex and Dean’s unfortunate... shortcoming (no pun intended)... is a major problem. So that leaves the door open for guys like you and Terry and Anthony, as long as you’re cool about it. If you start getting clingy or demanding the deal’s off.”

“Yeah I know. I feel a bit guilty about Dean actually. I think he really loves you, the poor sap!”

“Yeah,” Ginny agreed, sighing sadly. “He’s great. I wish things were different... but I want the whole package, you know? I want a great guy and great sex. I haven’t even got to second base with Dean because I can’t bear to see that tiny little thing get erect. It’ll ruin everything. Fortunately, he knew I was seeing other people when we got together, and I told him it would be non-exclusive until we agreed otherwise.”

“Would you consider being exclusive with me?” Ernie asked hesitantly.

Ginny scoffed, “Not a chance! You’re not boyfriend material. You’re a total git. Dean is boyfriend material, he’s sweet. Fortunately you have a decent-sized cock, so you do have something to offer. There are plenty of alternatives though. I’ve heard that Kevin Entwhistle is packing a beater’s bat...”

“That’s not true!” Ernie insisted hastily. “I’m way bigger than he is!”

“I only have your word for that,” she pointed out. “Maybe I should relegate you to the subs bench and give him a try anyway? Or have another crack at Harry Potter...”

“Harry Potter?” Ernie asked in alarm.

“Yes. Have you seen his cock by any chance?”

“Yeah I have,” Ernie replied immediately. “It’s tiny, like a shrivelled-up fig!”

Harry bristled in irritation, but Ginny just laughed.

“Nice try Ernie, but I know for a fact that Harry is bigger than you.”

“How do you know that? Have you shagged him?”

“No but he stayed at my house this summer. I spent a lot of time on my broom practicing for Quidditch try-outs. It’s not my fault that I happened to pass the bathroom window just as Harry was taking a shower.”

Harry was appalled. That sneaky little minx had been spying on him in the shower! Admittedly he was spying on her right now, but this was different! This was an accident – he’d thought she was in trouble and came to rescue her.

“And that happened just the one time did it?” Ernie asked insightfully.

Ginny sniffed casually, “It might have been more than once.”

Ernie laughed, “You’re a very naughty girl Ginny Weasley!”

“Yes I am,” she agreed with a defiant grin. “In my defence, it was an accident the first time.”

To Harry’s annoyance, all this chat about seeing his cock seemed to have put her in a better mood.

Ernie spotted it too and seized his chance, “So... how about a quick blow-job tomorrow?”

“You know I don’t do that!” Ginny replied in disgust.

“A hand-job I meant,” Ernie corrected himself, verbally back-pedalling as fast as he could.

“Hm...” she mused, considering it. “Maybe... Okay fine! Meet me back here just after classes.”

Ernie punched the air triumphantly, “Yes!”

“But you’ll have to go down on me first,” Ginny added. “After the summer I’ve had I deserve some pampering.”

The boy’s expression fell and he sighed in a long-suffering sort of way, “I suppose... if I must...”

“Oh don’t give me that! You love licking my lady parts and don’t you deny it!”

“Yeah I kinda do...” Ernie admitted with a wry grin.

Ginny nodded in satisfaction and grabbed her knickers off the pile on the floor. She stepped into them and pulled them up. Harry was surprised to see that they were bright red and extremely lacy. The triangle at the front barely covered her ginger pubes, leaving the rest of her mound uncovered. As she bent over to grab a matching bra, Harry was treated to a wonderful view of her very sexy arse, and discovered that her knickers were pure lace at the back. How long had she been wearing stuff like that under her uniform, he wondered? The bra turned out to be equally skimpy. Harry could clearly see the outline of her fabulous pink areolas through them.

As a general rule, Harry preferred the sort of underwear that Tonks wore. Bizarrely, she favoured more of a teen style, while Ginny was clearly trying to look much older than her age. Nevertheless, Harry had to admit that Ginny looked super hot in just her bra and knickers, and even hotter when she was naked. Not as hot as Tonks, but still...

When had Ginny blossomed into such an attractive teenage girl, he wondered? He’d never really thought of Ginny in a sexual way, and she was still too young-looking for him to do so, but he couldn’t deny that she had a great body. Her pussy was already quite lovely, and her ginger muff lent her an exotic appeal. Meanwhile, her tits might be small but they were sufficiently curvy that he’d enjoy caressing them, and her nipples were crying out to be sucked. In a few years’ time, when she’d filled out a bit more in the hips and boobs, Ginny would definitely turn heads.

Not that Harry would ever leave Tonks, or cheat on her. But if Tonks had never entered the picture he had to admit that he’d have been quite tempted by Ginny. He quickly gave thanks that he’d been saved from that disaster. Dealing with Ron’s reaction to Harry dating his sister would be bad enough, but coming to terms with all of Ginny’s ex-lovers would have been a nightmare. Assuming she ever told him about them, that is. Maybe she’d have kept it to herself.

Fortunately, seeing Ginny have sex with another guy was a massive turn-off, so there was no chance of them ever getting together now. In fact it was going to be very hard to look at her without remembering Ernie’s spunk dripping out of her sopping wet vagina. There was also the issue of Ginny picturing herself with Harry during sex, suggesting that she hadn’t got over her infatuation with him at all.

Ginny and Ernie finished getting dressed and strode off down the passage away from Harry. They left the blanket folded up on the floor, presumably for use during future trysts. Once the sounds of their footsteps had completely faded away, Harry turned around and headed back the way he’d come.

- § -

Harry arrived back at his room about thirty seconds before Tonks did.

“Did I miss anything?” she enquired, placing a bright blue bottle of Bruisewort Balm on the desk.

Harry shook his head, “Nope, not a thing. Very quiet here. Absolutely nothing to report.”

Tonks eyed him suspiciously.

Harry sighed, “Well I mean... there might have been one tiny little incident...”

Tonks lifted both eyebrows in a way that promised pain if he didn’t explain himself. So he told her what had happened. Predictably, Tonks gave him a serious telling off for leaving his room. Less predictably, she thought it was absolutely hilarious that Ginny had set herself up with a man-harem. Oddly, Tonks said nothing about Ginny’s voyeurism. That seemed very strange considering how harshly Tonks had punished Hermione for the same offence, but Harry wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

- § -

Harry and Tonks bumped into Ron and Hermione in the Common Room before breakfast the next morning. Hermione gave Tonks the once-over suspiciously, but didn’t ask where she’d slept.

Ron seemed more concerned with where Harry had slept. “Where were you last night?” he asked, petulantly.

“In the Head Boy’s rooms of course,” replied Harry, trying to keep the smugness he felt from showing.

You get your own rooms?” Ron shrieked incredulously.

“Yeah, didn’t Bill or Percy tell you when they were Head Boy?” Harry asked, pulling a fake grimace. “Maybe it’s a secret? Let’s pretend I never mentioned it...”

It was a bit late of course, because half of Gryffindor was listening in to his conversation (not to mention staring at him, whispering behind their hands and pointing).

“It’s rude to point,” Ron snapped at a particularly minuscule first-year as they joined the queue to climb out of the portrait hole. The boy, who had been muttering something about Harry behind his hand to his friend, promptly turned scarlet and toppled out of the hole in alarm. Ron sniggered.

Harry glared at him, “Ron, did you hear me on the train when I said that any prefect who bullies or intimidates a student will be suspended? Well this is your first and only warning. If I see you do that again I’ll take your badge.”

Ron stared at him in shock, which quickly evolved into anger. He turned away and muttered something under his breath.

Harry didn’t hear it, but it must have been bad because Hermione hissed, “Ron!” at him.

“Hold it!” said Hermione, throwing out an arm and halting a passing fourth-year, who was attempting to push past her with a lime-green disc clutched tightly in his hand. “Fanged Frisbees are banned, hand it over,” she told him sternly. The scowling boy grudgingly surrendered the snarling Frisbee, ducked under Hermione’s arm and took off after his friends.

Ron waited for the boy to vanish, and then tugged the Frisbee from Hermione’s grip. “Excellent, I’ve always wanted one of these.” Hermione’s remonstration was drowned by a loud giggle; Lavender Brown had apparently found Ron’s remark highly amusing. She continued to laugh as she passed them, glancing back at Ron over her shoulder. Ron looked rather pleased with himself.

Harry shook his head in amazement. Ron just didn’t get what it meant to be a prefect, which emphasised all over again what a slap in the face it had been when Dumbledore gave the position to Ron instead of Harry. What a jackass.

The ceiling of the Great Hall was serenely blue and streaked with frail, wispy clouds, just like the squares of sky visible through the high mullioned windows. While they tucked into porridge and eggs and bacon, Harry told Hermione and Ron about his conversation with Hagrid the previous evening.

“But he can’t really think we’d continue Care of Magical Creatures!” Hermione said, looking distressed. “I mean, when has any of us expressed... you know... any enthusiasm?”

“That’s it, though, innit?’ said Ron, swallowing an entire fried egg whole. “We were the ones who made the most effort in classes because we like Hagrid. But he thinks we liked the stupid subject. D’you reckon anyone’s going to go on to do a NEWT?”

“I am,” said Harry. Ron and Hermione both gawped at him. “What?” he continued. “Care of Magical Creatures is much more interesting than Herbology. It’s been quite useful the last few years too – probably saved my life a few times. I’ve literally never used Herbology, and if I ever need to know anything I’ll just ask Neville. In any case, I’d like to show support for Hagrid. Can you imagine how upset he’d be if all his friends deserted him over the summer?”

Ron completely missed the veiled barb, but Hermione blanched at the rebuke.

“Rather you than me, mate,” mumbled Ron through a mouthful of baked beans. “What’s he going to teach this year... how to raise a Nundu?”

Harry returned Hagrid’s cheery wave when the half-giant left the staff table ten minutes later. Ron gave a half-hearted wave, while Hermione waved guiltily and then wilted in self-reproach.

After they’d eaten, they remained in their places, awaiting Professor McGonagall’s descent from the staff table. The distribution of timetables was more complicated than usual this year, because Professor McGonagall needed first to confirm that everybody had achieved the necessary OWL grades to continue with their chosen NEWTs.

Hermione was immediately cleared to continue with Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Potions, and shot off to a first-period Ancient Runes class without looking in Harry’s direction. Neville took a little longer to sort out but eventually Professor McGonagall tapped a blank timetable with the tip of her wand and handed it, now carrying details of his new classes, to Neville. She turned next to Parvati Patil, whose first question was whether Firenze, the handsome centaur, was still teaching Divination.

“He and Professor Trelawney are dividing classes between them this year,” said Professor McGonagall, a hint of disapproval in her voice; it was common knowledge that she despised the subject of Divination. “The sixth year is being taken by Professor Trelawney.”

Parvati set off for Divination five minutes later looking slightly crestfallen.

Tonks leaned over and whispered in Harry’s ear, “Does that girl seriously want to shag a centaur? How would that even work?”

Harry spurted pumpkin juice all over the table, and had to grab a napkin to wipe the liquid leaking from his nose. Professor McGonagall peered at him over the rim of her glasses disapprovingly.

“So, Potter... Potter...” she said, consulting her notes. “You changed your selections recently to Charms, Transfiguration, Potions and Care of Magical Creatures... all fine. I must say, I was pleased with your Transfiguration mark, Potter, very pleased. Now, why haven’t you applied to continue with Herbology or Defence Against the Dark Arts? I thought it was your ambition to become an Auror?”

“Circumstances have changed, Professor.”

“I suppose they have,” she said, giving him another hard look. “I would have thought you’d still want to take Defence though... all things considered.”

Harry spread his hands in a way that suggested the decision was beyond his control. “Unfortunately the Headmaster has made that quite impossible, Professor. I’d rather be taught by Voldemort himself than spend another year with Snape. In fact, I was taught by Voldemort himself in my first year. He was rubbish, but at least he didn’t try to get my Godfather kissed by a Dementor.”

McGonagall’s expression contorted into such a look of pinched opprobrium that Harry wondered if she’d still be able to speak. It seemed not – she handed him his timetable without another word and moved on to Ron.

Harry’s new timetable started with two free periods so he returned to the Common Room. It was empty apart from half a dozen seventh-years. Katie Bell, the only remaining member of the original Gryffindor Quidditch team that Harry had joined in his first year, was among them.

“I thought you’d get that, well done,” she called over, pointing at the Captain’s badge on Harry’s chest. “Tell me when you call trials!”

“Don’t be stupid,” said Harry, “you don’t need to try out, I’ve watched you play for five years...”

“You mustn’t start off like that,” she admonished. “For all you know, there’s someone much better than me out there. Good teams have been ruined before now because captains just kept playing the old faces, or letting in their friends...”

“Harry! Hey, Harry!”

Harry looked round; Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on the previous year’s Gryffindor Quidditch team, was hurrying towards him holding a roll of parchment.

“For you,” panted Sloper. “Listen, I heard you’re the new Captain. When’re you holding trials?”

“I’m not sure yet,” said Harry, thinking privately that Sloper would be very lucky to get back on the team. “I’ll let you know.”

“Oh, right. I was hoping it’d be this weekend...”

“No, probably next weekend...” Harry had just recognised the thin, slanting writing on the parchment. “Sorry, this is from the Headmaster, would you excuse me?”

Sloper nodded, “Or right, yeah of course...”

Harry stepped away, unfurled the parchment and read:

Dear Harry,
Kindly come along to my office for a chat.
Yours sincerely Albus Dumbledore
P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops.

Harry showed it to Tonks, who looked pale but nodded.

Harry put his hands on her shoulders, “Are you ready?”

“No,” the pink-haired woman replied in a small voice.

“It’ll be fine,” he told her. “Well... probably. But if not we’ll make a run for it. I know several secret routes out of the school.”

This did not seem to reassure her.

“Let’s get going,” he suggested. “You know what to do."

Tonks nodded reluctantly.

They trooped out of the Common Room and as soon as they rounded the first corner Tonks summoned her lion patronus. She whispered a message in its ear and sent it on its way. Then she summoned another and sent it bounding away with a second message.

Notes:

The chapter title “A Hufflepuff inside Gryffindor” could refer to Tonks being inside Gryffindor Tower... or it could be about Ernie Macmillan being inside Ginny Weasley. Hard to tell... ;-)

Example images (NSFW!) of the sexual position that Ginny and Ernie were using can be found here, here, and here. If those links stop working let me know in the comments and I'll find new ones.

In case anyone thinks I'm bashing Ron, everything he does in this chapter is in the books. All that's changed is Harry's reaction to Ron's antics. It's not me bashing Ron, it's JKR!

This is the second version of this chapter. In the first (pre-27Nov22), Ginny was extremely mean to Ernie and very dismissive of boys in general. Some readers thought this was too OOC. Since it wasn’t important to the story, I’ve changed it to make her nicer.

Chapter 34: Sledgehammer

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The vast majority of students were currently in lessons so Harry and Tonks proceeded unhindered through the largely deserted corridors until they saw the spot on the seventh-floor where a single gargoyle stood rather conspicuously against an otherwise unremarkable wall. It had never really occurred to Harry before, but most of the students probably graduated Hogwarts without ever seeing what lay beyond that ugly-looking griffin. Everyone knew where the Headmaster’s Tower was located – you could see it quite clearly from the grounds – but most probably didn’t even know where the entrance was.

Tonks, it seemed, did know... which was interesting. She slowed to a halt and eyed the statue warily, “Are you sure about this Harry? I mean... couldn’t we just keep pretending that Scrimgeour’s pulling your strings?”

“Sadly not,” Harry replied regretfully. “That strategy won’t work anymore. Dumbledore’s going to use this meeting to regain control of the situation. We can’t allow him to do that, because we’re on his home turf now – if we play the game by his rules we’re guaranteed to lose. I don’t want to spend the whole year under Dumbledore’s thumb, so we need to re-write the rules. Subtlety and evasion won’t be enough to crack that nut. We need a sledgehammer.”

With a heavy sigh Tonks nodded reluctantly, “Okay fine. But if we die I’m going to kick your ass.”

“We’re not going to die,” Harry replied with more confidence than he actually felt. There was ample scope for this meeting to go thoroughly tits-up, but there was no point saying that, so he gave her an encouraging smile and led the rest of the way. “Acid Pops,” he said quickly before Tonks could raise any more objections.

The gargoyle leapt aside, the wall behind it slid apart, and a moving spiral stone staircase was revealed, onto which they stepped. By some strange magic that Harry didn’t pretend to understand (because where on earth did the steps go when they reached the top?) he and Tonks were carried in smooth circles up to the door with the brass knocker that led to Dumbledore’s office. Harry knocked and walked straight in without waiting for an answer. Unfortunately his abrupt appearance did not catch the occupants unawares, which was a little disappointing.

Dumbledore sat calmly in the high-backed chair behind his desk, flanked either side by the standing and very stern-looking figures of Snape and McGonagall. Harry immediately came to a halt, glaring at Snape balefully. Tonks joined him and bristled. Her fearful expression was quickly replaced by an angry frown that Snape was present.

“Ah Harry,” said the Headmaster with an attempt at a disarming smile. “Come in, come in. Take a seat.”

Dumbledore indicated the lonely-looking chair that had been set up in front of his desk. It was a particularly low chair, Harry noted. Was that a cheap trick to make him feel vulnerable and inferior, he wondered? Was the Headmaster even aware that he’d done it? Or had Snape conjured the chair, perhaps?

Neither Harry nor Tonks moved a muscle.

“If Harry approaches” Tonks said clearly, “Professor Snape will be in violation of the Restraining Order against him. He will need to leave before Harry takes another step.”

Snape stared down his nose at them in silence. Then he deliberately folded his arms, making it clear that he was going nowhere. He glanced down at the Headmaster for support.

Dumbledore was happy to oblige, “Severus is here at my request, Nymphadora, as is Harry’s Head of House. We have much to discuss, so I suggest we get started.” He waved his hand lazily and another equally low chair appeared beside the first. “Please join us...”

Harry bit back an angry retort and compressed his lips into a thin line. So Tonks was to be belittled as well, was she? Dumbledore and the Order had always behaved as if Tonks were a silly teenager, but now that she actually looked like a teenager they were shockingly brazen about it. The Headmaster treating her like a naughty student rather than a fully qualified Auror was an affront that Harry knew would upset her.

A soft click to Harry’s rear drew his attention to the fact that the door had swung silently shut. Ignoring the Headmaster’s invitation, Harry attempted to leave. He grabbed the handle and pulled. The door didn’t budge.

Harry was reminded vividly of the last time he’d been trapped in this office, just a few months ago. He’d been tormented by the knowledge that it was his fault that Sirius had died. If Harry had not been stupid enough to fall for Voldemort’s trick... if he had not been so convinced that what he had seen in his dream was real... if he had only opened his mind to the possibility that Voldemort was, as Hermione had said, banking on Harry’s love of playing the brave and noble hero... Sirius would still be alive today.

It had been an unbearable realisation back then, and it was just as gut-wrenching now. A terrible hollow had grown inside him, a dark hole where Sirius’ bright presence had once been... and had now vanished forever. Harry had been terrified by the idea of being alone with that great silent void... and yet that’s exactly what Dumbledore had done. He’d sent Harry back to the Dursleys’, away from the friends who might comfort him, to suffer in lonely isolation with people who rejoiced in his misery.

Guilt had filled Harry’s chest like a monstrous weighty parasite, writhing and squirming inside him, crushing his broken heart pitilessly. What followed had been the worst few weeks of Harry’s frankly dreadful life. So much so, in fact, that he couldn’t stand being himself any more. He had never felt more trapped inside his own head and body, never wished so intensely that he could be somebody, anybody, else...

But of course that wasn’t possible. He was Harry Potter. He would always be Harry Potter. Voldemort would never stop trying to kill him, and those around him would never stop being in peril. The details of Dumbledore’s plan, if he had one, were a complete mystery to Harry. What was clear, however, was that the Headmaster wasn’t doing enough to protect the people Harry cared about.

The sickening claustrophobia of that dreadful time, and the harsh truths he was unable to evade, had forced him to face another inescapable fact – if he wanted things to change, he was going to have to change them. It had become abundantly clear that nobody else was going to do it. And the first step on that road was to change himself, because the saintly boy-scout he’d been thus far just wasn’t getting the job done.

Thus was born a new Harry, a different Harry... a Harry who took no shit from anyone.

As he stared at the Headmaster’s once-again unyielding door, a white-hot anger licked at Harry’s insides, blazing in the terrible emptiness that he still felt over the loss of his Godfather. He was filled with an intense desire to show these infuriatingly deluded professors how very badly they had misjudged this situation.

Throughout Harry’s time at Hogwarts they’d treated him as if he were just a child attending school. But Hogwarts had never been a school to Harry. From the moment he met Malfoy on the train it had been a battleground – somewhere he was never safe, where danger could lurk around every corner. Nor had Harry been a child for very long – what little remained of his childhood, after the abuse he’d suffered under the Dursleys, came to an abrupt end when he burned a man to death with his bare hands. And yet these professors continued to subject him to pointless school rules that compromised his safety and impaired his ability to protect those he cared about.

It was Harry’s perpetual need to circumvent those restrictions which led to his foolhardy mission to save Sirius. If he hadn’t been conditioned into thinking he was the only person willing to save those in peril, he might perhaps have thought more carefully before taking action. But his mind had been completely occupied by the need to evade those who would stop him, rather than whether Sirius was genuinely in danger. If anyone was responsible for the mindset that had led Harry to make that terrible error, it was these three. But his mistake was not just that he had rushed to Sirius’ aid, it was that he allowed others to control what he knew, and he hadn’t sought out the resources necessary to sweep them aside. The situation was very different now, and it was time for these three fools to be made aware of the new reality in which they lived.

“Unlock the door,” Harry growled without turning around.

“Please take a seat,” Dumbledore repeated. “As I said, we have much to discuss.”

Harry slumped. His head sank and his shoulders drooped, giving him a defeated look. But it wasn’t defeat that made him hunch, it was the weight of his fury. Dumbledore’s arrogance was truly staggering, and the two useless bookends standing by his side were no better. They were still treating him like a child, and that was a very grave error indeed.

“Let me out,” he insisted through gritted teeth, his barely-contained wrath making him shake with suppressed emotion.

“Not until we have cleared up a few matters,” replied Dumbledore.

“Let me out,” Harry said a third time, in a voice that was suddenly as cold and as calm as Dumbledore’s, “or you will regret it.

“By all means destroy my possessions a second time,” said Dumbledore serenely. “I daresay I can repair them again.”

Harry removed his hand from the door handle and turned around slowly. His gaze was fixed firmly on the ground, because he knew that once he laid eyes on the professors there would be no going back. His rage blazed more ferociously than anything he’d ever felt before. The frustration he’d felt last time he’d been in this situation, the impotence, the helplessness... and Dumbledore’s smug indifference to his pain... all came rushing back to him.

Every injustice he’d ever suffered boiled up inside him, pressing relentlessly against the restraints he’d imposed upon himself. He’d been determined to never respond when he was bullied, because it would blur the difference between him and his tormentors. But his restraint just encouraged them to keep doing it, and ultimately led to the situation he now faced, where even his supposed friends and allies treated him like shit. After a lifetime of swallowing his anger and suffering in silence all he’d done was teach people that there was no downside to abusing him. His resolve to always be the ‘good guy’ strained under the pressure, and abruptly gave way. The transformation which had begun over the summer was complete – the old Harry was gone. The boy who’d always exercised such impressive self-denial, because it seemed like the noble and righteous thing to do, was no more. He had realised how futile and self-indulgent such thinking really was. Nobody appreciated his sacrifice, nobody thanked him for it. Quite the opposite – it just made him look weak. It emboldened his enemies to attack him, and inspired his allies to treat him like a helpless child. His naive compulsion to do what was ‘noble’ was simple vanity dressed up as lofty virtue and the cost of that misguided attempt to appease his pride was the lives of those he loved.

“That was your last chance,” Harry said quietly, his voice hollow. “You imprisoned me here once before Headmaster. I won’t let you do it a second time.”

Sit down,” said Dumbledore firmly. It was no longer a request, it was an order.

The Headmaster thought Harry was cowed. How very wrong he was.

With his head still lowered, Harry raised his eyes to look at the professors from beneath his eyebrows. All three of these adults had caused him nothing but pain over the years. None of them had ever helped him. They might or might not be his enemies, but they certainly weren’t his friends. Didn’t teachers have a duty of care towards the children in their charge? Wasn’t that especially true at a boarding school? And yet these three had not only failed to protect him, they had actually caused much of his suffering.

No more! Harry swore to himself. He’d had enough! He was done holding back. He was done letting these three incompetent civilians endanger his life and hamper the war effort. He was done allowing them such control over his life. It was time to drop the subterfuge – it was time to give them their first glimpse of the new Harry.

Harry’s emerald-green eyes blazed at the three professors with pure loathing.

Tonks visibly paled, “Oh shit...”

Dumbledore’s eyes widened and McGonagall actually staggered backwards at the hatred being directed towards her. But Snape was unmoved. In fact he sneered victoriously.

“Sit down Potter,” Snape repeated on the Headmaster’s behalf, his voice dripping with smug triumph. “Or spend the rest of term in detention.”

“Shut the fuck up Death Eater,” Harry growled in reply.

The former potions professor took a furious stride forwards, but Dumbledore grabbed his forearm. Snape reluctantly stepped back, glaring daggers at Harry. Throughout the whole exchange Harry kept his gaze firmly on Dumbledore, dismissing Snape and McGonagall as thoroughly unimportant. From the expressions on their faces, that fact was not lost on either of them.

Harry found the situation almost laughable. For the last five years the Headmaster had been restraining Harry (the good guy) from responding whenever Malfoy or Snape or whoever (the bad guys) provoked him. Meanwhile, the bad guys were allowed to get off scot-free, without so much as a harsh word. But now that Harry had become the bad guy, Dumbledore was restraining everyone else. It was ridiculous. Didn’t the Headmaster realise that he’d created an environment in which it really didn’t pay to be a good guy?

“There’s a war raging outside these walls,” Harry stated, his voice flat. “What you three don’t seem to appreciate is that it’s been raging inside these walls for the last five years, but I’ve been the only one fighting it. Perhaps that was your plan all along, eh? After the death of my parents perhaps you three discussed how you would bring Voldemort down when he returned, and decided that I would be your weapon? If so, congratulations – I have been suitably hardened on the anvil of your cynical manipulation and heartless indifference – but you left me with neither the skills nor the support I needed to do the job. So I sought them out, and now it’s your turn to feel the hammer.”

Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed, “What have you done Harry?”

“You think I didn’t anticipate this?” Harry asked rhetorically. “You think I didn’t know you’d pull a stunt like this? You think I didn’t prepare?

The briefest flicker of concern flashed across Dumbledore’s face, before he schooled it once again into a calm but stern visage. He also raised a hand to forestall an angry jibe from Snape, who glowered furiously but once again sank into a surly silence.

“Prepare for what Harry?”

“For this,” Harry replied, pointing at the three of them, “this kangaroo court.”

“This isn’t a kangaroo court,” Dumbledore countered in his usual infuriatingly reasonable manner. “We have convened to discuss recent alarming events, and other matters pertinent to school discipline. It is entirely appropriate that your Head of House be present,” he indicated McGonagall, “along with a neutral party,” he indicated Snape.

Harry burst out laughing, but the humour didn’t reach his eyes.

“A neutral party? Snape? You’re hilarious, Headmaster. But the clock is ticking. Auror Tonks has already summoned her colleagues.”

“This is a school matter, Harry. The Auror Office has no authority over matters of school discipline.”

“Perhaps not,” Harry admitted. “But they do have authority over the false imprisonment of an emancipated adult and an Auror.”

McGonagall’s hand slapped over her mouth and her eyes shot towards the Headmaster. She clearly hadn’t thought of that. Harry was legally an adult and Tonks was an Auror, so it was a criminal offence to confine them. Dumbledore himself appeared supremely unruffled, but Harry knew better. The Headmaster leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, regarding Harry thoughtfully. By Dumbledore’s standards, that was very ruffled indeed. Harry had taken him by surprise – he wasn’t prepared for this at all.

“Aurors are on their way Headmaster,” Harry pressed. “I strongly advise you to let us go.”

Dumbledore was silent for a moment before he made up his mind, “I dare say that the gargoyle will delay them long enough for us to conclude our business, after which you will be free to go.” His manner became abruptly ominous as he leant forwards, “Now I’ll say this one last time, take... a... seat!

Harry had only heard the Headmaster use that menacing tone once before – when he had faced Voldemort in the Ministry Atrium. It conveyed barely-restrained fury and the promise of quite severe consequences if his will was defied. It was, quite frankly, terrifying. Dumbledore’s eyes glittered dangerously and a sudden chill filled the room. The Headmaster’s patience was at an end.

Harry’s bravado faltered. What had he been thinking? Going up against Dumbledore? It was insane! Even Voldemort didn’t do that, and he actually was insane. The Headmaster could crush Harry like a bug if he wanted. This had been a foolhardy plan which was about to unravel, leaving Harry thoroughly humiliated. Shit! Shit! Shit!

By Harry’s side, Tonks whimpered and stepped back involuntarily.

In an instant Harry’s crumbling resolve hardened. His anger coalesced in a white-hot lance focused entirely on the Headmaster. Dumbledore had frightened Tonks. He had threatened her, in fact, even if only indirectly. Harry would not allow that. Not from anyone. His words at the Burrow came back to him: if a friend stood in his way, their friendship was terminated; if he was pushed, he would push back harder; if someone behaved like an enemy, he would assume they were one...

Harry drew his wand.

All three professors gaped at him, not least Dumbledore, who rose from his seat in shock, “Harry...”

“You just made a serious mistake,” Harry growled. “You can threaten me all you want. But the moment you threaten someone I care about you declare yourself my enemy. I no longer hold back where enemies are concerned.”

Dumbledore glanced at the door a split second before a fist pounded on it heavily.

Open up!” the amplified voice of Auror Savage bellowed from outside. “By authority of the DMLE, open up!

The Headmaster’s gaze returned to Harry.

“We gave them the password to the gargoyle,” Harry explained coldly.

For several seconds Harry and Dumbledore stared each other down, neither one giving an inch. Then a deafening boom filled the room, rattling the windows and releasing clouds of dust from the stone ceiling above. The Aurors outside were trying to force the door open.

In the shocked silence following that fortuitous distraction Harry was suddenly on the move. He darted away from the door and ducked behind a large octagonal display-case containing a model of the Solar System under a glass dome. Tonks drew her wand and followed.

Harry kept his eyes locked on Dumbledore as he ran. He had no illusions about who would win if he fought Dumbledore, which is why he had no intention of doing anything so stupid. Even after weeks of dedicated Defence training with Tonks, Harry doubted he could defeat any of the teachers in a face-to-face fight. (Well... maybe Trelawney, but none of the others.) That fact made it all the more ridiculous that Dumbledore somehow expected him to defeat Voldemort without any training. But Harry had no intention of fighting today. He had an entirely different agenda, but his immediate worry was that Dumbledore might do something to restrain him and Tonks before they were in position.

Ironically, it was the most unlikely ally who bought him the time he needed – Professor Snape. The former potions teacher drew his wand, which forced Dumbledore to take a moment to literally slap it out of his hand. That cost the Headmaster precious seconds before he could draw his own wand. Not that he did, Harry was relieved to see. Dumbledore remained unarmed, staring at Harry in disbelief while Snape scrambled around inelegantly on the floor.

Harry and Tonks arrived at their destination and hunkered down, just out of sight of the professors.

The Headmaster’s Office spanned three large overlapping circular rooms, each smaller and slightly higher than the last. That’s because the Headmaster’s Tower was actually comprised of three nested turrets, one on top of another, clinging precariously to the steeply sloped roof of the Grand Staircase Tower.

Harry had been unfortunate enough to see these turrets close-up when the Hungarian Horntail chased him up here during the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament, so he was one of the few people who knew that the Headmaster’s Tower was actually larger on the inside than the outside. It also changed position from one year to the next, affording Dumbledore an ever-changing view of the grounds and landscape beyond.

The first of the three rooms, where Harry and Tonks now crouched, was the largest and seemed to serve as a sort-of ante-chamber. Dumbledore would often meet his guests in this area, since both the door and the floo-enabled fireplace were located here. Glass-fronted cabinets lined the walls while pedestals and spindly-legged tables were scattered randomly around the room. All were adorned with a vast array of strange gadgets and gizmos, many of which had been repaired after Harry destroyed them on his last visit to this office. Above the cabinets, rising two stories to the vaulted stone ceiling above were portraits of all the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses, every single one of which was staring either at the door or at Harry.

Three stone arches covered a flight of steps leading to the second circular space, where the three professors were currently located. Harry thought of that as the Headmaster’s Study. In contrast to the Antechamber, the Study had a wooden floor and the walls were lined with packed bookshelves. The Headmaster’s heavy oak desk stood in the centre, providing him with a clear view of the door and the fireplace opposite. On a high shelf to the left sat the Sorting Hat, while Dumbledore’s phoenix Fawkes usually occupied a perch to the right, though he was currently absent.

Behind the desk, down a couple of steps, was a semi-private rectangular alcove with slightly less formal (but rather firm and uncomfortable) furniture. Dumbledore had insisted on talking to Harry in that alcove after Sirius died. It was more intimate than the rest of the Headmaster’s Office, and had an arched window for light during the day, but the room had been extremely dark and gloomy when Harry was in there. The sofa had a very upright carved-oak back, Harry recalled, which had dug into his spine painfully.

Two curved cast-iron staircases rose up the walls on both sides of the Headmaster’s desk, leading to the third room on a sort-of mezzanine level above. Harry had snuck up there once to discover that it was some sort of private observatory. A four-foot silver sphere engraved with constellations was held up by ropes and attached to a huge cogged wheel. The far side of the sphere was hollow, revealing a padded area in which to sit, and a brass telescope pointed from there towards the window. A spiral staircase on the right lead to a walkway up above, which provided access (through a couple of archways) to the higher bookshelves in the Headmaster’s study next-door.

There were several things that made the spot where Harry and Tonks now sheltered unique. First, thanks to some ghastly purple drapes hanging across the side archways, it was the only spot that couldn’t be seen from the Headmaster’s desk. That gave Harry and Tonks a few seconds before the professors could cast anything at them. Second, it was the furthest point from both the door and the Headmaster’s desk, allowing Harry and Tonks to establish themselves at the third vertex of a triangle formed by those three locations. If or when the Aurors breached the door, the professors would face opponents from two directions. Not that it would come to that, if Harry’s plan played-out as intended, but it would still force the professors to divide their attention. Third, and most importantly, there was now a window at Harry’s back.

Protego Maxima!” Harry yelled as another boom rocked the door opposite and shook the room.

A shimmering translucent blue half-dome spread around him, cutting Harry and Tonks (and the window) off from the rest of the room. Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall’s hurried footsteps raced towards them as Harry turned to peer quickly out of the window. It was an overcast day, he noticed, with dark grey clouds looming just above the castle. Several hundred feet straight down from where he stood, the Great Lake lapped gently against the rocky vertical cliffs upon which this part of Hogwarts had been built.

Behind him, Tonks started casting frantically: “Protego Horribilis! Fianto Duri! Repello Inimicum!

A second translucent half-dome appeared, just inside Harry’s. But this one was a translucent black colour and crackled with a restless and hungry energy. The three professors plunged through the central arch and rounded on them.

McGonagall gasped, “A deadly shield, Miss Tonks? Do you seek to kill us?”

“Only if you breach the first shield,” Tonks yelled back. “And it’s Auror Tonks to you!”

Stand clear of the door!” Auror Savage bellowed again from outside. “We’re going to smash it down.

A much louder explosion pounded the door, which rattled ominously but didn’t give. Dust fell from the ceiling and cracks appeared in the lintel above the door. Tonks summoned her lion patronus and sent it out the window. Snape and McGonagall paid it very little attention, but Dumbledore watched it leave with a frown. Harry knew what he was thinking – the Aurors were behind the door, so who was Tonks messaging?

FIRE IN THE HOLE!” Harry yelled.

He grabbed Tonks and they both dropped back into a crouch, covering their heads as Harry pointed his wand at the window, “Bombarda Maxima!

With a deafening crash the entire window exploded outwards, taking half the wall with it. A gaping hole six feet wide was opened to the outside world, and a howling wind swirled through the breach. Several pedestals toppled, scattering their contents across the stone floor. From somewhere far below, Harry heard the sound of glass and stone crashing onto the rocky cliffs beneath the tower.

Roars of outrage erupted from the portraits on the walls, and through the two shield spells Harry saw Dumbledore finally draw his wand, looking absolutely furious. McGonagall was staring at the hole in the wall with her mouth hanging open, but Snape was unmistakably gleeful. He made no attempt to bring his own wand to bear. He just laughed triumphantly. Actually laughed! Harry had never seen anything so creepy.

Another deafening boom from the door sent a jagged crack across the vaulted roof. The three professors ducked their heads as a shower of grit and debris rained down upon them. It settled on their clothes and everything else, like a sprinkling of fresh snow. In contrast, Harry and Tonks were protected by the shield spell enclosing them. Rivers of dust flowed down the glittering domes like rain off an umbrella and settled in a neat semi-circular ridge around them.

As Dumbledore turned his attention once more to Harry, a bludger-sized ball of glittering white lightening rocketed through the ceiling and slammed to a stop in the centre of the room.

Harry almost cheered in relief. That had been close! Too bloody close!

He and the Minister had spent a long time discussing how best to handle this confrontation. In the end they’d decided to give Dumbledore just enough rope to hang himself, and then they’d yank the floor out from under him. As part of that plan, Tonks had sent three patronus messages. The first was to bring Savage and Proudfoot here for support. If they found the way blocked, the Minister had ordered them to use any means necessary to gain access. The second was to alert the Minister that the plan was in motion. Scrimgeour would be just outside the walls by now, Harry suspected, ready to appear in person if things went south. The third was to confirm that Harry and Tonks had been imprisoned (as Harry had predicted), list the professors who’d done it, and request immediate assistance.

By order of the Minister for Magic,” the unmistakable voice of Rufus Scrimgeour bellowed powerfully from the incorporeal patronus, “the following persons are hereby fined one thousand Galleons each for the False Imprisonment of two law-abiding citizens and the Obstruction of an Auror in the Execution of her Duties: Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall. They are ordered to present themselves at the Ministry immediately to explain their actions.

Snape’s laughter cut off rather abruptly. McGonagall gasped, “A thousand Galleons! I don’t have a thousand Galleons!”

Failure to appear within the next ten minutes will result in warrants for their arrest”, the patronus continued, “and an automatic sentence of one month in Azkaban. In light of this clear breach of the Law, the Hogwarts Board of Governors is hereby disbanded and Hogwarts is placed under the direct supervision of the Ministry of Magic. A new High Inquisitor has been dispatched.

Dumbledore and Snape both scowled fiercely and McGonagall groaned out loud, “Och no! Not again!”

Harry glanced at Tonks and mouthed silently, “High Inquisitor?”

Tonks shrugged and shook her head. This was news to her too. Scrimgeour had apparently gone off-script and elected to embellish Harry’s plan. Harry didn’t know what to make of that, though he was very thankful that Umbridge was banged-up in Azkaban. Why would Scrimgeour appoint another High Inquisitor? And who would he send?

Within the walls of Hogwarts the High Inquisitor is granted the full Authority of the Minister, including the power to over-rule or dismiss staff, amend school rules, impose fines, make arrests, and in extreme circumstances send law-breakers straight to Azkaban.

None of the professors looked happy about that, and Harry wasn’t particularly overjoyed by it either. He wasn’t sure there was anyone he would trust with power like that.

Auror Tonks, you are ordered to protect the Chosen One with your life. Reinforcements have been dispatched to free you. They will arrive shortly and have been instructed to take whatever action they deem necessary to secure your rescue. The costs of repairing any damage to the school will be borne by the three individuals previously named. In the event that they are unable to pay, their property will be seized and they will be incarcerated.

The patronus faded away, but its astonishing pronouncement galvanized Snape into action. While McGonagall wavered on her feet clutching her forehead, he dashed across to the opposite window and searched the skies outside.

“I see Aurors approaching on brooms Headmaster,” he reported urgently. “Scores of them...”

Dumbledore sighed tiredly and returned his attention to Harry, "Very well Harry, you have made your point. Call them off.”

Harry cocked his head quizzically, “I have no power to do that, Headmaster.”

“Nymphadora?” the Headmaster enquired.

“Nor I,” she replied. “And don’t call me that."

Dumbledore seethed with irritation, "This was all quite unnecessary Harry.”

“I disagree,” Harry replied resolutely, “and so does the Minister. You seem to think you can do whatever you like in this school, as if it were a separate nation-state like the Vatican. But it’s not. You think you're above the Law, but you're not. You seriously pissed Scrimgeour off when you met with him over the summer, and he’s not a man to be trifled with. Tread carefully Headmaster because he has you in his sights. If you give him an excuse he will happily throw the entire resources of the Ministry against you, much like Fudge did. Do you really want to go to war with the Ministry again? Do you think you can single-handedly defeat the entire DMLE, bearing in mind that I'll be fighting on their side? And if you do, are you sure you can defeat Voldemort afterwards without me?"

Harry glanced out of the gaping hole in the wall, where he could clearly see Aurors streaming out of the clouds.

“Don’t take too long to make up your mind,” he advised.

- § -

Hermione sat in her first class listening to Professor Babbling gush animatedly about the exciting things they’d cover in Ancient Runes this year. If she was honest, Hermione was grateful for the distraction. Now that Harry had pointed it out, she felt really terrible about letting Hagrid down. When had she become so insensitive to her friends’ wellbeing, she wondered? She hadn’t had any friends before she came to Hogwarts, so her friends here were very precious to her, and yet she’d suddenly started neglecting them. She just couldn’t fathom what had happened to bring about this strange state of affairs.

At least her studies would be interesting... and hopefully not life-threatening. Ron had made a good point where Care of Magical Creatures was concerned – it was a miracle nobody had been seriously injured studying for their OWLs. Lord knows what deadly monstrosities Hagrid would wheel out for his NEWT students. Well... NEWT student, she amended guiltily. Hermione was confident that Harry would be the only person daft enough (or brave enough, or loyal enough) to continue with Hagrid’s classes.

With a sigh of self-reproach, Hermione glanced around the room. Hogwarts really was a magical place to go to school, she mused (no pun intended). The architecture was like something out of a romance novel, and the views of the Scottish Highlands took her breath away. This room – Classroom 6A on the sixth floor – was one of Hermione’s absolute favourites. It was bright and airy, with high arched windows on three sides offering almost panoramic views across the grounds to the mountains beyond.

Her wistful reverie was abruptly shattered by the distinctive sound of an explosion somewhere within the school. It sounded exactly like the Bombarda that Umbridge had used to blast her way into the DA meeting last year. Hermione’s heart leapt in fear. Was the school under attack?

Babbling fell silent, glancing out of the window in alarm. She seemed uncertain what to do, but then waved her wand at the door. Hermione heard the distinctive click of the lock engaging. “Remain in your seats,” the professor ordered. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” She glanced out of the window again. “Probably just a cauldron exploding...” she added uncertainly.

Hermione sincerely hoped that the professor was wrong, because an explosion that loud would probably have killed an entire class of students. Babbling attempted to continue the lesson, but her heart wasn’t really in it.

A second explosion shook the windows, causing Babbling to yelp in terror. The students quickly abandoned their desks and rushed to one side of the room to see what was going on. Hermione was towards the rear of the pack, and at first she saw nothing. But then she spotted three Aurors sprinting across the grounds towards the Entrance Courtyard.

“Return to your seats!” Babbling insisted, her voice wavering unsteadily.

Everyone ignored her, and the professor soon joined them at the window instead, scouring the towers fearfully.

A couple of long seconds passed.

“Aurors on brooms!” somebody cried, pointing at the sky.

Sure enough, Hermione spied lots of black dots streaming out of the clouds. They seemed to be converging on the school from all directions. A sudden terror gripped her. Where was Harry? Was he safe?

To her horror an even louder boom filled the air, and then a window in the Headmaster’s Tower exploded outwards. Glass and stone blocks tumbled down the roof of the Grand Staircase Tower before falling out of sight. The sound of glass shattering reached them a second later. Hermione’s hand found her mouth, stifling an appalled scream. She and the students around her all gawked at the large hole that had been blasted in the side of the Headmaster’s Office, aghast at what that might mean.

“Someone is battling the Headmaster...” Tracey Davis whispered in awe.

“Look!” Mandy Brocklehurst cried, pointing towards the causeway. “Who’s that?”

Striding across the Entrance Courtyard flanked by four Dementors was someone Hermione had fervently hoped to never see again.

“Oh no,” Hermione whispered in dismay, “what on earth is he doing here?”

Just when she thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, Harry and Tonks appeared at the hole in Dumbledore’s tower and hugged.

What the ever-loving fuck was going on?

- § -

Harry rose from his crouch and stepped towards the hole he’d blasted in the wall. With one hand on the jagged stonework he leaned out to scan the sky. Aurors were circling above like a swarm of angry gnats, but none of them came his way. Harry frowned. Two of them should be heading down here to fly him and Tonks to freedom. That had been the plan, anyway. What was Scrimgeour up to?

Behind him, Snape and McGonagall were engaged in a lively-looking whispered conversation with Dumbledore. Harry couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they certainly looked rattled. Well, McGonagall looked rattled while Snape looked murderous. Tonks joined him at the window. Harry slipped an arm around her shoulders and smiled encouragingly.

Open up!” a new voice boomed at the door. “By the Authority of the High Inquisitor, you are ordered to open up!

Harry’s mouth dropped open. He recognised that voice! What the hell was he doing here?

For several seconds Dumbledore looked Harry right in the eye, perhaps judging him or accusing him of something. If Harry didn’t have such well-developed Occlumency skills he would have wondered in Dumbledore was trying to read his mind. But the Headmaster was apparently not so foolish and Harry didn’t feel even the slightest brush against his mental defences.

With an angry growl Dumbledore waved his hand and the door finally swung open. It emitted a series of distressed grinding sounds, squealed alarmingly, and then toppled sideways as one of the hinges fell off.

Confirming Harry’s worst suspicions, none other than the former Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge stepped into the room, clambering awkwardly over the half-fallen door.

One by one, four Dementors drifted in behind him. Harry glared at the floating abominations in hatred, but (for the first time in his life) they paid him no attention whatsoever. These must be Australian Dementors, he guessed. They were noticeably taller than the ones he’d encountered before, but their robes seemed to hang off them as if they were underfed and emaciated. It was several moments before Harry noticed that he wasn’t suffering the usual sensation of freezing water rising in his chest and cutting at his heart. Was that because he had Tonks at his side, he wondered, or was it a result of his Occlumency training?

“Dear oh dear oh dear,” Fudge said cheerfully, taking in the scene, “this is quite the pickle, eh Dumbledore?”

“What nonsense it this Cornelius?” Dumbledore demanded angrily, ignoring the Dementors.

“That’s High Inquisitor Fudge to you Headmaster, and maybe this is... how do the kids put it these days? Payback? Yes, payback.”

“Payback for what?” Dumbledore shot back, waving his wand over himself to vanish the layer of dust. “For you being fired in disgrace? That was entirely your own doing.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Fudge admitted, nodding to himself wryly, “perhaps you’re right. But rest assured that the look of smug satisfaction on your face when it happened did not escape my notice. You really should be more careful about revealing your emotions like that. Someone might take offense, and you never know when that might come back to bite you in the ass. Anyway, that’s by-the-by. In entirely unconnected news, cheerful happenstance has brought us together again... with you answering to me once more.”

Fudge smiled obsequiously.

“The post of High Inquisitor was abolished and those laws were repealed,” Dumbledore replied through gritted teeth. “That sorry episode is behind us! Cease this ridiculous charade Cornelius and let us...”

“Ah, if only I could!” Fudge interrupted with transparently fake regret. “Alas I am but a lowly public servant, sent by the new Minister to restore order. Those laws were, as you say, repealed. But the new Minister has almost limitless power under the current State of Emergency, and has chosen to un-repeal them.”

Fudge kept using the phrase ‘new Minister’, Harry noted. That had to be deliberate. Was he perhaps sending the message that Dumbledore had engineered Fudge’s downfall only to have him replaced by someone worse? It was just the sort of thing a vindictive politician like Fudge would do.

“I assure you that all the requisite paperwork has been filed”, Fudge continued. “I have the same legal authority that was granted to my predecessor, the regrettably overzealous Ms Umbridge. Now you can of course refuse to co-operate, but I would strongly advise you not to do that. The new Minister has asked me to remind you that last June you confessed, before several witnesses including myself, to conspiring against the office of the Minister for Magic and raising an army against the Ministry. In light of subsequent events, no further action has been taken, but that situation could easily change...”

Snape and McGonagall both made outraged noises. Dumbledore hastily raised a hand to quell them, but it was too late – they had already drawn the High Inquisitor’s attention.

“Ah yes, Professor Snape,” Fudge drawled, turning to face him. “I have a message for you too. The Minister asked me to remind you that possession of the Dark Mark is now a capital offence, and your immunity from that sentence is contingent upon you refraining from any activity that might call your innocence into question. Any altercations with the Chosen One, for example, or any breach of the Restraining Order against you, might lead to your immediate execution.”

Snape bristled furiously, but said nothing as Fudge turned his attention to McGonagall.

“Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, since nobody seems to know exactly what it is that you do as Deputy Headmistress, the need for that role is rather unclear. Now that I’m here we can certainly dispense with it. The position is therefore abolished with immediate effect and you are once again a mere professor. The new Minister has also noted that you have severely neglected your duties as the Gryffindor Head of House. Five years ago, three first year Gryffindors were almost killed by a troll. Later that year two first years were attacked in the Forbidden Forest while serving a detention which you gave them, in clear contravention of both School Policy and simple common sense. Four years ago a first year was possessed by an enchanted book and had to be saved by a second year student while you stood by and did nothing. Three years ago it was discovered that a grown man had been living inside Gryffindor Tower for at least the previous seven years disguised as a rat, and an escaped felon managed to access the Gryffindor student dorms with a knife, intent upon murder. Two years ago an underage Gryffindor student was illegally entered into the Triwizard Tournament and you did nothing to overturn it. Nor did you assist that student in any way to ensure his survival. Most recently, when a student appealed an unfair detention, you offered no assistance and told him to just ‘keep his head down’. As a result he was tortured with a Blood Quill for an entire school year.”

The irony of Fudge making those accusations was not lost on Harry. Fudge himself was far from blameless in several of them. Nevertheless, those things had all happened on McGonagall’s watch and it was hard to justify such a litany of neglect. Accordingly, the former Deputy Headmistress gawped like a fish for several long seconds, looking extremely stupid with her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to justify her actions. When she finally spoke the words tumbled out in a confused jumble of fragmented and strangled sentences.

“That was... but they were... it was just meant to scare... I didn’t know about... the Goblet was legally binding... I wasn’t allowed to...”

She ground to an abrupt halt and then declared indignantly, “Those all involved Harry Potter!” as if that excused everything.

Her mistake was immediately apparent to everyone. Snape shook his head at her foolishness, while Dumbledore sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Fudge’s eyes widened merrily in mock horror, “You don’t deny it then? Oh dear, how very distressing! In that case I have no choice – I’m afraid I’ll have to place you on probation as Head of Gryffindor. If you fail to maintain adequate standards of pastoral care from now on you will be removed from that position and may be dismissed from the school.”

The blood completely drained from McGonagall’s face. She turned to Dumbledore looking distraught, but the Headmaster merely shook his head sadly. McGonagall recoiled as if she’d been slapped. She raised a shaking hand to her mouth and backed away looking betrayed.

This was all rather underhand, Harry knew. Fudge had clearly learned some lessons from his previous encounter with the Headmaster. On that occasion he’d gone after Dumbledore directly, and discovered that the wily old schemer was a rather slippery adversary. The Headmaster’s allies, however, were a lot easier to corner. Fudge was deliberately focussing on McGonagall because she was a soft target, but his true goal was to strip the Headmaster of support and send him a message – if he caused any trouble his allies would suffer.

During Harry and Scrimgeour’s most recent meetings the Minister had shown considerable interest in Harry’s experiences at Hogwarts. He’d insisted on hearing a detailed account of the many times Harry had found himself in danger. To Harry’s surprise, it wasn’t Snape’s mistreatment that had most incensed Scrimgeour. That, he’d said, was to be expected given the man’s bitter and vindictive nature. Nor was it Dumbledore’s role in Harry’s misadventures, since the Headmaster was clearly steering events in a pre-planned direction for reasons of his own. But every time Harry mentioned McGonagall the Minister had become increasingly outraged. The Deputy Headmistress clearly had no personal axe to grind with Harry, and the Minister seriously doubted that she’d been taken into Dumbledore’s confidence, which meant that the most plausible reason for her repeated failure to protect and support Harry was rank incompetence. Harry wasn’t sure he agreed with that conclusion, but he was admittedly unable to come up with a more compelling explanation.

Was there a history of animosity between Scrimgeour and McGonagall, Harry wondered? Hadn’t Hermione told him that Scrimgeour was a Scottish name? The Minister also had the faintest hint of an accent, though Harry wasn’t sure if it was Scottish or Welsh. Maybe he and McGonagall grew up together, or attended Hogwarts at the same time? Harry had no idea how old either one of them was, but they both appeared to be absolutely ancient. McGonagall was widowed, Harry knew (though he couldn’t remember where he’d heard that), so perhaps she’d been romantic with Scrimgeour and then dumped him for the guy she married?

A disturbingly vivid and unwelcome image of Scrimgeour and McGonagall in a passionate embrace leapt into his head. Harry shuddered in horror, trying desperately to banish the thought. But that just made it worse. The image morphed into the wrinkly couple snogging, with tongues, and Scrimgeour was grabbing McGonagall’s arse...

Oh God, please stop! Harry screamed at his subconscious mind.

Fudge turned towards him with an oily grin as if they were best buddies.

“Harry m’boy!” he said in greeting, but on seeing Harry’s expression his smile faltered. “Oh my! I can see how disturbed you are by your mistreatment at the hands of these professors. Please accept my sincere apologies on behalf of the School. Why don’t you run along and leave this to me? I need to escort these three to the Ministry for their Disciplinary Hearing. Auror Tonks, please escort Harry back to his Common Room. Rest assured that I will commend you to Gawain Robards for your exemplary conduct in protecting the Chosen One.”

Tonks’ eyes widened. Having the former Minister for Magic put in a good word with the current Head of the DMLE was no small thing. In a daze, Harry and Tonks both dropped their shield spells. Fudge shooed the Dementors out of the way and escorted Harry to the door personally.

“Rufus sent me to run interference,” Fudge whispered. “Leave the Headmaster to me.”

“Let’s have a chat tomorrow regarding your duties as Head Boy,” Fudge said loudly as he steered Harry past Savage and Proudfoot towards the revolving stairs. “You’ll be reporting to me from now on.”

As the magical steps carried him downwards, Harry struggled to gather his scattered thoughts. Fudge’s appearance had thrown him completely. But once he’d got over the shock of seeing the man, and the horror of someone taking up the post of High Inquisitor again, Harry had to admit that it was a rather inspired move. Scrimgeour had copied yet another trick from Fudge’s playbook – rather than confront Dumbledore in person, he had sent a proxy. That made an enormous difference. If Dumbledore went head-to-head with Scrimgeour, it would look like a political squabble between two powerful individuals. But Dumbledore going head-to-head with someone appointed by the Minister was a very different matter. That would look like a challenge to the office and the authority of the Minister. Very few would support Dumbledore if he did that, and those that did might find themselves in Azkaban pretty quick. The Headmaster knew that, which is why he had never challenged Umbridge the previous year.

Even better, Scrimgeour had sent Fudge of all people! That was absolute genius. Not only did Fudge have a grudge against Dumbledore, but he was one of the few people in the world who would stand up to the Headmaster. He wasn’t half the wizard that Dumbledore was, but he was a career politician so he knew how to play the game. Fudge had run rings around the Headmaster for the last three years because, despite the fact that Dumbledore knew that Fudge was using his own morals against him, the Headmaster was unable to alter his behaviour. That was the problem with being a paragon of virtue – you backed yourself into a corner. Unless you conceded the moral high ground you were frequently left with very few options. A skilled and cynical opponent like Fudge could easily ensure that you were left with none.

Unfortunately for his allies, Dumbledore seemed to consider the moral high ground to be more important than their welfare. That’s why he did nothing to stop Umbridge (and even rescued her from the centaurs to wreak yet more havoc in the future). That’s also why Lucius Malfoy was allowed to walk free after the first war (on the transparently fake excuse that he’d been under the Imperius) and subsequently conspired to murder Ginny, sent Hagrid to Azkaban, and played a key role in the trap that claimed Sirius’ life. The Headmaster’s inflexible determination to preserve his grandiose moral purity, despite the harm it did to those around him, was a vane and selfish affectation whose cost Harry was no longer willing to tolerate.

However, it was a weakness that Harry could definitely use to his advantage.

Notes:

Harry will return to Dumbledore’s office for another chat in the next chapter...

Chapter 35: Round Two

Notes:

Sorry for the extra-long delay in getting this chapter out... but my flatmate and I are being evicted! Okay, not immediately – we’re not being thrown out on the street just yet. But we’ve been given notice, so we have to find a new place pretty sharpish. That is proving to be extremely difficult. There’s tonnes of demand but no supply, so every property that comes on the market is immediately swamped by hundreds of people fighting over it. If we don’t dedicate ourselves 100% to the task, there is a real possibility that we will eventually end up sitting on the kerb with all our belongings in shopping trolleys. Seriously, there is.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Harry and Tonks walked back towards Gryffindor Tower, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Harry absent-mindedly pulled a chocolate bar from his pocket and took a bite. The more he thought about it the more he realised that Scrimgeour’s move had been truly brilliant. As long as Fudge didn’t turn into another Umbitch, his presence would really take the heat off Harry. In fact, Harry could get away with an awful lot more if he played his cards right. He grinned evilly and took another bite.

It was several seconds before he realised that Tonks was staring at him pointedly.

“Do you want some?” he asked, offering her the rest of the chocolate bar.

No I don’t want some!” Tonks shrieked, glaring at him like he’d grown a second head. “How can you eat at a time like this?

Harry checked his watch in confusion, “Half past nine? What’s wrong with...”

Tonks punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow!” Harry complained, and then realised what she meant. “Oh, you mean after...” he waved his hand vaguely, “what just happened.”

Tonks punched him in the shoulder again.

“Ow! Stop doing that!”

“I will when you stop being a prat,” she growled.

He considered a snarky response but her expression quickly dissuaded him.

“It’s medicinal,” he replied instead. “Chocolate helps to reduce stress.”

“I think I need a couple of fingers of something a lot stiffer,” Tonks muttered under her breath.

Harry’s eyes went wide.

Oh my God, I meant Firewhisky!” Tonks howled, goggling at his expression. “Get your mind out of the gutter Potter!”

“Whisky,” Harry replied smirking cheekily, “right, yeah... if you say so.”

He raised the chocolate bar for another bite. Half way to his mouth, it was snatched from his fingers.

“Give me that!” Tonks huffed, taking a bite.

“He faces down the most powerful wizard in the country,” she muttered to herself, chewing fiercely, “and all he can think about is food and sex.”

“I never mentioned sex,” Harry countered. “You’re the one talking about shagging a bar of chocolate.”

Tonks swung a fist, which Harry deftly side-stepped. He then took off as fast as his feet would carry him. Tonks got him in the back with several hexes before he turned the first corner. He was once again very thankful for Fred and George’s protective charms.

- § -

Back in the Common Room, Harry immediately threw himself down on a sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table in front of him.

“Don’t you want to head up to our room?” Tonks wondered.

“Nah,” Harry replied. “No point. Dumbledore will summon us again as soon as he gets back from the Ministry.”

“You mean we have to go through all of that again?” she groaned.

“Fraid so. You should relax while you can.”

Tonks slumped disconsolately onto the sofa next to him, “Great! Wonderful! Perfect!

The room was abuzz with gossip and wild rumours about what all the loud booms had been, but Harry just shrugged when anyone asked him about it, claiming he had no idea what was going on.

An hour later he was handed another note:

Dear Harry,
Kindly return to my office to resume our chat.
You will find me quite unaccompanied.
Headmaster A. P. W. B. Dumbledore

Harry dropped his feet to the floor, “Okay, here we go again... round two!”

Tonks turned slightly green at the prospect.

- § -

“Come in,” said Dumbledore’s voice.

Harry and Tonks stepped into the Headmaster’s Office for the second time that morning. They both looked around in wonder. Everything was back to normal – not a thing out of place. The door was back on, the hole in the wall was gone, the window was back, and the entire place was as clean as a whistle.

“Ah Harry”, Dumbledore paused, seeing that Harry wasn’t alone, “and Nymphadora. What a pleasant surprise.”

Tonks ground her teeth but said nothing.

Harry smiled coldly, “Tonks is my bodyguard. She goes wherever I go. What can I do for you Headmaster?”

Dumbledore’s eyes lingered on Tonks for a moment but he eventually elected to offer no objection to her presence. Perhaps he sensed that it would not go well if he did. He settled into the large chair behind his oversize desk and waved a hand. Two similar-sized chairs appeared in front.

“I was hoping we could chat about a few... matters. Sit down, wont you?”

Harry took one of the offered chairs, but Tonks ignored the other. She wandered over to the wall instead and stood watching them from the side. Harry was impressed. It was an overt signal that she didn’t trust Dumbledore and was positioning herself for a fight.

“You’ve had a busy summer Harry,” Dumbledore remarked, taking no notice of Tonks.

Harry shrugged, “Not that busy really. I barely left the Burrow... just a few cream teas and public appearances really.”

Dumbledore seemed to be watching him very closely, “Is that really all it was Harry – cream teas and public appearances?”

Harry felt the lightest of touches on his Occlumency defences, and then it was gone. Dumbledore had probed just enough to discover that Harry actually had defences, and then withdrawn. The Headmaster’s expression betrayed very little, except perhaps the barest hint of frustrated irritation.

“Absolutely,” Harry replied. “One hundred percent!”

It was extremely unlikely that Dumbledore still believed any of this guff. Harry knew that. But he also knew that Dumbledore was unlikely to call him on it. Confrontation just wasn’t the Headmaster’s style. He would happily allow Harry to be raked over the coals for breaking school rules, and would even spearhead those proceedings if it suited him, but he’d never go head-to-head with an adversary in any other circumstance. He much preferred to use his intellect to catch his opponents in a lie. In that way he could uncover their secrets and then use that knowledge against them later.

Harry was more than happy to play this Dumbledore’s way – it was much easier to continue this ridiculous charade than have a potentially explosive conversation about what Harry was really up to. The Headmaster would figure it out of course (and probably already had) but whatever victory the old man might feel from discovering Harry’s recent actions was an empty one. Harry’s subterfuge had already served its purpose.

“This is most gratifying news,” Dumbledore replied with a disarming smile, “considering the Minister’s notoriously unfortunate intolerance to dairy products.”

In the periphery of his vision Harry saw Tonks flinch. But Harry himself burst out laughing. He’d been busted already! But when that happened there was only one thing to do – double down.

He coughed in an apparently self-conscious manner, “Yes well. When I say ‘cream tea’... there wasn’t actually any cream involved... or tea for that matter. What we drank does look a bit like tea though... except it’s served with ice. Shall we call it an iced tea?”

Dumbledore frowned disapprovingly, “I see. I would caution you against making a habit of that Harry. Firewhisky renders us prone to making poor decisions. I have long lamented the lack of drinking laws in the magical world, but my efforts to introduce them have met with little support at the Wizengamot.”

“Yes well... anyway,” Harry continued in an effort to move the conversation along, “after Rufus... sorry I mean Scrimgeour... sent Tonks to be my bodyguard at the Burrow, he asked me to pop into the Ministry for a chat.”

That ‘accidental’ display of familiarity with the Minister was deliberate of course, just to unsettle Dumbledore. For some reason, Harry being on first name terms with Scrimgeour was the last thing Dumbledore wanted. Harry claiming that his first visit to the Ministry was at Scrimgeour’s invitation was a long-shot, but if Dumbledore believed it he might be inclined to underestimate Harry again in the future... so it was worth a try.

“Scrimgeour asked if I’d mind showing support for the Ministry,” Harry explained, “to give the citizens a boost. Well it seemed harmless enough, and after the disastrous time you and I had with Fudge last year I thought we better not alienate another Minister. So I agreed, and I think it’s gone pretty well, don’t you? The Ministry’s putting up quite a fight!”

Harry’s tone had been up-beat, but Dumbledore’s became abruptly ominous.

“There is more at stake here than you realise Harry! It was beyond reckless to disclose the prophecy. The Order risked their lives to keep the prophecy a secret. Sirius lost his life to protect it. You dishonoured their efforts by...”

Harry’s anger flared immediately white hot. He spoke over Dumbledore angrily, “Sirius died to protect me, Headmaster. How dare you use his death against me! You never cared about Sirius. You let him rot in Azkaban for twelve years without a trial. You imprisoned him in Grimmauld Place. Your pet Death Eater goaded him into being reckless. You kept secrets from me and you let Snape weaken my mind by torturing me with Legilimency. I was tricked by Voldemort because of your mistakes. You and Snape are the reason Sirius is dead, not me!”

Dumbledore had fallen quiet at Harry’s tirade. The silence stretched uncomfortably, but Harry glared unwaveringly straight into the Headmaster’s eyes. When Dumbledore spoke again it was with resignation and disappointment.

“I see that your opinion has hardened against Professor Snape, Harry. Nevertheless, it’s vital that you take Defence Against the Dark Arts, so I must insist that you rescind the Restraining Order against him.”

Harry deliberately took a deep breath to calm himself.

“You may have noticed that I learned Occlumency over the summer Headmaster. Do you know how long it took me?”

Dumbledore made no effort to respond. It had been a rhetorical question, but there was no answer he could give that would endear him to Harry, and he knew it.

Two weeks!” Harry hissed. “In fact I learnt more in the first hour than I did in three months with Snape. That’s what a decent teacher can achieve. I see no reason to inflict Snape’s odious presence and incompetent teaching on myself again this year. Quite frankly, I have better things to do. In any case, you said you would be giving me private lessons. Why would I need to learn Defence from Snape when I’ll be learning it from you?”

If Harry hadn’t been watching carefully he’d have missed Dumbledore’s tiny twitch of discomfort. But he was watching, and he saw it quite clearly. Harry sighed mentally. His suspicions were confirmed – Dumbledore would not in fact be teaching him Defence.

Once again Dumbledore ignored Harry’s question, “This animosity between you and Professor Snape has gone on long enough Harry. It’s essential that we remain united against Lord Voldemort. You must set aside the hatred you’ve inherited from your father or it will consume you. You must forgive those who...”

“I didn’t inherit this hatred,” Harry spat. “When I arrived at this school I had no idea Snape even existed. I certainly didn’t hate him. It’s his abuse and his attempts to murder Sirius that have made me hate him. Snape started this...”

“It doesn’t matter who started it Harry,” Dumbledore interrupted, “what matters is that...”

This time Harry’s anger got the better of him and he shouted Dumbledore down.

“Don’t make me laugh, Headmaster! Are you deluded? Teachers are forever saying that it doesn’t matter who started a fight, which quite frankly is a fucking disgrace, because what they really mean is they don’t care who started it. All they care about is that the conflict ends because it’s inconvenient to them for it to continue. But to anyone with an ounce of moral fibre, the question of who started it matters a great deal, because it goes right to the core of who’s at fault. It’s how you tell right from wrong. If one country invades another, igniting a war between them, does it matter who started the war? Of course it bloody does! Anyone who says otherwise is either a moron or doesn’t care about right and wrong. I know you’re not a moron, Headmaster, so you’re telling me that you don’t care about right and wrong. Well that’s your choice, shameful and abhorrent though it is. But I do care. It’s the aggressor who must make concessions for peace, not the victim. When Snape comes to me with a genuine heartfelt apology, and displays true remorse for what he’s done, then we can talk about peace. Until that happens I’ll treat him as the murdering child abuser that he is.”

“These matters are never as simple as they appear Harry,” Dumbledore replied, his tone insistent. “If we are to identify who ‘started it’ as you put it, then we must look beyond your own arrival at Hogwarts to that of another group of fresh-faced first years. Severus was an introverted and studious child when he came here. I can assure you that left to his own devices young Severus would have kept very much to himself. If anything ‘started this’ it was your father’s belligerent attitude when they first met on the train, followed by his systematic campaign of bullying after Severus was sorted into Slytherin.”

Harry opened his mouth to make an angry retort, but Dumbledore held up a hand, “I know what you’re about to say, Harry, and of course you are correct – they were just children so allowances must be made. You might also argue that Severus is far from blameless, not least because his response was to consistently raise the stakes. But if may be so bold, I would venture to suggest that Severus felt that he had little choice. As somewhat of a loner, he was routinely outnumbered four to one by your father’s gang. I would also note that he did in fact restrain himself on many occasions, but your father was so intent on provoking a response that he simply continued to harass Severus until he got one. I appreciate how unjust it may feel to you now, but someone must extend the olive branch, and if that person should be the person who started it, as you say, then it should not be Severus.”

The problem with talking to someone like Dumbledore, Harry realised, was that he was just too damned clever. The Headmaster could talk rings around most people and win most arguments simply because of his vastly superior intellect. He didn’t win the argument because he was right he won because he was smarter. That was particularly true if you made the mistake of fighting him on his battlefield of choice – the moral high ground. If you did that you effectively handed him home-field advantage, because Dumbledore had been defending the moral high ground for his entire life. Harry’s instincts told him he was right, but he had little chance of winning a debate with someone who had about a century more practice than he did.

Another thought struck Harry. This is why people like Fudge and Umbridge were able to trounce Dumbledore on a regular basis – because they fought him based on Politics and the Law, not morals. Fudge and Umbridge couldn’t care less about the moral high ground, so the vast majority of Dumbledore’s ammunition was rendered useless.

Even better, despite his positions as Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump, Dumbledore wasn’t very good at using the Law to get his way, and he was even worse at using Politics. In the entire time Harry had known him, the Headmaster had never shown any particular proficiency at either. The one time Harry had seen him in action – when he defended Harry at his Hearing – Dumbledore had been rather unimpressive. His entire defence appeared to rest on the surprise testimony of a Squib. There was no ‘Plan B’. He’d put all his eggs – all of Harry’s eggs – into just the one flimsy basket. If that had failed (and now that Harry thought about it, he was surprised that it had actually worked) Harry was pretty sure that they would have lost the case.

Dumbledore’s lofty position as Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump had been won based on his fearsome reputation as a powerful wizard, rather than his proficiency in politics. But Dumbledore had a habit of making as many enemies as friends, and he kept his allies in the dark, so anyone who could successfully organise Dumbledore’s foes against him would quickly build a significant advantage.

But Harry wasn’t ready to concede this argument yet. He knew he was right, he just knew it. The idea that Snape could bully him (and everyone else) without provocation and remain blameless was clearly nonsense. But Harry couldn’t see the flaw in Dumbledore’s argument. The must be one, but he couldn’t see it, and (ridiculous though it was) that lack of an immediate come-back would be seen to hand victory to his opponent. It would do him no good to come back tomorrow with a response. He needed to do it now, but he couldn’t think of one. He had to buy some time.

“What about all the other students?” Harry asked. “They did nothing to warrant being tormented by their potions professor!”

“Professor Snape is admittedly rather... impatient with those who don’t share his aptitude for the subject,” Dumbledore conceded, “and is perhaps overly severe on occasion, but Potions is a dangerous subject and there is little room for error. But that is another matter. We’re talking about the unhealthy feud between Severus and you.”

So Snape’s other crimes were irrelevant were they? Harry growled in irritation. He disagreed with that vehemently, but he sensed that he wouldn’t make any progress if he attempted to argue the point.

Abruptly it came to him – the flaw in Dumbledore’s argument.

“Let’s assume, for the moment,” Harry began, thinking out loud, “that what you say is true – that my father was hostile to Snape at their first meeting, and then repeatedly tormented Snape until he responded, and that Snape’s response was disproportionate because he was outnumbered. If so, then I admit that the feud between them was my father’s fault. If he were here, it would indeed seem appropriate that he should apologise to Snape for his actions.”

The tiniest flicker of a satisfied smile creased the corners of Dumbledore’s eyes before Harry continued.

“I would agree with you on that,” Harry conceded, but then his voice became hard, “except for one thing – my father isn’t here is he? No, he isn’t here because Snape found his own gang, in the form of a group of murderous terrorists called Death Eaters, and they killed my father. But that’s not all. They also killed his wife, leaving his baby son an orphan. But even that wasn’t sufficient retribution to satisfy Snape. The undeniably innocent child was then consigned to ten hellish years at the hands of magic-hating muggles. By any standards, I think it’s safe to say that Snape got his revenge on my father. He ended their feud in the most emphatic way imaginable – he saw his enemy murdered, his enemy’s wife murdered, and his enemy’s baby son suffer in misery for the next ten years. The feud was won and Snape emerged victorious. And yet Snape still was not satisfied. Despite all of that he continues to wreak vengeance upon my father by attacking his son. His feud with my father was at an end. His feud with me is a new one, and it is one that was undeniably begun by Snape himself.”

“We cannot ever know what is in the hearts of other men,” Dumbledore replied quietly, “but I am certain that Severus would not see your parents’ demise as a victory.”

“I fail to see how,” Harry replied, “but even if you’re right that doesn’t change the fact that the feud was over. It was done. And yet, when I arrived at Hogwarts, he started it up again with me. So I reject your assertion that my father is ultimately to blame for the animosity between Snape and me; the blame for that lies squarely at Snape’s door!”

Dumbledore sighed, “If only it were that simple. There are matters which I am not at liberty to share, but which undermine your carefully constructed argument. Severus did everything he could to prevent the death of your parents, as did I, but we were simply too late. By the time we discovered that your parents had been betrayed, Lord Voldemort was already at their door. We arrived to find your parents already dead. Yes, Severus made some terrible mistakes, but he did everything he could to undo them, and continues to atone for his mistakes to this day.”

Harry was completely wrong-footed by this revelation. Dumbledore had never spoken of that night before, and Harry’s Dementor-induced memories of that night ended with Voldemort’s death. His desire to see Snape answer for his behaviour evaporated in the face of his burning need to hear more about the events of that fateful night.

How?” he whispered desperately. “What happened?

“I’m sorry Harry,” Dumbledore replied in his most compassionate and grandfatherly tone, “but the time isn’t yet right for you to learn the full facts of that dreadful evening. You know all the most pertinent facts already, and I must beg your patience with regard to the few details that remain.”

Harry made no attempt to suppress the hateful glare that he shot at the Headmaster. The old man had done it again! He’d sucked Harry in with tantalising hints of undisclosed knowledge.

“More bloody secrets,” he spat bitterly. “Tell me Headmaster, exactly when will the time be right? A week on Tuesday? The first Friday of fucking never?”

“Calm yourself Harry,” Dumbledore chided him. “Profanity never serves to advance your cause.”

Harry growled in barely-repressed anger. The Headmaster had done that on purpose. He’d deliberately baited Harry to rattle him into losing his temper. If anyone but Tonks had been present Harry would have looked like a moody teenager and lost all credibility. Fortunately Dumbledore’s instinct to ‘play to the crowd’ was somewhat less effective without an actual crowd.

“Bite me,” Harry told him.

Tonks gasped.

“We have strayed off topic,” Dumbledore continued in his best ‘I’m the only adult in the room’ voice, which irritated Harry enormously. “Despite his mistakes, Professor Snape has attempted to make amends, and deserves a second chance.”

“You don’t give people a second chance before they show remorse,” Harry replied angrily, “you give it after. Snape might have displayed remorse to you, but that was in regard to his feud with my father. He has never shown remorse to me, so in regard to this current feud – which he initiated, don’t forget – I’m still waiting. You can forgive him for what he did fifteen years ago if you like, but he needs to apologise to me for everything he’s done since before I do the same. Until then he doesn’t deserve my forgiveness.”

Dumbledore once again regarded Harry in silence. His expression conveyed deep disappointment. It was a sentiment that Harry was becoming rather accustomed to. Harry had the feeling that the Headmaster was mentally grinding his teeth in frustration. Not for the first time, Harry praised the day he’d gone to Scrimgeour. Without his emancipation he’d have been a prisoner in this school until he reached seventeen. His right to walk out the door was the only thing saving him from Dumbledore’s anger right now.

At last, Dumbledore spoke, “Very well. I will inform Professor Snape that you won’t be attending his classes.”

“I shouldn’t expect an apology then?” Harry replied caustically.

Dumbledore’s face creased briefly in irritation. Once again he ignored Harry’s question.

“I must congratulate you Harry – you outmanoeuvred me quite conclusively this morning.”

Despite his words, there was no hint of praise in his tone. Quite the reverse – there was a very clear message of personal hurt.

Harry ignored the blatant attempt to make him feel guilty, “Thank you Headmaster. As I learned on the train yesterday, even a student can defeat a fully-trained wizard if they don’t see the attack coming.”

“Quite so,” Dumbledore admitted, “and I was indeed caught unawares. I had not realised that we were enemies.”

“Didn’t you?” Harry replied with feigned surprise. “Voldemort is trying to kill me and you’re doing everything you can to help him do it. I fail to see much distinction between you.”

The Headmaster seemed genuinely taken aback, “I can assure you Harry that everything I’ve done these last sixteen years has had but a single purpose – to maximise the likelihood of you defeating Lord Voldemort. I have made mistakes I admit, and we have suffered grievous losses, but you and I are most certainly on the same side.”

“I don’t think so Headmaster,” Harry disagreed. “They say that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, but I disagree. I’m blessed with several enemies, and you give safe harbour to one of them – a man who causes me harm at every opportunity and regularly tries to kill those I love. By extension, I must conclude that the friend of my enemy is my enemy.”

“We will discuss Professor Snape in a moment,” Dumbledore replied tiredly, “but before we do there are few other matters I would like to touch upon.”

Harry shrugged, “Go for it. I have plenty of time before my first lesson.”

“I heard about what happened on the train Harry. I will not allow such brutality in my school.”

“I’m glad to hear it Headmaster. It’s about time you did something to curb bullying at Hogwarts. Those three Slytherins attacked us entirely without provocation.”

“I wasn’t referring to what they did Harry, but what you did.”

“Of course you weren’t,” Harry scoffed, “how stupid of me. I forgot that you have infinite patience where the guilty are concerned. It’s the innocent who suffer your ire.”

“You put three students in St Mungo’s, Harry. It is your lack of restraint that troubles me.”

Harry laughed without mirth, “Then I fear you’re destined for more disappointment Headmaster, because that was me showing restraint. I did the minimum I had to do to unequivocally take my attackers out of the fight. I could have simply killed them, and I would have been justified in doing so. The curses they shot at Tonks and me would have killed or maimed us far more severely than what I did to those scumbags.”

“I don’t deny it,” Dumbledore conceded, “but we must hold ourselves to a higher standard than our enemies if we wish to lead society into a brighter future. If you lower yourself to their level you simply replace one misguided individual with another.”

“Those are very pretty sentiments Headmaster, but they won’t do us much good if Voldemort wins the war and turns the country into a hellish totalitarian state. Your idealistic defence of the moral high-ground will see muggleborns slaughtered in their thousands.”

“Winning a war isn’t about fighting every battle, Harry. It’s about the prudent utilisation of resources. One must choose one’s battles carefully, contending the ones that edge you closer to your goal and avoiding the ones that move you further away. Sometimes one must give ground on one front to gain more ground on another. One’s ultimate goal must be that the final battle is won decisively, while ensuring that one doesn’t lose one’s soul along the way.”

Harry shrugged, “I am aware of your opinions on this subject Headmaster.”

“Good. Then you will appreciate that I can’t allow scenes like those on the train to be repeated within this school.”

“Of course,” Harry agreed. “In fact I very much look forward to your announcement that those who attack others will be expelled and handed over to the Aurors for trial, Headmaster.”

“That is not what I meant, as you well know.”

“Really?” Harry replied sarcastically. “What a shame. Then I will continue to defend myself and others as I see fit. If you object you are welcome to expel me. I can be packed and gone within the hour if you like? Just say the word.”

“Again with the ultimatums and the blackmail Harry?”

“Hardly!” Harry snorted. “I’m merely pointing out your options. Unless you’re telling me that expulsion is not an option? If so I would like to know why...”

Dumbledore looked suddenly exhausted, as if some heavy burden were weighing him down.

“There are things you must know,” he said quietly. “Things only I can tell you...”

For a moment the Headmaster appeared lost in thought, but his air of introspection fled as quickly as it had arrived and he changed the subject once more. Harry made no effort to pursue the matter – he wasn’t going to fall for that trick again.

“You will be happy to hear that your family were successfully relocated over the summer.”

“My family,” Harry repeated in confusion. His family were all dead...

“Oh you mean the Dursleys,” he exclaimed as realisation struck him. “Oh right. Yes that was really preying on my mind. What a relief! I hadn’t forgotten they existed at all.”

Dumbledore’s eyes flashed at Harry’s tone, but he chose not to rise to it.

“I would like to start your private lessons on Saturday,” the Headmaster asserted instead. “Kindly come along to my office at 8pm. Regrettably, Nymphadora will not be able to accompany you.”

Harry glanced at Tonks. She was looking rather sickly and didn’t react to her name at all.

“Should I bring any Defence textbooks?” asked Harry.

Dumbledore flinched almost imperceptibly, “That won’t be necessary.”

“We’ll be doing really advanced or obscure spells then?” Harry gushed disingenuously. “Excellent! I look forward to it.” He walked calmly to the door, closely followed by a pale-looking Tonks. “Good day, Headmaster.”

Dumbledore merely nodded. As they stepped onto the revolving stairs Tonks looked like she was about to say something, but Harry put his finger to his lips. They descended in silence, passed the gargoyle, and turned two corners before Harry leant against a wall and blew out a huge breath.

Tonks stared at him wide-eyed, “Fucking hell Harry!”

Harry grinned cheekily, “You think I was too soft on him?”

Tonks smacked him across the shoulder, “I don’t know how many more times I can do this...”

Harry stood up and put an arm round her shoulders, “Welcome to my life. Facing down powerful wizards is all in a day’s work. Don’t worry – you get used to the raw terror... eventually.”

“It’s a good job I’m a metamorphmagus,” she muttered, “or I’d have grey hair already.”

- § -

Moments after they arrived back at the common room, Ron and Hermione returned from Snape's first Defence lesson. Hermione immediately came running over, looking like she was going to engulf Harry in one of her trademark rib-crushing hugs. But she reconsidered at the last moment and came to a halt a few steps away.

Harry what happened?” she gasped worriedly. “We heard explosions and saw a window of the Headmaster’s Tower destroyed! Snape was fifteen minutes late for his lesson and had a face like thunder!”

“Face like a smacked arse more like,” Ron corrected as he strolled up, chewing on a squashed Cauldron Cake that he’d crammed into his pocket at breakfast.

Harry shrugged, “I have no idea. Tonks and I were up in my room the whole time, weren’t we Tonks?”

Tonks hadn’t actually been paying attention, “Huh?”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed and she folded her arms heatedly, “Harry I saw you. Seconds after someone blew a six foot hole in the Headmaster’s wall, you and Tonks appeared in that hole!

Ron choked on his cake, struggling to speak as he thumped himself on the chest, “Seriously? You were there?

Harry sucked air through his teeth and grinned at Tonks wryly, “Oops. Busted!”

The pink-haired Auror rolled her eyes but made no attempt to help him out.

“Okay fine,” Harry sighed. “Dumbledore asked me up for a chat but it turned out to be an ambush – Snape and McGonagall were there as some sort of kangaroo court. I wasn’t happy about that and things got a little... heated.”

Tonks snorted, “Heated? Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. You called Snape a Death Eater and told him to shut the fuck up.”

You didn’t!” Hermione shrieked.

“I might have,” Harry admitted, “but he was being a right tosser. He deserved it.”

“And you drew your wand on Dumbledore,” Tonks added.

NO!” Hermione gasped.

Ron’s mouth dropped open in shock and a lump of half-eaten cake fell out. It hit the floor at his feet with a splat.

“Dumbledore started it,” Harry replied defensively. “He threatened us.”

“He didn’t actually threaten...” Tonks corrected.

“It was implied,” Harry insisted. “And like I said at the Burrow, if someone behaves like an enemy I’ll assume they are one.”

Oh my God” Hermione interrupted shrilly. “It was you wasn’t it? You blew a hole in the wall!”

“Well they wouldn’t let me leave,” Harry replied as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world. “They locked the door, so I had to make a new one...”

Hermione looked like she might faint. She slapped a hand to her forehead and started pacing back and forth. “You blew a hole in the Headmaster’s wall! Oh this is bad. This is very bad! How are we going to get you out of this? Temporary insanity maybe...”

“Relax Hermione,” Harry told her calmly. “I’ll be fine. The professors have other things on their minds right now.”

“What the hell would take their minds off you blowing a hole in the wall?” Ron asked, wide-eyed.

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry replied, just as Tonks said, “Harry got them arrested.”

WHAT?!?!” Hermione and Ron both gasped, drawing the attention of the few people in the room who weren’t already eavesdropping.

“I didn’t get them arrested,” Harry objected, shooting Tonks an irritated look. “They got themselves arrested by detaining us illegally.”

“And fined a thousand Galleons,” Tonks added, entirely undeterred by Harry’s disapproving glare.

Harry had a feeling that talking about what had happened was helping her to deal with the adrenaline that was still coursing through her system.

A thousand Galleons!” Ron repeated in disbelief. “Fuck me sideways and call me Susan!”

It was a measure of how shocked she was that Hermione didn’t even notice Ron’s swearing. She staggered to a nearby chair and slumped into it.

Arrested!” she whispered to herself in horror.

“And fined,” Tonks reminded her helpfully.

“Yes, thank you Tonks,” Harry huffed grumpily.

“And you got McGonagall fired as Deputy Headmistress,” Tonks added with the barest hint of a grin.

“God damn it Tonks!” Harry growled. She was clearly starting to enjoy herself now. “That was nothing to do with me!”

“What about McGonagall being put on probation as Head of Gryffindor?” Tonks asked innocently.

Hermione emitted a strangled squeak and just stared at Harry with her hand over her mouth.

“That wasn’t my fault!” Harry asserted immediately, but then he realised that since all the offences McGonagall had been censured for involved him, it kind of was. “I mean... not really...”

Ron was as shocked as Hermione, but his expression had a distinct hint of admiration about it.

“So basically,” Ron summarised, “the three most senior professors in the school called you up there to give you a bollocking... and got their asses handed to them?”

Harry wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, but judging by the sea of silent faces staring at him in fearful reverence everyone had already decided that he was some sort of badass messiah. If he wasn’t careful people were going to start calling him ‘Chosen One’ to his face.

“Okay yes,” he admitted in the end, and then inspiration stuck on how he could get everyone off this subject. “Unfortunately my dramatic exit via the hole in the wall was ruined by the arrival of the new High Inquisitor – Cornelius Fudge.”

As he’d expected, that statement ignited a furious debate about what it meant and whether Fudge would be as bad as Umbridge. Ron and Hermione both thought it was a total disaster, but still got into an argument about it. Harry listened to them bicker for a solid five minutes, and still wasn’t sure what it was they were actually disagreeing about. Finally, his curiosity about something else got the better of him.

“How did Snape’s first Defence lesson go?” he asked.

“Rubbish,” said Ron just as Hermione said, “Quite good.”

“It was not quite good!” Ron objected. “It was typical Snape – he just told us to start casting jinxes silently! No explanation of how, he just told us to do it. It’s the same way he used to teach potions – no actual teaching, just intimidation and insults while we try to figure it out ourselves.”

“Well I had no trouble,” replied Hermione defensively, and rather pompously.

“He didn’t teach you though, did he?” Ron shot back. “You taught yourself. What’s he getting paid for if we’re teaching ourselves?”

To Harry’s surprise, Ron had apparently reached the same conclusion about Snape’s teaching style that Harry had. This happened every now and again, Harry realised – Ron would do or say something that proved he wasn’t nearly as stupid as he seemed. It was just a shame it happened so rarely.

“Anyway,” Ron continued, “Just because you were able to do it doesn’t mean that normal people can.”

“What do you mean normal people?” Hermione shrieked. “Are you saying I’m not normal?

Harry sighed. Ron’s brief moment of insight was apparently over. Needless to say a whole new argument ensued, which Harry immediately tuned out. At least he’d managed to steer the focus away from himself...

- § -

After their break, Hermione went off to Arithmancy while Ron made a grudging attempt at Snape’s homework. This turned out to be so complex that he’d made no progress whatsoever by the time they gathered for lunch in the Great Hall. Harry and Ron walked down together, chatting amiably. Some of the awkwardness between them was momentarily forgotten and it was almost like old times. Almost. But if Ron thought all was forgiven he was very much mistaken. As Harry had told Dumbledore, he wouldn’t be forgiving anyone who wronged him without a sincere apology.

Hermione was already sitting when they arrived, making some last-minute notes on the lesson she’d just had. She packed her stuff away while they took their seats, just as Luna arrived carrying a huge stack of Quibblers. She seemed to be handing them out for free.

“Here you go Harry,” Luna said brightly, handing him a copy.

Harry looked it over while Luna gave Ron, Hermione and Tonks copies too. The front cover contained just one headline:

Sirius Black (AKA Stubby Boardman)
Granted Posthumous Pardon!
Peter Pettigrew Executed!

Harry quickly opened it up to the first page and began reading:

In the early hours of yesterday morning Peter Pettigrew, long thought dead, was apprehended in the midlands town of Cokeworth. According to a Ministry spokesperson, an anonymous tip-off led the Auror Office to place a watch on an otherwise unremarkable property in the town. To their amazement, a furtive-looking and very-much-alive Peter Pettigrew soon emerged from the house. He was immediately apprehended for questioning.

Under Veritaserum Pettigrew confessed to a litany of crimes including betraying the Potters’ location to You-Know-Who sixteen years ago, framing Sirius Black for the murder of 12 muggles, and the cold-blooded murder of Hogwarts student Cedric Diggory at the end of the Triwizard Tournament one year ago.

Pettigrew was found guilty on all counts by a DMLE tribunal and was sentenced to immediate execution. That sentence was carried out at 4pm yesterday by the new Executioner – Cedric’s father, Amos Diggory – who told us: “My boy would be proud to hear that his father served justice upon the craven coward who took him from us.”

Sirius Black has been declared innocent and posthumously issued with a full pardon. The full story of how Pettigrew framed Black, how Black escaped from Azkaban, and how Black gave his life in defence of the Chosen One was revealed exclusively to our roving reporter on the Hogwarts Express yesterday by Harry Potter himself. It is a tale of dastardly betrayal, high adventure and heartbreaking loss...

Harry stopped reading. He knew the tale well enough already. He’d told Luna everything, and scanning quickly over the story he saw that she had reported it fully and faithfully, exactly the way he told it to her. He smiled at her gratefully, tears prickling the corners of his eyes.

“Thank you Luna.”

“You are very welcome Harry Potter,” she replied, placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

“This is what Scrimgeour’s message was about yesterday isn’t it?” Hermione said, lifting her eyes from her copy. “The one that said, ‘You were right. It’s done.’ – it was about this?”

Harry nodded. His voice dropped to a whisper, “Yes it was. Narcissa Malfoy told us that Pettigrew was hiding out at Snape’s house, but we didn’t want to launch a full-scale raid to apprehend him. There’s no telling what dark protections Snape has cast on the place. But I knew that Snape would never let the rat stay there on his own, so I suggested that the Minister have Aurors watch the house in the run-up to September 1st. Sure enough, Snape threw the murdering git out yesterday morning. Pettigrew was captured the moment he rounded the first corner. I would have liked to have executed him myself, for betraying my parents, but I couldn’t deprive Mr Diggory of the opportunity to avenge his son. I’ll get my vengeance when I kill Voldemort. In the meantime I wanted Sirius’ story to be known. I want everyone to know that he was innocent, so I gave another exclusive to the Quibbler.”

“Harry’s fee for the article was the two hundred copies,” Luna added, “to be handed out for free at Hogwarts.” She gave a copy to two passing Gryffindors. “But Daddy sold the story to the Prophet this morning, so everyone will know by dinner time.”

“Does this mean Snape’s going to be arrested for harbouring a criminal?” Ron wondered, clearly hopeful that he’d get out of doing his Defence homework.

“Sadly not,” Harry whispered in reply. “He’d just claim he was doing it in his capacity as a double agent.”

Ron slumped in disappointment, “Bugger.”

“Language Ronald!” Hermione chided him reflexively, without looking up from her Quibbler.

Ron stuck his tongue out at her, but quickly sucked it back in when she glanced his way.

“But you got him,” Tonks observed. “You got the person who betrayed your parents and killed Cedric.”

“Yes I got him,” Harry confirmed. “One down... two to go.”

Hermione’s head snapped up in alarm, “Two to go? Voldemort and... who else?”

“Voldemort and whoever told him about the prophecy,” Harry replied coldly, “the person who set Voldemort on my parents in the first place.”

Hermione and Tonks both exchanged a look. Neither one of them had thought of that, and neither one of them was happy at the prospect of Harry taking on yet another potentially powerful wizard himself.

Half an hour later post owls began streaming into the Hall delivering Special Editions of the Daily Prophet. It carried the exact same story as the Quibbler had earlier (and they also claimed it to be an exclusive) but Harry was more interested in a smaller story at the bottom of the front page:

Three seventh-year Slytherin Students sent to Azkaban.

Yesterday afternoon three students were arrested on the Hogwarts Express after attacking the Chosen One. Since they were all over 17 they were prosecuted as adults. Given the severity of the curses they used (and certain other crimes to which they confessed under Veritaserum) they were sentenced to 8 years, 8 years and 5 years in Azkaban respectively. The Chosen One was unharmed in the encounter but questions remain regarding his safety and the...

Harry stopped reading and smiled grimly. Three more Death Eater supporters removed from the field. Hopefully their fate would convince others that the price of supporting Voldemort had become too high.

Notes:

It may be some time before I post the next chapter. I have to find a new place to live, pack everything, terminate all utilities, move house, set-up new utilities, unpack everything, and register my new address with about two hundred organisations... all of which will be very time-consuming. Humble apologies! Blame my landlord! In the meantime I recommend subscribing to the story so you’re notified when the next chapter is published. Hopefully I’ll be back soon!

Chapter 36: Should’ve Taken More Care

Notes:

I’m back! I am now living in my new home and have (more-or-less) settled-in, so I can finally resume writing. I hope you had a fantastic Christmas and that we can all look forward to a Happy and Healthy New Year!

This won’t be an action-packed chapter – we need to cover a few canon events first – but there’s plenty of action in forthcoming chapters...

Chapter Text

Harry watched Hermione follow Ron from the Great Hall. His former best friend glanced over her shoulder as Harry and Tonks departed the castle for his first Care of Magical Creatures class, giving him a worried look. Harry waved cheerfully, which just seemed to unsettle Hermione even more.

At Hagrid’s cabin they found the great grey Hippogriff, Buckbeak, tethered out front. The proud creature clicked his razor-sharp beak at their approach and turned his huge head towards them. Harry stepped forwards and bowed low to the Hippogriff without breaking eye contact. After a few seconds, Buckbeak sank into a bow too.

“How are you?” Harry asked him in a low voice, moving forwards to stroke the feathery head. “Missing Sirius? But you’re okay here with Hagrid, aren’t you?”

“Oi!” said a loud voice. Hagrid had come striding round the corner of his cabin. His enormous boarhound, Fang, was at his heels; Fang gave a booming bark and bounded forwards.

“Git away from him,” Hagrid yelled, waving them away. “He’ll have yer fingers! Oh it’s you! Alright Harry, alright Tonks.”

Fang started jumping up at Tonks, attempting to lick her ears.

“Hey Hagrid,” Harry said, trying to wrestle Fang off the struggling Auror. “I think he likes you Tonks.”

“The feeling is not mutual,” replied the pink-haired teen, wiping her face on her sleeve as Harry pulled the slobbering hound away.

Hagrid grinned, “Come on in, I’ll make a cuppa.”

Harry and Tonks followed the half-giant into his hut and sat down around his enormous wooden table. Fang immediately lay his head upon Harry’s knee and drooled all over his robes while Hagrid shuffled around, brewing up tea in his enormous copper kettle.

“So where’s Hermione and Ron? Are they coming later?”

Harry saw no reason to sugar-coat his former friends’ actions. “Hermione’s got Arithmancy and Ron’s doing homework, but I don’t think they’re coming down. They’re not taking Care of Magical Creatures this year.”

Hagrid stopped what he was doing.

“Not taking... But... But I thought...” He turned away. “Oh. Oh right. I get it. Dropped my class as soon as they could, didn’t they?” He resumed making the tea, but stomped around alarmingly, muttering the whole time, “Should have known better... Just humourin’ me...” Finally he slammed down three bucket-sized mugs of mahogany-brown tea on the table and sat down looking hurt.

“They let me down this summer too,” Harry noted sadly.

Before Hagrid could react, there was a funny squelching sound and they all looked around. Tonks let out a tiny shriek, leapt out of her seat and hurried around the table away from the large barrel standing in the corner. It was full of what looked like foot-long maggots; slimy, white and writhing.

“What are they, Hagrid?” asked Harry, trying to sound interested rather than revolted.

“Jus’ giant grubs,” said Hagrid. “I got ’em ter feed ter Aragog.” And without warning, he burst into tears. “I think he’s dyin’... he got ill over the summer an’ he’s not gettin’ better... I don’ know what I’ll do if he... if he... we’ve bin tergether so long...”

Harry put a hand on the man’s shaking shoulder, “Sorry Hagrid. I know you two are close.”

“Who’s Aragog?” asked Tonks curiously.

“Gigantic talking spider who lives in the Forbidden Forest,” Harry replied dryly. “He tried to eat me a few years back.”

“Ah, ‘e was just playin’ Harry,” insisted Hagrid with a loud sniff. “Aragog wouldn’t hurt a fly. Well, maybe a fly... but you know what I mean.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Harry asked.

“I don’ think there is, Harry,” choked Hagrid, attempting to stem the flood of his tears. “See, the rest o’ the tribe... Aragog’s family... they’re gettin’ a bit funny now he’s ill... bit restive... I don’ reckon it’d be safe fer anyone but me ter go near the colony at the mo’.” Hagrid blew his nose hard on his apron and looked up. “But thanks fer offerin’, Harry... it means a lot...’

After that the atmosphere lightened. Although neither Harry nor Tonks had shown any inclination to go and feed giant grubs to a murderous gargantuan spider, Hagrid seemed to take it for granted that they would have liked to have done and he became his usual jovial self once more.

“Well, we better start the lesson, eh Harry? Let’s see if anyone else turned up.” They stepped outside and found that nobody else had. Hagrid sighed heavily. “Just you then Harry, and Tonks o’ course. I reckon you’ll enjoy this. I thought it’d be a treat for Hermione, what with ‘er bein’ muggleborn, but you two might like it too. They’re right cute little fellas...”

Harry wasn’t at all hopeful that whatever Hagrid was talking about would be cute – Hagrid thought everything was cute. The half-giant led them off into the forest in a direction Harry had never been before. “Don’t normally show anyone these,” Hagrid said, “what with ‘em being proper skittish. If you scare ‘em they disappear and you never see ‘em again.”

It was almost half an hour before Hagrid put his finger to his lips, then crept quietly forward through the trees. They emerged into a beautiful grassy meadow, where a flock of enormous plump-bodied, fluffy-feathered, flightless birds were grazing peacefully. They were about a meter tall and half a meter wide, with beaks like an albatross, stumpy wings and comically large feet. They came in a range of colours from creamy-brown to a luminous greenish-blue.

“The colour of their plumage changes to match their mood,” whispered Hagrid. “A bit like you, eh Tonks?” He grinned at her and she beamed back at him. “If you look over to the left, you can see some littl’uns.”

Harry looked where Hagrid was pointing and sure enough, there were some tiny chicks. Well, tiny by comparison. They were still about the size of a chicken.

“Oh they’re so cute!” whispered Tonks. She was right – the chicks waddled about quacking at their parents like little ducklings. It was the sweetest thing ever. “I wish I could take one home,” she whined.

“Well you could try, but it wouldn’t do you much good,” whispered Hagrid. “They can disappear you see. Like apparatin’, only they can go anywhere they want. They used to live on some island in the Indian Ocean, but when muggles discovered ‘em they left pretty quick.”

“Wait a minute,” whispered Harry, “are you saying... are you saying that these are... Dodo’s?”

“Aye, that’s the muggle name for ‘em alright,” Hagrid confirmed. “O’ course the muggles reckon they’re extinct now. We call ‘em Diricrawls.”

Harry stared at the birds in awe. Dodo’s! He’d seen Dodo’s! He could hardly believe it. After ten minutes Hagrid motioned for them to head quietly back. By the time they were out of earshot, Harry was fit to burst.

“Hagrid that was awesome! I can’t believe I saw Dodo’s! Real live Dodo’s! Absolutely brilliant!”

Hagrid positively glowed at the praise.

- § -

Harry and Tonks returned to the school for his afternoon double Potions, and beat the familiar path down to the dungeon classroom that had, for so long, been Snape’s. When they arrived in the corridor they saw that there were only eleven people progressing to NEWT level. Crabbe and Goyle had evidently failed to achieve the required OWL grade, but three Slytherins had made it through. Four Ravenclaws were there, and one Hufflepuff – Ernie Macmillan. Harry liked the boy but could no longer look him in the eye after the Ginny incident. Hermione was there of course, but to Harry’s surprise so was Ron.

“McGonagall made me,” the redhead grumbled in response to Harry’s raised eyebrow.

Ernie looked like he was about to say hello when Hermione asked anxiously, “How was Hagrid? Was he upset?”

Upset?” replied Harry incredulously. “He was absolutely gutted. You not turning up... on top of his friend Aragog being sick... it was all too much. He burst into tears.”

Hermione looked stricken, “Oh no! I would have taken his class, really I would! But I couldn’t fit it in my timetable!”

Harry gave her a scathing look, “You’re taking seven subjects, Hermione. The only one you’ve dropped is Hagrid’s. Why didn’t you drop Herbology instead?”

“It’s a core subject!” she replied defiantly.

“Only to OWL level,” Harry corrected her. “Come on, you’ll never use Herbology and you know it. So why drop Hagrid’s class?”

“Because his lessons are dangerous!” she blurted.

Harry raised an eyebrow, “So you dropped your friend’s class because it’s scary? That’s funny... because someone once told me that friends and bravery are more important than books and cleverness...”

Hermione jerked like she’d been slapped, but then her expression turned furious. She scowled at Harry in silent indignation.

Meanwhile, Ron was completely oblivious: “So what deadly creature did Hagrid wheel out today?”

“Diricrawls,” replied Harry.

“Never heard of ‘em,” Ron replied dismissively.

“They’re incredibly rare,” Harry informed him. “Hagrid said he arranged it as a treat for Hermione, since she’s muggleborn.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Ron asked, puzzled.

“Well, in the muggle world they’re thought to be extinct, and they’re called Dodo’s.”

Hermione gasped. In an instant, her expression went from angry to devastated, “Dodo’s? You saw Dodo’s?

“Yeah a whole flock of them,” Harry confirmed, much to her horror. “All different colours...”

“The chicks were soooooo cute,” Tonks added, “with their stumpy little wings and huge floppy feet.”

She transformed her nose into a Dodo beak and started waddling around on the spot, arms at her sides, wiggling her hands at her waist in what Harry assumed was supposed to mimic floppy Dodo feet.

“You saw Dodo chicks?” squeaked Hermione, blinking rapidly.

“What’s the big deal?” asked Ron, mystified.

Before Harry could explain, the dungeon door opened and Slughorn’s belly preceded him through the door. He stood to one side as they filed past him into the room. The professor’s great walrus moustache curved above his beaming mouth as he greeted Harry and Zabini with particular enthusiasm.

The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapours and odd smells. Harry sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons. The three Slytherins took a table together, as did the four Ravenclaws. This left Harry, Ron and Hermione to share a table with Ernie. They chose the one nearest a gold-coloured cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Harry had ever inhaled: somehow it reminded him simultaneously of treacle tart, the woody smell of a broomstick handle and... Christmas.

Harry found that he was breathing very slowly and deeply and that the potion’s fumes seemed to be making him drowsy... like a large glass of Fire Whisky. A great contentment stole over him; he grinned across at Tonks, who was standing by the wall. She grinned lazily back.

“Now then, now then, now then,” said Slughorn, whose massive outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapours. “Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don’t forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making...”

“Sir?” said Harry, raising his hand.

“Yes Harry?”

“I haven’t got a book or scales or anything – nor’s Ron – we didn’t realise we’d be doing the NEWT, you see...”

“Ah yes, Professor McGonagall did mention... not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, I’m sure we can lend you some scales and we’ve got a small stock of old books here. They’ll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts...” Slughorn strode over to a corner cupboard and after a moment’s foraging emerged with two very battered-looking copies of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage, which he gave to Harry and Ron along with two sets of tarnished scales.

“Now then,” said Slughorn, returning to the front of the class, “I’ve prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of them, even if you haven’t made them yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?”

He indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. Harry raised himself slightly in his seat and saw what looked like plain water boiling away inside it. Hermione’s well-practised hand hit the air before anybody else’s; Slughorn pointed at her.

“It’s Veritaserum, a colourless, odourless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth,” said Hermione.

“Very good, very good!” said Slughorn happily. “Now,” he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, “this one here is pretty well-known... featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately, too... who can –?” Hermione’s hand was fastest once more.

“It’s Polyjuice Potion, sir,” she said. Harry, too, had recognised the slow-bubbling, mud-like substance.

“Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here... yes, my dear?” said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused as Hermione’s hand punched the air again.

“Amortentia. It's used...”

Tonks fake-sneezed unconvincingly into her hand, making a noise that sounded an awful lot like ‘by hussies’.

Hermione immediately fell silent and blushed furiously, refusing to look in Tonks’ direction.

“Amortentia is correct,” said Slughorn, oblivious to their interaction. “And what does it do?”

“It’s the most powerful love potion in the world,” said Hermione meekly.

“Quite right! You recognised it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?”

“And the steam rising in characteristic spirals,” said Hermione more enthusiastically, “and it’s supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us. I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and... cinnamon.”

She turned slightly pink.

“May I ask your name, my dear?” said Slughorn, ignoring Hermione’s embarrassment.

“Hermione Granger, sir.”

“Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?”

“No, I don’t think so, sir. I’m muggleborn, you see.”

Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary, he beamed and looked from Hermione to Harry, who was sitting next to her. “Oho! ‘One of my best friends is muggleborn and she’s the best in our year!’ I’m assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?”

“Yes, sir,” said Harry, remembering the conversation they’d had in Budleigh Babberton.

“Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger,” said Slughorn genially.

Hermione turned to Harry with a radiant expression and whispered, “Did you really tell him I’m the best in the year?” Her eyes glittered, “Oh, Harry!”

“Well, what’s so impressive about that?” whispered Ron, looking annoyed. “You are the best in the year – I’d’ve told him so if he’d asked me!”

Hermione made a shushing gesture at the readhead and turned back to face Slughorn, blissfully unaware of Ron’s disgruntled expression.

“Amortentia doesn’t really create love, of course,” the portly Professor continued. “It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room.”

The final cauldron contained Felix Felicis, or ‘Liquid Luck’, and Slughorn offered a tiny phial of it to the person who could brew the best Draught of Living Death. Harry wondered what the Professor was planning to do with the rest of the potion in the cauldron...

There was a sudden scraping as everyone drew their cauldrons towards them. The concentration within the room was almost tangible. Harry bent swiftly over the tattered book Slughorn had lent him. To his annoyance he saw that the previous owner had scribbled all over the pages, so that the margins were as black as the printed portions. Bending low to decipher the ingredients (even here, the previous owner had made annotations and crossed things out) Harry hurried off towards the store cupboard to find what he needed.

Within ten minutes, the whole place was full of bluish steam. Hermione, of course, seemed to have progressed furthest. Her potion already resembled the ‘smooth, blackcurrant-coloured liquid’ mentioned as the ideal halfway stage. Having finished chopping his roots, Harry bent low over his book again. It was really very irritating, having to try and decipher the directions under all the stupid scribbles of the previous owner, who for some reason had taken issue with the order to cut up the Sopophorous Bean and had written-in the alternative instruction: Crush with flat side of silver dagger, releases juice better than cutting.

The Sopophorous Bean was proving very difficult to cut up. Hermione hadn’t taken her eyes off her potion, which was still deep purple, though according to the book ought to be turning a light shade of lilac by now. Harry crushed his bean with the flat side of the dagger. To his astonishment, it immediately exuded so much juice he was amazed the shrivelled bean could have held it all. Hastily scooping it all into the cauldron he saw, to his surprise, that the potion immediately turned exactly the shade of lilac described by the textbook.

His annoyance with the previous owner vanishing on the spot, Harry now squinted at the next line of instructions. According to the book, he had to stir counter-clockwise until the potion turned clear as water. According to the addition the previous owner had made, however, he ought to add a clockwise stir after every seventh counter-clockwise stir. Could the old owner be right twice? Harry stirred counter-clockwise, held his breath, and stirred once clockwise. The effect was immediate. The potion turned palest pink.

“How are you doing that?” demanded Hermione irritably. She was red-faced and her hair was growing bushier and bushier in the fumes from her cauldron, but her potion was still resolutely purple.

“Add a clockwise stir...”

“No, no, the book says counter-clockwise!” she snapped.

Harry shrugged and continued what he was doing. Seven stirs counter-clockwise, one clockwise, pause... seven stirs counter-clockwise, one stir clockwise...

Across the table, Ron was cursing fluently under his breath; his potion looked like liquid liquorice. Harry glanced around. As far as he could see, no one else’s potion had turned as pale as his. He felt elated, something that had certainly never happened before in this dungeon.

“And time’s … up!” called Slughorn. “Stop stirring, please!” Slughorn moved slowly between the tables, peering into cauldrons. He made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a stir, or a sniff. At last he reached the table where Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ernie were sitting. He smiled ruefully at the tarlike substance in Ron’s cauldron. He passed over Ernie’s navy concoction. Hermione’s potion he gave an approving nod. Then he saw Harry’s, and a look of incredulous delight spread over his face.

“The clear winner!” he cried to the dungeon. “Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good Lord, it’s obvious you’ve inherited your mother’s talent, she was a dab-hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are – one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!”

Harry slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into his inner pocket, feeling an odd combination of delight at the furious looks on the Slytherins’ faces, and guilt at the disappointed expression on Hermione’s. But why should he feel guilty, he asked himself? What use would Hermione have for a phial of liquid luck?

Ron looked dumbfounded, “How did you do that?” he whispered to Harry as they left the dungeon.

“Got lucky, I suppose,” said Harry, because the Slytherins were within earshot.

Once they were securely ensconced at the Gryffindor table for dinner, however, he felt safe enough to tell them. Hermione’s face became stonier with every word he uttered.

“I s’pose you think I cheated?” he finished, aggravated by her expression.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly your own work, was it?” she said stiffly.

“Oh, I suppose the instructions in the textbook are your work, are they?” Harry replied, angrily.

“He only followed different instructions to ours,” said Ron. “Could’ve been a catastrophe, couldn’t it? But he took a risk and it paid off.”

For once, Harry was impressed that Ron had leapt to his defence.

But then Ron heaved a sigh, “Slughorn could’ve handed me that book, but no, I get the one no one’s ever written in. Puked on, by the look of page fifty-two, but...”

And as quickly as that Harry’s amazement evaporated. Ron’s empathy had lasted barely a second before his innate selfishness reasserted itself. Much to Harry’s annoyance Ginny and Hermione then decided that the book must be possessed. Hermione snatched it from his backpack and cast repeated detection spells on it, until eventually she had to admit – grudgingly – that it was just a book. Harry grabbed it back, glaring at her in irritation. Despite the events of the summer, Hermione was apparently still of the opinion that if she thought she knew better than Harry then she could relieve him of the burden of making his own decisions. She did wilt slightly in response to his annoyed expression though.

Just as Harry was about to return the book to his backpack he discovered some writing on the rear cover:

This Book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince.

Who the hell was the Half-Blood Prince?

- § -

At dinner that evening the Great Hall was abuzz with speculation about Cornelius Fudge’s presence at the High Table. The fact that he was the new High Inquisitor was by now widely known, but what he would do in that role was a topic of hot debate. Fudge himself seemed to be having a fabulous time already. He’d taken a seat between Professors Sinistra and Vector, and unless Harry was mistaken, the former Minister was flirting shamelessly. All three of them abruptly howled with laughter, apparently unaware of (or unconcerned by) the pinched glares of disapproval they received from McGonagall and Snape.

Judging by the number of people shooting furtive glances his way, Harry was also the subject of much discussion.

“What have I done now?” Harry wondered.

Are you serious?” Hermione replied incredulously. She started counting things off on her fingers: “You duelled three seventh-year Slytherins on the train and won... You faced down Snape and won... You duelled Dumbledore in his office and won... You blew a ten foot hole in the castle wall... You got three Professors arrested... You got McGonagall fired as Deputy Headmistress...”

Hermione shook her head in disbelief, “And you did all of that in the first twenty-four hours of term!”

“I didn’t duel Dumbledore,” Harry replied testily, “and I didn’t exactly win...”

“Well you certainly didn’t lose,” Hermione shot back. “Regardless, that’s not a particularly wild exaggeration considering what you actually did do, is it?”

Harry harrumphed. His choice of biting come-backs was rather constrained by the fact that everything she’d said was entirely true. Still, it seemed unfair that he was being judged for his response to fights that other people had started.

But then he caught himself. Why was he worrying about this? That was what the old Harry would have done. The new Harry not only didn’t care what people said about him, but wherever possible he used it to his advantage.

So he shrugged, “I guess not. Good job I took it easy on them then, or people would really have something to talk about.”

“That was you taking it easy on them?” Ron asked in disbelief. “Bloody hell Harry! So what would you do if someone got you properly riled?”

“Let’s hope we never find out,” Harry replied cryptically.

Harry spoke to Tonks for much of the meal, ignoring the wild and thoroughly irrational speculation that passed between the students around him. For the first time since Harry had become a student himself, he felt rather out of place... as if he didn’t belong here anymore. The concerns of his classmates were so childish in comparison to his. They were worried about house points and homework, while Harry was worried about whether Voldemort would attack the school and kill everyone.

As the dessert course finally faded from view, Dumbledore rose from his seat. A hush fell rapidly over the room.

“As you can see, we are both surprised and delighted to welcome a new face to the school,” the Headmaster announced brightly.

His tone betrayed no hint of displeasure, but to those who knew Dumbledore well (like Harry did) his irritation was as clear as day.

“I’m sure you all recognise the former Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge. He has joined us in the newly-resurrected role of High Inquisitor.”

Harry almost laughed out loud. Dumbledore had made it sound like Fudge had risen from the dead like some sort of zombie. Before the Headmaster could say any more, Fudge rose from his seat, smiling as if he’d been given the warmest of introductions. Dumbledore lowered himself reluctantly onto his high-backed golden chair as Fudge addressed the room.

“Thank you Headmaster for those kind words of welcome. It is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say – such happy memories! I’m very much looking forward to meeting you all and I’m sure we’ll get along famously! The Ministry has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. Sadly, in recent years there has been an alarming erosion in the quality of education and pastoral care at Hogwarts. I have been sent to ensure that this slide in standards does not continue, and to return the school to its rightful place as the most respected centre of witchcraft and wizardry in the world!”

A smattering of polite applause met that pronouncement – mainly from the Slytherin students, while the majority peered at each other uneasily. There had been an uncomfortable similarity between Fudge’s words and the saccharin malevolence that Umbridge had spouted a year earlier. Harry wondered if that was deliberate, and decided that it probably was. Fudge was attempting to cement his authority by un-nerving everyone. Judging by the worried expressions around the room, he was succeeding.

Fudge smiled as if the room had come alive with rapturous cheering, waved to a couple of entirely imaginary fans and resumed his seat. Dumbledore rose slowly once again, favouring Fudge with a nod of apparent thanks, but his expression was far from appreciative.

“Thank you High Inquisitor – most uplifting... Now, off to bed one and all! Another day of learning awaits!”

As Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor table rose to leave, Fudge bid an abrupt farewell to Sinistra and Vector and came rushing over.

“Harry my boy, a moment of your time if I may?”

To Harry’s surprise, Fudge matched his pace and walked alongside him. “The Minister asked me to convey his sincere apologies for your mistreatment at the hands of three school officials, and to assure you that it will not happen again. The professors in question have been informed in no uncertain terms that any repeat of their disgraceful behaviour will lead to the immediate termination of their employment.”

Harry knew that Fudge was saying all of this for the benefit of the large crowd of people who were shamelessly eaves-dropping on their conversation, so he played along.

“Thank you High Inquisitor Fudge, that’s much appreciated.”

“I think we’ve known each other long enough to dispense with such formality Harry! Please call me Cornelius.”

Fudge laid an arm across Harry’s shoulders as if they were the oldest of friends.

“Now tell me Harry, do you and your lovely bodyguard have plans for this evening?”

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Tonks, who was staring at him and Fudge in wide-eyed shock. Harry guessed she was unfamiliar with the former Minister being so chummy, but Harry had experienced it once before – when he fled to the Leaky Cauldron after inflating his Aunt Marge. Fudge could be quite friendly when it suited him. And when it didn’t... he could be a very nasty piece of work – a typical politician, basically.

“Erm, we don’t have any plans do we Tonks?” Harry asked. Tonks shook her head numbly.

“Excellent!” Fudge gushed. “We need to discuss how we’re going to run this school and I know just the place to do it – the Three Broomsticks.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And between you and me, I rather fancy my chances with Rosmerta...”

“Students aren’t allowed to go to Hogsmeade except on Hogsmeade weekends,” Harry noted.

“Well of course not!” Fudge agreed immediately. “But that doesn’t apply to you Harry. You’re the Head Boy. You can more-or-less do what you want. And even if you weren’t Head Boy, you’re the Chosen One! School rules don’t apply to you. What sort of idiot would endanger your ability to fight You-Know-Who by treating you like a child? No no no, that wouldn’t do at all!”

Harry was as surprised by that statement as everyone else. More so, really, because he knew the extent to which Fudge had done exactly that for the last five years. Still, he wasn’t going to ruin the picture that Fudge was painting by pointing that out.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Harry replied instead. “Defeating Voldemort will be hard enough without the authorities standing in my way.”

The listening crowd gasped at Harry's casual use of Voldemort’s name, and Fudge himself flinched involuntarily, but he recovered quickly.

“Exactly!” the former Minister beamed, without a hint of embarrassment or remorse at his own hypocrisy. “We must all do what we can to assist you with your task.”

It had often puzzled Harry that politicians could change their story like this. Did they think people were stupid? Did they think people would forget what they’d said and done in the past? How on earth did politicians rationalise their inconsistent behaviour? Didn’t they realise how two-faced and dishonest it made them look? And yet they happily contradicted themselves without a care in the world, as if they’d always believed what they were saying right now. The only conclusion Harry could draw was that politicians were masters of self-delusion, and that they genuinely believed whatever lies they spoke at the moment they spoke them. He found the idea both sickening and rather sad.

That disturbing train of thought was interrupted by Hermione, who rushed forward to grab his elbow.

“Harry you can’t go to Hogsmeade on a school night!” she objected shrilly.

“And who might you be?” Fudge enquired, smiling indulgently at Hermione as if she were a naughty toddler.

“Hermione Granger,” she replied testily, “I’m Harry’s...”

Ex-girlfriend!” Fudge interrupted, snapping his fingers and pointing at her in triumphant recognition. “Yes of course! I read all about you in the Prophet.”

“I am not Harry’s ex-girlfriend!” Hermione growled irritably as they passed through the doors into the grand Entrance Hall.

“Ex-paramour then?” Fudge suggested. “Ex-Mistress? Ex-friend-with-benefits?”

Certainly not!” Hermione replied hotly. “I’m not Harry’s ex-anything!

Fudge gave Harry a pained look, “She won’t accept that she’s been dumped eh? And she’s a Gryffindor too! My sympathies Harry! That’s the problem with crapping on your own doorstep...”

EXCUSE ME?!?!” Hermione shrieked indignantly. “Dating me would in no way be like crapping on anyone’s doorstep!”

“If you say so my dear,” Fudge replied condescendingly. He leaned towards Harry and whispered loudly, “I can see why you dumped her. She’s a bit of a handful isn’t she?”

That comment angered Hermione so much that she was struck momentarily silent. She stopped in her tracks for several long seconds and just stared at the former Minister in shock.

HOW DARE YOU!” she howled finally, commencing what Harry knew would be a tirade of truly historic proportions. “I...”

At that very moment Harry, Tonks and Fudge passed through the Great Entrance doors into the chilly September evening. The High Inquisitor waved his wand lazily and the doors swung shut behind them with a deep boom, cutting off whatever devastating retort Hermione had been about to deliver.

Chapter 37: Politics

Notes:

Apologies for the delay, as always. I had some major problems with Chapter 38 and couldn’t post Chapter 37 until I’d resolved them. To be honest I wasn’t happy with Chapter 37 either. I tinkered with it for weeks... then months... but just couldn’t get it to work. In the end I had to scrap it entirely and start again.

From now on I’ll post updates on my Profile Page to give you some idea how things are going with the next chapter. Check there if it’s been a while since I last posted a chapter.

Rest assured, I will not abandon this fic... unless World War III breaks out, in which case we’ll all have more important things to think about. My thoughts are with the people of Ukraine.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He had no desire to find out what would have happened if Hermione had torn the High Inquisitor a new one. Instead, he took in the view. A crisp chill hung in the air and a mist was starting to rise across the moonlit grounds. Already the Viaduct Courtyard in which they now stood was shrouded in a gently swirling grey fog, with more pouring in over the walls in silent eerie waves.

A clattering sound to the left drew Harry’s attention, and a skeletal horse emerged from the gloom. Harry watched in silence as the Thestral passed them and slowed to a stop so that the door of the carriage, to which it was harnessed, lay directly in front of Fudge.

“After you my dear,” Fudge said as he opened the door for Tonks, bowing respectfully.

Harry and Tonks shared a look. The former Minister was a smooth bugger when he wanted to be, that’s for sure. He certainly knew how to butter people up, and despite knowing that his chivalry was pure theatre, Tonks couldn’t help but play along.

“Why thank you High Inquisitor,” she replied, taking the hand he offered and stepping daintily into the carriage.

“Please call me Cornelius,” Fudge told her as he waved Harry aboard.

Harry was still goggling at Tonks. He’d never seen her do anything daintily before. Two months ago she’d have fallen on her face if she’d even tried. But she’d stepped into the carriage like one of those women in the Edwardian dramas that Aunt Petunia secretly liked. And now that Harry thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time Tonks had done anything clumsy. She seemed more together these days: less distracted, more comfortable in her own skin. There was a calm confidence about her that hadn’t been there before. Why was that, he wondered?

Tonks grinned at him enigmatically as he took the seat next to her. Fudge settled his ample frame onto the bench opposite and the carriage suddenly jerked into motion. Fudge visibly relaxed.

“Thank Merlin for that!” he declared, breathing out heavily. “I couldn’t wait to get out of there – the walls literally have ears. Watch what you say in front of the portraits, Harry, or Dumbledore will undoubtedly hear about it.”

Was that true, Harry wondered? Were the portraits all spies for Dumbledore?

“I’ve been allocated rooms in the castle,” Fudge explained, “but they’re frightfully pink. So I’ve also taken rooms at the Three Broomsticks. If you can’t find me at Hogwarts just send an owl.”

A brief shudder gripped Harry as he recalled the décor in Umbridge’s office. Had the Headmaster deliberately allocated Fudge the same room without redecorating it? After Dumbledore dumped Harry in that bog outside the Burrow, Harry wouldn’t put it past him.

“Or I could send a patronus,” Harry replied. “Much quicker.”

“Not the best idea,” Fudge replied soberly. “We don’t know who might be watching. Patronuses lighting up the sky between the Three Broomsticks and Hogwarts might draw unwanted attention, and I don’t think Madam Rosmerta would thank us for giving the impression that her pub is an important part of the war effort.”

“Oh right,” Harry replied feeling slightly stupid. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

The sound of metal-shod wheels on the stone surface of the Viaduct fell away as they trundled onto the rough dirt track that lead through the grounds to the main gates, and then on towards Hogsmeade. The well-worn carriage creaked and rattled constantly as it rocked and swayed on the uneven surface. Through the windows Harry could see the dark silhouettes of passing trees outlined against the moonlit mist that permeated the forest beyond.

“Right, let’s get down to business,” Fudge announced. “Rufus has appointed me to be the new High Inquisitor, with the power to... basically do anything I want. But he was very clear about what he expected of me. Broadly speaking, he wants me to do whatever it takes to keep Dumbledore and the other Professors off your back. My role is to thoroughly distract them, so that you can do what you need to do without interference. I am therefore at your disposal, Harry – whatever you need, just let me know and I’ll make it happen. Publicly, the High Inquisitor is now the highest authority at Hogwarts but...” Fudge leaned forwards and whispered conspiratorially, “just between the three of us... if you want me to do something the Minister has ordered me to do it, so in reality you are the highest authority at Hogwarts.”

Fudge leaned back in his seat and chuckled wryly.

“You’re okay with that?” Harry enquired sceptically.

The former Minister shrugged, “I have no future in politics after the You-Know-Who debacle. If I’m honest that’s probably a good thing. It was all a bit...” A pained expression creased his face for a moment, before clearing as quickly as it had appeared. “I have no desire to be on the political front lines if He comes calling. Look at what happened to poor Amelia Bones! That’s not what... Anyway, I was planning to fade quietly into obscurity, but when Rufus offered me this job I couldn’t refuse. The opportunity to stick it to that pompous ass Dumbledore was just too good to miss, and being near Hogwarts does have its attractions.”

Harry suspected that Fudge was referring to the many charms of Madam Rosmerta, but judging by the strained sounds coming from the portly man’s belt he might be also be referring to the plentiful supply of tasty feasts.

Somewhere up ahead Harry heard the distinctive sound of two large metal gates creaking open – a succession of rusty squeals followed by a loud clang as they struck boulders either side of the track. Fortunately, the thickening mist muffled the worst of the noise. Moments later the carriage passed between the large stone pillars that flanked the Hogwarts Main Gate. Just beyond, Harry was surprised to see two rows of Aurors flanking the trail, staring warily out into the forest with their wands drawn. The carriage slowed to an unexpected halt.

Tonks reached for her wand just as Harry did the same.

“No need for concern,” Fudge informed them calmly, “we’re just picking up another passenger.”

A tall cloaked figure emerged from the darkness and yanked the door open. Despite Fudge’s assurances, Harry and Tonks both trained their wands on the newcomer as he (or she) climbed inside and sank onto the bench beside Fudge.

“This damp weather plays havoc with my knee,” a distinctive male voice declared from within the shadows of his hooded robes. He began massaging his leg with both hands.

Harry froze in surprise, while Tonks made a startled “Eep” sound and hastily put her wand away.

The dark figure chuckled and threw back his hood.

“I commend you for your diligence Auror Tonks,” Scrimgeour said with a wry smile. “And I apologise for appearing unannounced,” he added, gently pushing the tip of Harry’s wand out of his face.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled and quickly put it away.

Scrimgeour grinned at him cheekily, “I suppose I should count myself lucky that you didn’t tear my arm off and beat me to death with it.”

Harry groaned, “How did you hear that rumour?”

“I have my sources,” the Minister for Magic replied cryptically. “Anyway, I can’t stay long. I just wanted to explain about Cornelius, and check that you’re okay with me deviating from our previously-agreed plan.”

“It was a bit of a shock,” Harry replied, “but I think I get it – we need a politician to handle the politics.”

“Succinctly put,” Scrimgeour concurred. “It only struck me today, but when we were planning your first encounter with Dumbledore we both fell into the trap of attempting to do everything ourselves. Since neither one of us is a politician we didn’t think to use politics. We went straight for a military confrontation – ‘Operation Sledgehammer’ as you called it. But I was always uncomfortable with the plan. There were a lot of ways it could have gone wrong, and I wasn’t convinced that it was the coup de grâce that we assumed it to be.”

“The coo-de-what?” Harry asked.

Coup de grâce,” Scrimgeour repeated, “it means decisive victory. In our heads we imagined Dumbledore so cowed by being outwitted that he would leave us alone and never retaliate. But that’s not how the world works. People don’t just quietly accept defeat and become meek little lambs. They stew and seethe over their humiliation, imagining a hundred different ways to regain the upper hand. Once they’ve had a chance to hone their response, they strike back with what they think is their own coup de grâce. Worse still, Dumbledore has a long history of doing exactly that to great effect.”

Fudge snorted in irritation, “You can say that again.”

Scrimgeour favoured his predecessor with a mildly sympathetic look, “Quite so, and that worried me. The last thing we need is a dangerous schemer like Dumbledore lurking in the shadows, quietly plotting our downfall. But then I recalled what you’d said about Cornelius – that he’d been running rings around Dumbledore for years...”

Fudge puffed up slightly and shot Harry a surprised look.

Harry shrugged, “It’s true”.

Scrimgeour’s eyes glittered at the exchange, “And I asked myself, ‘What would Cornelius do?’. Well... quite frankly... I had no idea. I was about to summon him to ask when a better solution came to me: we should just let Cornelius do what he does best. And the easiest way to do that... is as a new High Inquisitor! Of course there were a few logistical hurdles. I had to get Cornelius on-board, un-repeal some laws, disband the Board of Governors to prevent any objections, and do various other things to ensure that Dumbledore couldn’t block it. By the time I’d done that you were already in the Headmaster’s office, so I had no opportunity to warn you. Sorry about that Harry. I’d like to think that we’ve reached the point where we can trust each other enough to ‘wing it’ when we have to, but I wanted to explain it to you personally all the same.”

The difference between how Scrimgeour treated Harry and Dumbledore treated him couldn’t have been illustrated more starkly. Harry’s relationship with the Minister was akin to that of two generals collaborating to win a war – sharing information, ideas and respect for the other. In contrast, Dumbledore ordered Harry around like a foot soldier who neither deserved nor needed to know what was going on. In fact, it seemed to Harry that pretty much everyone on Dumbledore’s team was basically cannon fodder, including Harry himself – he seemed to be some sort of gilded cannon fodder. Given the choice, Harry would much rather work with Scrimgeour.

Harry nodded to the Minister in what he hoped was a statesman-like manner, “Thank you Rufus, I appreciate you taking the time to do that. I’ll admit I was a little disappointed that I didn’t get to make my dramatic exit via the window, but on reflection that was perhaps a bit...”

“Lame,” Tonks chipped-in.

“Childish,” Fudge suggested.

“Melodramatic,” Scrimgeour offered, somewhat more diplomatically.

“Girly,” Tonks said with a grin.

Harry glared at her.

“What?” she sniggered, “I thought we were going round a second time...”

“Anyway...” Harry growled, with another scowl at Tonks, “sending a new High Inquisitor was a much more astute move, and sending Cornelius was truly inspired. It was definitely the smart play, and it’s already paying dividends – my second meeting with Dumbledore was a lot more civilised than the first.”

Scrimgeour visibly relaxed, “That’s a great relief, I must say. As soon as I thought of it... well, I knew it was the right move. But I also knew that you and Cornelius have a rather... chequered history. I wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”

If this had happened before Harry ‘parted ways’ with Dumbledore he’d have reacted very badly, Harry admitted to himself. But he’d done a lot of growing up in the last six weeks and was less prone to reacting like a mindless drone. Thoughts of what Fudge had almost done to Sirius did raise an angry lump in Harry’s throat, and he had to cough to clear it before he could speak, but his response was more considered than it would have been in the past.

“The former Minister’s refusal to believe me about Sirius’ innocence, or Voldemort’s return, and inflicting Umbridge upon us,” Harry held up his scarred hand to reinforce his point, which made Fudge shift uncomfortably, “did make life quite unpleasant for Sirius and me... but the lion share of the blame for Sirius’ death lies elsewhere.” Harry made eye contact with Fudge, “If you prevent Dumbledore from interfering with our efforts to win this war, it will go a long way towards making up for your past mistakes.”

For the first time since he’d arrived at Hogwarts Fudge appeared genuinely contrite. He nodded gravely.

Scrimgeour looked pleased, “I think Cornelius will be a real help to you, so let’s see how it goes. If you don’t like it I’ll pull him out.”

That threat seemed to come as no surprise to Fudge, who just smiled genially. He obviously wasn’t joking when he said that Scrimgeour had made it very clear who was in charge now. Nevertheless, Harry kept his expression strictly neutral. He wouldn’t want Fudge to think he felt smug about this reversal of their fortunes, especially since Harry really didn’t feel smug about it. There were much more important things going on and he had no time for petty vindictiveness. But that thought just made it all the more surprising that Dumbledore had taken the time to be so smug when he’d finally got one over on Fudge in the Ministry Atrium. Apparently the Headmaster’s desire for revenge eclipsed any grief he might have felt at Sirius’ death, or anger at Voldemort’s escape...

“Well, I better get back to the office,” Scrimgeour declared, throwing his hood over his head and reaching for the door handle.

“You haven’t been here all afternoon have you?” Harry asked self-consciously. The Minister surely had better things to do...

“Heavens no,” the Minister laughed, his voice muffled by the hood and his breath steaming as he stepped out into the cold night air. “I got here just a few moments ago. I knew Cornelius could handle things. Take care and I’ll speak to you all again soon.”

With that, he was gone into the night. The carriage leapt into motion and the Aurors who’d been encircling them faded into the mist. The three remaining passengers remained silent for a few minutes, each alone with their thoughts, until they crossed the bridge just outside Hogsmeade.

“We’re breaking the law,” Harry realised abruptly, “we’re out after curfew!”

Fudge smiled cheerfully, “I suppose so. Fortunately we are the law.”

Harry wasn’t sure how true that was. As an Auror, Tonks could possibly claim to ‘be the Law’, but Harry and Fudge were just civilians. On the other hand, they had been meeting with the Minister, and he definitely was ‘the Law’ right now.

As they trundled into Hogsmeade, Harry couldn’t help noticing that the usually bustling town was completely deserted. Not a single soul could be seen – the streets were utterly devoid of life. It was a very weird sight. Harry would have considered it rather post-apocalyptic if the lights hadn’t been on inside the houses. Apart from that it felt like a ghost town.

Without any obvious instruction from Fudge, the carriage pulled up outside the Three Broomsticks. The pub looked closed – the door was firmly shut and all the lights were off. Not a single sound disturbed the spooky silence.

“Come on,” Fudge said as he exited the carriage.

The former Minister held the door for Harry and Tonks, to whom he once again offered his hand. As soon as he closed the door the carriage moved quietly away, heading who-knows-where. Fudge paid it no attention. He glanced up and down the street furtively. Finding it empty, he stepped forwards and banged his fist on the heavy oak timbers of the pub door. It was no ordinary knock though. It was a complicated series of heavy thumps and swift raps.

“It’s a password,” Fudge whispered quietly, “– the word ‘broom’ in Morse Code.”

A letter-box-sized wooden peep-hole slid open near the top of the door and a pair of eyes peered out at them. The eyes scanned them up and down, widened in surprise, and then checked the misty street behind them in both directions. Apparently satisfied with what they saw, the peep-hole slid shut again, and the sound of three heavy iron bolts being withdrawn echoed into the night. The door flew open and a harried-looking Madam Rosmerta appeared, glancing fearfully in all directions.

“Inside quick!” she hissed, beckoning them through the door.

Fudge hurried straight in, his robes swirling around him. Harry and Tonks followed slightly less hastily. Apparently not swiftly enough for Madam Rosmerta, who slammed the door shut so abruptly that Tonks was forced to leap out of the way. The agitated pub owner quickly rammed the bolts home, ignoring the glare that Tonks shot her way.

“Good evening Rosmerta,” Fudge drawled, smiling smarmily at the attractive woman. “It’s turning into a proper pea-souper out there!”

“Aye,” she agreed, “and fog like that that can hide all manner of foul creatures. ‘Tis not a night to be abroad, Minister.”

“It’s High Inquisitor now my dear,” he corrected her cheerily. “But I’m off duty, so call me Cornelius.”

Madam Rosmerta looked startled at the idea, but then smiled flirtatiously.

Fudge hid a pleased grin as he gestured towards Harry, “You know the Chosen One of course, young Harry Potter? And this delightful young lady is his bodyguard, Auror Tonks.”

Rosmerta went suddenly pale, “An Auror? You brought an Auror?!?!

“Oh don’t worry,” Fudge reassured her, waving his hand dismissively. “Tonks is off duty too. She’s not going to turn us in for breaking curfew are you Tonks?”

Fudge, Rosmerta and Harry all looked at Tonks expectantly.

“Er... no?” the pink-haired teen replied uncertainly.

“In any case we have special permission from the Minister,” Fudge continued with another broad smile. “And of course the curfew doesn’t apply to the Chosen One.” Fudge elevated his eyebrows at Madam Rosmerta to emphasise his next words, “or anyone in his company.”

Is that so?” Rosmerta replied with sudden interest. She favoured Harry with a rather predatory look, slipped her arm through his and steered him towards the stairs. “In that case do come in.”

In the corner of his eye Harry saw Tonks frown disapprovingly at Rosmerta’s abrupt display of familiarity, but the buxom Landlady once again ignored her.

“I must say, you look rather dashing in that uniform Harry,” Rosmerta gushed. “Can I call you Harry? I’ve been serving you and your friends Butterbeers for two years, after all. I like to think that we’re friends.” She squeezed his bicep, “Have you been working out?”

Behind them, Tonks gagged loudly. Rosmerta ignored her and led them all to the bar downstairs, where she released Harry to slip behind the bar. She grabbed a bottle from the top shelf and poured four shots of Fire Whiskey.

“To the Chosen One,” she declared, smiling brightly and stroking Harry’s hand un-necessarily. She downed her shot in one.

“The Chosen One,” Fudge agreed, saluting Harry with his glass and downing it in one.

Harry was rather taken aback. He glanced at Tonks, but she just grumbled and took one of the two remaining glasses.

“Um... thanks?” Harry muttered uncertainly, lifting the remaining glass.

Tonks clinked her glass against his and downed it in one, leaving Harry little choice but to do the same. He slapped his glass down on the bar as the heady liquid burned down his throat and sent steam out of his ears. He wasn’t sure what the point of shots was, but it seemed to set everyone at ease. Madam Rosmerta grabbed four large tumblers and filled them all half way.

“Grab a table anywhere,” she told them, and disappeared into the back.

Harry scanned the room. It was much more dimly lit than usual, giving it a conspiratorial and slightly seedy atmosphere. He struggled to see into some of the darker corners, but the pub wasn’t entirely empty. A couple of solo drinkers sat along the wall nearest the stairs, and two shabby-looking locals were huddled in the far corner eying the new arrivals warily. Probably wondering if they’d be ratted-out for breaking curfew, Harry suspected.

Fudge ignored the other drinkers and led Harry to a table along the wall opposite the entrance, near the bar. As Harry took a seat with his back to the wall (and hence facing the room, as Tonks had taught him) he wondered if Fudge had chosen this table because it was furthest from all the other patrons, or because it would afford Fudge the best view of Madam Rosmerta.

“The Minister asked me to give you a few pointers about politics,” Fudge declared, taking a swig of whisky. “So here’s the first thing you need to know – politics is about percentages. If you have fifty one percent of the people behind you, you can do absolutely anything. Don’t worry about what the other forty nine percent think. Just make sure you always have fifty one percent and you’re golden.”

Seriously?” Harry replied, mildly outraged. “Shouldn’t politics be about doing the right thing?

“Well sure,” Fudge agreed, while waving his hand in a way that suggested the opposite. “But right for whom? What’s right for you may not be right for me. But that’s not the point. You won’t be able to do anything at all unless you’re elected, and no matter what your policies are you won’t be elected if the other candidate has fifty one percent of the vote. Nor will you get much done if fifty one percent of the Wizengamot votes against you once you’re in power.”

“Well I’m not planning to go into politics,” Harry said grumpily, “so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“Ah but it does,” Fudge insisted, “because you’re already in politics. They may not have voted for you, but you’ve been appointed nonetheless. You’re the Chosen One whether you like it or not, and having the public behind you will make your life much easier. Having them against you will make it very hard. Believe me it’s much better to have them with you, and it doesn’t take much effort.”

“Really?” Harry replied sceptically. That hadn’t been his experience. Harry and Dumbledore had spent an entire year trying to persuade everyone that Voldemort was back and had basically got nowhere. Evidence that convinced some people didn’t wash at all with others. It felt like each person had to be persuaded individually, one at a time, or you didn’t stand a chance.

“How do you get fifty one percent of the population to back you when everyone is so different and has such different beliefs?” Harry wondered. “Doesn’t it take an army of campaigners, addressing each person’s particular concerns?”

“Heavens no,” Fudge snorted. “You don’t have to worry about making people believe you Harry. If you want people to support you all you have to do is figure out what they already want to believe, and tell them they’re right.”

The sickening truth of those words was immediately apparent to Harry – that’s exactly what Fudge had done last year. He’d realised that most of the population wanted to believe that Voldemort was gone forever, so when Fudge denied that Voldemort had returned the population flocked to support him. With a start, Harry realised something else – Tom Riddle had also done the exact same thing! Tom had realised that purebloods wanted to believe that they were superior, so when he started preaching that very doctrine they flocked to follow him... even the ones that knew he wasn’t actually a pureblood himself!

Good grief, Harry growled to himself mentally. People could be so bloody stupid sometimes! The amazing thing was that when presented with evidence that contradicted their desired beliefs, they would find some way to disregard it and double down on their idiocy. But swaying an entire population, or even just the students at Hogwarts, still sounded like an impossible task...

Fudge chuckled at Harry’s expression, “There’s no need to look so horrified Harry. It’s not as daunting as it sounds, because you don’t actually have to worry about most of the population. People will always fall into three groups – about a third of them will dislike you no matter what, a third will like you no matter what, and a third will be indifferent or undecided. It’s that last third you need to focus on and you only need to bring half of them onside to hit fifty percent overall. So that’s one person in six you need to sway, which may still seem like a lot of people to convince, but you don’t need to speak to them one-by-one. At any given moment there will be a couple of key issues at the front of people’s minds. You just need to identify those issues and figure out which one you can use to swing half the floating voters in your favour.”

“What about the people who don’t like me?” Harry wondered, thinking about the Slytherins. “Wouldn’t it be good to get them onside, to reduce my opposition?”

Fudge made a dismissive noise, “Waste of time. You’ll never change their minds so don’t bother trying. You’ll be a hundred times more effective at converting the floaters. In any case, with every policy there have to be winners and losers. The one-third of people who already dislike you are the perfect patsies. Making them the losers every time will repeatedly weaken your opposition while leaving your supporters untouched.”

Harry struggled to contain his disgust, “Won’t they complain?”

“Oh yes, absolutely!” Fudge confirmed cheerfully, unperturbed by Harry’s obvious disapproval. “They’ll claim you’re the devil himself. But they were claiming that already so nobody will listen.”

This was exactly what Fudge had done to Harry and Dumbledore’s side last year, Harry realised – he’d used Umbridge to hammer them again and again, weakening their support while bolstering his own, and nobody had listened to anyone who complained about the poisonous pink toad.

“That’s awful!” Harry complained. “I’d rather people backed me because they agree with what I’m doing.”

Fudge shrugged, “Then you’ll lose.”

“Which is why I hate politics,” Harry growled.

Again Fudge shrugged, “Don’t shoot the messenger. I didn’t make things this way, human nature did.”

“But it’s all so...”

Off to Harry’s left Rosmerta reappeared and scurried across to the stairs. She dashed up, taking them two at a time, and arrived at the door just as someone knocked on it from the other side. A swift glance through the peephole seemed to satisfy her and she quickly pulled each of the bolts free. Six heavily cloaked and furtive-looking wizards piled through before she rammed the door shut again. Harry glanced at Fudge, who was watching the scene with a rather smug grin on his face.

“Distasteful? Underhand?” Fudge offered in response to Harry’s partially-voiced comment, apparently unperturbed by what was happening upstairs. “Oh it is,” Fudge admitted. “But it’s also by far the most effective way to get things done. The problem with being honourable is that an opponent who’s more politically savvy will always defeat you. People don’t want the truth. They want you to tell them that their prejudices are correct so they can swaddle themselves in the comforting blanket of their own selfish beliefs.”

Upstairs the new arrivals threw back their hoods. Harry didn’t know their names but he’d seen them around the village. They were Hogsmeade locals. Five of them followed Rosmerta down the stairs while the sixth – a huge bear of a man – remained at the door. As they approached the bar the first nodded towards Fudge.

“Minister,” he said respectfully. Then his eyes flicked to Harry and Tonks. He nodded again, “Chosen One, Auror.”

Fudge nodded back, so Harry did the same. Tonks sighed and rolled her eyes.

Harry had no idea what was going on, and his expression must have conveyed that.

“This is a ‘lock-in’,” Tonks explained. “It’s after-hours so the pub should be closed. By unspoken agreement everyone present accepts that none of us were ever here. Our friend over there was thanking us for observing the code, while also letting us know that they know who we are so if they go down we’ll go down with them.”

“Um... okay,” Harry replied bewilderedly. His attention returned to Fudge and what the man just said. “Didn’t you do the same last year? Didn’t you swaddle yourself in the belief that You-Know-Who hadn’t returned?”

Fudge sighed, “Yes, to my shame I did exactly that. The prospect of You-Know-Who’s return was just too appalling to contemplate, and I’m only human. I had no idea how to deal with that possibility, so I clung to the hope that all the evidence was somehow wrong. Unfortunately for you – and this reinforces the point I’m trying to make – the vast majority of the population were as delusional as me.”

“You don’t seem to have much respect for the people who elected you,” Harry noted.

Fudge shrugged, “I respect the population as much as the next person. But I also know that they’re lazy, stupid, gullible and easy to manipulate. There’s no point thinking otherwise in politics, or you’ll just guarantee your own defeat, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. When you’re dealing with the population, the question you need to ask yourself is this: what’s more important... being honourable like Dumbledore or being effective like me?”

The answer was very clear to Harry – in normal circumstances it was more important to be honourable. Unfortunately these were not normal circumstances. Right now defeating Voldemort was more important than preserving Harry’s sense of fair play. And that highlighted the difference between Harry, Fudge and Dumbledore – Harry would only set aside his morals in dire circumstances, whereas Fudge would do it at the drop of a hat and Dumbledore would refuse to do so no matter what. Scrimgeour, meanwhile, seemed to be in the same camp as Harry, and Harry suddenly felt very thankful that he’d chosen to side with Scrimgeour.

Upstairs, Harry noticed the large man at the door admit another group of people into the pub. They trooped down the stairs and nodded towards Harry’s table on their way to the bar.

“Another important thing to remember,” Fudge continued, “– in politics and in life more generally – is that it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission. Whenever you want to do something, just do it. Don’t ask if you’re allowed, because the answer will always be no. Just do it, and if anyone has a problem with that, you can either ignore them or apologise, depending on how important they are.”

“I don’t know,” Harry replied doubtfully, “that sounds like a recipe for disaster to me.”

“You’d think so wouldn’t you?” Fudge chuckled. “But it’s not. I’ve been doing it my whole life and I rose to the highest office in the land. On the rare occasions I’ve been caught-out I just got a rap on the knuckles, which I instantly forgot. Meanwhile, my adversaries were left choking angrily on my dust.”

Now that Harry thought about it, he had to admit that events in his own life rather supported what Fudge was saying. On the many occasions that he’d sought permission or help from McGonagall, Dumbledore, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Lupin or any other adults in his life (apart from Sirius) the answer was always a firm ‘no’. Regardless of the circumstances, or how dire his need, the answer was still ‘no’. So he’d done it anyway, and he’d never been reprimanded for it. In fact he was usually rewarded with so many House points that he won the House Cup for Gryffindor. It was ridiculous! Even more ridiculous was the fact that he was routinely punished by Snape for doing absolutely nothing wrong, and nobody stepped-in to prevent it. Apparently there really was no justice in the world – the whole thing was completely backwards! So far Harry had played by the rules and where had it got him?

For the first time Tonks spoke up, “What about Dumbledore? How did you always manage to outmanoeuvre him?”

“Winning in life isn’t usually about being the best or the smartest,” Fudge replied, “it’s about having the most effective strategy. And the most effective strategies are often surprisingly simple, but you need to be sly to come up with them, not smart. For example...”

The former Minister pulled out his wand. He conjured a piece of parchment and a quill, and then pushed them across the table to Tonks.

“Auror Tonks, please write down a number between 1 and 99 inclusive, but don’t let Harry or me see it.”

Tonks slid the parchment under the table and scribbled something on it, out of sight.

“Our challenge, Harry, is to guess what number Tonks has written down. Whoever is closest wins. You can go first. That gives you a slight advantage, because if you get it right I can’t win.”

Harry shrugged, “Okay... 72.”

Fudge nodded, “A fine choice. I choose 71.”

Tonks held up the parchment, on which she’d written: 63.

“I win,” Fudge said with no obvious tone of triumph. “Let’s go again.”

Tonks wrote another number under the table.

Harry thought for a moment, trying to get an instinctive feel for what Tonks might chose.

“31,” he said in the end.

“Another worthy selection,” Fudge said, nodding approvingly, “I choose 32.”

With a roll of her eyes Tonks held up the parchment. Underneath her previous 63 she’d written 41.

So close! Harry had almost won both times! Almost. But Fudge pipped him to the... Wait a minute!

Harry frowned... and then his eyes narrowed as realisation struck. Oh that was a cheap trick! Whatever Harry chose, Fudge would choose one higher or one lower and give himself a massive advantage.

“I win again,” Fudge smirked. “Want to play another round?”

“Yes but you can go first this time,” Harry said quickly.

Fudge chuckled, “Very well. I choose 50.”

Harry groaned. He could now choose 49 or 51 but neither one would give him an advantage. In fact Fudge would still have the advantage – his chances of winning would be 50/99 whereas Harry’s would be 49/99.

With a sigh Harry said, “49”.

“You have figured it out I see,” Said Fudge with a grin. “If you go first the only rational choice is 50, which gives you a tiny advantage, otherwise your opponent simply goes one higher or one lower than you – whichever secures them more of the field.”

Tonks discarded the parchment and quill on the table. She’d written 17, Harry noted – he’d actually won. But it didn’t matter. Fudge had very much made his point.

“You might think that’s a rather contrived example,” Fudge continued, “with no real-world application. But consider the following situation. Suppose you wanted to open the first ice cream shop on a certain shopping street, but you know that someone else... Draco Malfoy perhaps... is about to open one too. Your ice cream and his are both very good. There are lots of properties available, so you can place your shop more-or-less anywhere along the street, but customers are lazy so they’ll always go to whichever shop is the nearest. It would make sense for you to open your shop a third of the way along the street and Draco to open his two thirds of the way along. That way you’re not competing for customers and don’t get into a price war. You are ready to open first. Where should you put your shop?”

Harry thought about that for a moment. It would indeed make sense to position his shop 33% of the way along the street... but Draco would then put his shop 34% of the way along and block Harry’s access to two thirds of the customers! Draco would get twice as many customers! Even if Harry came to an agreement with Draco (that they’d open their shops at one third and two thirds of the way along the street) Draco would undoubtedly break the agreement and screw Harry over.

“I’d have to open my shop half way,” Harry concluded with a sigh.

“Yes you would,” Fudge agreed with a satisfied smile. “Opening your shop anywhere else would give Draco a big advantage. Knowing the Malfoy family, he would then reduce his prices and drive you out of business.”

Harry scowled. That’s exactly what Draco would do. Nevertheless Harry couldn’t see how this was relevant to politics.

Fudge smiled in an uncharacteristically sad manner, “But of course you have no plans to open an ice cream shop, so what does it matter?”

Across the table, Tonks groaned. Fudged gave her a nod of respect.

“Young Miss Tonks has already figured it out I see. The reason this is relevant is because you and Dumbledore made this very mistake last year. You set out your stall at one end of the ‘street of public opinion’. You tried to convince the population to support what was essentially a very extreme point of view, with no regard for how I might position myself in response.” Now Harry groaned too. “The answer, as you now see, is that I could have positioned myself pretty much anywhere. As long as my point of view was slightly less extreme than yours, I was guaranteed to win more support than you. Your actions were naïve in the extreme, and you handed me victory from the outset.”

Harry sighed in enlightened frustration. A fifteen-year-old child could hardly be expected to know these things, but why the hell did Dumbledore not know? Wasn’t the man head of the ICW?

“Of course politics is much more complicated than that,” Fudge resumed. “It’s more like a game of chess. To win you need to be the most strategic, but also anticipate your opponent’s moves and visualise what the board will look like ten moves from now. Dumbledore is probably the smartest wizard in Britain today but he’s not a natural-born strategist. He’s so smart that he would make a formidable opponent at chess, despite rarely playing. But he wouldn’t be unbeatable. He has no real interest in chess, so he doesn’t take the time to study the game and he doesn’t know the classic strategies. If anything he has a disdain for learning from lesser mortals. He feels the same way about politics – every move he makes has to be derived from first principles using his considerable intellect. Not only is that a very time-consuming process, but he’s constantly re-inventing the wheel. Without realising it, he makes moves that others thought of decades ago, unaware that counter-moves have been invented since. As a result, he’s never in control of the board and he’s always reacting to his opponents’ superior strategy.”

Harry considered this for a moment, and it definitely rang true. The same thing happened when Harry played Ron at chess. Chess was the only thing (apart from Quidditch) that would entice Ron to crack open a book. Harry might be smarter, but Ron had studied all the strategies, so he always won. Similarly, Dumbledore was outmatched in politics by seasoned operators like Fudge.

“So you don’t think Dumbledore is secretly a Slytherin in disguise?” Tonks asked, sounding genuinely interested.

“Definitely not!” Fudge scoffed. “A lot of people think he should have been sorted into Slytherin because he’s such a schemer... but being a schemer doesn’t make you cunning. Dumbledore’s schemes aren’t cunning, they’re clever. He uses intelligence to come up with them, not guile. A true tactician would achieve the same outcome much more simply and quickly than Dumbledore does.”

“Is that why you were able to out-manoeuvre him?” she pressed.

“Yes,” Fudge confirmed simply, “that and the fact that strategic skills are very context-dependent. Being good at chess does not imply that you’ll be good at politics, and vice-versa. Each requires a very specific set of skills, which do not necessarily apply to other fields. In particular, the latter is a people-based skill but the former is not. So while Dumbledore would make quite a good chess player thanks to the magnitude of his intellect, he wouldn’t achieve the same success in politics. It just doesn’t lend itself to such objective analysis, which is why academics like him hold politics in such poor regard.”

While they’d been talking a steady stream of people had been entering the bar. They’d arrived in small groups but had rapidly coalesced into larger groups which filled up the available tables. A low hum of conversation now filled the room. Madam Rosmerta was happily serving them all drinks at the bar, while shooting Fudge the occasional smile of gratitude. Was this why Fudge had brought him here, Harry wondered – to give Rosmerta’s customers immunity from the curfew, fill up the bar, and hence ingratiate himself with the admittedly very good-looking bar owner? Couldn’t politicians do anything without somehow deriving personal gain from it?

The lady in question chose that moment to appear beside them with a tray of drinks. She scooped up the three empty glasses and replaced them with three more.

“Ah Rosmerta!” Fudge greeted her cheerfully. “Most kind.”

“To those fighting You-Know-Who,” she confided in a whisper, “drinks are on the house.”

Fudge smiled in mock humility as Rosmerta bustled away, his eyes lingering hungrily on her retreating form. Tonks rolled her eyes. Harry wondered if Rosmerta would feel the same way if she knew that Fudge was actually here to stick it to Dumbledore rather than Voldemort...

The former Minister’s attention returned abruptly to Harry, “So that’s a few political basics for you, in case you ever decide to run for office. Right now you don’t need to worry about any of that. You have united a large portion of the population behind the belief that you can save them from You-Know-Who. Your popularity is therefore tied to the success of the war effort. As long as it seems like you’re winning, you will retain the support of the majority. You and Rufus should take full advantage of that while you can. Be as ruthless as you like, but don’t dawdle. Wars, like people, can be fickle bedfellows.”

Harry had been leaning forwards, listening intently, but now he sat back and considered Fudge’s words. The former Minister was saying things he never would have said if he had any hope of a future in politics. His lips might also have been loosened by the alcohol. So Harry was getting an unprecedented view into the mind of a career politician of magical Britain. It came as no surprise that it was a cynical and self-serving place, largely devoid of morals or decency. But it was a surprise that Fudge’s philosophy made so much sense. Harry had always assumed that the man was an utter buffoon, but now he wasn’t so sure.

“Which House were you in at Hogwarts, Cornelius?” he asked.

Fudge treated him to an indulgent smile, “That’s a matter of public record Harry. Are you telling me that you opposed me last year without knowing anything about me? Tut tut tut. What are they teaching you these days?”

Harry scowled. Was Fudge a Slytherin? He certainly sounded like one, and he’d been very chummy with Lucius Malfoy...

“We better get going,” Tonks declared suddenly. “It’s getting a little crowded in here.”

“So it is,” Fudge agreed, feigning surprise, “How odd. Well, off you pop then. You’ll find the carriage waiting just round the corner. I think I’ll catch up with Rosmerta and stay here tonight...”

Without waiting for a response, the new Hogwarts High Inquisitor struggled up from his seat and headed off into the crowd, weaving unsteadily between the now rather cheery-looking patrons. Harry glanced at the three empty glasses on the table and realised that he hadn’t actually drunk any of them. Fudge had surreptitiously necked the whole lot.

Tonks gave the crowd a wary once-over. They seemed like a harmless bunch of locals to Harry, but you never can tell. Walking through them would be a risky enterprise if anyone had nefarious intentions. Harry could easily emerge on the other side with a knife in his back.

“That’s a lot of people to get past...” Harry noted.

“Yes it is,” Tonks replied without taking her eyes off the increasingly rowdy revellers around them.

“I have a better idea,” Harry announced, and grabbed her forearm.

Tonks’ eyes snapped down in alarm, “I hope you’re not going to...”

The pair of them were both abruptly sucked into a straw, or so it seemed, and vanished from the bar. They reappeared on the moonlit street outside. Tonks immediately fell to her knees.

“... side-along apparate me!” she gasped, and punched Harry in the thigh. Hard.

“AAARRGGHHH!” Harry howled in pained surprise, hopping in a circle on his other foot. “GAH! Dead leg! Dead leg!

“Serves you right,” Tonks hissed, clambering to her feet, “bloody reckless Gryffindors!”

What’s the problem?” Harry demanded, rubbing his thigh furiously. “I felt what you did at the Burrow. I knew what I was doing!”

The sound of horse’s hooves echoed towards them down the deserted cobbled street. The Thestral from earlier (or one that looked just like it) emerged from the swirling fog pulling the beaten-up Hogwarts carriage they’d arrived in. Harry limped forwards as it slowed to a stop and opened the door for Tonks. He executed an impressively ostentatious bow as he did so (considering that he had to stand on one foot while he did it) and said, “Mi Lady”. Tonks snorted in amusement and stepped lightly onboard.

Harry’s elegant deportment was immediately ruined when his dead-leg gave way half way up the carriage steps. He landed in a heap at the pink-haired teen’s feet.

Tonks looked down her nose at him haughtily, “You don’t need to grovel Harry, a simple apology will suffice.”

Harry scowled and clambered onto the seat next to her, “Hilarious.”

They were still trading good-natured jibes when the carriage reached the half-way point on its return to Hogwarts. As they passed through a particularly dense section of forest, where the moon overhead was largely obscured by overhanging branches, Harry saw something move behind a tall bush. It was only a glimpse, and Harry wasn’t a hundred percent sure he’d seen it, but it had looked like the outline of a hooded face.

At the very moment that Harry’s eyes made contact with those under the hood, the shadowy figure turned to the side and nodded sharply.

A mental alarm screamed in Harry’s head and his instincts took over. He grabbed Tonks by the hand and tried to disapparate them both. Nothing happened. Instead, something smashed into the side of the carriage, toppling the entire thing onto its side. Harry and Tonks were sent flying, both of them crashing face-first into the right wall and then tumbling painfully onto the new floor – what had previously been the left wall. Outside, the Thestral gave a terrified whiney. The coach shook twice as the skeletal horse bucked in its harness. Then, with a sound of splintering wood, the panicking creature broke free. The thud of its hooves faded quickly as it bolted into the forest.

Notes:

As you can probably tell, the “war” part of this story is about to hot-up. That is unfortunate, because it’s very hard to write a war story when there’s an actual war happening right now here in Europe. It will be especially challenging to inject a bit of humour when the news is full of nothing but horror and tragedy.

Chapter 38: Paint It Black part I

Notes:

This chapter was getting too long so I’ve decided to split it in two and post the first part. That’s the good news. The bad news is that this part will end with another cliff-hanger. Sorry about that. If you hate cliff-hangers, wait until I post part II before you start reading.

Feel free to play some appropriate background music for the second half of this chapter. I have made a few suggestions in the text...

Trigger Warning: Mention of non-consensual sex in this chapter (but nothing like that will happen in this story).

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Hermione stepped out onto the roof of the Astronomy Tower, sweeping her wand left and right. It was hours after curfew, so if any students were getting frisky up here they’d soon be finding themselves on the business end of a weekend detention! In the grey light cast by the moon up above, she quickly determined that she was alone. Hermione lowered her wand and sighed in disappointment. She was one hour into her three-hour prefect patrol, and it had been a very dull patrol so far. Since it was the first night of the first term, she was confident that there would be rule-breaking happening somewhere. She just hadn’t found it yet.

For a moment her mind strayed to the Arithmancy homework she’d been working on earlier. She’d already exceeded the number of inches that Professor Vector had specified, but there were still several aspects of the topic that Hermione hadn’t touched upon. A few more paragraphs would round-out her essay nicely, and she certainly couldn’t turn in an essay that was incomplete. The very idea made her shudder. Perhaps she should reference Chapter 12 of New Theory of Numerology (which Harry had very thoughtfully given her for Christmas last year) as supporting evidence? Admittedly it wasn’t strictly relevant, but it might perhaps earn her a little extra credit...

A dim rumble of thunder over towards Hogsmeade drew her across to that side of the tower. She scanned the partially moonlit landscape but couldn’t see any lightning, which was odd. The cloud was a little thicker over there but it was still quite patchy, so she was surprised that it had produced thunder. You never could tell up here in the mountains though – microclimates were very common.

With a mental shrug she made her way back towards the stairs.

Perhaps Harry and Tonks would get rained-on when they returned from boozing it up in Hogsmeade, she thought uncharitably. It would serve them right if so! Going to Hogsmeade on a school night! What on earth was Harry thinking?

For a few moments Hermione was comforted by these thoughts of righteous justice, but then she felt horribly guilty for her meanness and mentally took it all back. She didn’t really want Harry and Tonks to get soaked. They were her friends, after all, even if they didn’t think so at the moment.

With that settled, Hermione took one last moment to marvel at the view. It was particularly pretty up here tonight, with the many towers of Hogwarts emerging like giant stone crystals from the swirling sea of fog below. It was like a scene from a fantasy novel – the Lord of the Rings, perhaps... or her personal favourite, Gormenghast.

Hermione sighed wistfully and began descending the stairs to resume her patrol.

There was a broom cupboard on the second floor where she’d caught several couples snogging last term. That was definitely worth checking out... especially since Hermione herself was getting no action whatsoever!

- § -

Harry’s mind went into overdrive. They were clearly under attack, and they had only one escape route – through the door on what was now the ceiling. Not good. They were also close to half way in their looping journey from Hogsmeade back to Hogwarts, which meant they were at the furthest point from both. Nobody would hear them scream way out here at the best of times, but with thick forest and fog on all sides there was no chance whatsoever.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked Tonks as they both scrambled up to a crouch.

“I’m fine,” she replied, wiping blood out of her eyes from a long cut on her forehead.

Harry felt something trickle down his cheek where his face had hit the door frame. A cut of his own, no doubt. He ignored it.

“Someone’s put up an Anti-Disapparition Jinx,” she stated, confirming Harry’s suspicion.

THROW YOUR WANDS CLEAR AND COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!” a deep and smug voice shouted from outside. “YOU ARE SURROUNDED AND OUTNUMBERED. THERE IS NO ESCAPE. YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS TO COMPLY!

Panic swept across Tonks’ face. She was an Auror and had no-doubt faced difficult situations, but apparently nothing like this – being surrounded and outnumbered with no obvious means of escape.

The same could not be said of Harry.

Danger was never far away in the Dursley household. He’d lived his entire childhood under the constant threat of sudden and unprovoked violence. Dudley, Uncle Vernon and even Aunt Petunia could explode at any time without the slightest warning. Dudley’s gang also had a habit of lying in wait to catch Harry unawares.

Harry had learned not to panic. He’d trained himself to keep his head, assess the situation, and do whatever he needed to do to minimise any injury he might suffer. This ability to think clearly in a crisis was a skill that set him apart from most other people. It served him well when he was riding a broom at crazy speeds through the struts of the Quidditch Stadium, or fleeing an escaped Hungarian Horntail, or facing thirty murderous Death Eaters in a creepy graveyard.

At the sound of that self-satisfied voice outside, Harry’s mind had snapped into razor-sharp focus. He immediately knew what awaited them outside this carriage, he knew what would happen if they were captured, and he therefore knew that they had no choice about what to do.

A calm certainty settled over him, along with a deep anger at himself. He’d been a damned fool tonight – he’d allowed the High Inquisitor to drag him to Hogsmeade without thinking about the risks. Even worse, Fudge had practically announced their destination to the entire school (including the whole of Slytherin) and Madam Rosmerta had then announced it to the whole of Hogsmeade. In retrospect it came as no surprise that someone had blabbed to the enemy.

Harry had let his guard down and now he was paying the price. But what made him really angry was the fact that Tonks would pay it too. Endangering himself through his own stupidity was one thing, but putting someone else in peril was unforgivable. He’d endangered all of his friends last term with his foolish mission to rescue Sirius and he’d vowed not to do it again. And yet here he was, doing exactly that. In the very unlikely event that they managed to get out of this, Harry was going to have a very frank conversation with himself! It also grated that they’d stolen Tonks’ “ten-seconds-to-comply” line, confirming that someone inside Hogwarts was definitely feeding them information.

With extreme difficulty, Harry repressed his fury. He grabbed both of Tonks’ hands and pulled her forwards until they were eye-to-eye.

“We don’t have much time,” he whispered urgently. “They’re going to try to take us. We mustn’t let them! Capture is not an option, okay? No matter what, they must not take us!

Harry had managed to evade Voldemort’s clutches in the Little Hangleton graveyard, but he was confident that the snake-faced lunatic wouldn’t repeat that mistake. If Harry and Tonks were captured there would be no escape.

The pink-haired teen nodded, looking pale. She released herself from his grip and fished around in her pocket.

Her hand emerged holding a small vial. “Drink this!” she instructed.

A bright pink liquid swirled merrily inside. Little bubbles rose steadily to the surface and burst in tiny blue sparkling explosions, like miniature fireworks.

“What is it?” Harry asked, taking it from her.

“Polyjuice,” she replied. “It’ll turn you into me.”

Before his eyes, Tonks’ features morphed smoothly into his until another Harry Potter stared back at him.

“I’ll be you and you’ll be me,” she explained, “so they’ll take me instead of you.”

“No fucking way!” Harry replied, aghast.

“I’m your bodyguard,” the other Harry insisted. “It’s my job.”

“Maybe so,” Harry replied, thinking quickly, “but they’re not going to just let me walk away. They’ll take you and then kill me!”

The other Harry’s face fell, and Tonks morphed back into herself. “Fuck! You’re right.”

Harry growled in frustration. Why couldn’t these bastards leave him alone? This was so fucking typical! No matter what he did, darkness seemed to follow him everywhere, draining the joy and leeching the colour from his life.

Losing Sirius had almost broken him, especially since he’d never got to say goodbye. There had been no funeral, no wreaths of colourful flowers to brighten a procession of mourners in black cars. No eulogies had been spoken to celebrate his Godfather’s life. All Harry got were pitying looks from his friends, who then quickly looked away.

Even worse, Dumbledore had sent Harry back to the cold embrace of the Dursley family. It was as if the man had no empathy whatsoever. After two weeks of bitter loneliness and soul-crushing depression Harry had looked inside himself and found nothing but anger. The Headmaster had lauded Harry for his compassion and ability to love, but those traits had finally been beaten out of him. It felt like Harry’s entire life had turned black. His heart had become a block of obsidian inside his chest.

That’s when Harry had been overcome with a fierce desire to fight back – to hunt down every last Death Eater and turn their lives as black as they’d turned his. But that just wasn’t realistic. He was only one man (one boy, back then) against so many. He couldn’t do it alone, so he had turned to Scrimgeour for help.

That decision had changed everything, in ways he never could have anticipated, because it had brought Tonks more fully into his life. If he was honest he’d been standing on the precipice of a very dark abyss, and Tonks had pulled him back. If she hadn’t been at the Burrow there was no way Harry would have survived his friends’ betrayal. He would have had literally nothing to live for, and the abyss would have consumed him.

Fortunately Tonks’ presence had distracted him so thoroughly that he’d almost forgotten about the dark cloud of misery that hung perpetually over him. But right now he was forced to face the facts once again. Voldemort and his followers would never leave Harry alone, and those around him would routinely become collateral damage. Cedric and Sirius had died because of Harry, and now Tonks faced the same fate. While other girls got to relish their summer, frolicking around in pretty dresses enjoying themselves, Tonks was being ambushed on dark roads by masked psychopaths in black robes... because she was with Harry.

It was fucking intolerable and he refused to accept it. NO, his mind screamed silently at the world. Not again! Not Tonks!

Harry stood once more upon the precipice, staring down into the abyss. But this time he embraced it; welcomed it. Without a moment’s hesitation, he leapt in. If the world insisted on denying him any happiness then so be it, but he would take his enemies down with him. If his existence was destined to contain only darkness then so would theirs. He would make their lives as black as coal, as dark as night. He would blot the sun and the moon from the sky if he had to. He would paint the entire fucking world black.

“Listen to me,” Harry growled, gripping Tonks’ hands fiercely. “There’s only one way out of this – we have to fight our way out.”

Several emotions flashed across Tonks’ face before the truth of his words struck home. She nodded reluctantly.

Harry’s eyes bored into hers, “We’re going to get bloody on this one Tonks. You’re not an Auror tonight, you understand? You’re a Black, of the House of Black. We have to be cold-hearted killers, because our backs are against the wall. It’s them or us now – either they die or we die.”

Tonks visibly gathered herself and nodded again. Harry could see that she wasn’t prepared for this, but she couldn’t deny his logic. Harry felt for her. Ten minutes ago they’d been drinking in a bar with a room full of cheerful locals, and now they were facing imminent death. It was a jarring change, but one to which Harry was quite accustomed. He had been living like that on-and-off ever since he came to Hogwarts. He’d also spent the entire summer thinking about how to win this war and he’d come to terms with what was likely to be necessary.

“They’ll want me alive,” he continued, “for now at least. But you...”

“I know,” Tonks interrupted sourly. “If I’m lucky they’ll just kill me. If not...”

A wave of sickened fury swept over Harry at the thought of what they might do to Tonks.

“Exactly,” he agreed. “So you need to transform yourself into me again.”

Tonks immediately began to object, but Harry expression brooked no argument and she fell silent.

“If you look like me that’ll give them pause,” Harry explained. “They won’t know which of us is the real me so they’ll have to take us both alive. If you look like you they’ll just take you out. I need you fighting at my side, not dead at my feet!”

“Okay fine!” she hissed. “But how do we get away?”

“Using this,” Harry replied.

He pulled a large chunk of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder from his pocket and cast an invisibility spell on it. The sparkling black rock disappeared. When he looked up another Harry Potter was staring at him again.

“You think they’ll fall for that trick a second time?” the other Harry said, sounding just like him.

“They’d better,” Harry replied, “or we’re dead. It’s only been 24 hours. Given all the false rumours about what happened in the Slytherin carriage I doubt anyone has figured out what I did yet. The twins have been selling this stuff for months and nobody has mentioned that weakness. Dumbledore seems to be the only wizard who ever uses Homenum Revelio.”

TIME’S UP POTTER!” the voice shouted from outside. “THROW YOUR WANDS OUT – RIGHT NOW!

They’d given him a lot more than ten seconds, Harry noted. More like sixty, in fact. He was grateful for that, but it wasn’t a good sign. The uncharacteristic patience of these Death Eaters was more likely to be a sign of confidence than generosity. They’d probably been scouting this forest for hours waiting for Harry’s carriage to return, and therefore knew that the area was deserted. They had plenty of time, and their mission was to take Harry alive not get into a fight with him, so it was worth the wait. But it confirmed Harry's suspicion that he and Tonks were on their own – Scrimgeour’s Auror escort were long gone and no help would be coming.

“I have an idea,” Tonks whispered, and quickly conjured two fake wands. They looked just like Harry and Tonks’ real wands. “Make the real ones invisible,” she whispered, passing her wand to Harry

Catching on quickly, he used Tonks’ wand to make his own invisible. It felt weird performing magic with her wand, partly because it had such a weirdly-shaped handle (like an exotic flower or something) and partly because it felt surprisingly... feminine. But it worked fine. He then used his own wand to make hers invisible and handed it back to her.

Ready?” he asked.

The other Harry nodded, but her hands were shaking. Harry squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, and then shouted through the broken windows above them.

OKAY, WE’RE COMING OUT, DON’T SHOOT!

Mentally bracing himself, he turned the handle on the door above their heads and pushed upwards, throwing it open. Tonks thrust her arm out, with the fake wands in her fist, and hurled them clear.

SMART DECISION,” the smug voice outside drawled. “NOW CLIMB OUT NICE AND SLOW.

Harry clambered out first. Once he was kneeling on the roof he almost turned round to give Tonks a hand, but quickly stopped himself. Acts of kindness like that might give away which one of them was the real Harry. Instead he inspected the scene around him while Tonks scrambled up.

As he’d expected, they were surrounded by shadowy figures in Death Eater masks and robes. What he hadn’t expected was that there would be so fucking many. A ragged group of about ten had formed in the road thirty meters ahead of the carriage, and another group of ten had formed the same distance behind. But to either side of the road shadowy figures could be seen scattered throughout the trees, surrounding them in all directions as far as he could see in this fog – at least a hundred in total.

Harry’s heart sank. The leader hadn’t been joking when he said they were outnumbered. Twelve Death Eaters had failed to apprehend Harry in the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort was clearly taking no chances this time. The likelihood of Harry and Tonks escaping this trap seemed remote. Harry's plan had been to throw the Darkness Powder, kill as many of the (probably dozen-or-so) Death Eaters as they could, and then make a run for it. That plan had well-and-truly gone down the crapper. Even with the Darkness Powder it would be impossible to get past so many without being heard, after which they would simply be hunted down. He could sense Tonks’ terror as she saw what they were up against.

“There are two of them,” one of the hooded figures to his right declared in surprise, “two Potters!”

The central figure among the group blocking the road ahead swore profusely, and then barked out an order. “Bring them both. Once we figure out which is which we can have a bit of fun with the girl before we kill her.”

Bawdy laughter broke out all around them.

Over the last six weeks Harry had been fighting a constant battle to control his anger. On several occasions it had boiled over, unleashing a fierce rage which he had struggled to contain, but hearing those words spoken so casually – of raping and then murdering Tonks – ignited a fury in him so profound that it consumed him utterly. The scope of his previous angry outbursts was eclipsed in an instant, swept away in the ferocious tsunami of emotion that assaulted him. In the Headmaster’s Study a dam had burst, releasing a new Harry: an angrier Harry. The self-imposed restraint which had always limited him to mildly rebellious acceptance was gone, replaced by an unfettered desire to vent his rage upon those who wronged him. And now, in an instant, Harry’s sixteen years of pent-up fury were released in full force. A savage and murderous wrath seared through his mind like Fiendfyre, burning what little restraint he had left to ashes.

Harry had spent much of the summer thinking about how to deal with Voldemort and his followers. It was hard not to conclude, after his many encounters with Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew, Bellatrix Lestrange, Barty Crouch Jr, Lucius Malfoy and others... that there was just no reasoning with them. What could you do when faced with someone who simply refused to stop killing? This was not a situation that most people in 1990’s Britain were accustomed to facing. But the more Harry thought about it the more he realised that it was not a new phenomenon. For millions of years, throughout the entire history of our evolution, humans had faced the regular need to defend their loved ones from the barbarous violence of others. Only in the last few decades had that requirement become less frequent. But when marauders attack, as they still do from time to time, the rules and conventions of civilised society don’t keep people safe. To survive, those rules must be swept aside in favour of a set which are better suited to the situation at hand. In other words, when faced with an attacker who cannot be dissuaded from violence, and all attempts at a peaceful solution have been exhausted, only one option remains:

War.

Harry’s instincts took over, but they were not the instincts of a normal person. These were the instincts of someone who’d endured a lifetime of pain and suffering, hunted and terrorized by those more powerful and more numerous than himself. Harry had always been a survivor, but they’d backed him into a corner and now he was forced to go on the attack.

The time had come for Harry himself to join the war.

Despite the danger, Harry turned his head away from the odious individual who seemed to be in charge and closed his eyes.

He had to get his fury under some sort of control. He had to direct it.

Barely half a second passed, but when his emerald-green eyes opened once more it was not a sixteen-year-old boy who looked out. It was something far more ancient and primal.

For the first time ever, Harry Potter gazed upon the world with the eyes of a predator.

Stay close,” Harry whispered to Tonks, his tone absolutely glacial.

Without waiting for her to respond, Harry put a hand on the edge of the carriage and dropped nimbly to the ground. After a moment Tonks hastily scrambled down to catch up with him. They both raised their seemingly-empty hands above their heads in the universal sign of surrender and edged towards the group facing them on the road up ahead. Harry scanned the robed figures surrounding them, noting their positions.

I’ll take the fifty in front of us,” he whispered. “You take the fifty behind. When you shoot, shoot to kill. Don’t miss.”

Tonks, wearing his body, shot him an incredulous look. Harry gazed back at her dispassionately. There was no room in his mind for fear; no room for uncertainty. He was entirely focused on the one thought that mattered – to save Tonks he would need to kill every single one of these masked fuckers.

When darkness descends dodge right,” he told her calmly, “fire one Exploding Charm and then switch to the Killing Curse. Take out as many as you can.

As the Death Eaters on the road up ahead began strolling towards him Harry called out:

BY WHAT RIGHT DO YOU WEAR THOSE ROBES?

The group facing him were completely wrong-footed. They exchanged puzzled looks, and then turned to their leader.

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” the black-robed figure in question called out.

WE ARE THE HOUSE OF BLACK,” Harry replied, pointing at himself and Tonks. “YOU WEAR OUR HOUSE COLOURS WITHOUT PERMISSION.”

“YOU ARE NOT THE HOUSE OF BLACK,” the man replied angrily. “YOU’RE WORTHLESS HALF-BLOODS!”

Before Harry could react, Tonks called out in his voice: “YOU THINK YOUR PRECIOUS DARK LORD WAS DEFEATED FIFTEEN YEARS AGO BY A HALF-BLOOD AND HIS MUGGELBORN MOTHER? ARE YOU DERANGED? WHERE DO YOU THINK SHE LEARNED SUCH DARK MAGIC? FROM THE BLACK FAMILY LIBRARY OF COURSE! SIRIUS BLACK ADOPTED LILY POTTER INTO THE HOUSE OF BLACK USING A BLOOD RITUAL. HOW ELSE COULD HER SON BE BORN A PARSELTONGUE AND OPEN THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS?”

“LIES!” the man spat in reply. “THE BLACK FAMILY WOULD NEVER EMBRACE A MUGGLEBORN!

THE BLACK FAMILY EMBRACES POWER NO MATTER WHERE WE FIND IT,” Tonks insisted forcefully. “WE DO NOT SEEK TO OVERCOME THOSE WHO OPPOSE US. WE CORRUPT THEM! WE ABSORB THEM! DO YOU SERIOUSLY THINK YOU ARE DARKER THAN THE HOUSE OF BLACK? DO BOGGARTS LIVE IN YOUR WRITING DESKS? ARE YOUR DOOR HANDLES SHAPED LIKE SERPENTS? DO SEVERED HEADS ADORN YOUR WALLS?”

Harry was impressed. Tonks had caught-on quickly, and was doing a fine job of unsettling the Death Eaters surrounding them. The blood-adoption thing was complete nonsense of course, but her description of Grimmauld Place was accurate. All the best lies were concealed in truth, and some of these idiots were clearly buying what she was selling, which might make them hesitate when Harry delivered his final bluff.

“ENOUGH!” the masked man declared impatiently. “TAKE IT UP WITH THE DARK LORD, YOU’LL BE MEETING HIM SOON.”

“NO DOUBT”, Harry responded calmly, taking over from Tonks once again. “BUT FIRST WE’RE GOING TO PAINT THIS FOREST BLACK WITH THE BLOOD OF YOUR LIFELESS CORPSES.”

For several seconds there was a startled silence, and then the leader laughed cruelly.

YOU TWO?” he howled, throwing his arms wide. “UNARMED? AGAINST ALL OF US?

DO YOU REALLY THINK WE WOULD COME OUT HERE ALONE?” Harry shot back. “HOW STUPID DO YOU THINK WE ARE?

For the first time, the leader’s cocky posture faltered.

YOU ARE SURROUNDED!” Harry called out confidently. “DROP YOUR WANDS AND SURRENDER!

In the brief moment of confusion that followed, while many of the Death Eaters glanced behind them to see if they were indeed surrounded, Harry uncurled his left fist. The invisible chunk of Peruvian Darkness Powder fell free. He didn’t see it fall but there was no mistaking the moment it hit the ground. An inky black darkness suddenly enveloped him.

- § -

Music suggestion #1: Paint it Black (Hidden Citizens version)

- § -

Harry’s entire field of vision had turned a deep featureless black. He immediately cast Homenum Revelio and dove to his right. As he tumbled, rolling across his shoulders, the darkness suddenly came alive. Like sinister Christmas lawn ornaments, dozens upon dozens of luminous bright red human outlines now filled his vision, surrounding him in all directions.

Harry came up on one knee with his wand pointed towards the ten glowing figures where the road had been. A non-verbal Bombarda Maxima instantly shot from his wand towards the invisible ground at their feet. Before it even hit he was casting his next spell – the Killing Curse.

Bellatrix Lestrange had told him that you had to mean it when you used the Unforgivables, and he most certainly did mean it. The thought of what this group of murderous filth intended to do to Tonks made his blood boil. There was no doubt in Harry’s mind that they deserved to die, and he was more than happy to oblige.

The three closest Death Eaters were standing off to his right near the edge of the trees. They had all hunched down when darkness fell and were sweeping their wands around in a panic, but they were otherwise rooted to the spot. Harry cast three non-verbal Avada Kedavra’s in rapid succession.

None of the spells leaving his wand were visible to his eyes – there was no bright yellow flash from the Exploding Charm or livid green streak from the Killing Curse, but he knew when they struck home. The group of glowing human outlines where the road had been were suddenly hurled into the air like rag dolls and a dull boom reached his ears. The noise was oddly muffled by the now-invisible fog that still enveloped them, but Harry knew how destructive his Bombarda Maxima was. Tonks had told him it was the most powerful she’d ever seen. The grassy slope where they’re practiced, on the far side of a low hill near the Burrow, was now littered with scorched car-sized craters.

Angry shouts reached Harry’s ears.

I’m blind!

I can’t see!

We’re under attack!

Where are they?

The explosion in front of him was quickly followed by another behind. Tonks had cast her own Bombarda.

Harry resisted the urge to take a look and focussed his attention on targeting the glowing human outlines to his right. His wand, if he could have seen it, would have been a blur. It was centred on his sixth victim before the first even began to fall. But then they started dropping like marionettes with their strings cut, and as they fell their red glow rapidly faded away to black.

Time seemed to slow down. While the first six outlines were still in various stages of collapse, Harry returned his attention to the group on the road. As the tip of his wand swept towards them, passing dozens of confused attackers along the way, Harry fired Killing Curses as fast as he could, spraying the roadside indiscriminately like bullets from a machine gun. Half his shots hit home, depriving another eight Death Eaters of their ties to life.

Harry felt no regret for the lives he was taking. Quite the reverse – he laboured under a sense of tremendous urgency to turn every one of those red outlines black, because hesitation right now could consign Tonks to a fate worse than death. Harry forced himself to think of her, and his parents, and Sirius and Cedric... and everyone else who’d died at the hands of Death Eaters like these. With hatred burning bright inside his chest, Harry cut his enemies down without a shred of remorse.

Of the ten figures that had gone flying when he blew up the road, three lay motionless but seven were starting to stir. They didn’t pose an immediate threat but Harry started picking them off anyway. One of these assholes was definitely the leader, and Harry was very keen to cut the head off the snake. It was also likely that those around the leader were quite senior, so taking them all out would cause a lot of confusion. From what Harry had seen, there was a lot of fear among the Death Eater organisation. Nobody wanted to do anything that might displease Voldemort, so there was little incentive among the junior ranks to take charge or show any initiative. They just followed orders, and if there was nobody to give them orders, Harry was hoping they would mill around uncertainly or run away.

A tall figure towards the rear of the group was the first to rise unsteadily to his feet. Harry’s Killing Curse struck him in the middle of the chest with some force, judging by the way the man flew backwards and landed flat on his back. But Harry hadn’t been idle while that happened. Within a few seconds of his first shot, all seven were lying dead and unmoving on the dirt track, fading rapidly from sight.

Some people might think it was rather unsporting of Harry to attack an enemy that was still dazed and possibly injured. Harry would ordinarily agree, but he couldn’t afford such altruistic sentiments right now because anyone he left alive might shoot him or Tonks later. It just wasn’t worth the gamble – not for scumbags who thought that raping and murdering female captives was ‘a bit of fun’.

With that in mind, Harry fired a Killing Curse at each of the three who’d stayed down, just in case. They might be sufficiently injured that they wouldn’t get up, but they clearly weren’t dead yet. He couldn’t take the chance that they might recover later and surprise him.

With that sorted, he turned his attention back to those in the trees to his right. Lightning-fast reflexes, so long employed only on the Quidditch pitch, were now put to a far more deadly use. Harry became a tornado of death, spinning from one target to another with devastating speed, picking them off one by one. In the space of a few heartbeats eight more glowing outlines had tumbled bonelessly to the ground.

Shouts and confusion filled the air, but Harry ignored it all and just kept on firing. He was relentless. Target after target fell under his barrage. Harry’s wand flew from left to right, dealing death without hesitation, because every single one of these bastards was a legitimate target. They’d threatened Tonks, and had therefore signed their own death warrants. The bitter regret he felt for failing to save Sirius still felt like a dagger in his heart and he was damned if he’d let that happen again.

He could see that the Death Eaters surrounding him were disoriented by the darkness and the explosions. Their outlines all appeared to be brandishing wands but most were frozen in place, turning from side to side, not knowing where to shoot. A few were casting at random, while others fired at any nearby sound, but almost invariably they were striking each other. Harry saw several succumb to friendly fire before he could take them out himself.

The sensible ones had crouched down. The foolish ones were stumbling around. Harry had no idea where they were trying to get to, but they didn’t get far. Without exception they bumped into something (a tree or a branch or each other) or tripped on the uneven ground, and quickly found themselves scrambling around on their hands and knees.

It didn’t matter. Standing or crawling, Harry’s wand found them regardless. He showed no mercy whatsoever.

Once those nearest to him were down he started prioritising by distance, targeting those increasingly far away. More of them fell, but (as he’d feared) many of the more remote outlines stayed upright. His shots must be hitting trees (which he couldn’t see) between him and the target.

Before Harry could find a solution to that, motion to his left distracted him. An outline on the far side of the road was pointing a wand straight at him. Harry dove to the ground just as something whistled past his head. This person could see him! They were using Homenum Revelio! A tree exploded behind Harry as he returned fire with a Bombarda Maxima. He didn’t want to risk a Killing Curse which might be intercepted by a tree. Sure enough, his spell detonated just before it reached the intended target, emitting a high-pitched screech of exploding wood. The attacker’s outline (and that of three others nearby) was sent flying backwards.

Some of them have figured it out!” Harry screamed towards Tonks. “Take cover!

Frantically, Harry belly-crawled on his ankles and elbows towards the rear of where he thought the carriage was located. To his left he saw Tonks dive to the ground and do the same. A few seconds later his elbow made contact with one of the wheels. He detoured around it and scuttled sideways until his back was against the rear of the coach. Tonks soon joined him, sitting on his right facing down the road towards Hogsmeade. The carriage now protected them from about two thirds of their attackers and much of the area in front of them had been cleared by Tonks, but they were far from safe.

Harry glanced quickly over his left shoulder, back the way he’d come. All he could see was inky blackness, punctuated by the glowing outlines of Death Eaters taking cover or blundering around blindly. It was a weird thing, but he was effectively looking through the carriage, because the Homenum Revelio spell highlighted human presence regardless of intervening solid objects. None of the attackers behind him were attempting to rush his current position, so Harry turned his attention to those who remained in front.

All of the Death Eaters on the road were down, thanks to Tonks, but there were plenty still upright in the trees. One of them in particular stood out. From the shape of their outline they seemed to be hiding behind a tree. Harry watched in alarm as they carefully targeted each of their downed colleagues on the road. The prone figures immediately began to stir, one after another. That’s when Harry realised that none of the downed figures on Tonks’ side of the battle was fading away.

You were using stunners?” Harry asked Tonks incredulously.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, her voice full of misery, “I couldn’t...”

A growl of frustration escaped him, but Harry quickly repressed his anger. It wasn’t her fault. Unlike him, Tonks wasn’t a killer. She hadn’t murdered a man with her bare hands when she was eleven. She may have lectured him at the Burrow about the disadvantages of non-lethal spells, but most likely she’d been taught that during training. It was one thing to be told something and another to actually do it. In her two years as a qualified Auror, Harry doubted she’d ever needed to actually kill anyone.

This was Harry’s fault. He should have realised this sooner.

Unfortunately his mistake put them in a very bad situation – they were still surrounded and all the people Tonks had hit were starting to get up again. Even worse, the person Renervating them could clearly see what they were doing – they must have cast Homenum Revelio too. If they told others to do the same things could get very bad very quickly.

Almost half the figures Tonks had shot were starting to get up now, but Harry ignored them for the moment. He had to prevent the person Renervating them from spreading the word about Homenum Revelio. So he fired a Bombado Maxima at the individual in question and watched in grim relief as they were sent flying backwards when whatever they were sheltering behind exploded.

He tapped Tonks on the head with his wand and did the same to himself.

“The Darkness Powder won’t last much longer,” he whispered, “so I’ve made us invisible. As soon as you can see where you’re going, make a run for it and I’ll follow.”

He tried to sound confident, but he knew they weren’t going to get out of this. They were too heavily outnumbered. But Tonks might get away if he stayed behind to cover her retreat. That would have to be enough.

“I’m sorry Harry,” Tonks repeated wretchedly. “I’ve killed us haven’t I?”

Harry reached out and grabbed her glowing hand. It felt soft and feminine. She was back in her own body.

“We’re not dead yet,” he replied as cheerfully as he could manage. “But if we die, we die together... and we go down fighting!”

He’d intended to make her feel better, but judging by the way her fingers crushed his he’d done the opposite. There was no time to fix that. Harry began ruthlessly picking off the recovering Death Eaters.

“Do me a favour would you?” he said casually. “Point your wand round the side of the coach and fire off a few Exploding Charms?”

Tonks glanced over her right shoulder and saw what Harry had seen – three glowing figures were creeping cautiously towards them on the other side of the carriage.

- § -

Music suggestion #2: First 1:41 of Moonlight Sonata (Hidden Citizens version)
[1:42 onwards is for “Paint It Black part II”].

- § -

Hermione chewed on a mouthful of muesli and checked her watch again. It was almost 9am. Classes were about to start. If Harry didn’t come down soon he was going to miss breakfast entirely, or (even worse) be late for Herbology Class.

Wait, was Harry still taking Herbology? Hermione had left before McGonagall gave Harry his class assignments yesterday so she wasn’t sure. She turned to ask Ron, but immediately thought better of it. Ron was sitting next to her, grumpily shovelling a fried breakfast into his pie-hole as fast as he could. He’d only arrived two minutes ago so he was desperately trying to consume as much as he could before the food vanished. He was barely even chewing it. Entire sausages were going down whole.

Hermione resisted the urge to lecture him on the advantages of not being late for everything. The last time she’d done that she’d just made herself the target of Ron’s sour mood.

As the second-hand of her watch swept inexorably towards the vertical, Hermione wrapped some slices of toast inside a napkin and cast a warming charm on it. It wasn’t much but it would keep Harry going until lunch.

At the sound of a disturbance near the main door her head snapped up in relief, expecting to see Harry. But hope quickly turned to concern when she spied an extremely agitated-looking Fudge rushing towards the High Table. The fact that the portly former-Minister was almost running was a bad sign in itself, but the expression on his face made her blood run cold: he looked like a man who’d just seen something truly terrible.

Argh!” Ron growled vehemently as he bit down on bare metal. A sausage he’d been about to devour had disappeared from his fork. He quickly jabbed the empty utensil towards his plate to skewer another, but the entire plate disappeared and he stabbed the wooden table instead. All the food in the room faded from view.

Ron threw his fork down in disgust, “For fuck’s sake!

Only then did he notice that the Hall had fallen silent and Hermione hadn’t chastised him for his language.

He frowned in mystification, “What’s going on?”

Hermione ignored him. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it was going to burst. The entire room was now focussed on Fudge, including all the professors at the High Table. Snape appeared thoroughly disinterested and McGonagall scowled at Fudge sourly, but Dumbledore and the others looked distinctly uneasy.

Fudge came to a stop across the table from Dumbledore and delivered his news in a hasty whisper. Hermione strained to hear but couldn’t make out what he said. The gasps from Sinistra and Pince told their own tale though, and the fact that Madam Pomfrey leapt up from her seat and dashed from the room didn’t bode well. Dumbledore murmured something to McGonagall, who immediately stood and made her way around the table.

With a sense of increasing dread Hermione watched the Head of Gryffindor stride purposefully down the aisle towards her. The wizened old witch kept her eyes fixed on Hermione the entire time, but Hermione’s heart still sank when the now pale-looking professor stopped in front of her.

McGonagall’s voice was strained, “Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, come with me please.”

Speculative whispering broke out all around them as Hermione and Ron rose to follow McGonagall back to the High Table. Ron gave Hermione a bewildered look, but she ignored him – she had no idea what was going on either.

At McGonagall’s gesture, they stopped in front of Dumbledore.

The Headmaster eyed them over his glasses gravely, “Miss Granger, Mr Weasley. Have either of you seen young Harry or Miss Tonks this morning?”

“No why?” Ron answered, rather belligerently.

“Not since he left for Hogsmeade last night,” Hermione replied, shooting Fudge an angry glare. “What’s happened?”

Nobody answered. Instead, Dumbledore rose from his chair and spoke over their heads, addressing the Hall, “Your attention please! This is very important. Has anybody seen Harry Potter this morning?”

Every head in the room swivelled left and right, exchanging baffled looks. Nobody spoke up. Hermione’s heart sank even further.

At the far end of the room students began turning towards a noise in the Entrance Hall. Hermione’s heart leapt again. But moments later her hopes were dashed once more. Auror Savage appeared and hurried towards the High Table. Instinctively, McGonagall, Hermione and Ron all stepped aside to make room. Savage ignored the professors and stopped in front of Fudge.

“What have you found?” Dumbledore asked before Fudge could get a word in.

“Bodies,” Savage reported, turning towards the Headmaster, “lots of bodies.”

“Harry?” Dumbledore pressed, his expression turning grave.

“Impossible to tell,” Savage replied darkly. “It’s like a war zone out there – mangled corpses as far as the eye can see. It’s going to take hours to figure out who’s who.”

Hermione slapped a hand over her mouth in horror.

Notes:

I'll try to get part II out as as soon as I can!

Don’t forget – if you like this story please hit the kudos button. Thank you!

Chapter 39: Paint It Black part II

Notes:

If it has been a while since you read Chapter 38, it might be worth re-reading that one before starting this one.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Music suggestion #2 still applies: Moonlight Sonata (Hidden Citizens version).

- § -

As the last Renervated figure collapsed back to the ground Harry glanced to his right. Tonks was busy pounding the trees on that side with Exploding Charms. The three Death Eaters that had been creeping up on them were lying motionless on the ground, and all the glowing outlines in the trees beyond were frantically scrambling for cover. Unfortunately for them, there was no way to tell where the explosions were coming from.

With the attackers fully occupied on that side, Harry returned his attention to the other. So far Harry reckoned he’d killed about forty, which meant that there were still sixty-or-so surrounding him and Tonks. The situation was still pretty desperate, and once the Darkness Powder ran out they’d be screwed. Invisibility would help, but those Death Eaters who’d been smart enough to cast Homenum Revelio would still be able to see them. Once they passed the word, Harry and Tonks’ capture was guaranteed.

Harry had thinned the numbers significantly on his side of the road, but they were being replenished by a steady stream of hunched figures fleeing across the road to escape the explosions. A quick visual survey confirmed that Harry and Tonks were still surrounded with no obvious escape route.

Some Death Eaters were trying to flee deeper into the forest, but their progress was extremely slow, punctuated as it was by frequent stumbles and falls. Almost without exception they had their wands pointed towards the explosions, presumably under the assumption that the attack was coming from that direction, and some were definitely casting spells though Harry couldn’t tell what those spells were. Muffled bangs seemed to follow some of them, but that that didn’t tell him much. Most spells would explode if they hit a solid object. Occasionally a Death Eater would go down, but that didn’t tell him much either. Sometimes they would cry out or writhe about on the ground and sometimes they’d just go down silently, but half the time they would stagger back to their feet and hobble on, firing spells wildly. Of those that stayed down, a fair few seemed to be fading very slowly to black. Succumbing to their injuries, Harry surmised. Apparently the brave soldiers of Voldemort’s army didn’t care whether they killed the enemy or their own people.

That was fine by Harry – he was perfectly happy for those shooting their comrades to carry on doing it – so he knelt on one knee and began targeting the ones who weren’t shooting. He took out half a dozen at various distances, firing multiple Killing Curses in sharp bursts.

Harry quickly realised that it wasn’t going to be enough. At this rate he would still be surrounded and outnumbered when the Darkness Powder ran out. He needed something much more destructive... like the powerful spells that Dumbledore had used against Voldemort in the Ministry Atrium. But Harry didn’t know any spells like that, damn it! Nothing in Harry’s arsenal could affect more than two or three adjacent people at a time, and more distant targets were impossible to hit thanks to all these damned trees! Harry’s fury at the Headmaster ramped up a notch. Harry and Tonks were about to die because the mad old bastard refused to teach Harry anything useful!

Those angry thoughts were quickly forgotten when he spotted something weird. A rotund glowing outline deep in the forest threw a leg over something and then shot up into the air. The person in question was twenty feet up before Harry realised what he was seeing: they were flying a broom!

The rider jerked to the left then the right, fighting to remain upright. It looked like something was knocking them off balance. Branches, Harry realised. They were striking tree branches. Unfortunately his hopes that they would fall were soon dashed. The glowing figure shot straight upwards, banked right and accelerated away at tremendous speed. Harry growled in frustration. There was no way he could hit them with a Killing Curse at that distance, and once they cleared the range of the Anti-Apparition Jinx they could apparate straight to Voldemort for help.

Before the solution had even consciously registered, Harry swept his wand towards the rapidly shrinking figure. Gathering his strength the way he had before the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry cast the most powerful, “Accio Broom!” that he could muster.

Harry had become quite accustomed to non-verbal casting over the last few weeks, so it felt rather odd to speak a spell out-loud. Fortunately his voice was more than drowned-out by the explosions and screaming that surrounded him.

An eternity passed, or so it seemed, during which nothing happened. Then the departing rider somersaulted forwards like a cyclist going over their handlebars. Harry watched in grisly fascination as the hapless individual lost contact with their broom and tumbled towards the ground, arms flailing wildly. A simple cushioning charm would save them from a sticky end, Harry knew, but the poor fool didn’t seem to have thought of that. Or perhaps they’d dropped their wand at some point? Harry winced as their rapid descent came to an abrupt halt when they hit the ground. Their limp body bounced once, tumbled like an overweight rag doll for a few seconds, and then flopped to a halt. Almost immediately the red glow of their outline faded to black.

“Ouch,” Harry whispered to himself.

Harry’s horrified scrutiny was abruptly cut short when something struck him across the chest. He was thrown backwards and landed flat on his back, gasping for breath. For a moment he thought he’d been hit with a spell and panicked... but his hand struck something smooth and wooden. Harry knew immediately what it was: a broom handle! Relief flooded him. The broom he’d summoned had knocked the wind out of him. Struggling up to a sitting position he quickly ran his hand along the broom in both directions. It was in one piece and seemed undamaged. He leapt onto it without hesitation and shot into the air.

I’ll distract them,” he yelled to Tonks. “When you get the chance, run for help; I’ll cover you.

Tonks screamed an answer, but he didn’t catch what it was. Her voice was drowned out by all the other sounds of war.

Once again Harry’s Quidditch experience served him well. Years of maintaining a mental image of the field of play (despite a rapidly changing perspective and fast-moving players) had given him a rock-solid sense of direction, altitude and tilt. Using the visible outlines of people as his guide he rocketed straight along the road, hunched over his broom-handle firing Killing Curses.

Following the road allowed him to rapidly gain speed and altitude without the risk of hitting a tree or a branch. It also carried him straight towards the most densely packed area of remaining attackers – the sides of the road in the direction Tonks had been facing. Taking them down was critical, because the road afforded them a clean run at Tonks and an unimpeded line of fire. They could easily over-run her if they organised themselves.

Many of Harry’s shots were probably going wide, but he was using his wand like a machine gun on a Spitfire. Anyone in front of him faced a deluge of gunfire, but unlike bullets the slightest nick from a Killing Curse meant instant death. Nobody out in the open was likely to survive.

Moments later Harry soared over the toppling bodies of those he’d been targeting. He banked upwards and to the right, hoping to clear the trees. Branches whipped at his feet and legs, forcing Harry to yank back on the broom-handle to gain more altitude. Behind him nine Death Eaters crumpled to the floor, cut down as if the Grim Reaper himself had swung a scythe through them.

The battlefield came back into view over Harry’s right shoulder. In the centre, Tonks was sheltering behind the coach, firing Exploding Charms blindly in all directions. On the far side a group of six outlines was converging on her position, pinning her down with spells that rocked the coach and repeatedly sent Tonks to her knees.

Shit!” Harry swore vehemently. He’d cleared one threat only to leave her exposed to another!

A vicious thrust downwards plunged the broom into a desperate near-vertical dive. Wind tore at his robes and set his eyes streaming, but Harry ignored the discomfort and dove headlong towards a ground that he couldn’t even see. He had to guess where the road was based on Tonks’ position and his mental image of the landscape. But he was in little danger of crashing. He levelled off a good ten feet from where he thought the ground was located, and hurtled back down the road towards Tonks.

Terrified that he might arrive too late, Harry pushed the broom to its limits. It had nowhere near the speed or acceleration of his Firebolt, but in sheer desperation Harry extracted every shred of power it could muster. At the same time he frantically searched for visual clues about where the edges of the road might be.

To strike the Death Eaters sneaking up on Tonks he would need to fly down the left side of the road then pass between the carriage and the trees. If he was too far left he’d hit the trees; too far right he'd hit the coach. At this speed either one would probably kill him stone dead. But if he flew any higher the overhanging branches would get him. He was confined to a narrow tunnel with little margin for error. As it was, branches were occasionally whipping him across the left side of his body and face. For the first time in his entire life, Harry was glad to be wearing glasses. Unfortunately they only saved his eyes from branches; they didn’t improve his ability to see in this impenetrable darkness. The only clue he had about the proximity of the trees was the whooshing sound of the branches behind him from the turbulence of his passing.

Harry would only get one chance to take out all of Tonks’ attackers. He couldn’t risk leaving a single one standing. So the time for subtlety was over. If they were on the road, out in the open like the last group, he could mow them down with a spray of Killing Curses. But this lot were creeping between the trees. It was likely that enough of his shots would be blocked that at least one Death Eater would get through. So Harry switched to Exploding Charms and began pounding the left side of the road with Bombarda Maxima’s.

There was no finesse to his attack. He simply trained his wand on the ground ten meters in front and cast spells as fast as he possibly could. Unlike a regular Bombarda, which employed a triangular wand movement that would prevent rapid-fire use, Bombarda Maxima required no wand movement at all. You just had to point your wand at the target and say the incantation. Thanks to Tonks’ excellent tuition, Harry had easily mastered casting it non-verbally. The result was incredibly swift and destructive. Harry’s wand remained largely static, fanning side to side by just a few inches. But on the ground that translated into a strip of forest about ten meters wide. Harry couldn’t see the result, but it sounded thoroughly devastating. A wall of sound smashed into him, along with a wave of turbulence that nearly knocked him off his broom.

At first there weren’t many human targets within his field of fire, but those that were launched into the air as if plucked from the ground by an invisible giant. Bodies flew in all directions. Some scattered onto the road while others were hurled deeper into the forest, striking trees along the way. One explosion detonated immediately beneath an unfortunate individual, lifting them high into the forest canopy. Their limp body tumbled down through the branches, jerking one way then another. It finally came to rest far from the ground, draped over a branch and swaying like a macabre piece of laundry.

A wave of nausea swept over Harry at the damage he was likely doing to these poor bastards, but he repressed it viciously. None of them deserved his pity. They were murderous filth who would gladly subject Tonks to far worse treatment... and if he hesitated now, or showed any mercy whatsoever, that’s exactly what would happen. So he forced all such thoughts from his mind and focussed on dealing as much destruction as he could. He wasn’t killing people. He was saving Tonks.

As Harry’s river of destruction coursed through the trees on the left side of the road, he saw Tonks dive away. She rolled once and then flung herself to the side, putting the coach between her and the path of Harry’s attack. With her back to the carriage once again, she ducked low, crouching down with her arms over her head.

Harry’s deadly aerial barrage rapidly approached the knot of Death Eaters converging on her position. They’d sensed the danger and scattered in panic, but it was far too late. Even if they hadn’t tripped and stumbled on the uneven forest floor, falling to their knees or diving for cover, they would have still been consumed. Sure enough their outlines were swiftly engulfed, battered by multiple detonations in a rolling tsunami of carnage. All six and half a dozen others were thoroughly chewed up as the wave of devastation swept over them.

Holding his breath and praying that he made it, Harry shot past Tonks, threading the gap between the carriage and the trees. Or at least where he hoped it was. Branches thrashed him across the body and face but he dismissed the pain. He couldn’t afford to be knocked off course, so he clung doggedly to his broom with his left hand while continuing to brutally strafe the forest with the wand in his right.

Moments later Harry knew he was clear, but there was no time to celebrate. He eased his broom slightly to the right, placing himself towards the relative safety of the middle of the road, and then began his ascent. He continued to pound the trees, smashing another half dozen scumbags into oblivion. Then he banked up and to the left, this time hoping he was sailing a few meters over the treetops. He continued gaining altitude for a few seconds just in case, and then leaned hard right. The world tilted sideways and the broom shook violently as Harry executed a looping turn at full speed.

Glowing figures reappeared in his vision, providing him with an updated aerial overview of the current state of the battle. Death Eaters were scattered over a wide and roughly circular area, perhaps two hundred meters across. Most were concentrated around the centre, with fewer towards the periphery, but that was changing. Those furthest from the action were either frozen uncertainly on the spot, or backing away from the fighting. Those towards the centre had been standing reasonably firm, apart from those fleeing away from Tonks’ Exploding Charms, but not anymore. Harry’s aerial bombardment had produced a deafening barrage of sound and the air was now filled with the screaming cries of the dying and severely injured. In the absence of anyone to give orders, and with no information on who was attacking them, the Death Eaters’ fragile resolve was crumbling. Clearly none of them had signed up for this, and an increasing number were now stumbling deeper into the forest as quickly as the darkness and uneven terrain would allow.

Harry guessed there were about fifty attackers still alive, split roughly evenly on each side of the road. Conspicuously however, there was a wide strip along one side of the road within which twenty rapidly fading Death Eaters lay broken and unmoving. Harry tried not to dwell on the unnatural angles at which some of them lay, or the fact that limbs appeared to be missing, and focussed instead on how best to help Tonks. She was now exposed to attackers on the far side of the road. Harry had thinned the numbers on that side earlier, but they’d since been replenished.

Without hesitation he dipped sharply towards the ground. A high-pitched squeal emerged from the tortured broom, but Harry ignored it. Moments later he levelled-out, lined-up perfectly along the far side of the road, and began his second bombing run. The devastation he’d wrought on the far side of the dirt track was now replicated on this. Like a muggle fighter jet carpet-bombing a hillside, Harry blasted a second strip of forest into kindling.

He couldn’t see it happening of course, but he could hear it, and he could see the effect it had on the human filth in its path. Death Eaters were hurled into the sky like toys, tumbling bonelessly in all directions.

To Harry’s relief, Tonks seemed to have anticipated his actions. She’d climbed on top of the over-turned carriage and was just now dropping down inside it. Harry smiled grimly. With Tonks safely under cover he didn’t need to hold back. He poured everything he had into the Bombarda Maxima’s he was casting. He was flying much higher up this time – above the trees – and yet a tidal wave of sound assailed him along with a wall of concussive force that severely tested his flying skills. The destruction he was wreaking on the forest must have been truly apocalyptic.

Harry almost pitied the poor sods on the ground below. Almost. He was raining hell down upon them and anyone caught in its path didn’t stand a chance. But he felt no remorse. They had brought this upon themselves. They had attacked peaceful and innocent civilians. They could hardly complain if those civilians fought back. And their savage brutality left Harry with no choice: he simply could not afford to lose. He was compelled to do whatever was necessary to survive. In any case, Voldemort and his followers showed no mercy towards their victims, and hence deserved none in return.

Within the space of a few heartbeats Harry had completed his second airstrike. He pulled back on the broom, rapidly gaining altitude and losing speed. He came to a stop mid-air and turned to assess the situation, because his next attack would depend on which of the remaining enemy combatants posed the greatest threat to Tonks. He quickly saw that another dozen or so had been brought down by his second barrage. They lay in strange poses or crumpled heaps, and were at various stages of fading to black. Harry had been hoping to take down more with his second run, given the extra power he’d put into the attack, but the surviving targets were more widely spaced now, so it was harder to get them in a single pass.

With relief he saw that Tonks was still hunkered down with her wand at the ready. She appeared unharmed and (judging by Harry’s memory of its location) still inside the coach. The nearest active threats were a good forty meters away, and didn’t appear to be paying Tonks any attention.

Of the original hundred-or-so assailants a little over twenty remained on their feet, but as Harry’s eyes scanned them searching for threats, something alarming happened. Like a mist burning off in the morning sun, the darkness around him started to dissipate. The deep impenetrable black gave way to patches of yellowish grey, which quickly expanded. One grey patch joined another, then another, until the grey outweighed the black. Indistinct shapes sharpened into recognisable objects – the broom on which he sat, a chunk of road to his left, and a patch of forest to his right. Suddenly the featureless black panorama, to which he’d become so accustomed, boiled away to nothing. The moon reappeared in the sky up above, shining through the broken clouds onto the ravaged landscape below.

For a moment everyone froze. Only the pitiful moans of the injured carried across the otherwise silent battlefield. Harry’s mouth, and probably everyone else’s, dropped open at what he saw. It was a scene of utter devastation. At its centre a horseless carriage lay on its side, slightly battered but otherwise intact. The road on which it had been travelling was littered with scorched craters and black-robed bodies in silver masks. But it was the terrain to either side that really drew the eye. For almost a hundred meters, the forest on both sides of the road had been completely destroyed. Only a tangled mess of toppled and shattered trees remained. It was as if a tornado had passed along the road, uprooting the trees and snapping them like matchsticks. Scattered throughout the tangled mess, hanging from branches and sandwiched between the fallen trunks, were the tattered and bloody remains of scores of Death Eaters.

A tree to Harry’s left, which had been leaning precariously against another, suddenly toppled with a tremendous crash. Harry snapped out of his daze. It wasn’t over yet – he and Tonks were still outnumbered more than twenty to two. The good news was that Tonks was currently concealed inside the coach, and also under Harry’s invisibility spell. Despite the moon up above, it was still a dark night thanks to the partial cloud, thick fog, and the forest surrounding those on the ground. Nevertheless, the Human Presence Revealing Spell would illuminate Tonks like a human glow-stick. Harry himself could see her moving around inside the coach, for example, just as he could still see the glowing outlines of the surviving Death Eaters scattered throughout the forest. So the bad news was that if some of these assholes had cast Homenum Revelio they’d be able to see her, which made Tonks a sitting duck.

There was only one way to get her out of this, as far as Harry could see. He tapped his broom to make it invisible and dropped into a steep dive, racing towards the door on the top of the carriage. If he could get Tonks out before the survivors attacked, he could fly her to safety. It was a long shot, given how slow and awkward it would be with two people on this broom, but if they survived the first few hundred meters they should quickly outpace anyone on foot.

As he plunged, Harry kept one eye on Tonks and one eye on the enemy. Tonks had begun climbing out of the carriage, perhaps realising that he would come to rescue her. Or had she come out to fight? Harry wasn’t sure, but with Tonks exposed he couldn’t take any chances. He targeted the nearest Death Eater, in the trees beyond the carriage, and unleashed a massively overpowered Bombarda Maxima. The resulting explosion was absolutely enormous. A plume of soil and rocks the size of a house blossomed like a giant mushroom, bubbling up into the sky before raining blackened soil down onto the forest floor. Once again the fog and trees absorbed much of the sound, but it was still quite deafening to Harry and anyone else nearby. As the debris settled a large crater was revealed, surrounded by fallen trees and an even larger circle of scorched earth. Of the person he’d targeted, there was no sign whatsoever.

In the brief moments since the Darkness Powder had cleared it seemed like the Death Eaters had been taking stock of their situation. Harry tried to imagine how it would look to them. In the space of a few hellish minutes, they’d gone from cornering two unarmed teenagers to being attacked in pitch black by enemies unseen. When their eyesight returned a nightmarish landscape was unveiled. The bodies of their slaughtered comrades lay dead and dying all around, painting the ground black with their blood, just as Harry Potter had promised.

For a moment everyone had been frozen in shock. The falling tree had made them duck for cover, but the massive explosion that Harry had set off suddenly galvanised them into action. Harry watched in amazement as, without exception, every single surviving Death Eater turned their back to the explosion... and ran for their life.

Harry pulled up, coming to a stop just above the carriage. He floated slowly upwards and scanned the trees in all directions, searching for danger. All he could see was the backs of robed figures, sprinting away as fast as their legs would carry them.

It was over.

Harry could hardly believe it.

It was over.

They’d made it! They’d survived!

Below him Tonks stood on top of the coach and stared in wonder at the fleeing figures.

Harry glanced down at her, and then up at the fleeing Death Eaters, and then back to Tonks. She would want to head back to the castle of course. That had been the unspoken plan (such as it was): kill enough Death Eaters to escape and then leg it back to the castle. But could he really allow so many murderous psychos to go free? If he let these scumbags live, wouldn’t the deaths of everyone they killed in the future be on him? Could he do that? Should he do that?

His thoughts, as they often did, flew back to the events of his third year. If Harry had let Sirius kill Wormtail back then, the traitorous rat wouldn’t have killed Cedric a year later. Harry had pondered endlessly on this topic over the summer, and had been unable to avoid the conclusion that responsibility Cedric’s death lay firmly on his shoulders. Harry’s actions had lead directly to Cedric’s demise. It was as simple as that. How could he possibly claim that it wasn’t his fault?

That revelation still made him feel physically sick, but the most galling thing about it was the reason Harry had made that mistake. He’d let Pettigrew live because he thought it was the noble and righteous thing to do. He’d always harboured the belief that good people always did was what right. That’s what separated good people from bad people, wasn't it?

How many times had he resisted the urge to do something unpleasant to the Dursleys, no matter how horribly they treated him, because it was the honourable thing to do? In a way it had been his shield: he’d endured the abuse without complaint because he’d been comforted by the knowledge that it made him the better person.

Then he’d come to Hogwarts and the widely-revered Headmaster had praised him for his tolerance. For the first time in Harry’s life, someone had actually praised him for something! Naturally that had reinforced his conviction that he was doing the right thing, especially when Dumbledore actually said so.

We must do what is right, not what is easy.’

That’s what the Headmaster had said in his speech at the start of fifth year.

But all of that was just irresponsible idealism, Harry realised now. Doing what was right with no regard for the consequences was not only naïve and childish, it was selfish and lazy. He’d effectively put his desire to be a good person above all else, and given no consideration whatsoever to how his actions would impact the welfare of other people. He’d been led to believe that if you did what was ‘right’ in any given moment, then you were on the side of the angels, no matter what. The implication was that ‘doing the right thing’ absolved you of any responsibility for what happened next.

But was that true? What if ‘doing the right thing’ resulted in a predictable catastrophe?

If Harry had known that his actions would lead to disaster surely he should have done something else?

Regardless of whether he should or not, Harry certainly would have, if he’d known. There’s no way he would knowingly have caused anyone’s death. But he hadn’t known, because he hadn’t taken the time to think about it. If he had, the conclusion would have been obvious. Pettigrew had killed twelve muggles to escape justice. The man was clearly a danger to others.

But Harry hadn’t thought about any of that, because ‘doing the right thing’ absolved him of the need to do so.

Regrettably, events since then had taught him otherwise. The simple truth of the matter was that when you get the chance to rid the world of murderous filth like Pettigrew, you take it. Even Lupin had thought so, for fuck’s sake, and he'd never contradicted Dumbledore in his life! Only a child (like Harry was back then) would be naïve enough to think otherwise.

The whole thing made Harry furious. His decision had set in motion a chain of events that lead directly to Cedric losing his life. But Cedric wasn’t the only one. Sirius, Emmeline Vance, Amelia Bones, Florean Fortescue and thousands of muggles... were all dead because Harry had let one scumbag Death Eater get away.

What was the reward for Harry being so honourable? What did anyone get out of it? Was the world a better place?

No it wasn’t! In fact the world was significantly worse. Harry had enjoyed a fleeting moment of pride that he’d ‘done the right thing’... which had lasted for literally a few seconds... and then it all went to shit. Great! That was well worth it then!

The only people to really benefit were Pettigrew, Voldemort and the Death Eaters.  Pettigrew got plenty out of it (since he was able to gain his freedom), as did Voldemort (who was rescued from exile) and his Death Eaters (who got their leader back). In fact, Harry thought bitterly, the only people who derived any lasting benefit from Harry being so virtuous were the bad guys! Harry’s naïve idealism had simply handed them the opportunity to do more evil, because he had never considered what the consequences of his actions might be.

Dumbledore would no doubt argue that it wasn’t Harry’s fault; that he wasn’t responsible for what other people did. But Harry could no longer agree. Harry might not be responsible for the actions of others, but he was responsible for his own actions, and hence responsible for the consequences of those actions. If the only positive consequence was fleeting pride, but there was a litany of horrific negative consequences, how could his actions be said to be right? Surely it was better to save lives than pander to your own ego? From what Dumbledore had said and done, he didn’t seem to think so. But Harry couldn’t justify putting himself first like that. It was time to think of others, and do what was right for them.

Harry’s eyes drifted down to Tonks once more. She currently stood at the epicentre of the battlefield, with literally every single Death Eater running away from her. Bizarrely, that meant she was in the safest place right now. She was in the eye of the storm, and the longer she stayed there the safer she would be. But what about other people, Harry asked himself? What about the ones that these fleeing Death Eaters would attack in the future? Didn’t Harry have a duty to protect them?

Tonks shot him a puzzled look and cupped her hands around her mouth to shout up at him, “Are you coming down?”

With an apologetic shrug, Harry mouthed the word “Sorry” and turned his broom away from her.

Where are you going?” Tonks screamed in alarm.

Hunting!” Harry yelled back, and took off in pursuit of the fleeing Death Eaters.

- § -

Music suggestion #3: O Fortuna (Hidden Citizens Epic Mondays Extension).

- § -

As he sped over the forest Harry had a moment to reflect on the twists and turns of outrageous fortune. No matter what he did, fate seemed determined to torment him. He couldn’t even nip to the pub without a hundred Death Eaters ambushing him on the way back. Whenever he thought things were looking up, something would happen to smack him down again. Much like the moon that was shining down upon on him right now, his luck seemed to constantly wax and wane.

That was probably true for everyone of course, but what set Harry apart was the size and speed of those swings. His life could go from one extreme to the other at the drop of a hat. He’d been thrown into life-threatening situations more often than Dudley had enjoyed hot dinners, but Harry had also experienced some very lucky escapes. So far the two had cancelled each other out. The problem was that he only had to fail to escape once for his life to be over. Every time his luck turned against him there was a chance that he wouldn’t walk away from it. He was effectively playing Russian Roulette. It was only a matter of time before his luck ran out.

A sudden insight struck to him: there was a pattern to his luck. When he took control, as he did when his life was on the line, his luck tended to be good. But when he relaxed and let events take their course, or allowed others to influence his actions, his luck was invariably bad. The exceptions to this rule were those occasions where he took control but made bad decisions, like when he’d allowed Pettigrew to live, or when he’d rushed to save Sirius in the Department of Mysteries.

All in all, it seemed that the balance of his luck was generally stacked against him: if he did nothing he was punished and if he got it wrong he was punished. Given the opportunity, fate would always punish him if she could, so Harry needed to stop handing her opportunities to do so. Taking control of his life, as he had done recently, was a good start, but it wasn’t enough. He also needed to make good decisions. To do that he needed to think things through, plan ahead and learn from past mistakes. Showing mercy to Pettigrew had been a dreadful error which had cost the entire country dearly. Allowing any of the Death Eaters in the trees below to escape would undoubtedly be another, because nothing good would come from permitting so many murderous assholes to go free.

The nearest fleeing scumbag was sprinting through the forest just below Harry, weaving left and right through the trees with his robes billowing out behind him. Fortunately, Harry could see him quite clearly, despite the thick foliage, thanks to the Homenum Revelio charm. The hapless idiot shone through like a beacon, as if Harry was wearing infra-red glasses. Unfortunately that’s where the muggle analogy ended. Harry wasn’t flying a fighter jet and he didn’t have any heat-seeking missiles. Nor did he know any spells that might mimic such a thing. All he had was the Killing Curse, the Exploding Charm, and a bunch of less effective spells like Expulso or Confringo.

Harry wasn’t sure how far the Anti-Apparition Jinx extended, but it was probably only a few hundred meters. If so, he didn’t have time to be delicate. He would need to take these fuckers down as swiftly as possible to get them all before they disapparated. So he fired off a swift burst of Bombarda Maxima’s. Three bolts of white light shot from his wand towards the Death Eater below. The forest floor around them erupted like a volcano, spewing soil and rocks high into the air. A deafening boom and a violent shockwave washed over Harry, but he flew straight through it. The next target wasn’t far away and Harry sped towards it without a backward glance. In the unlikely event that the poor schmuck he’d just pummelled was still alive, they wouldn’t be going anywhere fast.

He’d have to be careful now. Harry and his broom were invisible, but his spells were revealing his position to everyone... even the morons who hadn’t cast Homenum Revelio. With that in mind he banked sharply right in an effort to avoid any return fire. He needn’t have worried – there wasn’t any.

It was unfortunate that his spells could now be seen, but Harry couldn’t think of any obvious way around that. The standard Bombarda didn’t produce any light, but would be much less effective. The Killing Curse produced a very distinctive bolt of emerald green while Expulso was blue and Confringo was a fiery orange. They all produced light and none of the alternative spells in Harry’s arsenal would get the job done. He scoffed at the idea of casting Expelliarmus, Impedimenta, or Stupefy. Those really were children’s spells, barely a step up from the Tripping Jinx.

A brief survey of his surroundings allowed Harry to update his mental image of the battlefield. Just like in a game of Quidditch, he could see in his mind’s-eye not only where each player was, but where they would be in a few seconds time, and instinctively knew the most efficient flight path to intercept them. The distribution of targets was actually a little asymmetric – those on this side of the road were further from the carriage than those on the other. They were also slightly more numerous. So it made sense to mop these up first, while looping round to pick off the rest later.

As Harry gained rapidly on his next victim, a burly-looking broad-shouldered fellow by the look of him, the guy threw an alarmed look in Harry’s direction and sped up. Could the man see him, Harry wondered? That question was soon answered when the git twisted awkwardly, while still running, and fired a jinx over his shoulder towards Harry. Whatever it was struck a large branch, smashing the wooden limb to pieces. But his second shot – a pale green Severing Charm if Harry wasn’t mistaken – sailed just over Harry’s head, missing him by a hair. Unfortunately for the person who fired it, their attempt at multi-tasking ended in disaster. Something on the ground hooked his ankle, sending the beefy lump sprawling face-first into the soft forest loam. The three spells that Harry sent back missed by a couple of meters... but they formed a rather neat triangle around the struggling fool, who was completely consumed by the violent explosions that followed.

Being airborne gave Harry a tremendous advantage he realised as he banked sharply. Both he and his targets were partially concealed from each other by the forest canopy, but whereas Harry could simply strike the ground or trees around his targets, they couldn’t do the same to him. They had to actually hit him with their spells, and he was a much faster-moving target than they were. It was also tricky for them to aim while running, whereas Harry could aim quite easily.

With relentless determination, Harry hunted down his prey. The next eight Death Eaters disappeared in massive fountains of debris and shattered trees without firing a single shot. One of them had cast an Invisibility Spell on himself, Harry noticed, but it did him no good. Harry’s Homenum Revelio lit the man up like a Christmas tree.

Harry’s next two victims, however, posed a much more serious challenge. They could apparently see Harry coming, and had chosen a very good spot to make their stand – they’d managed to find a patch of forest dominated by Silver Birch, so the foliage was particularly thin. This afforded them a relatively unimpeded shot at the flying menace who they’d witnessed take down so many of their colleagues. They’d also taken shelter behind large tree trunks, well separated from each other, so they couldn’t be taken out with a single volley.

Harry absorbed all of this as he sped towards them, assessing his options. It quickly became clear that he didn’t have any. If he turned away or pulled up now he’d offer them a significantly larger and slower-moving target. His best (or rather least bad) option was to forge ahead. So Harry ducked low, making himself as small as possible, and dove straight at them.

Sooner than he expected, two streams of spells hissed towards him. Caught by surprise, Harry was forced to hurl himself out of the way. A crackling silver bolt sizzled just a few inches past his left ear as Harry lost balance. He fell sideways, gripping his broom for dear life and tumbled into a forced spin. Jinxes and curses of all colours hissed through the air where his body had been moments ago. The world inverted as Harry dropped into an upside-down barrel roll, clinging to the broom with one hand and grasping his wand with the other.

Fortunately Harry was no ordinary broom rider. He was a seasoned Quidditch player and a damned good one. Not only had he weathered five seasons of the dirtiest Slytherin tactics in living memory, he’d also faced a fair few in-game attempts on his life.

As the world rotated wildly around him, Harry calmly fired five shots at the leftmost attacker, who was pummelled several times before coming to rest twenty meters away. The world righted itself and Harry turned his attention to the remaining shooter, in the fervent hope that the first was no longer a threat. If not he was in big trouble.

He might be in trouble either way, as it turned out. Harry was forced to duck and dive wildly to avoid whatever the second asshole was shooting at him. Spells of all colours whistled past, several too close for comfort. One even struck a glancing blow across Harry’s left shin, but the pain wasn’t too severe, so Harry hoped that the Twins’ protective spells had held. As soon as he got the chance Harry returned fire. His aim was a little off, but the volley of white bolts was enough to set his target running. It did them no good. Harry’s next two triple-salvos pulverised the forest in a wide circle that easily swallowed the attacker. There was no way anyone could survive that in one piece.

The sportsman in Harry felt a little bad for how brutally he was eliminating these gits. But this wasn’t a game: it was live or die, not win or lose. Nor was he hunting them out of some frivolous desire to test his hunting skills. He was doing this to save innocent lives, by ridding the world of ruthless killers. He couldn’t afford to be fair. He was outnumbered many times over by enemies with far greater magical experience than him. He had to be ruthless, using every advantage available to him.

The road whizzed past twenty meters below Harry’s feet. A quick survey of the moonlit landscape revealed that he’d cleared one side of the road entirely. The only glowing figure was that of Tonks, who seemed to be running through the trees searching for something. What on earth was she doing? Harry had no idea. Regardless, she was fine, so Harry turned his attention to the remaining Death Eaters.

Just eleven red outlines remained standing. Harry pulled up, coming to a stop in mid-air. He was a fair distance away with lots of trees between him and them, so there was little chance of being fired upon. Nevertheless, he was unsettled. The remaining enemy weren’t moving. They seemed to have organised themselves into some sort of collaborative defence. They’d formed into two groups: one group of six and another of five, with the latter slightly further away. Every single one of them was hiding behind a tree and looking in Harry’s direction. Hmm...

They’d adopted a good strategy, Harry realised, because no matter what direction he attacked them from one group would be able to shoot at him while he focussed on the other. His only play was to line them up and take down both groups in a single pass.

Grimly, Harry tilted his broom downwards and began his run.

Almost immediately he pulled up and came to a stop again. His instincts were screaming at him. Despite the advantages of being airborne, he didn’t like these odds. Just moments ago he’d struggled with two against one, so eleven against one was crazy. If they were running away he’d happily pick them off one by one or two by two, but with all of them arrayed against him at once... there was a significant chance that he wouldn’t survive. If that happened he’d leave Tonks undefended and outnumbered.

With a sigh Harry eased the broom handle up slightly and began floating backwards towards Tonks. He kept his eye on the two groups of Death Eaters the entire time, expecting them to turn tail and flee again. It galled him to let them go, but he didn’t have much choice. He couldn’t attempt to save their future victims at the cost of Tonks becoming a victim today.

For almost half a minute the two groups stared at each other in some sort of stand-off, but Harry wasn’t too concerned. If they chose to attack, Harry could easily sweep down and rescue Tonks. They weren’t surrounded anymore, and even with two of them on one broom they could easily out-pace a bunch of people running through a forest on foot.

Finally, as Harry had hoped, one of the Death Eaters cracked – the nearest of the group of six turned and bolted, sprinting away as fast as his flapping robes would allow. Barely a second later, two more followed suit. Someone in the other group screamed at them angrily, but Harry couldn’t hear the words. The final three in the front group exchanged looks and glanced at the screaming person, but clearly decided that they’d had enough. All three of them took off, circling well clear of the other group before hurtling headlong into the forest beyond.

Harry smiled coldly. Those six were well scattered now, so would be easy to pick off, but the other group of five remained. Harry had to restrain himself from going after the runners just yet, in case these five went after Tonks while he was distracted. But the moment this lot ran, he’d destroy them all.

The group began to move. It took Harry a moment to figure out what was wrong. But then his blood ran cold.

All five of the remaining Death Eaters shot into the air and raced towards him in a tight ‘V’ formation.

SHIT! They had brooms! It was a trap!

While he’d been picking off their colleagues someone among this enterprising bunch had hatched a plan. The six on the ground had been positioned to draw Harry in, and then the five riders would have pounced.

Thank Merlin he’d backed off! At least he had a few extra seconds to prepare now.

TAKE COVER!” Harry screamed at Tonks, who was in the trees about a hundred meters behind him.

Harry’s instincts took over. If he’d been alone he could have fled, but he couldn’t leave Tonks on her own. Nor would scooping her up on this broom achieve much. They’d be overrun in seconds. Attacking five flyers head-on wouldn’t be wise either. Instead, Harry raced off at a diagonal, towards and to the left of the approaching attackers. Keeping them on his right allowed him to fire a continuous stream of bright green Killing Curses at them, while hopefully drawing them away from Tonks.

His move seemed to take them by surprise. Presumably they’d expected him to flee once he saw them take off, not attack. Instead they were forced to scatter to avoid Harry’s bombardment. Their tidy formation fractured, but not before the rider second from the left took a Killing Curse to the face. He toppled from his broom and crashed noisily into the trees below. Unfortunately his colleagues were undeterred. They returned fire, forcing Harry to take evasive action. A rainbow of coloured spells flashed past, leaving Harry no time to do anything other than duck and dive frantically. It was like the worse game of Quidditch ever, with four Beaters firing deadly Bludgers at him non-stop. His only consolation was that they had all turned to follow him, so Tonks was safe for the moment.

Dodging and weaving like a lunatic, Harry sped over the forest searching desperately for cover. But there was nothing. All he could see was unbroken forest stretching away into the distance, and the trees were far too densely packed for even Harry to fly between them. Avoiding the predictably-spaced supports of the Quidditch Stadium was one thing, but avoiding randomly-spaced trees at high speed in a dark forest would be impossible.

The clouds up above offered no sanctuary either, since the riders chasing him had clearly cast Homenum Revelio. Worst of all, his pursuers were gaining on him! Despite pushing his broom to its limits, Harry’s evasive zigzags were slowing him down. It was only a matter of time before they caught up with him, or one of their many spells brought him down.

In an effort to shake them off, Harry banked sharply to the left and dove towards the treetops. A particularly tall tree stood a good five meters taller than those around it, offering momentary cover. Harry curved around it then dropped lower. Branches whipped at his feet as he skimmed the trees, weaving through the pinnacles and troughs of the canopy like a fighter pilot navigating the peaks and valleys of a mountainous landscape. Leafy twigs tore at Harry’s face as his pursuers’ spells exploded in the foliage around him. They made no attempt to replicate his impressive flying manoeuvres and simply tracked him from a safe distance above. As a result, they gained on Harry even more rapidly, and their proximity made him an increasingly easy target.

A spell of some sort clipped Harry’s flapping robes, exploding in a fountain of purple sparks with enough force to almost knock him off his broom. Harry glanced quickly over his shoulder just as another spell grazed the twigs at the rear of his broom, shaving a few of them clean off. His attackers were almost on top of him! A splutter passed through his broom. Like a plane with a faulty engine the power fell to zero. Harry’s speed dropped precipitously.

He was done for!

In the circumstances there was only one thing Harry could do, though he doubted anyone else would have thought of it. The spells that governed a broom’s buoyancy, acceleration and deceleration were independent of each other. He’d lost acceleration but that didn’t mean he’d lost the others. So Harry threw himself backwards and pulled on the broom-handle as hard as he could. The result was immediate and dramatic. It was as if he’d hit a wall. Incredible g-forces tore at him as he executed what was effectively a mid-air emergency brake. In the space of a couple of heartbeats his already-falling speed dropped from about 100mph to zero.

Four Death Eaters shot past him, completely taken by surprise. Harry’s ailing broom spluttered again but then rallied. He could feel the power return so he turned around and sped off as fast as he could, firing a stream of Killing Curses over his shoulder. Unfortunately his targets seemed to know what they were doing. Their tight formation split neatly into four as each executed a looping turn, well separated from the others. Harry’s shots passed through the centre of their formation, missing them all by miles. Even worse, he was then forced to concentrate his fire on just one of them, but without success. All four completed their turns and resumed firing as they bore down on him once more.

Harry was in a bad situation. There was no denying it. He couldn’t escape these assholes, especially with his broom now operating at about ninety percent of what it had been. Nor could he land without offering them an easy target. Nor could he hope to win if he attacked. In fact he couldn’t even return fire because he was too busy evading their shots.

Harry wracked his brains for ideas, but he seemed to be completely out of options. The only thing he could do was buy himself some time while he tried to think of something. So Harry dropped to the treetops again and resumed his reckless game of ‘tree-dodging’. As before, his pursuers fired at him from above, steering well clear of danger. Harry glanced over his shoulder to assess how quickly they were closing in. Too fast for comfort was the answer. But then he saw something else. Something that filled him with hope... and fear: it was Tonks! She’d found a broom and was in hot pursuit!

Tonks easily caught up with his pursuers, and took them completely by surprise when she opened fire. Her first volley knocked one of the riders clean off his broom. He smashed into the trees below with a stomach-churning scream that cut-off rather abruptly. Unfortunately the other three once again demonstrated that they had some brains. Rather than split up, as Harry had hoped, they simply dodged while the rearmost rider cast something. Harry was about to scream a warning when a glittering blue dome appeared in the air, tracking the rearmost rider. He hadn’t cast a Killing Curse, as Harry had expected, he’d cast a Shield Charm!

Swearing bitterly, Harry continued to dodge shots from the first two Death Eaters while the third prevented attacks from Tonks to their rear. The shield was sufficiently large that all three were protected and Tonks’ spells just bounced off harmlessly.

A mere hundred meters separated Harry from his hunters now, and Tonks was a hundred behind them. The Death Eaters’ plan was presumably to take Harry out first and then do the same to Tonks. Pursuers had a massive advantage in this situation, and three pursuers against one persuee (if that was a word) was a foregone conclusion. Harry and Tonks would both go down if that was how things played out. Harry had to find a way to join up with Tonks to make it two against three. At least then they’d stand a chance.

Of course their enemy would probably just part ways, forcing Harry and Tonks to follow one each while the third snuck up on them from behind... regaining the advantage once again. Unless Harry could survive long enough to reach Hogwarts... in which case the Aurors stationed there could come to their defence? No. That was a pipe dream, and Harry knew it. There was no way he could avoid being hit for that long. It was a miracle he hadn’t been hit already.

Just as that unwelcome thought surfaced in his mind, a livid green streak left Tonks’ wand. It passed straight through the blue shield and struck the lead Death Eater in the middle of their back. The glowing outline cast by the Human Presence Revealing Spell began to fade immediately. The man toppled forwards and plummeted into the trees. The other two Death Eaters barely had time to react before a second emerald-green bolt flashed from Tonks’ wand, passed straight through the shield and clipped the second rider across the shoulder. He was hurled from his broom and tumbled towards the forest without a sound.

The sole remaining Death Eater banked hard right, abandoning his pursuit and departing as fast as his broom would carry him. Harry pulled up and to the right, rising above the trees. Both he and Tonks fired a steady stream of Killing Curses at the receding rider, one of which eventually took the man down. His shield blinked out the moment he hit the ground.

Harry pulled up, slowing to a stop and hovering in mid-air. Moments later Tonks joined him. They both silently scanned the landscape around them, looking for the tell-tale glow of any living humans. There were none. The five who’d fled on foot, and any other survivors, seemed to have disapparated.

“The Anti-Disapparition Jinx must have ended,” Tonks stated hollowly.

“There might be another ambush further along the road,” Harry replied, thinking out loud. “They might have brooms.”

Tonks didn’t respond. She just stared down at the forest silently.

“I think we’ve had enough fighting for one night,” Harry declared. “Let’s take one of the secret passages back to the castle.”

That seemed to rouse Tonks from her reverie, though only just.

“You know a secret way into Hogwarts?” she asked numbly.

“I know several,” Harry replied.

Although it was possible that there were more Death Eaters out there, it didn’t actually seem very likely to Harry. But Tonks was in shock and returning to Hogwarts didn’t feel like a good idea. Dealing with other people wasn’t what she needed right now. If he was honest Harry didn’t fancy it much either. After seeing him kill so many people, it was quite likely that Tonks wouldn’t want to have anything more to do with him. If so, that was definitely a conversation he’d rather have in private.

“Come on,” Harry said, leading the way towards a patch of forest that was sufficiently sparse to land.

Tonks followed in a daze. As soon as they’d dismounted Harry took her hand and disapparated.

Notes:

Check my Profile for updates on progress with the next Chapter (and an explanation of why it takes me so long these days).

Chapter 40: Innocence Lost

Notes:

I’ve included some in-line images in this chapter, just for fun. They’re all SFW (safe for work).

I’ve also included some music suggestions. I won’t do that in every chapter, don’t worry! But I think it’ll add something here for some readers. I really recommend listening to them because they're not only perfect for the story, they're also beautiful pieces of music in their own right. Crank up the volume to enjoy the richness of sound that this location would provide...

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Harry and Tonks reappeared in a large high-ceilinged room. That much was easy to discern thanks to the many slivers of moonlight piercing the holes in the walls, but little else. Tonks slid her hand out of Harry’s and stepped away, crossing her arms across her chest defensively. Harry’s heart sank, but he said nothing. What would be the point? He’d seen enough break-ups in the Gryffindor Common Room to know that pleading was pointless. If someone wanted to break up with you, even if you hadn’t discussed whether you were actually dating, it was best to just take it on the chin. Attempting to dissuade them would have the opposite effect, while also stripping you of your dignity. Instead, Harry waved his wand at the just-visible outline of a heavy iron chandelier above. Flames burst to life within three of the five lanterns suspended upon it and a warm glow filled the room. The other two were apparently too broken to respond.

It was two and a half years since Harry had gazed upon this place, but nothing had changed. It was exactly as he remembered: rectangular in shape, with an arched ceiling rising high over the remains of tattered wood-panelled walls, slatted shutters and boarded-up windows. To his right an enormous greyed and cloudy mirror, easily five meters high by two wide, hung at a slight angle over a sooty disused fireplace. A tattered leather chaise-longue draped with a brown and ancient-looking throw stood in the corner to one side, listing drunkenly thanks to a missing leg. A heavy oak coffee table occupied the other corner, adorned with the fossilised remains of a decades-old meal, and beside it sat a single upholstered chair, well separated from its twin in the bay-window opposite. A set of double doors lay open just behind Harry, one of which was missing its lower half.

At the other end of the room, to Harry’s left, the wooden panels of a dividing wall had long-since crumbled-away to leave just the stud-work, beyond which the half-demolished remains of an imposing four-poster were visible. The impressively grand bed would have been easily three meters tall if hadn’t collapsed on one side. The embroidered canopy above it was only prevented from falling down entirely by the jagged remains of the shattered front-left support post. Meanwhile just in front of the bed was a beaten-up grand piano. The lid was missing and the stool was in pieces, but it looked like it would have been a fine instrument in its day.

None of that held Harry’s attention for more than a fleeting moment though, and nor did the fact that the entire room was creaking and swaying gently. Instead he stared fixedly towards the floor. At his feet the thick layer of dust that covered every surface had been scraped away. Conspicuous drag marks led from where he stood to the chaise-longue in the corner, along with the unmistakable imprints of a large dog’s paws. Harry choked on a lump in his throat. He hadn’t realised that any signs would remain of his previous visit. Those marks were where Padfoot had dragged an injured Ron across the floor...

“The House Elves aren’t doing a very good job of cleaning up,” Tonks declared as she inspected the room. She moved towards the fireplace, putting further distance between herself and Harry. “Grimmauld Place is looking worse than ever. Is this room in the attic?”

As he gazed at the last surviving traces of Sirius’ presence upon this earth Harry’s heart broke, but his resolve hardened. He would make them pay for what they’d done. Voldemort and his followers had taken everything from Harry, so he would take everything from them... no matter what the cost to him personally. If that meant that Tonks deserted him, like everyone else had, then so be it. He would just throw himself into the war. His mission would distract him from the pain of Tonks’ departure.

“We’re not in Grimmauld Place,” Harry replied woodenly. “We’re in the Shrieking Shack. This is the room where I first met Sirius.”

The Shrieking Shack!” Tonks exclaimed, sounding suddenly fearful. “Why would we come here?!?

“There’s a secret passage into Hogwarts.”

“There is?”

“Yes, but first I think we need to talk.”

Although Harry was in no rush for Tonks to express her disgust at his actions, there was no point delaying the inevitable. He may as well just tear off the band-aid, as they said on American TV shows. (Much to Uncle Vernon’s disgust – if there was one thing guaranteed to get Vernon going it was other countries failing to ‘speak the Queen’s English properly’.)

For the first time, Harry lifted his eyes to look at Tonks. He was planning to gauge her mood but what he saw brought him up short. He gaped openly. Tonks’ appearance had changed again! She was slightly shorter now. Her cheekbones had lifted, her jaw was squarer, her lips were fuller and her skin was as white as alabaster. But the most striking change by far... was her hair. It framed her pale face in a mane of wild jet-black curls that reminded Harry alarmingly of...

Oh sweet Merlin no!

Tonks had become a dead-ringer for a teenage version of her Aunt Bellatrix!

And the worst part was... she looked absolutely gorgeous! Gah! Harry recoiled in horror.

It seemed that Tonks had been avoiding looking at Harry too, because when her eyes met his she yelped. But then she noticed his appalled expression and her visage crumpled. Her face fell into her hands and he burst into tears. For several long seconds she just bawled, while Harry stared at her in confusion. Then she leapt across the room, cannoned into Harry and buried her face in his chest. Her arms snaked around his waist, clamping onto him like a limpet and squeezing him close as if her life depended on it.

Harry’s shock wore off. He had no idea what was happening, but it seemed that Tonks wasn’t about to abandon him after all. So he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, squeezed her just as tightly, and tried very hard to forget that she looked like Bellatrix Lestrange.

For a solid five minutes the raven-haired girl wept into Harry’s chest while he stroked her back and made soothing noises. He didn’t know what else to do. Perhaps if he knew what she was sobbing about he could say something to calm her. But he was thoroughly flummoxed, so he simply waited for Tonks to cry herself out.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled eventually, “I’m sorry I was so useless tonight. I’m sorry I nearly got us killed.” She sniffed loudly but her wavering voice steadied a little. “It’s just... I wasn’t ready. I thought I was, but... I’ve never killed anyone before and a few seconds wasn’t enough time to come to terms with it.”

“Don’t they teach you lethal spells in Auror training?” Harry wondered.

“Of course,” she replied softly. “But I never expected to actually use them. Being an Auror is more like being in the police than the army. Or at least it has been for the last 15 years. We arrest people we don’t kill them.”

“But you carry a weapon, and so do the bad guys...”

“Yeah, but that just means we’re like the American police. Killing a suspect is still very unusual.” Her voice hardened, “That’s no excuse though! I’m an Auror and I’m supposed to be your bodyguard! I’ve been absolutely rubbish.”

“Tonks you haven’t been rubbish...”

I have!” She became suddenly earnest. “We’re at war! I should have been prepared and I wasn’t. But I get it now. I have to be a soldier, like you. I know you’re disappointed in me Harry, but I won’t let you down again!”

Harry was genuinely shocked. She thought he was disappointed in her? Is that what she’d read into his appalled expression a few moments ago?

“I’m not disappointed and you didn’t let me down,” Harry tried to say, but she spoke over him again.

“Yes I did! I let you down, I let the Minister down, and I let myself down. I used stunners tonight for fuck’s sake! Stunners! After everything I said to you at the Burrow!”

“Why did you use stunners,” Harry wondered, “why not bone-breakers or something else that couldn’t be reversed?”

“Because people with injuries can still shoot,” she replied immediately. “Not all of them, but some, and it only takes one surprise attack to kill you. I had to choose a spell that would guarantee no return fire. Normally a stunner wouldn’t do that, but with everyone blind from the Darkness Powder I figured they’d have no idea who was down, why they were down, or where they were. By the time they worked that out I hoped we’d be long gone!”

Harry thought about that for a moment, “Fair enough. But you couldn’t face killing them? Even after what they threatened to do to you?”

Tonks’ shoulders rose and fell in a shrug, “It’s actually quite difficult to sexually assault a metamorphmagus Harry, and just as tricky to keep one imprisoned. Even if I’m disarmed I can grow claws or transform myself into a tiger to attack. I can shrink my hands to slip out of handcuffs. I can become a snake to escape from cages... If I’m trapped I can remove my sexual body parts, or add teeth in places they wouldn’t want me to have teeth, or transform into a man, or a hag or a porcupine. There are lots of ways I can protect myself.”

An involuntary shudder ran through Harry at the teeth comment. Suddenly the conversation they’d had in the Ministry car on the way back from Diagon Alley made more sense.

“That’s why you hate Love Potions,” Harry realised. “It’s the only way you can be forced to have sex against your will.”

Tonks nodded into his chest, “Yes. Or stun me or knock me out or Imperius me or trick me using a Polyjuice potion.”

Harry’s head was spinning, but this wasn’t the time to talk about things like that. Another rather unwelcome realisation struck him.

“Wait. Does that mean... you could have escaped at any time?!? You were never really in any danger?”

Again she nodded, “I only stayed to protect you. You were the one who couldn’t escape, but I had no idea how to get you out. The advice I gave you at the Burrow was for normal situations, not situations where you’re outnumbered a hundred-to-one! They don’t train us for odds like that! I panicked and my brain shut down. But yours didn’t. Did it?”

“It was a hundred-to-two,” Harry corrected her. “But no, my brain seems to... work best in difficult situations.”

Tonks ignored his deliberate pedantry, “I was so scared I could barely function. Why weren’t you?”

“I’m not sure,” Harry replied, though now that he thought about it he suspected that he did: after 15 years at the hands of the Dursleys, he’d had the fear beaten out of him.

“Hold on,” he added in an effort to change the subject, “if you didn’t want to kill, how come you were happy to use Exploding Charms? Those can kill.”

Tonks wriggled self-consciously, “I know, but... it’s not the same is it? The intent to kill isn’t quite so... inescapable. When you explode the ground at someone’s feet, there’s a chance they’ll survive. I mean, not with explosions as big as yours maybe, but usually. That makes a big difference psychologically. It’s kind of like... if they die, it wasn’t you who killed them – it was their own bad luck. They could have survived, but they didn’t because they were unlucky. And death isn’t always instant, so maybe it was actually someone else’s fault for not healing them fast enough.” She sighed at her own words, “I know that makes no sense, but that’s how it feels. The Killing Curse is different. Death is instant and there’s absolutely no doubt about whose fault it is.”

Harry could sort-of see what she meant. If you used the Killing Curse there was no evading the guilt, because that person’s death was your primary goal. No other spell was like that. The primary effect of an Exploding Charm, for example, was that something would explode. Death was a secondary side-effect, and would only happen in a subset of circumstances. The issue wasn’t entirely black-and-white, of course. There was a grey area where a spell wouldn’t necessarily kill but the intention was to kill. For example, you could use a cutting curse to trim someone’s hair or to slit their throat. The spell wasn’t inherently deadly, but it could be used that way. The Killing Curse was unique in that the intent to kill was an intrinsic property of the spell; it was built-in.

“Why didn’t you tell me you could easily escape?” Harry wondered.

“I did,” Tonks replied indignantly, “when you took off on that stupid broom!”

“Oh right. Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

“Clearly,” Tonks huffed irritably. ”But why didn’t you grab me so we could both fly away on the broom?”

“At the snail’s-pace that it was capable of with two passengers, we’d have been sitting ducks! Speaking of which, couldn’t you have turned into a bird and flown after me?”

Tonks shook her head, “I’ve never turned into a bird and you can’t just fly first time. It takes practice.”

“Oh.”

Harry had never thought of that, but it made sense. Using wings probably wasn’t as easy as birds made it look.

OH MY GOD,” Tonks suddenly exclaimed, pulling away from Harry so she could see him, “the House Elves! We could have used the House Elves to escape! They can apparate through Anti-Disapparition Jinxes!

A youthful Bellatrix looked up at Harry through her eyelashes. It was the cutest and most horrifying thing he’d ever seen. She was extremely pretty, but Harry couldn’t help the visceral reflex that her face induced in him. Tonks’ expression darkened at his reaction, looking rather confused and hurt. Oh God! Now he felt even more attracted to her! She looked so helpless and vulnerable...

“I did actually think of that,” Harry stated in an effort to gloss over his strange behaviour. “But we can’t use the House Elves in situations like this. Even if the Death Eaters didn’t actually see a House Elf spirit us away, what do you think Voldemort would do when they reported that we’d managed to break through their Anti-Disapparition Jinx?”

Tonks frowned at his rather obvious attempt to distract her, but didn’t pick him up on it. Harry watched in silence as the dark-haired teen stepped away to mull it over. She started wandering aimlessly around the room, running her fingers over things absent-mindedly.

“He’d move heaven and earth to find out how we did it,” she replied after a moment.

“And if he figured out that it was the Elves, or found some other way to do it?”

Tonks grimaced, “Hogwarts would fall; probably the Ministry too. Nowhere would be safe.”

“Exactly – the war would be lost. We can’t risk that, even at the expense of our own lives.”

The pale woman sighed, “Well that sucks.”

“We can only use the House Elves when it’s safe to do so,” Harry concluded. “In other words: when we’re alone or with trusted friends. We can’t rely on the Elves to save us if we get into trouble. We were careless tonight, leaving the safety of Hogwarts in full view of everyone in Slytherin. We need to think ahead and make better decisions.”

Tonks’ eyes narrowed, “Like attacking twenty Death Eaters on your own when they were already leaving?”

“When you put it like that you make it sound a bit reckless,” Harry replied defensively.

“It was reckless you lunatic!”

“Well it worked out okay...” Harry mumbled grumpily.

“Only because you’re such a jammy git,” Tonks shot back.

“Okay fine, I got lucky,” Harry conceded. “Maybe it wasn’t the most auspicious start to my ‘better decisions’ resolution, but these things take practice...”

Tonks lifted an eyebrow, “Auspicious?”

“Yes auspicious,” Harry repeated. “It’s means...”

“I know what it means, your Ladyship. I’ve just never met anyone pompous enough to use it.”

“Yeah well,” Harry huffed. “Spend enough time with Hermione and maybe you’ll start doing it.”

“Oooo, catty! I like it!”

It was good that Tonks’ mood was improving, but Harry could see that her elevated spirits were a brittle façade. Her meandering stroll came to a stop in front of the piano. She stared at it for a few moments and then pressed two of the yellowing ivory keys. A couple of surprisingly crisp notes rang out, filling the room with a deep and rich sound. The relative lack of soft furnishings and the high domed ceiling conspired to create some wonderful acoustics.

With a wave of her wand Tonks banished the dust that coated the piano, both inside and out. Another swish set the piano to magically repairing itself. Broken wooden components reattached themselves and fused back together, while the frayed ends of snapped wires snaked towards each other and intertwined, stretching taught once more. Even the stool leapt from the floor and reunited with its legs. Within moments the instrument was restored to full working order, though it still looked ancient and lacked a lid.

Tonks sank onto the stool and placed her wand on the music rack. Her hands hovered over the keys for a moment... and then she began to play. Harry gawped in amazement. Tonks could play the piano! And she was really good!

- § -

Music suggestion #4: The Sacrifice (piano solo) by Michael Nyman
(This is what Tonks actually plays.)

- § -

The tune she’d chosen was in many ways quite simple and yet it was also immediately enchanting. The beginning was lively and upbeat, almost cheerful. But the joy felt fragile somehow. It was naïve and innocent, with an unsettling discordance that hinted at the ever-present possibility of tragedy. Nevertheless, all seemed well for a while, despite the dark undertones. That changed just over a minute into the song when the tempo dropped and the balance shifted. The much slower and more sombre pace conveyed a palpable and haunting message of sorrow, as if something precious and irreplaceable had been lost. In the final section the mood rallied, but only slightly, and then slipped away once more. It was as if an attempt had been made to get past the despair and move on, but the sadness ran too deep, leaving just an eternal yearning for the way things used to be.

Tonks’ fingers flew over the keys to begin with, but became more laboured and strained towards the end. Most likely she was playing to distract herself, Harry knew, but he could see that the music’s fading pace mirrored Tonks’ own waning energy as the adrenaline of battle left her. By the time she finished she looked tired and deflated. Whether she realised it or not Tonks had communicated her emotional pain and physical exhaustion quite clearly through her music. Harry didn’t want to interrupt that, so he listened in rapt and reverent silence until the last melancholy note died away.

“That was beautiful,” he told her. “I didn’t know you could play the piano.”

“My mother arranged lessons when I was five,” Tonks replied as she stood and began roaming forlornly around the room again. “I preferred the guitar but she didn’t think it was very lady-like.”

Tempting though it was to learn more about Tonks’ private life, this sounded like a topic that was best avoided. If Tonks’ choice of career, dislike of her first name, and dress sense (prior to this summer) were anything to go by, being ‘lady-like’ was an on-going point of contention between her and her mother. Harry had no desire to inadvertently express a view that might put him squarely in the middle of that. Fortunately Tonks didn’t wait for him to comment.

“Annoyingly, I was always much better at the piano,” she confessed. “I took all the exams but the day I turned seventeen I dropped it faster than a sixth-year Gryffindor dumping Snape’s Potion class.”

Normally Harry would have been sucked-in by that obvious attempt to distract him from the metaphorical ‘Hippogriff in the room’, but not today. It was important that Tonks didn’t attempt to bottle up her emotions right now. Some people, like Harry himself, could do that without imploding. But there was no doubt in Harry’s mind, even if her tears and current appearance hadn’t already confirmed it, that Tonks was not one of those people. She’d been forced to take a life for the first time, and was clearly having difficulty processing that.

“Tonks,” he said softly, “are you okay?

“Am I...”

Her voice suddenly rose an octave, “Harry I killed people!” Drops started to gather in the corners of her eyes again. “I used the Killing Curse,” she whimpered as the tears began to tumble unheeded down her cheeks, “and now they’re dead! They’re dead because of me!

“It was them or us Tonks,” Harry reminded her softly. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We had no choice. If you hadn’t used the Killing Curse I’d be dead. You saved my life Tonks, at the cost of scumbags who, let’s face it, deserved to die.”

“Nobody deserves to die,” she replied in a tiny voice, but she didn’t sound too confident and her tears abated somewhat.

“Sure they do,” Harry insisted. “Life is a privilege, not a right. Anyone who kills for fun, or commits a sexual assault, loses that right.”

“That’s not what Dumbledore says.”

“Yes well, don’t get me started on that subject! When it comes to fighting the bad guys, he’s about as much use as a one-legged man in an arse-kicking contest.”

Despite herself, Tonks snorted, but then she became serious again. “I’ve killed people Harry. I’m a killer. I’m no better than my...”

Her voice trailed off, but Harry knew what she was thinking. She was about to say ‘my Aunt Bellatrix’. But it was too soon to tackle that issue head-on, so he let it go.

“We killed in self-defence,” he reassured her, “and to save the lives of the innocent. That’s not what Death Eaters do.”

“I suppose...” Tonks replied uncertainly. “But it was just so... brutal.”

Harry shrugged, “That’s what we have to be if we want to win, especially when we’re massively outnumbered. I mean, we could have tried to be more gentle or imaginative about it – we could have summoned snakes or transfigured rocks into wolves or whatever – but I think we’d have lost if we’d done that. Those attacks wouldn’t have worked fast enough. In fact I realised something while you were training me over the summer – when it comes to offensive spells, the Killing Curse and Bombarda Maxima are pretty hard to beat. They can be cast rapidly and they’re both very effective. The Killing Curse can penetrate shields and works no matter where you hit the target. With the Exploding Charm you don’t even need to hit your target. It creates a deadly shrapnel-filled shockwave that can take out anyone within a five meter radius. In this situation those two spells were better than anything else we could have used. They might not be as advanced or creative as other spells, but they were fast, effective, and got the job done.”

“That’s certainly not what we were taught in school,” Tonks replied thoughtfully, “or in Auror training. I mean, it was never explicitly stated, but the strong implication was that you win by outwitting your opponent. That’s most easily achieved by using a more advanced or broader selection of spells than them, or by using spells in unexpected ways. That’s why Transfiguration is so popular in duels – there are so many different ways to use it.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “I guess that’s the difference between me and everyone else. The Wizarding World seems to treat every fight as if it’s a duel. But I grew up in the Muggle World, where a fight is a fight. I was routinely beaten up by Dudley and his gang, all of whom were bigger than me. There was nothing duel-like about those encounters. To this day I treat every battle as a street fight.”

Tonks’ expression darkened at his mention of being beaten up, but she didn’t comment.

“That’s the thing though isn’t it?” she replied instead. “A magical fight isn’t the same as a non-magical one. We can cast spells that become autonomous. If your opponent summons a swarm of hornets you can’t just ignore them.”

“True,” Harry admitted, thinking of the way Dumbledore and Voldemort had fought in the Ministry Atrium a few months ago. Would Harry have been able to defeat Voldemort that day if he’d been firing Killing Curses and Exploding Charms? Probably not, he decided. He’d have stood a better chance than if he’d used anything else in his arsenal, but it was unlikely to be enough against someone so far out of his league.

“The Peruvian Darkness Powder saved us tonight,” he concluded. “Without it we’d have been overwhelmed in seconds. Unfortunately at least six Death Eaters escaped so they know about it now. We won’t be able to use that trick again. We’ll need to be much better prepared.”

“Or avoid getting ambushed altogether,” Tonks suggested.

“I suppose,” Harry responded, feigning disappointment. “But where would the fun be in that?”

Fun?!?!” Tonks squawked. “You think tonight was fun?

The punch that he was expecting never arrived. Instead she leaned into him, “You’re mental.”

Harry was deliberately making light of what they’d been through to distract her. He didn’t know if it would work, but it had certainly helped when Dumbledore did it after Harry had killed Quirrell, so it was worth a try. It was also the only response he could think of. His own adrenaline levels were falling and he could barely think.

“I’m knackered,” he declared and waved his wand at the bed. “Reparo!

The broken canopy rose back up to its proper position and the two jagged ends of the shattered bedpost knitted themselves back together. Within moments the four-poster was as good as new. Or as good as it had been before Snape crash-landed on it two-and-a-half years ago. Without warning, Harry bent down and swept Tonks up in his arms, bridal-style. She squealed in surprise and threw her arms around his neck.

“We’ll just rest here for a few minutes before we head back to the castle,” Harry stated as he strode across the room and laid her gently on the bed.

Tonks wrinkled her nose, “It’s a bit dusty...”

“Maybe so,” Harry admitted, “but it’s cleaner than we are.”

They both glanced down at their clothes, which were covered in blood and dirt. Harry was in much worse shape than Tonks. His face and hands were criss-crossed with cuts and scrapes, while his robes hung in tatters, shredded by the branches he’d struck during the fight. He must look an absolute fright. No wonder Tonks had yelped earlier. In contrast, her robes were largely intact, if a little grubby from rolling in the dirt. The cut on her forehead was gone and she’d wiped away most of the dried blood, but that left a couple of dirty patches on her face from her filthy fingers. Bizarrely, those imperfections on her otherwise flawless ivory skin made her look thoroughly adorable.

Harry tried to shake that thought from his mind as he circled the bed to lie down next to her. She immediately rolled over to snuggle against his side. Her hand landed on his chest and her head settled on his shoulder. For the first time ever, Harry had to brush a handful of curly hair out of his face.

Fortunately he was so exhausted that he didn’t give it a second thought. In fact he could barely keep his eyes open, but Tonks was playing with the buttons on his robes and he didn’t want to leave her alone with her thoughts, so he fought to stay awake.

For several minutes they just lay there as the room creaked and swayed gently around them. Finally, as Harry had suspected she would, Tonks started crying quietly into his chest. He sensed that more talk wasn’t going to help, so he wrapped his arms around her and just held her.

Harry had often wondered whether it was normal to kill someone as dismissively as he had killed Quirrell. Judging by the anguish that Tonks was currently suffering, the answer was no. Did that mean there was something wrong with him? And if so was he born this way or had the Dursleys beaten more than just fear out of him? Was he a psychopath like Riddle?

No, he quickly decided that he couldn’t be. Unlike Voldemort, Harry agonised over the deaths of innocent people like Cedric, as well as those he loved like Sirius. It wasn’t that Harry felt nothing when someone died; it was that he felt nothing when bad people died. Bad people like Quirrell, Barty Crouch Jr, Peter Pettigrew, and the hundred assholes he’d sent to Hell tonight.

That’s what made Harry different from everyone else. Most people were like Tonks – they felt (either consciously or subconsciously) that life was somehow sacred, and that taking a life was fundamentally wrong no matter how evil that person was. But Harry didn’t.

Why was that, he wondered? Was it because he’d effectively killed a person when he was fifteen months old? Had the childhood trauma of seeing his parents murdered, and then vaporising the man responsible (or at least thinking that he had, even if he didn’t remember it until the Dementors raised it from his subconscious) somehow stripped him of the normal human response to taking a life? Harry didn’t know, but quite frankly he didn’t care. He was perfectly happy to feel nothing when he sent murderous filth to their graves.

Over the next twenty minutes Tonks’ heartbroken weeping gradually subsided. Her breathing deepened and a few tiny little snores emerged. That was the one good thing about adrenaline, Harry reflected – when it wore off you would often fall asleep, no matter how traumatised you were.

Harry could finally relax, but his thoughts lingered on the events of the evening. Tonks had been right about him being reckless. In a way, he’d made the same mistake that Sirius had made the night Harry’s parents were killed. Sirius had gone chasing after a fleeing traitor instead of looking after Harry. Just like Harry had gone chasing after twenty fleeing Death Eaters instead of looking after Tonks. Sirius’ actions had ended in disaster, and Harry’s had almost ended in disaster.

But how could either of them have known what would happen? Sirius going after Peter should have been fine. Sirius was a much better wizard, so he should have been able to deal with Peter and then come back for Harry. Similarly, Harry only got into trouble because some of the Death Eaters he was chasing had found their brooms. Harry hadn’t anticipated that, just like Sirius hadn’t anticipated Peter’s ingeniously murderous escape plan. But how could Harry factor the unexpected into his decisions? By definition, the unexpected was, well, unexpected!

Harry sighed. Making better decisions wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d hoped.

After several minutes’ thought, he realised that this was not something he was likely to solve tonight. In any case, he could no longer keep his eyes open. He fell asleep thinking about Tonks’ new look, and hoping fervently that she’d be back to normal by morning.

- § -

It felt like mere seconds later when Harry woke to the sound of music, but sunlight was streaming through the holes in the walls so the day had definitely begun. Harry grabbed his spectacles from the pillow where they’d fallen and fumbled to put them on. The room came slowly into focus. Tonks was once again seated at the piano. Her back was to Harry so he couldn’t see her face, but the wild tangle of curly raven-black hair was plain to see. Harry groaned inwardly.

The tune she’d chosen was very different to the one she’d played the previous night. It still had a powerful thread of heartbreak running through it, but was also defiant and resolute. The emotional wounds of last night were far from healed, but there was a strong suggestion that the process of acceptance had begun. Tonks was coming to terms with her actions, it seemed, but she did not yet recognise that they were necessary. She still thought she was a bad person, and (if the feel of this piece was any guide) she was intent upon some sort of atonement for her crimes.

As Harry watched the undeniably gorgeous teen play, with her fingers dancing expertly over the keys, he couldn’t help but be moved by the scene. One of the most hauntingly beautiful songs he’d ever heard was being played by one of the most hauntingly beautiful women. It broke his heart to see Tonks suffering like this, thinking she was as dark as her Aunt Bellatrix, but there was little more he could do right now. Some wounds simply took time to heal.

- § -

Music suggestion #5: Redemption (piano solo) by Jason Sytsma
(This is what Tonks actually plays.)

- § -

As the last lingering note faded away Harry sniffed loudly and quickly wiped his eyes.

“Oh Harry you’re awake at last!” Tonks said, leaping up and spinning to face him. “You’re not going to believe this bullshit!” She spread her arms wide and glared at him with an incredulous expression on her face. “Seriously Harry, look at me! I’ve turned into a teenage version of my sodding mother! WHAT... THE ACTUAL... FUCK!?!

Harry was momentarily taken aback. Why did she think she looked like her mother? She looked exactly the same as she had the previous night...

Eventually his brain caught up. Tonks’ mother (who Harry had never met) must look a lot like Bellatrix, leading Tonks to draw the wrong conclusion. Tonks might resemble her mother, but that’s not why she looked like this. Before the battle Harry had told her that she had to be a cold-hearted killer from the House of Black. Apparently her subconscious had taken that literally. She now thought she was as bad as her Aunt Bellatrix, and had therefore become her Aunt Bellatrix. Unfortunately it was going to take more than a couple of hours’ sleep for Tonks to start liking herself again.

“Well that’s it!” the curly-haired woman stormed. “No more sex until I change back! I will not have my b... I will not have you shagging my God-damned mother!”

She glared at him as if daring him to disagree, but Harry was thoroughly distracted by what she’d been about to say. Had Tonks been about to call him her boyfriend? The thought made his heart leap, but he certainly wasn’t going to ask. What if she said no, and then they got into an awkward conversation about what they meant to each other? That was a slippery can of worms that he had absolutely no desire to open. There was nothing worse for a budding relationship than discussing whether it actually was a relationship. Harry had seen that talk end in disaster plenty of times among the older students. No, it definitely wasn’t worth the risk.

With a pained grunt, Harry crawled out of bed. He felt like he had bruises over his entire body.

“Did you get the number-plate of the bus that ran me over?” he groaned.

Tonks ignored him, huffing irritably as she turned to examine herself in the mirror. “Unbe-fucking-lievable! What the hell is my subconscious thinking? I mean, I know Mum was hot, but what the hell? What’s the point of me looking like her?

“I have no idea,” Harry lied, “but I’m sure it’ll wear off.”

“It better had! Because seriously, I can’t even snog you when I look like my Mum. It would be weird!”

If he was honest, Harry was both relieved and appalled. He couldn’t imagine snogging her while she looked like this either, no matter how hot Bellatrix had been. On the other hand, the idea of not being intimate with Tonks was too awful to contemplate.

“We better get back to the castle,” he stated instead. “I need a shower.”

“Yes you do,” Tonks agreed dismissively. “You look like something out of a horror movie.”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, looking down at his grimy clothes.

“And you’re filthy too,” Tonks added.

Harry scowled at her, “Oh ha ha, you’re hilarious.”

“Yes I am,” she replied, without a hint of a smile.

It was reassuring that Tonks was attempting humour, but her dead-pan delivery was extremely unsettling.

“Okay let’s go,” he grumbled, leading the way.

- § -

“Does Dumbledore know about this?” Tonks asked as she lowered herself through the trapdoor into the underground tunnel.

“Yep,” Harry confirmed. “He built it so that Lupin could use the Shrieking Shack to change on the full moon, and planted the Whomping Willow over the entrance to stop anyone else using it. The Shrieking Shack has never been haunted. The howling was just Lupin in his werewolf form.”

“You’re kidding! Bloody hell, no wonder Remus is so loyal to Dumbledore! And neither one of them ever thought to block it off after Remus left?”

“Nope,” Harry replied. “I guess they forgot about it, because they didn’t even put a watch on it when Sirius escaped from Azkaban. They both knew that Sirius was aware of this passage, and that Sirius was supposedly trying to get into the school to kill me, but they didn’t put two and two together. I sometimes wonder if Dumbledore really is going a bit senile. I have no idea what Lupin’s excuse is. Maybe he’s just a moron.”

The small cave below the hatch quickly opened out into a rough-cut stone passage. It was about three meters high and one meter wide at this point, dimly lit by daylight that somehow made its way in through cracks up above. The Shrieking Shack sat upon a rocky outcrop on a barren and craggy mountainside, so perhaps this had once been a natural feature – a deep jagged fissure that ran all the way to the surface, but which had since been covered over by rock-falls? Or perhaps Dumbledore had created it from scratch. There was certainly nothing natural about the stairs hewn into the stone floor. Harry and Tonks descended rapidly, until the tunnel twisted and the steps gave way to a dirt floor that descended gradually into the distance.

“Who else knows about this tunnel?” Tonks enquired.

“Ron, Hermione, Crookshanks, Lupin... Wormtail, but he’s dead now... and Snape. He caught us using it in third year, though I think he knew about it from his own school days.”

Snape?” Tonks exclaimed, “And Dumbledore knows that Snape knows?”

“I think so. Sirius almost killed Snape by tricking him into coming down here when Lupin was a werewolf. Snape only survived because my Dad saved him. Dumbledore knows all about that...”

“So a suspected Death Eater knows of a way to smuggle other Death Eaters into the school whenever he wants?”

Harry hadn’t thought of that, “Um, yeah. I guess so.”

“Bloody hell Harry! We have to tell Scrimgeour! Dumbledore might trust Snape but I’m not comfortable leaving that ass-hat in charge of the back door to the school. Are you?”

“Well, the fact that Snape hasn’t let Death Eaters into the school already is the first evidence I’ve ever seen that he can actually be trusted. But no, I’m not willing to risk it. He might just be biding his time, or he might switch sides again later. But there are six other secret passages on the Map. I have no idea how many people know about those.”

“Map? What map?”

“The Marauders’ Map,” Harry clarified.

Tonks stopped in her tracks, looking suddenly serious. “There are secret passages on the Map? Show me!”

“Er, right... yeah sure.” Harry spluttered. With Bellatrix’s features her stern tone seemed more than a little bit... sinister.

He grabbed the Map from his inside pocket and unfolded it. Harry had shown her the Map two nights ago after the ‘Ginny incident’. Despite his best efforts, an image of Ginny leapt into his mind. She was naked and had jizz dripping from her ginger muff... Gah! It was going to be really difficult to shake that memory! Fortunately he was distracted by the raven-haired teen at his side. She cast a quick Lumos and leaned over to examine the Map more carefully.

“This is a really impressive bit of charm work,” she muttered. “What do you know about this Map?”

“My Dad created it when he was at Hogwarts, along with Sirius, Lupin and Pettigrew. They called themselves the Marauders. I think they used multiple Protean Charms linked to detection and identification charms.”

Tonks thought that over and then shook her head, which made her curls sway in a disturbingly snake-like manner.

“Possibly, but more likely they used the Homonculous Charm. It shows who’s inside a mapped area.”

“Seriously?” Harry replied, astounded. “There’s a spell for that?”

“Yeah, but it’s not widely known. It’s an obvious security risk so the Ministry tries to keep it under wraps. You won’t find it on the Hogwarts syllabus, that’s for sure. The Marauders must have discovered it in the Restricted Section, or the Black family library.”

“So if I’d wanted to confirm whether Pettigrew was at Snape’s house I could have just drawn a square, labelled it ‘Snape’s House’ and used the Homonculous Charm to see if the gutless traitor was there?”

“No, the map would have to be sufficiently accurate to unequivocally identify it as Snape’s house. You don’t need to include every room, or even draw it to scale, but whatever you include must clearly and uniquely represent the space in question. If it could match any other space, or it’s not sufficiently representative, the spell won’t work. So Snape’s house, which is a terrace house in an area with hundreds of identical terraced houses, would be very difficult. You’d need to include a lot of internal details to distinguish his house from all the others.”

“We’d need to have seen the inside his house then? Yeah, that’s no good. Oddly enough he’s never invited me round for tea. Also, did you just use the word ‘unequivocally’?”

Tonks turned her head sideways to glare it him. Her expression was so Bellatrix-like that Harry’s blood ran cold. She returned her attention to the Map without further comment, while Harry shuddered involuntarily.

“I count seven secret passages in total,” Tonks confirmed a few moments later.

“This one behind the mirror on the fourth floor,” Harry informed her, pointing at the Map, “has caved in, though I suppose a determined attacker could unblock it. The tunnel behind the statue of the one-eyed witch leads to Honeydukes basement. It requires a password, but only to leave the school, not to enter it. The passage behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy, as well as this one, this one, and this one... are all known to Filch, so I’m sure Dumbledore must know about them. Fred and George might have found others that aren’t on the Map. We’ll need to ask them.”

“Bloody hell,” Tonks exhaled tiredly. “Hogwarts is supposed to be watertight, but I’ve seen fewer leaks in the Leaky Cauldron’s Leaky Leaky Leek Soup!”

Harry shrugged, “Maybe Dumbledore’s sealed them all over the summer?”

“Maybe,” Tonks agreed doubtfully, “but I never heard it mentioned in Order meetings, or in Auror Department meetings. If this passage is still open I’ll send an owl to Scrimgeour and have him investigate all of them. In the meantime, we should make better use of this Map – it could be quite informative to know what people are up to. Is anyone going anywhere they shouldn’t? Is anyone meeting anyone they shouldn’t? Oh look, there’s Hermione coming out of the shower!”

Sure enough, a pair of footprints was stepping out of a shower cubicle on the sixth floor of the Gryffindor Girls’ turret. Written in curly script above the footprints was the name ‘Hermione Granger’ framed in a scroll-shaped outline.

Unbidden, an image of Hermione nude leapt into Harry’s mind. Thanks to his adventures at the Burrow he knew every square millimetre of her body, so it was difficult not to picture her naked. He imagined her stepping lithely from the shower, her bare flesh glistening with drops of water and her fabulous breasts jiggling as she rubbed herself dry with a towel...

With a guilty start, Harry shook himself. Stop it! He shouldn’t think of his former best friend that way! What was wrong with him? Was it normal to be this horny after a battle? Did surviving a life-or-death situation trigger a primal desire for sex? If so, it was incredibly inconvenient, because there was no way he could shag Bella-Tonks. Or should that be Belladora? Or Nymphatrix?

Harry’s internal dialogue was interrupted by the realisation that Tonks was staring at him. Her deep brown eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Apart from these seven hidden entrances to the school,” she said icily, “do you have any other secrets you’d like to share?”

There was no mistaking it this time. This version of Tonks definitely knew how to sound menacing.

Harry swallowed heavily, “Um, no?”

Notes:

That picture of young Bellatrix is actually a photo of Helena Bonham Carter when she was about 21. :-)

Fun fact: The actress Natalia Tena who played Tonks in the movies is proficient in both the piano and the guitar. Her mother arranged piano lessons when she was five, but by the age of seventeen Natalia was sick of it. What a coincidence!

Chapter 41: The Late Harry Potter

Notes:

Many thanks to the three readers who bought me a coffee on ko-fi recently. It was greatly appreciated and much needed!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Gasps echoed around the Great Hall as word passed along the tables.

Potter’s missing!

He never made it back from Hogsmeade!

They’ve found bodies – lots of bodies!

Dumbledore’s eyes bored into Auror Savage. Hermione had never seen the Headmaster so alarmed. Tiny purple sparks appeared in the folds of his robes and swept across his body like an electrical storm. The air around him started to crackle and Hermione’s hair rose up in a static-induced halo around her head.

“Tell me what you know,” Dumbledore growled in a tone that demanded and expected immediate obedience.

Amazingly, Auror Savage stood firm before this intimidating display of power. Hermione didn’t know how; she was so terrified she almost wet herself. Fortunately, at a hasty nod from Fudge, the Auror obeyed. Savage’s account was delivered in crisp dispassionate tones but every word felt like a knife through Hermione’s heart.

“At 8:15 this morning the High Inquisitor travelled from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts using one of the carriages stabled in the village. Approximately half way back he discovered that the road was blocked by dead bodies clad in Death Eater robes. He also observed that the carriage Mr Potter and Auror Tonks took from the village last night lay overturned and damaged on the side of the road. Of the occupants there was no sign. Around him a broad swathe of forest had been completely destroyed by some sort of fearsome battle. The surviving combatants were long gone, but the broken remains of deceased Death Eaters were everywhere – hanging from branches, draped over toppled tree trunks, and scattered across the crater-scarred forest floor. The High Inquisitor immediately sent a Patronus to the Aurors stationed at Hogwarts and another to the Minister. We arrived minutes later and secured the scene, quickly followed by the Minister and his personal guard. Mr Fudge was dispatched to Hogwarts to warn you, and to instruct you to remain inside the school. The Minister is now co-ordinating the search for the Chosen One, and has summoned a further two hundred Aurors to assist.”

“What has the search uncovered thus far?” Dumbledore pressed.

Savage shook his head sadly, “Just more bodies; scores of them. We’re not sure exactly how many.”

“You’re not sure?” McGonagall interrupted in confusion. “How hard can it be to keep a tally?”

“Harder than you would think,” Savage shot back irritably. He glanced over his shoulder at the students and lowered his voice, “When most of them are in pieces.”

McGonagall and several other professors paled, while gasps erupted among the nearest students of all four Houses. Frantic whispering and horrified intakes of breath spread like a wave along each table as the news was passed along.

Fudge didn’t seem to care, “Your best guess then?”

Savage sighed, “So far... at least sixty.”

Sixty!” McGonagall screamed shrilly, and then slapped a hand over her own mouth in a belated attempt to silence herself.

Dumbledore shot her a sour look, because most of the Hall had heard her outburst. Hermione nearly fainted on the spot. Sixty Death Eaters! She couldn’t envisage any way in which Harry and Tonks could prevail against such numbers.

Holy fuck!” Ron swore.

That’s when the former Deputy Headmistress noticed that Hermione and Ron were still standing there. She ushered them angrily back to their seats, as if it were somehow their fault that the distressed professor had embarrassed herself. Nevertheless, the damage was done. Startled whispering had erupted all around the Hall. Many of the students were voicing the same concerns that Hermione was having herself.

Sixty, did she say? Harry Potter killed sixty Death Eaters?!?

That’s impossible!

Nobody can do that! Not even Dumbledore!

Hermione’s head swam. She felt nauseous with dread. Even if, by some miracle, Harry and Tonks had managed to take down sixty Death Eaters... where were they? Hermione slumped back down at the Gryffindor table, overcome by a strange numbness. Ron flopped down next to her, but she hardly noticed. Harry had been ambushed on his way back from Hogsmeade, and a fierce battle had taken place. Beyond that Hermione had no idea what had happened, but one thing was clear – if Harry and Tonks were alive and free they’d have made it back to the castle long before now, which meant... they were either lying dead in the forest, or they’d been captured and taken to Voldemort.

It was all just too horrific. Hermione couldn’t take it in.

A commotion broke out at the far end of the room, but Hermione was too engrossed in her own misery to notice. Even the stifled screams of dozens of younger students barely registered. It was only when Ron jabbed his elbow painfully into her kidney that she finally looked up.

Two people had just entered the Great Hall. The one on the left was clearly Harry, but Hermione only recognised him by his profile and the way he walked. His face and hands were black with dirt and dried blood. His robes were in absolute tatters. They hung off him in ribbons, with lacerations clearly visible across the skin beneath. Several long cuts appeared to have recently re-opened and blood was dripping off him in several places. He looked absolutely horrific, as if he’d been flayed and then thrown down a coal mine. But he was alive! Harry was alive! Hermione’s heart sang and she almost wept with relief. She would have run the entire length of the room to embrace him if Ron wasn’t blocking her in.

The person accompanying Harry was in much better shape – a little grubby, perhaps, but otherwise unharmed. Hermione couldn’t immediately identify her. The young woman’s features looked vaguely familiar, as did her haughty demeanour, but Hermione just couldn’t place them. The woman was certainly very attractive, possessing the sort of effortless beauty that would have sparked wars in Ancient Greece. Annoyingly, the woman also had the kind of hair that Hermione would kill for: jet-black and fabulously curly. It was so seductively tussled that Hermione wondered if it had been deliberately styled that way. Or had she just enjoyed a night of passion with Harry? (For some reason that idea ignited a pang of anger so fierce that Hermione had to physically shake it off.) Even more annoying, the infuriating woman moved with the deadly grace of a hunting puma. Her mahogany-coloured eyes scanned the room with a ruthless intensity that suggested she wasn’t so much contemplating whether to kill someone... as who to kill first.

Where the hell had this woman come from? And why was she with Harry?

All around Hermione students began speculating wildly about what had happened, and who Harry’s deadly-looking companion might be. She was attracting as much interest as Harry himself.

Jaysus fookin’ Chroist!” Seamus swore, his Irish accent coming out in full force.

“Is that Potter?” someone wondered loudly. “He looks like he just emerged from the burning fires of Hell.”

“Never moind ‘Arry,” Seamus insisted. “Would you look at that roid!”

“What the hell is a roid?” Dean asked absently, without taking his eyes off the new arrivals.

“Roid!” Seamus repeated, spelling it out: “R... I... D... E... roid!”

Nobody commented on Seamus’ sexist and derogatory assessment of Harry’s companion, but Hermione was fairly sure that the boy would bitterly regret it if the woman ever heard him call her that. Her deadly demeanour clearly leant the raven-haired beauty an exotic appeal which had half the boys in Gryffindor drooling like idiots, but there was nothing make-believe about the menace in her gaze. If Hermione was any judge, this woman would happily slit the throat of anyone who crossed her.

“She’s completely out of your league mate,” Ron advised distractedly, his eyes following the woman as if entranced.

“Harry’s covered in blood again,” Ginny observed, glancing towards Ron and Hermione. “Why is it he’s always covered in blood?”

“I’m not sure it’s all his own this time,” Ron noted.

“But he’s alive!” Hermione stated joyfully, still hardly believing it possible. “He’s alive!”

Harry saved us!” Romilda Vane cried out from further down the table, loud enough for half the Hall to hear. “The Chosen One saved us!

“Wait a minute!” Ron said incredulously, turning towards Hermione. “Is that Tonks? Why does she look like a teenage Bellatrix Lestrange?

What?!?” Hermione hissed. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you remember?” Ron hissed back. “Sirius threw out all his family photos when we were cleaning Grimmauld Place last year, but we found them in Kreacher’s nest under the boiler. The creepy bugger’s favourite was a photo of Bellatrix when she was in her twenties and...” He jabbed a finger towards the woman heading their way, “She looked just... like... that!

Hermione’s eyes went wide. Oh my God! Ron was right. Hermione never would have realised it if she hadn’t seen that old photo, but this woman looked just like teenage Bellatrix! But Harry had left last night with Tonks so... was this Tonks? Or was it some unknown descendant of Bellatrix Lestrange? And if so, where was Tonks?

What the hell was going on?

Harry seemed entirely unaware of the fascination his presence was evoking. He was chatting away to the woman at his side without a care in the world. She, on the other hand, was constantly scanning the room looking for threats. Her deep-brown eyes met Hermione’s briefly and then continued on. An involuntary shiver raised goose-bumps on Hermione’s arms. It had been like looking into the cold dead eyes of an apex predator.

As the strangely macabre couple walked down the aisle towards the spot where Hermione was sitting a silence slowly fell over the room. What Harry was saying to the woman could finally be heard.

“Aladdin stared at the tiny man playing the miniature piano,” Harry said, suppressing a giggle, “and then he howled angrily at the genie, ‘I didn’t say pianist you cloth-eared lamp-squatter, why would I wish for a twelve inch pianist?!?’”

Harry roared with laughter, “Get it? A twelve inch pianist!

The stony-faced woman stared at him as if he were an irritating insect.

“Oh come on!” Harry complained. “Not even a wry smile? That’s a classic ‘man walks into a bar’ gag! Sirius taught me that one. Do I at least get points for topicality?”

And then he noticed that everyone was looking at him.

What?!?” he asked of the room in general. The nearest students all flinched away from him.

Dumbledore and half the other professors had risen from their seats, but only Fudge moved to intercept Harry. He hurried to the edge of the dais and called out, “Harry, what happened? Where have you been?”

Harry waved a hand dismissively, “We’re fine. Encountered a spot of bother on the way back from Hogsmeade last night...”

A spot of bother?” McGonagall repeated in shrill disbelief. “Mr Potter, the road is littered with bodies!”

Harry nodded, “Yes I know. That’s the spot of bother I was referring to. A very unpleasant bunch they were. Just plain rude, quite frankly. Tonks and I had to teach them some manners.”

“You mean... you single-handedly killed sixty Death Eaters,” Fudge exclaimed, “because they were rude?

“Of course not,” Harry replied scornfully. “That would be ridiculous.”

Fudge’s incredulous expression softened to one of mere puzzlement.

Harry pointed at the woman beside him, “It wasn’t single-handed. I had Tonks with me. And it was just over a hundred Death Eaters wasn’t it Tonks?”

“Over a hundred yes,” the woman (Tonks, apparently) stated flatly.

For several long seconds the entire Great Hall just stared at Harry and Tonks. A good half of them had their mouths hanging open.

You killed a hundred people?” Dumbledore asked finally, in a tone heavy with disapproval.

Harry shot him a confused look, “People? No. I didn’t see any people out there.” He turned towards Tonks, “Did you see any people out there Auror Tonks?”

The raven-haired woman turned her steely gaze towards the Headmaster. Her voice was as cold as ice, “No I didn’t.”

“The only people out there were Tonks and me,” Harry stated flatly. “We did stumble upon that nest of dangerous vermin though, as I mentioned. But don’t worry – we exterminated them for you.”

From Dumbledore’s expression you’d think that someone had slipped a double dose of U-No-Poo into his morning tea.

Harry held up a hand as if Dumbledore had been about to say something (though he clearly hadn’t) and adopted a self-important air that would have made Gilderoy Lockhart proud.

“No need to thank me Headmaster. You’re welcome!

A very frosty silence filled the Hall as the Headmaster and the Head Boy stared each other down.

“They were people,” Dumbledore insisted in the end. “They had parents, siblings, children, friends... those who cared about them... who will not see them again in this life...”

“Then they shouldn’t attack carriages in the dead of night!” Harry spat back angrily.

“And what of Lord Voldemort?” the Headmaster countered. “Do you think he will let this incident go unanswered?”

“There’s no such person,” Harry replied. “Or are we all using made-up names now? If we are I think I’d like to be called the Supreme High Lord Potter-Black from now on.”

Dumbledore almost growled in irritation. He made a visible effort to ignore the wave of alarmed whispering that was spreading rapidly down the Slytherin table. “The use of excessive force merely provokes the enemy, leading to an avoidable escalation in hostilities.”

From Harry’s expression it was clear that he could scarcely believe what he was hearing. When he replied his tone was scathing, “Are you seriously suggesting that we do nothing to resist the murderous filth who are attacking us, in case it upsets them?

“No,” the Headmaster replied firmly. “I’m saying that we need to be smart about it. A measured response will lead to de-escalation and hence save lives in the long run.”

Harry was incredulous, “So we can fight back... but we mustn’t actually win or we’ll bruise their fragile little egos? What a crock! You clearly don’t understand bullies Headmaster. Violent defeat is the only language they understand. If you don’t fight back, or you fight back and lose, they conclude that you’re weak and the abuse gets worse. The Dursleys taught me that. Surely that was the lesson you intended me to learn from ten dark years of living with them?”

Hermione wasn’t sure why, but Dumbledore was visibly shaken by that question. In fact he was so profoundly rattled that he was momentarily dumbfounded. Hermione frowned in confusion. Surely the Headmaster had placed Harry with his only living relatives for the best of reasons? It wasn’t Dumbledore’s fault that they’d turned out to be so unpleasant.

“No,” Harry continued, “restraint will cost lives in the long run, not save them, and I can guarantee that it’ll save lives in the short term because the homicidal scum I sent to the grave last night won’t be killing anyone anymore will they?”

“And what of their families,” Dumbledore replied, “who may be driven to Voldemort’s side by the desire for revenge against you?”

Harry was unrepentant, “Their loved-ones died because they set out to commit murder. If they hadn’t done that they would still be alive today. I’m not responsible for their choices.” Dumbledore’s reply was thwarted by Harry slicing a hand through the air in frustration, “None of this matters Headmaster! The fact is that we were surrounded and massively outnumbered, so we had no choice. It was them or us, and we did what we had to do. Perhaps after you’ve given me the Private Defence Lessons you promised I will know how to subdue a hundred people at once, but for now all I know is how to kill them.”

That pronouncement caused another flurry of frantic whispering at the Slytherin table, and quite a lot elsewhere.

“Bloody hell,” Neville remarked, voicing the thought that filled the room, “If Harry can kill a hundred Death Eaters before Dumbledore’s trained him, how dangerous will he be after?

Fudge stepped forward eagerly, “So how did you defeat them?”

Tonks immediately placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, forestalling his reply. She stepped forward to speak on his behalf.

THEY WERE MANY AND WE WERE FEW,” she announced loudly, eying the students like a tiger inspecting its prey. “BUT WE ARE THE HOUSE OF BLACK! ONLY THE COLD OBLIVION OF AN EARLY GRAVE AWAITS THOSE WHO STAND AGAINST US!

To Hermione’s left Neville gasped, “Shit the bed!

Fudge was equally shocked. He took an involuntary step backwards and shot Harry an alarmed look. Harry threw him a cheery grin in response, though it seemed to do little to reassure the man. Fearful whispers exploded all around the room, not least at the Slytherin table. Hermione even heard several students hiss the name ‘Bellatrix Black’ in grim tones. Harry rolled his eyes at Tonks and glanced at Dumbledore. The Headmaster looked like he’d swallowed a particularly nauseating bat-bogey. Hermione knew how he felt. What on earth had happened to Tonks?

“Did we miss breakfast?” Harry said suddenly to nobody in particular. “I’d kill for a bacon sandwich.”

In the uncomfortable silence that followed, during which many of the Slytherins tried to surreptitiously shuffle down the table to distance themselves from Harry, the distinctive sound of bare feet slapping on stone echoed through the Hall. The entire room turned to see Luna Lovegood enter the Hall and pad barefoot down the aisle. The quirky blonde girl had a distracted look on her face and seemed serenely unaware of the attention she was receiving... or anything else for that matter. It was as if she had retreated into some inner world, which apparently held far greater fascination for her than the real one. She came to an abrupt halt when she noticed that someone was blocking the way. Her eyes rose to discover that it was Harry.

“Oh! Hello Harry Potter,” she said cheerily, as if her day had suddenly brightened tremendously. “Were you late too? Some Nargles took my shoes and locked me the girls’ toilets. Did you know that you’re covered in blood?”

Without waiting for a reply, Luna stepped up to Tonks and wrapped the scary woman in a fierce hug. For several seconds Luna’s cheek rested against Tonks’ chest, while the Auror stood frozen woodenly in surprise, and then Luna released her.

“It’ll be okay,” Luna declared in a serious tone. Then she smiled and span away, skipping up the aisle towards her customary spot at the Ravenclaw table. Tonks’ jaw tightened as she watched the enigmatic girl depart, and then she looked away dismissively, as if determined to put the matter from her mind.

Luna took her seat, tapped the table with her wand and said clearly, “Full English please, and something for Harry.”

A large plate appeared in front of the blonde girl, piled high with fried eggs, fried tomato, sausages, bacon, beans, hash browns and triangular slices of freshly buttered toast. A large glass of orange juice also appeared, from which Luna took a swig before tucking into the food with great gusto. “Thank you very much,” she mumbled as she chewed.

A second plate appeared on the Gryffindor table near to where Harry was standing. A terrified-looking third-year held it out to Harry sheepishly.

“Awesome, thanks!” Harry exclaimed, grabbing the plate and eying the enormous bacon sandwich upon it hungrily. He offered half to Tonks but she just shook her head once. Harry shrugged and took an enormous bite. “Oh my God!” he groaned. “That’s sooooooo good! Thanks Luna!”

“How the hell did she do that?” Ron hissed. He tapped his wand on the table and declared, “Full English!” with great determination. Nothing happened. He tapped again, “Full English!” Still nothing happened, so he banged his wand really hard on the table, “I said Full English damn it!

Sadly for Ron his appeals fell on deaf ears, but Hermione’s patience was at an end. She grabbed the “One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi” textbook from her bag and started smacking Ron on the shoulder with it.

“Will...” Smack! “You...” Smack! “Stop...” Smack! “Eating!” Smack! “Your best friend almost died!

Ron glowered at her, “Pipe down you lunatic! Harry’s fine. He’s right over there!”

Hermione glared back at Ron angrily. Didn’t he care that Harry could be dead right now?

“Harry was never in any danger,” Ron asserted confidently. “Only You-Know-Who can kill him.”

After a moment of confusion Hermione realised what he was talking about.

“Harry said that’s not what the prophecy means!” she insisted firmly.

“I know what Harry said,” Ron replied, “and most of it was rubbish! But I’ve been thinking... I reckon he was right about one thing – Dumbledore obviously does believe in prophecies. In which case, only You-Know-Who can kill Harry... which would explain how Harry always seems to survive no matter what the odds. If you think about it, it’s the only explanation that makes sense, and Dumbledore knows a hell of a lot more than Harry does.”

This assertion was so unexpected that Hermione was struck temporarily speechless. Ron was right that Dumbledore knew more about magic than Harry, but was Dumbledore right about the prophecy? It seemed horribly reckless to assume that Harry could only be killed by Voldemort. What if it turned out to be untrue? And what was to stop Voldemort from capturing Harry and torturing him for the rest of eternity?

Fudge was apparently content to allow Harry to finish his breakfast, but Dumbledore had other ideas. “I think we had better adjourn to my office,” the Headmaster declared in a clear attempt to regain control of the situation.

Nonsense!” bellowed a gruff voice from the far end of the room.

Once again, all heads swivelled back towards the entrance doors. The Minister for Magic himself, Rufus Scrimgeour, had arrived. The most powerful politician in Magical Britain was smiling broadly in Harry’s direction as he strode down the aisle. He seemed to be in great spirits, but the same could not be said of Mad-Eye Moody, who marched at his side. The grizzled old warrior looked furious and began smacking his staff down on the stone floor with unnecessarily force, emitting a boom so loud that it made the startled students at that end of the room jump repeatedly. Behind the two men another two dozen grim-looking Aurors formed an impressive phalanx. They had wands drawn and glared menacingly at anyone who moved.

Bugger me!” Dean exclaimed. “The Minister himself has come to check if Harry’s okay!”

“Further questions can wait until Harry has been checked by a Healer,” Scrimgeour declared loudly. “Really Headmaster, have you no common sense?”

All heads swivelled back towards the High Table, where the Headmaster folded his arms and regarded the newcomers with barely-concealed irritation, and then back to the Minister. Incongruously, this constant back-and-forth brought to mind the audience at a Wimbledon tennis match. Hermione felt like she was losing her grip on sanity and had to suppress the urge to burst into tears or scream hysterically.

Moody strode right up to Harry and Tonks. His creepy magical eye gave Harry the once-over, and then fixed itself firmly on Tonks. He stopped right in front of her, looming menacingly over the much smaller woman.

“And who might you be missy?” he growled, lowering his face to within inches of hers.

“Whoa, back up there old man!” Tonks replied, completely undaunted. “A breath-mint wouldn’t go amiss either.”

“And what if I don’t back up? I suppose a slip-of-a-girl like you is gonna make me are ye?”

“Unless you and your junk want to part ways... then yes,” she replied coldly, staring him right in his good eye.

Moody glanced down to find that Tonks’ wand was pointing right between his legs. It was hard to tell, given how ravaged his face was by scars, but Hermione thought she saw the hint of a grin flash across his features. It was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“I’ll ask one more time,” he barked, ignoring the wand pointed at his wedding tackle. “Who are you?

“You don’t recognise your own trainee?” Tonks replied. “It’s me, you senile git – Tonks!”

The gruff man stared at her in silence for a moment, and then stepped back. Hermione let out the breath she’d unconsciously been holding, as did half of the rest of the room.

“That’s Senior Auror Senile Git to you, lassie.”

Tonks stiffened, standing immediately to attention and staring into the distance. Her wand arm dropped to her side.

Yes sir! Sorry sir!

Hermione was confused. Had Moody come out of retirement? Was he a serving Auror again?

Moody eyed Tonks up and down, “So what’s the meaning of this... new look?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tonks replied, looking away in a manner that suggested the matter was closed. “Sir,” she added belatedly.

The surly veteran swept his magical eye over her once more, “Then perhaps you’ll remind me... what was the first thing I said to you the day we met?”

“That the Auror Dept was no place for a wee girly and I should run on home to mummy, Sir!” Tonks replied immediately.

“Hmph,” Mad-Eye huffed, and turned his attention to Harry. “My first words to you, laddie?”

“Lower your wand boy, before you take someone’s eye out,” Harry replied with a grin.

Finally satisfied, Moody visibly relaxed, “You two have made an impressive mess out there...”

“Yes indeed,” Scrimgeour interrupted, pushing past Mad-Eye with his arm outstretched. Harry and the Minister shook hands like old friends. “It’s good to see you safe and... um... relatively sound, Harry. I never imagined that You-Know-Who would attempt such a brazen attack!”

I would have done,” Mad-Eye grumbled testily, “if I’d known you were meeting with the Chosen One last night, and not just the High Inquisitor.”

Scrimgeour threw Harry an ‘I’m in trouble’ look and grimaced in mock remorse.

“My Head of Security,” he said indicating Moody, “is rather displeased with me.”

The Minister’s attention flicked from Harry to the Headmaster, who was on the move. Dumbledore had rounded the High Table and was approaching fast.

“Let’s get you checked-out shall we?” Scrimgeour declared briskly, ushering Harry towards the door.

“There’s really no need,” Harry assured him, “it’s just a few scratches. I hardly even noticed.”

Scrimgeour glanced over his shoulder at the trail of blood Harry was leaving behind them.

“Even so...” he replied.

The Minister and Harry strode off down the aisle, followed by Tonks and Moody. The Minister’s entourage of Aurors flanked them as the party of four passed by and then fell in behind, two by two. Was it an accident that this effectively cut Dumbledore off, separating him from Harry, Hermione wondered? She suspected not.

To his credit the Headmaster didn’t rush to catch up. He merely slowed to a halt and watched them leave in impotent silence.

“Look at Snape!” Ron chortled merrily, pointing towards the High Table. “He’s got a face like a smacked arse!”

Hermione glanced in that direction. Sure enough, Professor Snape was watching Harry depart with an extremely sour expression.

“I wouldn’t want to be in Snape’s shoes when You-Know-Who hears about this!” Ron declared.

Professor Snape wasn’t the only one, Hermione noted. The vast majority of the House of Slytherin appeared to be frozen in horrified disbelief. How many of them would discover that they’d lost a relative overnight, she wondered?

The moment Harry and the Minister were out of sight, Dumbledore abruptly disapparated with an almighty CRACK! Half the students screamed in shock, while Hermione herself nearly jumped out of her skin. Even Hermione could apparate quieter than that, and she’d only been doing it for a few weeks! The Headmaster had been doing it for decades, which meant that he’d deliberately departed as loudly as possible. It was the magical equivalent of slamming the door as you leave a room, which was a shockingly childish display of petulance from a grown man. Dumbledore was clearly furious.

- § -

Flora and Hestia Carrow, like the rest of the House of Slytherin, had watched the drama unfold in near-total disbelief.

It was extraordinary. Was it really possible that Potter had killed a hundred Death Eaters? The fact that he’d killed any (rather than just stun them or give them jelly legs or some other childish crap) was astounding, but a hundred? If true, it was earth-shattering. The widely-held Slytherin belief that Potter was a harmless little boy-scout had definitely frayed after the events on the train, but this would shred it completely. If Potter was actually a ruthless killer... well, that changed everything. And it raised the obvious question – was he another Dark Lord in the making? If so, who was more powerful... Potter or Voldemort? Given their track record thus far, the answer was far from clear.

Fortunately, unlike many of their peers, Flora and Hestia were largely indifferent to the answer. They certainly had no fear of losing any close relatives in last night’s ill-fated attack. Their branch of the Carrow family had cultivated such an impressive image of snooty pureblood supremacy that nobody noticed that they never actually harmed any muggles or muggleborns. They weren’t friendly with any (that would be unthinkably foolish) but nor did they mistreat any. The curious failure of anyone to notice that would perhaps have still been a mystery were it not for the zeal with which their more distant relations (especially the barbaric Amycus and Alecto twins) made up for the shortfall. The abhorrent actions of those two morons provided ample cover for the carefully-concealed neutrality of the more intelligent side of the family.

While the rest of the Slytherin table descended into chaos and barely-controlled hysteria, Hestia calmly cast a privacy charm over herself and her sister.

“Well,” Flora observed wryly, “it seems that our betrothed is a lot more dangerous than he looks.”

“Don’t call him that,” Hestia replied sourly. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s quite funny,” Flora countered. “And anyone who can kill a hundred Death Eaters single-handedly is certainly worthy of our attention.”

“True,” Hestia conceded, “though it wasn’t single-handed. He had the metamorphmagus with him.”

Flora nodded thoughtfully, “Ah yes, the metamorphmagus. She is almost as interesting as Potter himself. I had not realised she was from the House of Black.”

“Nor I, though her new look makes it rather obvious.”

“Indeed. It’s like looking at a teenage version of that mad bitch Bellatrix Lestrange.”

“A very hot teenage mad bitch...”

“Yes, very hot...”

“And Potter’s not too shabby either...”

“No he isn’t...”

They shared a moment of ruminative silence.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yes sister, I believe I am.”

“We need Potter and the metamorphmagus to fuck us.”

“Yes we do.”

“We need them to fuck us hard.”

“Yes; very hard.”

It was a full minute before Hestia spoke again, “That’s never going to happen is it?”

Flora sighed wistfully, “No it isn’t.”

- § -

The moment Scrimgeour and Harry turned the first corner the Minister’s cheery disposition vanished completely.

“Well,” he said, exhaling heavily. “Last night was what I believe the Muggles would call a total Fuster Cluck.”

Harry chuckled in amusement, “Not quite, Minister, but you’re close enough.”

- § -

Even Hermione couldn’t believe it when McGonagall declared that students should proceed to their classes, which would commence in just a few minutes. What was the point? Nobody would pay any attention. Sure enough, Hermione had no memory of what they studied that morning. She was far too distracted, and she wasn’t the only one. Several detentions were handed out to those who couldn’t stop gossiping about the ‘Dark Couple’ who’d saved the school from a Death Eater attack.

Unsurprisingly Harry didn’t attend Herbology. Nor did he appear for Transfiguration. He wasn’t in the Gryffindor Common Room during the mid-morning break and didn’t attend Charms afterwards. By that time Hermione was becoming quite frantic. She rushed down to the Great Hall for lunch in the hope of seeing him there. If not, she would go to the Hospital Wing.

Outside the Great Hall students were crowded in front of the doors staring upwards. Just as Hermione arrived, Professor McGonagall barged past and stormed up the Grand Staircase with a face like thunder. Meanwhile, a bitter-looking Filch (even more bitter than usual that is) swayed precariously on a tall skinny ladder and hammered the last of several signs to the wall:

PROCLAMATION:
EDUCATION DECREE No. 201
Cornelius Oswald Fudge is hereby appointed
to the post of Hogwarts High Inquisitor.

PROCLAMATION:
EDUCATION DECREE No. 202
All detentions and point-deductions are henceforth subject to
review and approval by the High Inquisitor.

PROCLAMATION:
EDUCATION DECREE No. 203
Detentions in the Forbidden Forest are
(and this should really go without saying)
STRICTLY FORBIDDEN! NO EXCEPTIONS!
(That includes you, Professor McGonagall!)

PROCLAMATION:
EDUCATION DECREE No. 204
The Hogwarts Caretaker is hereby
PERMANENTLY BANNED
from assigning, administering or supervising
punishments of any kind.

PROCLAMATION:
EDUCATION DECREE No. 205
Due to his unique status as a national asset,
any attempt by any STUDENT to harm the Chosen One,
or any attempt to conspire with others or assist others to do so,
will henceforth lead to immediate expulsion and
a possible TWO YEARS in Azkaban.

PROCLAMATION:
EDUCATION DECREE No. 206
Due to his unique status as a national asset,
any attempt by any MEMBER OF STAFF to harm the Chosen One,
or any attempt to conspire with others or assist others to do so,
will henceforth lead to immediate dismissal and
at least FIVE YEARS in Azkaban.

Ron, who had made no attempt to keep up with Hermione as she ran towards the Great Hall, finally caught up with her. He stood at her side and stared up at the notices.

“It’s nice to have the authorities on our side for a change,” he declared. “I almost wish Malfoy was still here so I could rub his face in it.”

Notes:

‘Cloth-eared’ is archaic British slang for deaf or hard of hearing.

While we’re all waiting for the next chapter to drop, if anyone knows of any other HP fanfics which are like this one please let the rest of us know in the comments. We’d all love to read them! Doesn’t have to be Honks...

The explanation for why it takes me so long to write a chapter these days is still in my Profile, but for updates on my progress with the next chapter look here. Having progress information in my Profile wasn’t working out because a) I kept exceeding the character limit, and b) the formatting got screwed up when I made the slightest change and it took me ages to fix it each time.

If anyone would like to translate this story into another language, please let me know. I am happy for people to do that, but only if the translation is posted exclusively on archiveofourown.org. No exceptions! I am an ardent supporter of AO3 and am committed to my stories being exclusive to AO3. Please don't post my story, or translations of it, on any other website. Thank you!

If anyone would like to illustrate my story please contact me. I would love that! (Especially the smutty scenes! 😉)

Chapter 42: A Slightly Tall Tale

Notes:

It’s been a while since we had some smut... so this chapter contains a teaser of what’s to come (pun intended)...

In the books, Romilda Vane is a 4th year at this point. Whereas in the movies she is a 6th year. Either way, she is a bold and confident girl who seems very mature for her age. It's also curious that her best friends are Leanne and Katie Bell, who are 6th & 7th years at this point. How are we to make sense of this? All will be explained in Chapter 43, but in this story (despite being a 4th year) Romilda was 16 when she boarded the train a few days ago and it's her birthday today (3rd September) so she is actually 17 as of this moment.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

When their Auror escort threw open the Hospital Wing doors Harry was half expecting to find Dumbledore already there waiting for them. But no, the Headmaster was nowhere to be seen. Madam Pomfrey was busting around in her office though, and came out to see what all the commotion was about. Her impatient expression immediately morphed into business-like concern at the sight of Harry.

“I suppose we should count our blessings eh Mr Potter?” she enquired sternly. “You managed a full thirty-six hours of the new academic year before requiring my services!”

Harry grinned cheekily, “Yeah, I’m losing my touch. I’ll try harder in future.”

Madam Pomfrey didn’t even crack a smile. Instead, she pointed to the far corner of the room, “Through there please Mr Potter. You’ll find a shower with soap and towels. Do your best. Shout if you need assistance.”

Harry was about to make a slightly lewd comment, but the look Madam Pomfrey gave him wiped the smirk right off his face.

“Yes Ma’am,” he replied instead, and scurried away at a half-run.

- § -

There hadn’t been any clothes in the shower room, and Harry’s were largely ruined, so he emerged ten minutes later with just a towel around his waist and another in his hand rubbing his hair. Most of the Aurors had departed so the Hospital was now largely empty. Two Aurors stood guard at the doors (with more outside probably) while Tonks, Scrimgeour and Moody stood in the middle of the room. They were speaking in hushed tones and didn’t immediately see Harry approach. Sadly Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office and intercepted him before he could hear what they were saying.

“This way please Mr Potter,” she instructed firmly, pulling a curtain around one of the empty beds.

Harry sighed. His hopes of escaping any time soon had been dashed. Admittedly, now that he was clean, an impressive number of cuts and bruises had been revealed. His body had taken quite a beating, though he wasn’t sure when. He’d been too busy fighting for his life to notice any pain. Tonks gasped and Scrimgeour’s eyes went wide as they caught sight of him, but they disappeared as the curtain swept across before they could say anything.

The next half hour was extremely trying. Madam Pomfrey fussed around him, waving her wand and muttering disapprovingly about lacerations, tears, sprains, hairline fractures and other things Harry didn’t understand. He eventually tuned it out and just stood there like a manikin while she poked and prodded. The only time he yelped was when she whipped his towel off to examine his midriff and backside.

“I’ve seen it all before Mr Potter,” she noted.

“Not recently you haven’t!” Harry protested, cupping his hands over his bits.

“Pffft!” she replied dismissively, brushing his hands aside for a good look at his genital area.

Harry was pretty sure she took a lot longer down there than was strictly necessary, and although he wasn’t finding this experience the least bit sexual, the chances of him getting an accidental boner were rising by the second. He was stark naked after all. So he was extremely relieved when Madam Pomfrey handed him his towel back. He immediately wrapped it around his waist very securely, and steadfastly refused to look her in the eye.

Apparently satisfied that she had catalogued his every injury, the aged Healer began casting healing charms at him. It took a while. Then she started handing him foul-tasting potions. Harry downed them without complaint, but he half suspected that some of them were just nasty concoctions to dissuade students from coming back here again. Finally, she handed him three different ointments, with instructions on where, how and when to apply them.

“You are free to go Mr Potter,” she declared, throwing back the curtain. “I trust I won’t be seeing you again anytime soon?”

“Not if I can help it,” Harry mumbled sulkily.

Half way back to her office Madam Pomfrey stopped short, staring at Tonks.

“You look just like...”

“My mother,” Tonks huffed. “Yes I know.”

Your mother?” Pomfrey replied in a startled voice.

“Yes my mother”, Tonks repeated. “Andromeda Black as you would have known her in her Hogwarts days.”

“Andromeda...” Pomfrey repeated.

She exchanged a wide-eyed and meaningful look with Moody, who just shrugged, and then she practically ran to her office and closed the door firmly behind her.

Tonks blinked at Pomfrey’s hasty departure, “Well that was rude.”

“Okay!” Scrimgeour declared with a business-like clap of his hands. “Shall we adjourn to my office for a full debrief?”

“I’ve just had one of those,” Harry grumbled sourly, pulling his towel tighter.

Tonks snorted in amusement and retrieved a pile of clothes from the bed behind her.

“I had the twins charm a spare set of Auror-style robes for us last week,” she explained, holding them out to Harry.

“Oh,” Harry responded in surprise, “I never thought of that. Excellent idea! It’s always good to have spares.”

“Yes it is,” she replied, “especially if you don’t want to start smelling like a troll’s jockstrap.”

Harry grabbed the clothes, stuck his tongue out at her, and pulled the curtain closed again. Moments later he emerged fully clothed, feeling almost human again, and considerably less exposed.

“No sign of Dumbledore?” he enquired.

“Apparently he’s poking around the battleground,” the Minister replied with a shrug.

“Probably looking for more reasons to be disappointed in me,” Harry mused.

“Most likely,” Scrimgeour agreed.

At Moody’s suggestion, they made their way through the deserted corridors of Hogwarts to the office of the High Inquisitor, from there they would floo to the Ministry. Harry felt a chill run down his spine at the sight of what had previously been Umbridge’s office door, but they trooped in to find that Fudge had stripped the room bare. Not a single trace of Umbridge’s presence remained, for which Harry was immensely grateful.

The man himself, the new High Inquisitor, was reclining in a large office chair with his feet resting on the corner of his desk, snoring loudly. First Tonks, then the Minister, then Harry stepped through the floo without Fudge waking from his slumber. Harry shook his head in amazement. He was barely three years old when he learned to wake up at the first sign of trouble. It amazed him that people could sleep when danger lurked in every corner.

Harry, Tonks and Scrimgeour waited patiently in the Ministry Atrium for Moody to join them. The newly appointed Head of Security stepped through a few moments later.

“Was Fudge still asleep?” Harry wondered.

“Unlikely,” Moody replied dryly. “I might have accidentally set off a Cracker Jinx as I left. Hope he brought some spare trousers.”

Scrimgeour stifled a laugh and then strode away, pretending he hadn’t heard.

Up in the Minister’s office Scrimgeour asked his secretary to bring them all tea and cakes, for which Harry was grateful. His stomach was growling. Harry, Tonks and Scrimgeour then took their usual seats in front of the fire, while Moody stood behind the Minister, resting his hands on the top of his staff.

“Auror Tonks has already given us the gist of what happened last night,” Scrimgeour began, “but I’d like to hear it from your point of view as well if you don’t mind Harry?”

Harry didn’t mind in the least, and proceeded to give them a detailed account of what had happened from the moment they left the pub until the moment Scrimgeour arrived at the Great Hall. The two older men listened in silence through the entire story, except when Harry described all the secret passages into Hogwarts. The Minister had sighed heavily and looked up at Moody.

“I will deal with it,” Moody said simply, his expression thunderous.

The only details Harry left out of his account were the Marauders’ Map, which he didn’t mention, and Tonks’ change of appearance, which he glossed over.

The Minister was silent for several moments once Harry finished his tale, sipping his tea and mulling things over.

“Okay,” he said finally. “It sounds very much as if this attack was aimed at capturing Harry. They were lying in wait at the furthest point from either Hogwarts or Hogsmeade to reduce the chances of being overheard. They used the trees for cover, and had sentries on the look-out for Harry. As soon as they confirmed that Harry was in the carriage, they attacked.”

“Pretty much,” Harry agreed, biting down on a cauldron cake.

“But the story that is already spreading through Hogwarts,” Scrimgeour continued, apparently thinking out loud, “and which will no doubt be making its way into the wider population once the first breathless student reaches the Owlery, is that Harry and Tonks foiled a massive Death Eater attack on the school itself.”

Harry rolled his eyes. The capacity for the Hogwarts rumour mill to get everything wrong never ceased to amaze him. He glanced at Tonks, who just shrugged. Moody also said nothing, but he seemed to be watching Harry with great interest.

“So we have two choices,” the Minister concluded. “We can either allow the public to believe that an attack on the school was foiled when Harry and Tonks stumbled upon it, which will provide a massive boost to morale and reassure everyone that Voldemort isn’t all-powerful...”

Harry frowned. He didn’t much like the sound of that. Boosting morale was one thing but taking credit for something he didn’t do... again... did not sit well with him. Also, this was an outright lie. Why bother? Wasn’t defeating a hundred Death Eaters enough of an achievement?

For some reason Moody leaned forwards, eyeing Harry even more closely.

“Or we could correct that misconception,” Moody offered gruffly, “and admit that we screwed up and almost got the Chosen One killed... which would undermine public confidence and make us look like a bunch of bungling idiots.”

Oh.

Harry hadn’t thought of it like that.

“Quite so,” Scrimgeour confirmed. “But let’s set that aside for a moment and discuss another matter. Auror Tonks, you were ordered to protect the Chosen One at all costs, so that he could someday defeat Voldemort. You did that today against truly staggering odds. The country is very much in your debt. I hesitate to even contemplate how bad things would be right now if Harry had been taken. I will therefore be recommending that you receive the Order of Merlin, First Class.”

Tonks’ jaw literally dropped open in shock.

Moody straightened-up and turned to face her, “Aye lass. You did the Auror Department proud today.”

At that, Tonks started blinking rapidly and a shaking hand rose to her mouth. Harry placed a reassuring hand on her leg, which seemed to steady her slightly.

“I don’t...” she croaked, her voice breaking. She cleared her throat and tried again, “I don’t deserve it.”

Scrimgeour smiled at her indulgently, “It is the mark of a true hero that they never think they are one. You faced near-certain death tonight, and given your metamorphmagus abilities you could have escaped easily, but you didn’t. You stayed, because you put duty first.”

It looked like Tonks was still inclined to disagree, but she remained silent.

“And that brings us to the Chosen One,” the Minister resumed, indicating Harry, “I have no doubt that each of the Death Eaters you dispatched tonight would have murdered innocents in the future. So you saved a great many lives today. Then there’s the issue of you defeating Voldemort fifteen years ago, for which you have received no official recognition...”

Harry grimaced. He had no problem with the first point, but the second... Damn it, he’d been hoisted on his own petard! He’d already claimed the credit for dispatching Voldemort as a baby; he could hardly deny it now. Harry wasn’t really interested in an Order of Merlin. He’d received a Special Award for Services to the School in his second year and it had never done him any good. It was just words. But Tonks definitely deserved some recognition for her bravery, and the trauma it had caused her. Could he really turn his down without devaluing what hers meant to Tonks?

“One could even argue,” the Minister continued, “that we don’t know for sure that these Death Eaters did not plan to attack Hogwarts once they’d captured Harry. Perhaps they intended to do both? A hundred Death Eaters does seem like overkill for a simple kidnapping, no matter who the target. A few dozen would normally be sufficient to deter resistance...”

An attack on the school seemed unlikely to Harry, but he couldn’t rule it out. Bloody politicians with their slippery logic!

“Perhaps we should vote on it?” Scrimgeour suggested. “Who thinks Harry deserves an Order of Merlin?”

The Minister, Moody, and Tonks all raised their hands. Harry did not.

“Well that’s unanimous then,” Scrimgeour stated cheerfully.

“No, I voted against!” Harry countered.

“Indeed,” Scrimgeour replied soberly, “which is exactly what someone who deserves an Order of Merlin would do.”

Harry scowled.

Once again the Minister pretended not to notice, “So back to the story we present to the public. We can hardly claim that Harry and Tonks saved the school without awarding them an Order of Merlin First Class. Fortunately, since we’re awarding them one anyway, that’s not a problem. We four will know what it’s really for, but the public will be better served by thinking it’s for saving the school.”

Now Harry really scowled. Apparently Scrimgeour was starting to figure out how to play the politician.

“Easy lad,” Moody advised gruffly, “worse things happen at sea.”

That was true, Harry supposed – there were worse things than letting people believe what they wanted to believe if it got them through the war, but still... Someday, he vowed, the truth would be told... about this incident... about his mother... all of it!

Reluctantly, Harry nodded. Scrimgeour smiled at him sympathetically. The Minister understood, and that helped.

“One more thing,” Mad-Eye growled. “Don’t tell anyone how you did it.”

“How we did what?” Harry replied in confusion.

“How you killed them all,” Moody explained. “Talk about before and after if you like, but don’t tell anyone anything about the actual battle. You hear me? Not a thing!”

Harry had no great desire to re-live the events of last night, and wasn’t actually in the habit of telling anyone what he’d been through (apart from Ron and Hermione) but he was baffled as to why Moody was being so emphatic about it. He was about to ask why when Tonks beat him to it.

“How come?” she wondered, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue she’d conjured. Harry took a deep breath and tried to ignore how cute Bella-Tonks looked right now.

“Have you ever seen a Muggle magician perform a really impressive illusion?” Moody asked. “A trick so clever that you just couldn’t figure out how they did it? A trick that really impressed you, and made you think the magician was quite awe-inspiring? And then the magician explained how the trick was done?”

Oh.

Harry got it now.

“Yes,” he replied, knowing where this was going.

“And how did you feel after the magician explained the trick?”

“Disappointed,” Harry replied.

“Let down,” Tonks chipped in. “Deceived. Cheated. Foolish.”

“Exactly,” Moody agreed. “The previously impressive magician now looks more like an average joe, or worse a charlatan, than someone to be admired. But what has changed? What they achieved was still impressive. But once you know how it was done it feels ordinary. Right now people are looking at Harry like he’s Merlin reincarnated. If you two start telling people that all he did was jump on a broom and blow stuff up, what do you think will happen?”

“Okay okay, we get it!” Harry reiterated. “We won’t tell anyone how we did it.”

“Oh you get it do you?” Mad-Eye asked sceptically. He turned his intense gaze towards Tonks, “How many of those Death Eaters did you kill, compared to Harry?”

Tonks seemed to shrink into herself. “Not many,” she admitted in a small voice, staring down at the floor. “Three for sure... maybe five or six?”

WRONG!” Moody bellowed, making all of them jump. “There’s no way to know. What we do know is that you killed as many as necessary to keep this heroic idiot,” he pointed at Harry, “from getting himself murdered! That’s all that matters, and that’s all anyone needs to know!”

Tonks straightened in her seat, lifting her eyes to meet Moody’s, “Yes sir!

He nodded at her, “That’s better! You saved more innocent lives last night than most Aurors do in their entire careers.” He pointed at Harry again. “Don’t do yourself down just because this fool has no instinct for self-preservation.”

Harry was starting to get a bit irritated by all these insults, but he clamped down on his anger, “Okay fine! We won’t provide any details at all about the battle.”

“You better not,” Mad-Eye cautioned, leaning forwards emphatically, “because I’m declaring the way you defeated those Death Eaters to be a State Secret... which means that for reasons of National Security, if you reveal anything about how you did it to anyone, you’ll face ten years in Azkaban!”

Harry stared at him wide-eyed. Was he serious?

He was serious! Harry could see it in his face! Bloody hell! For the first time since he’d joined forces with Scrimgeour he was reminded that it was the Ministry he was dealing with. The same Ministry who thought it was perfectly fine to condemn people to a lifetime of mental torture on the flimsiest of evidence. It was not an institution to mess around with.

Scrimgeour coughed pointedly, “I’m sure that won’t be necessary. Harry has a sensible head on his shoulders.”

Moody’s eyes – the creepy one and the even more creepy one – both glared at Harry for another second. Then he sniffed and leaned back, apparently satisfied... for the moment.

Bloody hell! Harry thought again. Mad-Eye was bat-shit crazy!

The meeting concluded shortly after that. As Tonks and Harry stood in front of the Minister’s fireplace waiting for the floo to open, Tonks leaned towards Harry and whispered.

“Moody’s bark is worse than his bite.”

“Well his bark’s plenty bad enough!” Harry whispered back. “You don’t think he was serious about Azkaban then?”

“Oh no, he was definitely serious about that,” Tonks replied.

- § -

When Harry and Tonks arrived back at Hogwarts lunch was already well underway. They approached the Great Hall just as Filch was hammering a seventh notice to the wall outside:

PROCLAMATION:
EDUCATION DECREE No. 207
Setting off Cracker Jinxes in the High Inquisitor’s Office is
STRICTLY FORBIDDEN
And if I find out which one of you snotty-nosed little toe-rags did it
you’ll be MUCKING OUT the hippogriff paddock for a MONTH!

Tonks and Harry exchanged a look and then burst out laughing. There was absolutely no way they’d be telling anyone that Mad-Eye had cast that jinx, but picturing the look on Fudge’s face when it went off was hilarious!

Harry was half way through reading the other notices when someone smashed into him, nearly knocking him off his feet.

HARRY!” Hermione squealed right into his ear, and then she began jabbering almost too fast to follow, while also attempting to squeeze the life out of him. “Oh I’m so glad you’re okay! When they said that you were... and that they’d found... Oh, I’ve never been so worried in my entire life! I thought you were DEAD Harry! DEAD! It just seemed impossible that you could have escaped. But you DID! And you’re HERE! And you’re SAFE! And I’m so relieved...

Hermione was clinging to him like a limpet, with her arms around his neck, her body draped all over his and her feet dangling inches off the ground. She felt very soft and warm, Harry noticed. Her breasts, in particular, felt amazing squished against his chest. Harry tried very hard not to imagine that she was naked right now, and failed completely. Oh God! A very clear image formed in his mind, of him fully clothed and her completely starkers, with her bare tits pressed against him and her fabulous naked arse swinging in the breeze. A wild urge to shove his hands up her skirt and grab her butt cheeks assailed him, but he wrestled it down and closed his arms around her hips instead.

“Hello Hermione,” he croaked, “Nice... to see you... too, but... I can’t... breathe...”

OH!

Hermione released the pressure on his neck and pulled back, looking into his eyes. Her face was just an inch from his. A look of surprise passed over her features. Suddenly her lips parted and her pupils dilated. For one crazy moment Harry thought Hermione was about to snog him, but then she spotted Tonks over his shoulder and released him.

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly, sliding down his body until her feet touched the floor. She stepped back quickly and smoothed down her clothes self-consciously. “I’m just so glad to see you. Both of you I mean... Safe and well... Both of you...”

Tonks, still in the body of a young Bellatrix Lestrange, raised an eyebrow.

Hermione’s gaze dropped to the floor and she blushed furiously.

What on earth was that about, Harry wondered?

- § -

Lunch was a bit of a trial. The standing ovation Harry and Tonks received as they walked in (from three of the houses, anyway) was pretty cool, but the incessant questions about what happened rapidly began to grate. Fortunately, they were saved by the arrival of a Daily Prophet Special Edition with the headlines:

Chosen One Saves Hogwarts!
Harry Potter and his bodyguard foil an attack on the School!
102 Death Eaters confirmed dead!

Harry didn’t bother reading it. He could imagine what it said. He had provided a quote for inclusion in the Ministry Statement though. Neville latched onto it straight away.

“Listen to this!” Neville shouted excitedly. “When asked about the events of last night Harry Potter said, ‘It was nothing – we just did what any law-abiding citizens would have done in those circumstances.’” Neville dropped his paper and stared at the faces around him, “It was nothing, he says! One hundred and two Death Eaters dead and he says it was nothing!”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what most citizens would have done in that situation,” Ginny noted.

Harry shrugged, “You know what I meant.”

“Actually no,” Neville replied, “we really don’t.”

- § -

That night Romilda Vane lay on her back staring up at the firmly-closed curtains around her four-poster bed. She was wearing her usual sleeping attire – an oversized cotton t-shirt that fell off one shoulder, exposing a carefully-judged amount of flawlessly perfect teenage skin. The length was also specifically designed to be not-quite-long-enough to cover the white cotton knickers she wore underneath. The material was just about thick enough to conceal her areolas while also making it quite evident that she was not wearing a bra. Romilda believed that a girl should always look her best.

The wardrobe beside Romilda’s bed contained a selection of these night shirts, which all featured a cute but slightly sexual picture on the front and some sassy or suggestive text. The one she was wearing tonight, for example, was of the hyper-sexualised cartoon character Jessica Rabbit (from the 1988 movie ‘Who Framed Roger Rabbit’). The sexy redhead woman was sitting on her heels, staring up at the viewer suggestively with her knees widely parted, wearing just lacy underwear and suspenders. The phrase “Red Hot” was blazoned underneath.

Romilda was mulling over the events of the day.

It had been a wild ride, that’s for sure. Harry Potter had turned out to be an even bigger stud than anyone thought, and that bloody metamorph, Auror Tonks, had turned out to be an even bigger bitch.

Romilda had been justifiably proud of her raven-haired curls until this morning, when that fucking metamorph turned up with curly jet-black hair that put Romilda’s to shame. There was no question in Romilda’s mind that the nasty cow had done it on purpose. The proprietorial way Auror Tonks behaved around Harry made it very clear that she was intent on shagging him, as did the way she constantly undermined Romilda’s attempts to flirt her way into Harry’s pants.

With considerable effort Romilda stifled a frustrated groan. Even before the events of today Harry’s mere presence made her super horny, but now... my God, she was gagging for him to shag her. I mean seriously! How could a girl resist a boy as heroic as Harry! It just wasn’t possible. Romilda hadn’t even touched herself yet and already her pussy was sopping.

Fuck it!

Lifting her legs in the air, Romilda hastily slid her panties over her hips, down her legs and off her feet. She discarded them on the corner of her bed. After a moment’s hesitation, she sat up and yanked her t-shirt off over her head as well and threw it on top of her knickers. She would need to be completely naked for this, she knew. Nothing else would do. She’d never been so horny in her entire life, and she would definitely need access to her tits to get the most out of what she was about to do.

Romilda was under no illusions about her body. It was her pride and joy, because it was absolutely gorgeous. Very few people got to see it of course, and certainly no boys had done so, but underneath her clothes Romilda Vane was a total babe. All most people saw was her hair, face, and (occasionally) legs. Fortunately those features were sufficient to dazzle most of the boys.

Her hair was probably her most obvious asset, being long and black with beautiful curls. But she also had a pretty face with a strong chin and large dark-brown eyes. As for her legs, those were enough to make most girls howl with jealousy – long, slim, wonderfully toned, with a perfect tan and flawless skin.

Looking down at herself sitting naked on the bed, Romilda was very content with what she saw. She was certainly the most attractive girl in her dorm, and possibly her year. Her breasts were admittedly still quite small, but they were beautifully shaped and Romilda was confident she’d eventually have big tits like her mother. Her chest gave way to a narrow waist and slim hips, which perfectly framed her well-maintained and seductively shaped pubic hair.

Romilda was actually quite snobbish about her pussy region. The neatly trimmed jet-black trapezoid of hair (almost rectangular but slightly wider at the top than the bottom) was rather unique among the girls, as far as she could tell. Most of the others went au-naturel (gross!) or clean-shaved like a twelve-year-old (weird!). Romilda did trim her outer labia, but didn’t shave them, because she thought it was more sensual to have an authentic-looking hairy (but not too hairy) vagina entrance.

When the day came that she finally invited a boy to view her secret garden, she was confident that the lucky fellow (Harry Potter, if she had anything to say about it) would be suitably impressed and wildly turned-on.

As she lay her naked teen body back down on the bed, Romilda’s thoughts turned to what had just happened in the Common Room.

- § -

The thoroughly dreamy Harry Potter and that infuriatingly beautiful metamorphmagus had been trying to chat quietly with their friends all evening, resisting all attempts to be drawn on exactly how they had defeated a hundred Death Eaters. With his friends packed tightly around him, Romilda had no opportunity to get close and was forced to watch from across the room. The first and second year students eventually drifted off to bed, too tired to wait for any more juicy details. But that just emboldened the older students, whose increasingly wild (and frankly disturbing) speculations were clearly vexing Harry.

To the delight of those who remained, the patience of the metamorph, Tonks, eventually ran out.

“OKAY, LISTEN UP!” Tonks had bellowed to the packed room. “For security reasons we can’t tell you most of what happened, but I’ll reveal what I can.”

The room had quickly fallen quiet, as all eyes turned towards her and Harry. Romilda and her friends all shuffled forwards on their sofa to catch every word.

“Our carriage was half way back from Hogsmeade,” Tonks began, “when we encountered an army of Death Eaters marching towards Hogwarts. There were at least a hundred of them. Unfortunately they saw us before we saw them. By the time we spotted them they’d surrounded us.”

The intense and scary-looking woman immediately had everyone’s complete attention. Nobody had heard these details before. They were finally finding out what happened! Two of Romilda’s more girly friends were already clutching at their chests in thrilled anticipation of the heroism ahead.

“Our assailants hit the carriage with some sort of exploding charm,” Tonks resumed, “pitching it onto its side. I attempted to side-along apparate us both to safety but they’d put up an anti-disapparition jinx. We were trapped.”

The fear in the room had become palpable, but it was also tempered with excitement, because everyone already knew the outcome – Harry and Tonks had prevailed and escaped relatively unharmed.

“I don’t mind admitting that I was terrified,” the raven-haired witch declared (rather implausibly, it seemed to Romilda – she didn’t look like anything would terrify her), “but Harry – the Chosen One – was icy calm. ‘There’s only one way out of this,’ he told me, ‘we have to fight our way out.’”

Gasps echoed around the room, and a chill ran down Romilda’s spine. Harry was so bloody brave!

After a short pause Tonks continued, “‘You’re not an Auror tonight,’ Harry advised me. ‘You’re a Black, of the House of Black. We have to be cold-hearted killers, because our backs are against the wall. It’s them or us now – either they die or we die.’”

The audience was thoroughly entranced. This was truly the stuff of legends. Harry shot Tonks an irritated look, but she ignored him. Romilda glanced at Granger, whose expression confirmed her own suspicions – Harry’s reaction was a clear sign that Tonks was revealing truths which he would prefer she kept to herself. The room was now utterly silent. You could have heard a pin drop.

Tonks' voice fell to a whisper, “‘They’ll want me alive,’ Harry told me. ‘But as for you... they will either kill you... or make you wish they had.’”

Several girls stifled screams, while the boys growled angrily. The crowd shuffled as couples sought each other out and groups of girls shifted closer together, clinging to each other for support. That dose of reality had shocked the fun out hearing the story, and now everyone listened with grim expressions on their faces.

“So I disguised myself as Harry,” Tonks told them, and before their eyes she transformed, until there were two Harry Potters staring back at them. It was immediately apparent that half the people in the room had been unaware that Tonks was a metamorphmagus.

“They told us to throw our wands clear and climb out,” Tonks continued, reverting back to her own body, “which we did.”

You were unarmed?” someone asked, aghast.

“Yes,” Tonks replied simply. “We clambered out and stood on top of the carriage. I looked around, searching for a gap in their ranks, but there wasn’t one. Death Eaters were everywhere, a dozen deep in every direction. ‘There are two Potters,’ one of them said. ‘Bring them both,’ the leader replied, ‘Once we figure out which is which we can have a bit of fun with the girl before we kill her.’”

Appalled howls and angry roars erupted all around them. Tonks waited patiently until the ruckus subsided.

“I knew then that I was going to die,” Tonks confided.

Sharp intakes of breath greeted that statement, and Harry turned to face her, looking concerned. She smiled at him, and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Romilda’s eyes widened. They were sleeping together! Harry and Auror Tonks were shagging. It was so obvious! She glanced at the faces around her, but nobody else seemed to have realised.

Behind the crowd, some of the younger students had re-appeared at the bottom of the dormitory staircases, no-doubt drawn by the strange sounds from the Common Room. They crouched on the stairs silently, trying not to attract anyone’s attention.

“But Harry turned to me,” Tonks whispered, “still as calm as you like, and he said, ‘Stay close.’ Then he jumped down from the carriage and stood in front of the enemy army, completely undaunted.”

Admiring eyes turned to Harry, who ignored them and kept watching Tonks.

“Utterly fearless he was. Not a scared bone in his body, and that gave me courage. I scrambled to catch up and we stood on the road with our hands in the air, facing the lead Death Eater.”

Rapt silence filled the room as Tonks weaved her tale of terror. Pale faces flickered in the light of the dying fire, and a sudden chill seemed to fill the air.

“I watched Harry in the corner of my eye,” Tonks whispered conspiratorially. “Do you know what he did next?”

Wide-eyed and thoroughly entranced, her audience shook their heads.

“While he scanned the forest around us, counting the enemy, he taunted them!” she declared. “‘We are the House of Black,’ he shouted, ‘Leave now or we will decorate this forest with the blood of your lifeless corpses.’”

Romilda’s heart skipped a beat, and then fluttered wildly. Again all eyes turned towards Harry, who ignored them and shot a glance at Granger. She was looking at him like she’d never seen him before. Harry’s expression betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

“They jeered at us then,” Tonks continued, “calling us worthless half-bloods who would soon cower before the Dark Lord. But Harry was unmoved. He told them to surrender, but they just laughed. So he turned to me... and can you guess what he said?”

Again the audience wordlessly shook their heads.

Tonks' voice dropped until it was barely audible, “He said...”

Everyone leaned forwards, straining to hear.

For several seconds Tonks raked her eyes over them, drawing them in.

“He said,” she continued finally, “‘I’ll take the fifty in front of us, you take the fifty behind.’”

The room erupted. Incredulous exclamations and roars of testosterone-filled approval echoed off the walls in a deafening cacophony.

Holy SHIT!

That’s insane!

Fucking LEGEND!

Suck on that, Death Eater scum!

For several long seconds a storm of noise filled the room, and then somebody started a chant that quickly caught on:

POTTER-BLACK! POTTER-BLACK! POTTER-BLACK!

Romilda exchanged meaningful looks with her friends. She had already told them that Harry Potter was in a league of his own. He might only be sixteen, but he was a real man, unlike every other boy in this school. Who else would take on a hundred enemies without batting an eye? Nobody! Romilda was very glad she was wearing her school sweater right now, because her nipples had just gone rock hard.

Gradually a second chant took over from the first: “GRYFFINDOR! GRYFFINDOR! GRYFFINDOR!

Tonks waited patiently for the tumult to die down.

“Perhaps now you can begin to appreciate what it’s like to be the Chosen One,” she intoned, running her steely gaze across the audience. “I’ll take the fifty in front of us, you take the fifty behind. That’s what Harry’s life is like. Remember that next time you take him for granted.”

It felt like Romilda’s heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest. How could she not be attracted to someone as insanely courageous, noble and valiant as Harry? He was like every fairytale hero rolled into one.

“What happened next?” she called out breathlessly.

Tonks shrugged, “Then we killed them all.”

The room descended into riotous chaos once again, but Romilda was only vaguely aware of it. She was too distracted by another rather alarming revelation. Much to her astonishment and eternal mortification, she had just discovered that - contrary to what she'd always believed - it was in fact possible for a girl to spontaneously cream her knickers.

Notes:

The next chapter will probably be almost entirely smut.

Chapter 43: Jackrabbit

Notes:

We don’t see much of Romilda Vane in the Harry Potter movies – just glimpses really. Anna Shaffer (the actress who plays Romilda) also seems to have had very bad luck with photographers and filmmakers, who always seem to make her look less attractive than she is. For an idea of how Romilda looks in this story, check out these pictures of a young Anna Shaffer looking fabulous. You might consider these to be her ‘ready to be shagged’ look, her ‘just been shagged’ look, and her ‘the morning after’ look... but I couldn’t possibly condone that sort of objectification.

In Chapter 40 I added a couple of SFW (safe-for-work) in-line images. These were quite well received so I may do that again in future, and may back-fill some earlier chapters with images as they occur to me.

This chapter is 95% smut. Anyone not here for the smut can probably skip it, apart from the first four paragraphs.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Two unusual circumstances had conspired to make Romilda Vane a bit of an oddball at Hogwarts.

The first was that her birthday was today, the 3rd of September, which meant she was always the oldest person in her academic year, and thus quite mature compared to her peers. The second was that she was born and raised in South Africa. She attended the Uagadou School of Magic in Uganda for two years, at which point her father secured a lucrative job in the UK and she was transferred to Hogwarts.

This created some major syllabus issues because African Witches and Wizards do not generally use wands. As a result, her two years of African education corresponded to a bizarre mixture of different years under the UK wand-based system. Therefore, despite being old enough to enter the Third Year at Hogwarts, she was Sorted and Enrolled into the First Year. Even more confusingly, although she attended mostly First Year Gryffindor classes, she also had a few Second, Third and even Fourth Year classes (thanks to Uagadou’s well-known pre-eminence in Potions and Alchemy) which (due to scheduling conflicts) were sometimes with students from other Houses. As a result she had made friends with girls across all of those academic years and all Houses. Her closest friends, for example, were Leanne (from Hufflepuff) and Katie Bell who (despite being very close to Romilda’s age) were officially two and three years ahead of her, respectively.

Romilda was now in her Fourth Year at Hogwarts, so most people thought she was 14. But when she boarded the Hogwarts Express two days ago, she was actually 16, and as of this morning she had just turned 17. Romilda honestly didn’t understand how anyone could possibly think she was 14. She didn’t look 14 and didn’t behave 14... Well, not usually. Admittedly her experience with boys (or lack thereof) was more akin to that of her dorm-mates than girls her own age, but apart from that she behaved quite maturely. Still, most people seemed content to think that she was 14, despite the fact that Witch Weekly had said she was 16 when they interviewed her about Harry’s emancipation a month ago. Her dorm mates knew better of course. In fact, as a much older and wiser person, when she was with them Romilda served as their de-facto leader. But the rest of the school seemed content to assume that all Fourth Years were 14, without exception.

Katie (who was now a 7th year, damn her) thought the whole thing was hilarious. She found it particularly comical that Romilda’s not-at-all-secret crush, Harry Potter, treated Romilda like she was two years younger than him when in fact Romilda was almost a year older. Katie would routinely tease Romilda about her ‘boy toy’ and accuse her of being a ‘cradle-snatcher’. The fact that Harry was now legally an adult and therefore (as Witch Weekly had pointed out) ‘fair game’ had not deterred Katie in the slightest.

Romilda ruminated on these frustrating issues as she changed her sopping knickers. It was all extremely galling.

Maybe she should take up Quidditch like Katie? That would provide her with more opportunities to flirt with Harry, in a situation where he couldn’t easily escape. Apparently the girls’ Quidditch Changing Rooms were even equipped with a massive communal bath like the one in the Prefects’ Bathroom, which would certainly provide an interesting venue for a secret one-on-one tryst. (Bizarrely, the female Quidditch players seemed to use it exclusively for all-female after-match parties. What a bunch of amateurs!) Sadly Romilda was useless on a broom, but perhaps it was worth a try anyway...

Amazingly, Katie had never even tried it on with Harry, because (Katie claimed) she still thought of Harry as the ‘adorable little bambino’ he’d been in his first year. Romilda found it very hard to imagine Harry as a bambino. When she arrived at Hogwarts he was starting his third year, and was already the subject of some extremely wild rumours (involving rescuing a girl from a troll, fighting a giant three-headed dog, the mysterious disappearance of the Defence Professor, a flying car, rescuing a girl from the Chamber of Secrets, and the mysterious disappearance of another Defence Professor). Romilda hadn’t believed a word of it of course. She put the whole thing down to the over-active imaginations of her much younger and rather excitable year-mates. Sure enough, her first year (Harry’s third) had not produced any obvious signs of gallantry. An escaped convict called Sirius Black (cool name!) had repeatedly attempted to infiltrate the school (apparently to kill Harry) and Dementors had disrupted a Quidditch match, but that was all. Subsequently it had even transpired (according to an interview Harry gave to the Quibbler a few days ago) that Sirius Black was actually Harry’s Godfather and Harry had been in no danger whatsoever.

It was in Romilda’s second year (Harry’s fourth) that she finally saw what all the fuss was about. Harry somehow got entered into the Triwizard Tournament... and in no time at all he was fighting dragons, rescuing girls from a watery grave, and defeating three much older champions to win. It was so breathtakingly heroic that Romilda (along with half the girls in Hogwarts) had been smitten on the spot.

Romilda sighed. That’s when her infatuation with Harry had started... and now it was a full-blown obsession.

Harry and Auror Tonks had left the Common Room immediately after Tonks’ announcement that ‘then we killed them all’ and disappeared up the boys’ staircase. The two heroes had apparently said all they were going to say on the matter, leaving the students of Gryffindor in complete uproar.

Romilda herself had immediately fled up the girls’ stairs. The situation in her underwear had required immediate attention and it wasn’t helped by the suspicion that Harry and Tonks were now upstairs shagging like jackrabbits.

The one saving grace was that, as of this morning, Romilda had her own Jackrabbit.

She’d quickly donned her nightwear, jumped into bed, and firmly closed the curtains. Around her dorm the other girls were doing the same. She stared into space for a few minutes, trying to get her racing heart under control. But it was no good.

Fuck it!

Lifting her legs in the air, Romilda hastily slid her panties over her hips, down her legs and off her feet. She discarded them on the corner of her bed. After a moment’s hesitation, she sat up and yanked her t-shirt off over her head as well and threw it on top of her knickers. She would need to be completely naked for this, she knew. Nothing else would do. She’d never been so horny in her entire life, and she would definitely need access to her tits to get the most out of what she was about to do.

The events in the Common Room kept playing over and over in her mind, making her insanely wet once again. With a frustrated growl, Romilda reached under her pillow and pulled out the birthday present her Mum had sent her this morning and re-read the card:

My dearest darling Romilda,
Happy 17th Birthday to my beautiful daughter!
You’re a grown woman now, and a woman has needs.
Luckily I saw this and knew you’d love it. Enjoy!
(Explanation overleaf.)
Love Mum. xxx

Her mother had even drawn two little winky faces. Romilda rolled her eyes. For a pureblood Witch her mother was very progressive, but Romilda had the distinct feeling that the more grown-up person in their relationship was Romilda herself.

She set the card aside and opened up the box. Inside was a luxurious purple velvet bag, tied at the top with gold string. Romilda had already looked inside (thankfully without her dorm mates watching) so she knew what it was.

Her mother’s present, it turned out, was called a ‘Jackrabbit’.

According to the information scroll included with it, the Jackrabbit was the magical version of a Muggle device called a ‘Rabbit vibrator' that became very popular among upper-middle-class Muggle women in the late 1980’s.

The Muggle version was shaped like a five inch cock, but with a second smaller shaft branching off the top of the first. At the tip of that second shaft were a couple of rubber prongs shaped like tiny rabbit ears. Those were cunningly designed to vibrate either side of a woman’s clitoris and send her absolutely crazy. The Rabbit was the first sex toy to stimulate a woman’s vagina and clit at the same time and it caused an absolute sensation. But that wasn’t all! There were beads set inside the base of the shaft which would form rotating lumps to stretch and stimulate the opening of the vagina. The shaft could also swirl around inside the woman, like a wand stirring a cauldron, continuously stimulating the inside of the vagina. The whole thing was absolute genius, and it worked better than any sex toy previously invented. In fact it worked so well that many women preferred to have sex with their Rabbit than their husband. There was a noticeable increase in the muggle divorce rate as a result.

There had so far been three Magical versions based on the Muggle original.

The First Magical Edition had been called a Rabbit too, just like the Muggle version, and had worked exactly the same way, except that it was powered by magic instead of batteries. An enterprising pureblood Witch by the name of Ophelia Quimm had managed to reproduce the functions of the Muggle Rabbit using charms, and distributed the product discreetly through wealthy pureblood social circles. The charmed device had become an extremely well-kept secret among female purebloods, adding an element of exclusivity which Romilda heartily approved of. It delighted her that the muggleborns and half-blood girls probably didn’t even know that these existed. She also knew that the magic that went into producing these things was extremely complex, so the supply would always be limited. If all the muggleborn and half-blood witches suddenly started wanting one the already-steep price would go through the roof.

The Second Magical Edition of the product had been dubbed the ‘Jackrabbit’. It was a vast improvement on the original because it added four extra features. First, you could tap on the left of the shaft to increase the speed of vibration, and on the right to increase the power (and the speed of the “swirling”). Both of these functions had ten levels (but when Romilda turned it on this morning, level one had been so powerful that she couldn’t imagine getting anywhere near ten). Second, you could tap the rabbit head to select one of twenty ‘modes’ for the vibrating ears. These varied from a simple on-off buzzing pattern at various strengths, to increasingly complex repeating patterns of varying strength and duration. Romilda had no idea which to chose so she intended to select the one that cycled through the entire range of available patterns one after the other. Third, the cock would warm up to normal body temperature, which made it much more comfortable and realistic to use.

But the thing that really differentiated a Jackrabbit from a Rabbit was the fourth new feature: if you tapped your wand on the base of the device it would start thrusting in and out of your vagina. This was not something the Muggle version would ever be fully capable of. But the magical one could move of its own accord, leaving your hands free to squeeze your tits or whatever, and giving you a more convincing feeling that there was actually a second person involved.

Further taps on the base would switch between twenty different ‘modes’ of penetration, where the amount by which the cock pulled back and then thrust forward could vary in depth and frequency, or do so in a number of repeating patterns. Romilda had read the descriptions this morning and one of them had made her heart pound in excitement. Mode #7 involved the cock pulling out of the vagina completely, hovering in mid air for a moment, and then plunging back in. She probably wouldn’t be able to do that straight away, but once her snatch was suitably lubricated she was determined to try it. Naturally she would imagine Harry ramming into her at that point, which would quickly tip her over the edge.

So that was the original Jackrabbit, which (if Romilda was any judge) her mother had been using for years.

Ophelia Quimm had released a few ‘special editions’, including the ‘Junior Jackrabbit’ model for teenage witches (which was a bit smaller) and some designer colours. But that was basically it. The design hadn’t really changed for years...

Until two weeks ago, that is, when Ophelia had astounded the pureblood Witch population with a brand new product.

The Third Edition of the product was called the Harry Potter Wonder Willy (Special Edition Jackrabbit).

Romilda couldn’t believe it really existed, but apparently it was 100% legit. Her mother had explained everything on the back of her card:

The Wonder Willy was launched the day after Harry was declared to be the Chosen One and emancipated, which seems a very unlikely coincidence to me. Ophelia Quimm has clearly seized the opportunity to capitalise on Harry’s sudden popularity and adult status. Ophelia is extremely secretive about the details, but she has apparently gone into partnership with a mysterious pair of secret investors. They have somehow managed to get hold of some hair from Harry Potter’s head and created a polyjuice which allows them to turn into Harry. (Ophelia saw them transform with her own eyes.) One of the fake Harry’s then stripped so that Ophelia could use a Copying Spell to create a Jackrabbit that was modelled exactly on Harry Potter’s actual erect penis, accurate down to the tiniest detail. This and all of Ophelia’s products are now being marketed as part of a Joint Venture with her new investors. They call it the ‘Wanton Witch’ range of products.

Whenever Ophelia announces this to potential clients (at pureblood Witches’ tea parties) the first question is always the same: ‘How did you get his cock erect?’ To which Ophelia replies, ‘By sucking on it’. I don’t know if that’s true (I suspect not) but it always causes much squealing delight among her audience. The second response is then, ‘Why should we believe that it’s really Harry Potter’s cock? Prove it!’

Fortunately Ophelia’s secret investors anticipated this and are providing her with a steady supply of Polyjuice. Ophelia simply takes a quick swig and turns into Harry Potter for five minutes. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Unfortunately demands for her to strip are always refused. But that just serves to increase the audience’s desire to see and buy the product. They are not disappointed – Harry’s cock is beautiful... and rather large! It’s so large that Ophelia sells it in a range of smaller sizes. I bought you the smallest, because I know you’re still waiting for the right boy to pop your cherry.

Romilda cringed, but her mother was right. If this Wonder Willy was any larger Romilda would struggle to accommodate it.

Unlike the standard Jackrabbit, which was available in a range of bright colours, the Harry Potter Wonder Willy only came in one colour: Harry’s cock’s actual skin tone. Romilda had spent a wonderful hour this morning becoming intimately familiar with every square millimetre of Harry’s gorgeous manhood – it’s rich dark-pink overall complexion, how the pigmentation varied from top to bottom (including the darker stripe that ran along the ridge on the underside of his shaft), the beautifully upward-curving shape, the perfectly proportioned contours of his helmet, and every turn of the thick twisting veins that ran up the sides. Harry’s penis truly was a work of art.

The only thing the wonderful device didn’t do was ejaculate, which Romilda thought was a shame. How hard could it be to have Harry’s Jackrabbit conjure a warm jizz-like substance at the appropriate moment and squirt it out the end? Romilda planned to write to Ophelia Quimm to request it, though she worried what it might cost. The standard Jackrabbit cost a hundred galleons but the Harry Potter Wonder Willy cost a thousand. A thousand!!! It was so insanely expensive that only a very few purebloods could afford it. Romilda blessed the day that her gold-digging mother had married her wealthy father, because the Harry Potter Wonder Willy was already her most prized possession.

She could wait no longer! Dropping the scroll back in the box, Romilda retrieved the velvet bag and emptied it out onto her waiting palm. Oh sweet Merlin! It was as glorious as she remembered! For several minutes she simply caressed it lovingly, knowing that Harry’s cock was shaped exactly like this one, and imagining that he was actually here with her. But the desire to actually try it out was eventually too much to resist. She was as horny as hell and needed some sort of release.

Romilda tapped the Wonder Willy with her wand. It began to vibrate quietly, and rapidly warmed up to body temperature. With her heart pounding fiercely, Romilda lifted her knees and slid the Wonder Willy down her stomach, across her pubic hair, and down between her legs. The head of the Willy instantly found her pussy lips and she moaned in pleasure. She was so wet down there that the tip of Harry’s cock slid straight down the valley between her sopping labia, easily pushing them aside and, before she could stop it, plunged two inches straight into her vagina.

Romilda gasped as her entrance stretched to accommodate the gloriously proportioned head of Harry’s fabulous cock.

“Oh God, that feels so good,” she moaned.

So this is what it felt like to have a boy’s cock inside her! No wonder the older girls raved about it. This felt so much nicer than using her fingers! For a good thirty seconds Romilda just left it there, enjoying the feel of Harry’s marvellously warm dick stretching her entrance.

But she soon wanted more, and didn’t want to be doing the work herself, so she tapped the base of the Willy with her wand and let go of it. Harry’s cock immediately took on a life of its own. It slid slowly half way out of her, and then pressed gently back into her again, going three inches deep this time.

“Oh God yes!” she cried, closing her eyes and picturing Harry lying on top of her, thrusting his glorious penis slowly into her pussy. It felt incredible! “Take me Harry!” she whispered. “I’m yours! Take me!”

As if obeying her instructions, the fantastic device pulled almost all the way out of her and then dove gently back inside, stretching her entrance muscles even more as it plunged four inches into her vagina. Oh sweet Merlin! It felt so damned good!

“Deeper Harry, deeper!” she gasped breathlessly.

Right on cue, Harry’s cock pulled almost all the way out, and then pressed inexorably back into her. It was only going five inches deep, she knew, but it felt like so much more. Even this small version of Harry’s cock had a girth that she struggled to accommodate. If she ever managed to get Harry to fuck her for real she would need to cast a shrinking charm on his cock or he’d split her in two.

The wondrous device finally came to a stop and she sighed in rapturous delight. For the first time ever, she had something resembling a penis inside her, and it had been much easier to accommodate it than she feared. Hearing about Harry’s bravery earlier had turned her on more than anything she’d ever experienced before. As a result, she was wetter than she’d ever been, but it wasn’t just that. She felt bigger inside, as if her snatch was so hungry that it had opened wide to invite Harry in. And it felt amazing! Harry’s dick truly was a Wonder Willy.

Before she was really ready, Harry’s penis was on the move again. It pulled back slowly (seeming to take forever it was so deep within her) and then... marvellously, gloriously, it pushed back inside. Unable to stop herself, Romilda grabbed a knee in each hand and pulled her thighs as far apart as they would go. This exposed her vulva and stretched her pussy wide, allowing the Willy to penetrate her more easily.

She groaned in pleasure, “Oh fuck yes! Yes!”

She bent forwards, curling up with her head almost between her knees. On and on the cock descended, stretching her wider and wider, plunging deeper and deeper, inch after delicious inch.

Romilda’s eyes fluttered open, staring down between her legs in wonder. If anyone saw her in such a wildly un-lady-like position, with her tanned thighs spread wide and a large flesh-coloured cock buried deep inside her vagina, she’d be absolutely mortified. But sweet Merlin it felt so good!

Beyond the dark black inverted trapezoid of her neatly-trimmed pubic hair, Romilda could see the shaft of the Jackrabbit stretching her labia further and further apart as it pushed ever deeper into her body. She imagined that it was Harry’s real dick and moaned in delight. She began panting and had to brace herself against the pressure of Harry’s girth opening her up. Somehow she found the discomfort massively erotic.

Nearly there, she told herself, nearly there... And then, with a huge inward gasp, she frantically pressed her wand to the base of the Willy and held it there. Harry’s cock came to a halt six inches deep inside her and stopped moving. The head of his penis was brushing up against the dome of her cervix delightfully and the vibrating ears of the rabbit were now perfectly positioned to burrow their way under the hood covering her clit.

OH MY GOD! Why had she been using her fingers all this time when she could have been feeling like this?

Romilda cried out again as the rabbit ears quickly tunnelled into position either side of her clitoris and began working their magic.

FUCK!” she gasped loudly, letting go of her knees. Her head and her feet flopped back onto the bed, leaving her lying naked on her back with her knees raised and her vagina filled to capacity by the amazing magical toy.

Holy shit! The rabbit ears were doing crazy things to her clit, while the rotating beads in the base of the shaft started stimulating the opening of her vagina in the most delightfully weird way. It felt incredible, and for a few minutes she just lay there revelling in the sublime sensations emanating from her pussy. How had she never known that she could feel like this? It was like she was discovering her body for the first time. What other secrets her body had been keeping from her? Romilda had to know!

So she tapped her wand on the left side then the right. The vibrations increased in speed and power, and the tip of the penis began swirling around inside her.

She couldn’t help it – an uncontrollable and extremely undignified guttural croak escaped her, “Guuuuuuh!”

Intense waves of tingling began radiating out from her pelvic region, while tiny little fireworks went off in her clit. A feeling of tremendous fulfilment spread out from her entrance muscles until it suffused her entire body. A violent shudder wracked her from head to foot and goose-bumps rose on every square millimetre of her flesh. Romilda could hardly believe it, but there was no question in her mind that she was already headed towards a truly gigantic climax. She could literally just lie back now and do absolutely nothing, safe in the knowledge that an amazing orgasm was absolutely guaranteed. What an incredible device!

This certainly never happened when she used her hand! Much of the time her climax would evaporate away to nothing at the very last second, leaving her intensely frustrated. Or it would fizzle away into a very disappointing half-orgasm-half-not. On the rare occasions she’d manage to have an actual orgasm it wasn’t exactly the stuff of legends. She’d give it maybe a two-out-of-ten for intensity and a one-out-of-ten for duration. I mean seriously, cumming for five seconds was hardly worth the half-hour of effort that went into it!

Romilda’s nether regions were aflame with arousal now. Waves of euphoria were sweeping over her, and an orgasm was fast approaching. But Romilda desperately wanted to get the absolute most of this that she could, so she rapidly tapped the rabbit head twelve times. This selected the mode of clitoral stimulation that cycled through all the various patterns, starting with the gentlest, and working up to the most brutal. Her arousal dipped slightly as the rabbit-ear vibrations faded to almost nothing. Then she tapped the shaft on the left and the right, boosting the speed and strength of the shaft’s vibrations to 2-out-of-10, and also increasing the speed at which it swirled around inside her to 2-out-of-10.

“Oh yeah, oh yeah, that’s it!” she moaned.

Holy CRAP! It felt so strong! How the hell did anyone get to ten?!?!

The urgency of her approaching climax had reduced somewhat, but the intensity of the waves of pleasure sweeping over her absolutely soared. It felt glorious! Romilda grabbed the bed covers with clenched hands, her knuckles turning white, and writhed in delight. For several fabulous seconds she luxuriated in the heavenly effect the Wonder Willy was having on her naked teenage body. She had never experienced anything even remotely like this, and was instantly addicted. Why would she attend classes when she could be doing this?

To her enormous surprise, the increasingly forceful buzzing of the rabbit-ears on her clitoris soon overwhelmed the bliss in her vagina and monopolised her attention once more.

bbbbbbbBBBB BB BB bbbbbbbBBBBBB BB BB bbbbbbbBBBBBBBB BB BB!

Oh sweet mother! Those vibrations felt fucking incredible!

bzzzZZZZ bzz bzz bzzzzzZZZZZZ bzz bzz bzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZ bzz bzz!

Romilda’s eyes rolled back in her head. HOLY CRAP!

bbbzzz BBBBZZZZ BBBBBZZZZZ ZZZZZBBBBB ZZZZBBBB zzzbbb BZ BZ!

A strangled gurgle escaped her lips and, entirely against her will, Romilda rolled onto her side and curled up into a ball. It was too much; she couldn’t take it! If her clitoris could make a sound it would be screaming for mercy right now. But the rabbit ears were relentless. They played with her clit like a cat plays with a mouse: implacable and utterly devoid of remorse.

She was now completely at the mercy of the magical device buried inside her.

The sex toy had become the master, and Romilda had become the sex toy.

In a frenzy of tortured delight Romilda rolled from one side to the other, clutching her arms around her shins and whimpering pitifully. Fortunately, thanks to the clever charms upon it, the Wonder Willy remained firmly embedded despite her contortions, so her divine torture continued uninterrupted.

bzzzz bzzzZ bzzZZ bzZZZ bZZZZ! bzzzz bzzzZ bzzZZ bzZZZ bZZZZ!

The naked raven-haired teen gasped in rapturous agony. Oh God! She was going to cum! She was going to cum!

With a supreme effort of will she flopped onto her back and frantically ran her hands over the bed searching for her wand. She’d let go of it at some point. Yes! There! Thank Merlin! She grabbed it and swept it towards the magical cock that was currently impaling her, but the device was too fast for her.

bbbbbzzzzz BBBBZZZZ BZ BZ BZ bbbbbzzzzz BBBBZZZZ BZ BZ BZ!

She lost control of her limbs again as massive wave of pre-orgasmic ecstasy swept through her.

FUCKING HELL, she was in heaven! But wait...

No! No! No! No! No! No! She wanted more! She wasn’t ready for it to be over!

With a massive effort she rammed her wand onto the rabbit head and held it there as if her life depended on it... and thank the Lord, the damned ears stopped buzzing! But there was no time to wait! She was on the cusp of her climax, so she frantically tapped the base of the cursed device seven times and then fell limply to the bed in exhaustion.

“YES!” she cried out in triumph.

She’d done it! She’d set it to Penetration Mode #7. Now all she had to do was bend her legs and lift her hips slightly... yes, just like that... and then wait.

Literally the moment that thought crossed her mind the Wonder Willy stopped swirling around inside her and began to glow. Romilda hadn’t been expecting that, so she was rather alarmed. Sadly there was very little she could do about it. Her climax was so close! She couldn’t bear to stop now. So she looked-on in anxious wonder as the entire cock, even the part buried inside her, began to emit a devilishly sexual reddish-pink glow. Soon the sharp outline of the Wonder Willy was clearly visible inside her body, along with the pinkly-illuminated outline of the widely-stretched internal walls of her vagina.

Romilda goggled. She could see where the Wonder Willy was inside her! And what it was doing to the walls of her vagina! She almost came right then and there. But her fascination was sufficient distraction to prevent it. This must be like the glow from a Revelio Spell, she realised. My God! Ophelia Quimm certainly didn’t believe in half measures! Being able to see what Harry’s cock was doing to her insides was a massive turn-on.

Then it started to move. Romilda was thoroughly mesmerised as the glowing cock slowly pulled out of her, and the walls of her vagina closed together behind it. When it finally it pulled free and hovered serenely in mid air six inches from her body, Romilda suffered another bout of involuntary shuddering. She felt suddenly chilly and empty, but knew it would only be for a moment. She quickly adjusted her position slightly to get more comfortable and rammed a pillow under her bum. The floating dildo followed her movements, keeping itself aimed straight at the mouth of her vagina. She had very little time to marvel at that before Harry’s cock reoriented itself and dove towards her.

Romilda braced herself for impact, but there was none. The entire cock buried itself inside her with barely a hint of resistance. Nevertheless, the stretching of her entrance and her insides (which Romilda could both feel and see!) had a dramatic effect. A massive wave of bliss exploded from her pelvis. Romilda went completely cross-eyed and flopped back onto the bed, spluttering incoherently.

“Ghuuuuuurgh!”

Before she could even recover, the glowing penis slurped its way out of her body and hovered six inches away, pointing at her inflamed and gaping lady-garden like a heat-seeking missile. Romilda tried to get her eyes under control before the floating dick rammed into her once more, but failed. It buried itself up to the hilt once again and the world span. The wand fell from her numb fingers and landed somewhere on the bed, instantly forgotten.

Oh sweet Merlin, she thought to herself as an intoxicating tidal wave of joy swept through her. I think I’m going to die! My heart is going to burst! They’re going to find me in the morning, stark naked with a fake cock ramming into my spread-eagled corpse.

But there was nothing she could do about it. She was utterly helpless. She had become a slave to Harry’s dick, and had no choice but to let it do whatever it wanted with her. For some reason that thought – of Harry doing what he wanted to her – turned her on enormously. Her vagina muscles contracted in delight, squeezing the penis inside her like a block in a vice. But the charms on the Jackrabbit were too strong. The Wonder Willy swiftly overwhelmed her clenched muscles and leapt free with a loud slurp, then it reversed course immediately and rammed back into her.

“Oooooof!” she gasped, but again had no time to recover. The mode she had chosen was the one that gave the Jackrabbit its name: the magical knob was charmed to penetrate her repeatedly from six inches away at an increasing rate. On the highest setting it would go faster than any human possibly could, ramming into her like a Jackhammer. Fortunately it was set on the lowest speed, so it was quite gentle, but she was still completely overwhelmed. In her mind, this was how a proper man like Harry would take her, and she absolutely loved it!

All rational thought left her as Harry’s cock pressed into her body over and over. Reality and fantasy blurred into one, and she was no longer consciously aware that it was a fake cock ploughing her body rather than real Harry’s actual penis. Pussy juices started pouring from her vagina in a steady river as her climax approached. Fountains of syrupy goo erupted all over her thighs and mound and stomach each time Harry yanked himself out, but Romilda was too far gone to notice.

The helpless teen couldn’t believe what was happening. Harry was so amazing! His dick felt so good! She had never felt so alive! Her body sang with joy at the effect he was having on it. Her breasts, so long neglected, suddenly cried out for attention. She grabbed one in each hand, squeezing them brutally and pinching her rock-hard nipples.

A fresh tsunami of deliciously sharp pain and pleasure assailed her, tossing her enslaved body around like a rag doll, while the Jackhammer ploughed into her relentlessly. Over and over it penetrated her, merciless in its dedication to defiling her virginal teenage snatch.

Abruptly, Romilda Vane was lost.

Gone.

Swept away in an unrelenting sensual overload...

Her clit and her vagina both sang like tuning forks, emitting a pure and overwhelming note of ecstasy that resonated through every cell in her body. Her entire being trembled with pre-orgasmic bliss. For several long seconds she floated, suspended weightlessly upon the advancing crest of her approaching climax.

And then finally... with savage ferocity...

Her entire pelvis exploded in a brutally powerful and exquisitely sweet orgasm.

Romilda Vane’s mind and body parted company. She tried to scream, but her throat wouldn’t respond and no sound came out. For an indeterminate amount of time she was simply lost to the world, cast adrift on an endless sea of elation. It was easily the most powerful climax she’d ever had. She’d never felt anything like it. Wave after wave of overwhelmingly acute joy swept over her. On and on it went, longer than any orgasm she’d ever had.

It was incredible, astounding, heavenly, spiritual... Words couldn’t describe it... Words lost all meaning...

It felt like she was afloat in that wondrous paradise for hours, and she was perfectly content to remain. But very gradually, over a period of minutes, the world slowly came back into focus.

Romilda became aware that Harry’s cock was still sliding in and out of her. It felt wonderful but it was too much! Her entire body was tingling, her tits felt like they were on fire, she couldn’t feel her legs, and her hands weren’t working properly. She had to stop it!

After three attempts she finally managed to slap her palms over her vagina just as the Wonder Willy slammed into her, trapping it in place. The crazy little device wriggled inside her, struggling frantically to work its way free, which made her go cross-eyed again, but she held on long enough to find her wand and switch the damned thing off.

FUCK ME!” she gasped, collapsing back onto the bed with Harry’s cock still inside her. “Fuck me!

That was crazy! Insane! Incredible! And thoroughly life-changing.

“Erm, Romilda...” one of her dorm mates whispered shyly from outside the four-poster’s curtains, “are you okay?”

Romilda’s eyes went wide. OH SHIT! She’d forgotten to cast a privacy charm. SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!

“Yes I’m fine!” she called out, thoroughly mortified.

“Okay,” her dorm mate replied uncertainly, “Night then.”

“Yes goodnight!” Romilda replied, while frantically sliding the Jackrabbit out of her vagina and hiding it under a pillow.

Her face was burning. She’d spoken to one of her dorm-mates while she had a fake cock up herself! How demeaning! Not to mention all the sounds they would have heard. CRAP! She would just have to brazen it out tomorrow and pretend nothing had happened. Shitting hell! At least nobody had seen anything! Romilda would have died of shame!

Trying to put that humiliating experience from her mind, Romilda focussed on the fact that she’d just had the most incredible orgasm of her entire life, and the reason it had been so intense was very clear: Harry Potter had made her insanely horny, and then fucked her brains out. Or at least his cock had.

But it wasn’t just his cock that she craved. It was the whole heroic package. For some reason his death-defying adventures sent her teenage hormones completely wild, in a way that nothing else could match. She had to have him! She wanted to kiss him and caress him and suck his gorgeous cock until he went cross-eyed... and then she wanted him to fuck her teenage brains out for real.

The very thought of it made her vagina contract in delight.

But how?

Harry could have his pick of women, and had probably shagged a fair few, so she would need some unique feature to catch his eye: something original that he hadn’t experienced already. Granger, for example, with that mousy-brown bog-brush on her head and oversized front teeth had the ‘electrocuted beaver’ look covered. (Romilda refused to acknowledge that Granger’s hair was sleek and shiny these days, or that she’d fixed her teeth and was now extremely beautiful.) Auror Tonks’ hair had been pink, of all things... which was admittedly an inspired choice since it clearly got Harry’s attention (along with every other boy in Hogwarts)... but that left the field wide open for Romilda to give Harry some exotic raven-haired action. Romilda was the only girl in his orbit with long flowing curls of jet-black hair.

Or she had been until today, when the metamorph had suddenly stolen Romilda’s thunder! THE BITCH!

So now what?

Maybe Romilda should turn her hair red like Jessica Rabbit? Human transfiguration wasn’t taught until what... fifth or sixth year? She couldn’t remember which. Either way, she didn’t know how to do it. But she could use Muggle hair dye for now. The ‘curtains wouldn’t match the carpet’ of course, but by the time Harry discovered that he’d be putty in her hands. Anyway, in a dark broom cupboard he might not even notice that her pussy hair was jet black. Or she could shave her pussy bald? Yes, that was the solution! Perfect! She smiled.

No, wait. The smile fell from her face. Damn it! That cheap tramp Ginny Weasley was already pitching for the redhead slot, and Harry regularly stayed at the floozy’s house during the holidays. Romilda couldn’t compete with that! In fact it was common knowledge that Ginny Weasley had screwed half the boys in Hogwarts so most likely she’d shagged Harry already and that slot was filled.

So what was left? Blonde? Yes, Romilda could become a blonde. Harry didn’t seem to know any blondes, so...

No, wait... God damn it, he did! That daft hippie Ravenclaw chick! What was her name? Loony Lovegood! Oh for fuck’s sake! Even the girl’s name was an invitation for Harry to shag her.

Merlin’s saggy testicles! Every single one of these girls had an unfair advantage! It was infuriating! I mean seriously, Romilda wasn’t looking to marry the guy. She just wanted to shag him. Was that too much to ask?

No, Romilda would need an unfair advantage of her own she now realised... but what?

The answer came to her immediately – the Love Potion she’d bought at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes over the summer! She’d even seen Harry in there on the day she bought it, and had been thinking of him at the time. It was an omen!

A gleeful smile spread over her face and she sighed in anticipation. The next time she lay naked enjoying this post-orgasmic tingling between her legs, it would be because Harry had just finished pounding his fabulous cock into her. Well... maybe not the next time. She would certainly be using this toy again very soon (assuming she could walk tomorrow). But someday in the near future it would be Harry’s real cock ploughing her. Yes, very soon...

Two minutes later she’d perfected her plan. All she would need was a box of Firewhisky-filled Chocolate Cauldrons and a hypodermic syringe to inject the Love Potion...

Romilda finally sat up in preparation for climbing under the covers, and discovered that the entire lower half of her body was covered in pussy juice. WHAT THE FUCK HAD HAPPENED HERE?!?!

- § -

Harry Potter lurched bolt-upright in bed.

Tonks was asleep two feet to his left. She’d transformed back into her blue-haired teen body before undressing for bed in the hope that she’d wake up that way. Sadly she’d turned back into Bella-Tonks within seconds of falling asleep.

But that’s not what startled Harry awake. He’d been woken by the most extraordinary dream.

It had started out as a bit of a nightmare. Madam Pomfrey was chasing him through the corridors claiming she needed to do a ‘full examination’. Then suddenly he found himself lying on a four-poster bed staring down at a gorgeous girl’s naked body. From the angle, it was clear that he was looking at the scene from the point-of-view of the girl herself, as if he was inside her mind.

He definitely wasn’t complaining though. This was infinitely better than dealing with Madam Pomfrey, and whoever this girl was, she had a rocking body. She had small but beautiful breasts with erect and firm-looking nipples, a flawless concave stomach, narrow waist, slim hips, and a cracking mound with a beautifully shaped block of jet-black pubic hair.

Interestingly, there were no tan lines in evidence anywhere on her body. No wait, that wasn’t quite true. Just above and to the right of her pubic hair, where it would be hidden by her knickers, there was a tiny little heart-shaped area of much paler skin. She must have had a heart-shaped sticker or something there while she lay naked in the sun... and now she’d removed it.

Who was this bold girl, Harry wondered?

While he was trying to figure that out the girl’s hand floated into their shared field of vision, holding what looked like a very realistic (but disembodied) human cock. No, wait. It had a weird second mini-cock branching off the top, with two little rabbit-like ‘ears’ on the end. What the hell?

Harry watched in shocked fascination as the girl slid the fake penis between her legs and up inside herself. Holy crap! The girl was fucking herself with a fake cock! Harry could hardly believe what he was seeing.

Did girls really do that sort of thing?!?!

It seemed incredibly unlikely, but if not then Harry’s subconscious mind was totally perverted for making this stuff up!

Harry certainly couldn’t rule that out, because he was finding this scene massively erotic. For some reason that he couldn’t explain, the sight of a girl pleasuring herself was a massive turn-on. God, he was such a fucking deviant!

“Oh God, that feels so good,” the girl moaned breathlessly.

Her voice sounded familiar, but Harry couldn’t quite place it.

Just when he thought the dream couldn’t get any weirder (or any more depraved) the girl tapped her wand to the base of the fake cock and then let go of it. Harry watched in astonishment as the weird little device started sliding in and out of her all on its own.

Sweet Merlin, it was fucking her! The fake cock was fucking her!

“Oh God yes!” the girl cried out and her vision went dark.

She’d closed her eyes, Harry realised. But then he started receiving vivid pictures of himself lying on top of her, thrusting into her.

“Take me Harry!” the girl gasped, “I’m yours! Take me!” and then, “Deeper Harry, deeper!”

Whoa! Whoever this super-hot girl was, she was picturing herself shagging him!

As if on command, the device did exactly what she’d said, plunging deeper and deeper, sending her into raptures of delight. Moments later her eyes fluttered open again and presented Harry with an awesome spectacle. Her tanned thighs were spread wide and the fake cock was buried deep inside her vagina. She’d pulled her hips up so her pussy entrance was very much on display. Harry could now see that her pubic hair was sculpted slightly wider at the top of her mound, and then narrowed until it blended perfectly with the short black fuzz on her outer pussy lips. It looked absolutely exquisite, like a work of pussy-mounted art. Meanwhile, the shaft of the fake dick was stretching her labia further and further apart as it pushed ever deeper inside her.

What a beautiful sight! Harry absolutely loved it. (It was becoming increasingly clear that Harry would never tire of admiring girls’ pussies. He was such a despicable perv!)

With a tap of her wand the girl brought the magical willy to a halt, but then more taps set it to vibrating and buzzing, with those weird rabbit-ears tickling the bud at the top of her entrance and... Harry shook his head in disbelief... the shaft had started swirling around inside her while some beads massaged her entrance! Unbelievable! You couldn’t make this stuff up!

Within moments the girl was a jabbering mess, completely overwhelmed. Harry absent-mindedly clamped-down on the connection, preventing the girl’s approaching climax from affecting him, but then she did something surprising. She stopped the vibrations that had given her so much pleasure and tapped the fake knob seven times. Then she planted her feet firmly on the bed, lifted her hips and waited.

For several seconds nothing happened. Then the devilish device started to glow a bright reddish-pink. But this was the magical glow of a Revelio Spell, Harry realised. It would be visible only to the caster (or in this case the person who tapped the device with a wand... and anyone who happened to be inside her head, like Harry was right now).

Harry goggled at being able to see a cock that was buried inside a girl, but he also found it quite fascinating. He could see the effect it was having on her insides, which was remarkable. Also, if Harry didn’t know any better, he’d say that the thing had become ominously excited.

For that reason, Harry was surprised when the demonic device slowly drew itself out of the girl’s sopping wet flange and hovered in mid-air six inches from her body. But then the glowing dick plunged back into her, and proceeded to do so over and over, penetrating her repeatedly. The girl’s excitement rose higher and higher, far beyond the point where Harry thought she would climax. It was as if the device was stimulating her so effectively that her body wasn’t able to keep up. Her reactions were about ten seconds behind the stimulation producing them, which meant that when she did finally orgasm, it would be absolutely off the scale.

Harry finally realised what was going on. This was a sex toy!

Suddenly it all made sense. This is what Tonks had been talking about when she mentioned sex toys in the HOST acronym! And this is why they should always be used last: because they could do things no human was capable of. They could vibrate and swirl and move faster than a person ever could. All of which conspired to mean that they could not only give a woman an extra orgasm when it would otherwise be impossible, but if it was done right it would be a very powerful one! Harry was astounded. It was absolute genius!

A lesser man might feel slightly emasculated by the idea that a machine could give women a better orgasm than a man could, but Harry didn’t care about that. All he cared about was giving Tonks the best orgasms ever, and these toys opened up a whole new avenue of exploration. But also, now that he thought about it, she had said that multiple orgasms were best, and the HOST system was the way to achieve that. She had not said, ‘go straight to toys as soon as we’ve bought one’.

Furthermore, if there was a toy that did the same sort of thing for men, Harry would still want to have sex with Tonks, and would still absolutely love it. From the images in the mind of the girl currently having her brains fucked out, she seemed to agree, because in her fantasies it wasn’t a semi-animate object fucking her like a slow-motion jackhammer, it was Harry.

The girl grabbed her own fabulous breasts and started kneading them, while squirming frantically all over the bed. She’d completely lost control of herself, Harry realised, and probably wasn’t even aware that she was emitting choked gurgling noises as if she was being strangled. Admittedly those were quite hard to hear over the tremendously loud squelching noises coming from her sodden pussy though.

As if to emphasise that point, every withdrawal of the plunging knob began scooping out a vast fountain of the girl’s copious juices. They erupted from her vagina like a geyser, arcing up above her and then falling down like a fine sticky rain all over her thighs and mound and stomach.

Harry was astounded. Whoever this girl was, her pussy was producing vastly more girl-juice than he thought possible. Was she like Harry in that regard? Had some accidental magic in her adolescence gifted her with magically-enhanced privates like his?

He wondered what it would feel like to be inside someone as wet as her?

Finally, inevitably, the girl had an absolutely gigantic orgasm. It lasted for literally ages. In the dream, Harry actually checked his watch a couple of times just to be sure. Meanwhile, the girl was completely out of it, writhing and twitching like a lunatic, for a solid two minutes. It then took her another two minutes to realise that the demonic cock was still screwing her. Absolutely mental!

After three attempts, she finally managed to turn the thing off.

FUCK ME!” she gasped, collapsing back onto the bed with the fake cock still inside her. “Fuck me!

“Erm, Romilda...” said another girl from outside the bed’s curtains, “are you okay?”

- § -

The shock of that had ejected Harry from Romilda’s mind... which in turn had shocked him awake.

For several seconds Harry just sat there, astounded at the depravity of the dream his subconscious had just subjected him to. Well, no. Not subjected, he admitted to himself. He had actually enjoyed it immensely. But still. It was so twisted!

I mean seriously, as if a girl would shove a fake cock up herself! The very idea was ridiculous. Girls just didn’t do that sort of thing.

With that matter settled Harry lay back down, trying very hard not to think about dream-Romilda’s beautiful body. He did wonder if the real Romilda Vane was as smoking-hot as dream-Romilda though, and he did rather wish he’d been able to see her pretty face when she’d had that amazing orgasm.

Notes:

In canon, Romilda was clearly very keen on Harry and even resorted to giving him chocolates infused with a Love Potion. When Harry started dating Ginny, Romilda was annoyed for just a moment, but then stopped pursuing Harry. So she wasn’t as unprincipled as she seemed. What she did do was hound Ginny with questions about whether Harry had a hippogriff tattoo on his chest. One must therefore wonder... was her interest romantic (which seems unlikely) or purely physical? I think the latter.

After I wrote this chapter I discovered that there is in fact a Muggle rabbit vibrator called a Jackrabbit. I don’t know anything about it, but it’s obviously not what Romilda was using. Things have moved-on since 1996 and rabbit vibrators tend to be curved now for g-spot and clitoral ‘blended’ orgasms. They didn’t do that in 1996 though, so I haven’t included g-spot stimulation in this chapter. There are even ‘thrusting’ vibrators these days, where the internal part can get longer and shorter by a few centimetres. Obviously the way the magical one thrusts is more authentic, powerful and satisfying though. That’s what Ophelia Quimm claims anyway...

Chapter 44: Reactions

Notes:

I’m back! I won’t bore you with the details, but I am now able to dedicate some time to writing. I’m not sure how much, so I can’t commit to a specific timetable, but I’ll do my best to get a chapter out every 2-3 weeks. For now I have this one completed and the next one almost completed, so expect that to be published soon. After that we’ll have to wait and see.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

As Harry and Tonks disappeared up the stairs towards the Head Boy’s Room, Ron rounded on Hermione.

“He can’t tell us what happened for ‘security reasons’!?!?” The last two words were accompanied by air quotes. “What sort of bullshit is that?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione admitted. “It does seem a bit odd.”

“He must think we’re stupid!” Ron spat. “The way I see it, there are only two ways Harry could defeat a hundred Death Eaters single-handed. First option: He knows exactly what the ‘Power He Knows Not’ is, and it’s a spell so powerful that it can kill a hundred people at once. Second option: He used Dark Magic to kill those Death Eaters because he’s turning Dark.”

“Harry is not turning Dark!” Hermione shot back immediately. “And why do people keep saying it was single-handed? Tonks was there too! Is it because she’s a woman?”

“Oh, don’t get your feminist knickers in a twist Hermione!”

Hermione bristled, “Then keep your misogynistic opinions to yourself!”

“Who’s Miss Odd Gymnastic? Is that the alias Tonks is using for this new look? Miss Mad Psychotic would be more accurate.”

“I said ‘misogynistic’ not ‘Miss Odd Gymnastic’. It means— Oh never mind!”

Ron shrugged dismissively, “Whatever. Do you seriously think that Tonks killed a hundred Death Eaters?”

“No,” Hermione growled through gritted teeth, “but Tonks was present! And there must be an explanation for how they both did it...”

“Yeah, like what?”

“I don’t know yet, but there must be.”

“Face it Hermione, those are the only two options. How else could you explain it?”

“But this is Harry and Tonks we’re talking about! They’re our friends!”

“Not any more – they’ve both changed. You saw how Harry treated my family over the summer. He threatened us! But if he is still our friend, and he knows a spell that could save us all, why is he keeping it to himself?”

“Maybe he’s worried that if he teaches everyone the spell Voldemort will discover what it is and neutralise it.”

“I’m not suggesting that he teach everyone; just us – you and me – so we can protect our families. But nooooo, Mr ‘I’m So Special’ palms us off with some garbage about ‘Security Reasons’ instead. I’m telling you Hermione, either Harry is lying to our faces or he’s turned Dark. Irregardless, he’s not the friend we knew—”

“Irregardless isn’t a word, Ron.”

“Yes it is. People use it all the time. It means ‘either way’.”

“No it doesn’t. ‘Irregardless’ is either a portmanteau of ‘irrespective’ and ‘regardless’ or a double-negative of ‘regarding’. Its status as a legitimate word is disproved by the fact that it’s used an a synonym of ‘regardless’ when it’s clearly an antonym—”

Oh my God!” Ron howled. “Give it a rest will you? Nobody cares! The point is that we need to stay away from Harry. Look at the effect he’s had on Tonks!”

“I’ll admit that she does seem a bit... different.”

Different?!?! Are you serious right now? He’s turned her into Bellatrix Lestrange for fuck’s sake! She was sweet and cheerful before she started spending time with Harry and now she’s a full-on Dark Lady!”

“Just because she looks like Bellatrix Lestrange doesn’t mean she’s become a Dark Lady.”

“No? What does it mean then?”

Hermione threw her hands in the air, “I don’t know!

“Come on Hermione. What’s that muggle shaver you’re always banging-on about in situations like this?”

“Muggle shaver... You mean Occam’s Razor?”

“Yes that! ‘The simplest explanation is usually correct.’ Isn’t that what you said? So what’s the simplest explanation for what’s going on right now?”

Hermione sighed, “That Harry and Tonks have turned Dark.”

“That’s right. People were saying it tonight as if it were some kind of joke. But tomorrow, in the cold light of day, I think they’re going to realise that having the next Dark Lord and Dark Lady roaming the halls of the school isn’t funny at all.”

“But where would they have learned Dark Magic?” Hermione wondered.

“From the Black Family Library of course! Who knows what horrors are stored in there!”

“I never saw a Library at Grimmauld Place...”

“Neither did I. But that proves my point doesn’t it? How Dark must it be if they had to hide it so well?”

Could it be true, Hermione wondered? Was Harry turning Dark? She thought back to the conversation she’d had with him earlier...

“You killed people?” Hermione had whispered as soon as they’d found a semi-private corner of the Common Room to sit in.

“Yes I killed people,” Harry had replied in a very matter-of-fact tone. “Was there some part of ‘we’re at war’ that you didn’t understand?”

“Of course not, but—”

“They weren’t really people though,” Harry had interrupted. “Like I said in the Great Hall, they were vermin.”

“You can’t think like that!” she had objected. “If we dehumanise the enemy we’re no better than them! They say the same thing about muggles and muggleborns!”

“I disagree,” Harry had replied, clearly irritated. “The two situations are entirely different. Death Eaters judge people based on the circumstances of their birth, over which nobody has any control. It’s pure bigotry. Whereas I judge people based on their actions, over which they do have control. If someone behaves like a rabid animal, raping and killing just because they feel like it, then I reserve the right to treat them like a rabid animal and put them down. I don’t see that as taking lives, I see it as saving lives. So tell me, Hermione... how many people did you prevent from being raped or murdered last night? How many did Dumbledore save? Any? Any at all?

“Harry you can’t appoint yourself judge, jury and executioner like that! You certainly can’t punish people for crimes they haven’t actually committed yet.”

“So if somebody sets out to commit murder, you don’t think a crime has been committed unless they succeed? That’s ridiculous.”

“That’s not what I was saying,” Hermione had insisted. “You’re erecting a straw-man and holding it against me. That’s a well-known logical fallacy.”

“Harry’s not holding his erect phallus against you,” Tonks had interjected. “I think we’d all have noticed if he was doing that.”

Hermione’s cheeks had burned red hot, “I didn’t say phallus! I said fallacy! It means—”

“I know what it means,” Tonks had laughed. “I was just messing with you. Honestly Hermione you’re so uptight.”

“I am not ‘so uptight’!” Hermione had screeched in flustered response, “I’m a perfectly normal amount of tight!”

Tonks had guffawed, “As the actress said to the bishop...”

Hermione’s voice had risen another octave, “You know what I mean! That just came out wrong!

Tonks had snorted again, “As the actress said—”

Oh shut up!” Hermione had howled angrily.

The conversation had moved on, but Hermione was left wondering how Harry could be so dismissive about killing people. Perhaps Ron was right. Maybe Harry was turning Dark. But Hermione desperately hoped that wasn’t the case, because her actions over the summer had set the whole chain of events in motion... which meant that if Harry was turning Dark, it was entirely her fault.

- § -

Rufus Scrimgeour leaned forward in his chair and poured himself a large Firewhisky. He offered the bottle to his former mentor Alastor Moody. As expected, Mad-Eye declined. Instead, the man drew a hip flask from his pocket and took a hefty swig.

“Did you see how little the pain of Harry’s injuries affected him?” the Minister asked.

“Aye, I did.”

“And what do you conclude from that?”

“His muggle relatives did more than verbally abuse the lad,” Moody stated simply.

The Minister rose from his seat in agitation and started pacing on front of the fireplace.

“Exactly!” Scrimgeour hissed, slamming his fist down on the mantelpiece angrily. “The boy we’re relying on to save us from a muggle-hating psychopath spent the last fifteen years being tortured by child-abusing muggles! What the hell was Dumbledore thinking? If he’d been trying to fuck this up he couldn’t have done a better job!”

“I’ll be sure to ask him,” Mad-Eye replied, “but I doubt I’ll get a useful answer.”

“And why hasn’t Madam Pomfrey reported this?” Scrimgeour demanded.

“You know why,” Moody replied gently.

The Minister growled in frustration. He took a deep breath to calm himself and then answered his own question.

“Because if she did the abused kids would stop going to her for treatment.”

Silence stretched between the two men for several seconds before Scrimgeour broke it once more.

“Do you really think that all Harry did was ‘jump on a broom and blow some stuff up’?”

Moody snorted, “Hell no! The lad was massively outnumbered but used the meagre resources available to him to emerge victorious. He was efficient, fearless, focussed, and utterly devoid of mercy. If Potter were fighting for the other side...”

He trailed off, but Scrimgeour was curious to know what he’d been about to say, “Yes?”

Reluctantly, it seemed, Mad-Eye continued: “Potter defeated almost a hundred opponents using two simple spells, and despite Auror Tonks’ presence it was essentially single-handed. Whether he knows it or not, the boy has a talent for killing. Imagine how deadly he would be if he knew the sort of magic that Voldemort knows! We need to make sure we keep Potter onside, because if he turns against us we’d lose a lot of people trying to take him down.”

The Minister’s eyes widened, “You don’t think you could beat him one-on-one?”

“In a duel I’d wipe the floor with him,” Moody stated evenly. “But in a real fight? To the death? I wouldn’t want to try it, because I can tell you one thing for sure – I couldn’t have taken down a hundred Death Eaters like Potter did tonight. I never would have thought to do what he did. And that’s the problem: he’s fast, powerful, inventive and thoroughly unpredictable. Facing someone like that is an absolute nightmare. There’s no way to prepare for it.”

“So how would you take him down?”

Mad-Eye chuckled mirthlessly, “I’d set a trap and ambush him with overwhelming numbers.”

Scrimgeour paled, “But isn’t that exactly what Voldemort just tried to do?”

“Aye it is,” Moody agreed, staring at his flask. “And look how well that turned out...”

“But surely it would only take one lucky spell?” the Minister objected. “Much like Voldemort – a stray Killing Curse is all it would take; we’d just need to keep trying until someone managed to land one.”

“You would think so wouldn’t you? But I’ve seen Voldemort fight... and he’s spookily hard to hit. In the split second between someone firing a curse and that curse hitting Voldemort... he’s somehow no longer there. It looks like he’s just turning to cast a spell, or stepping towards a target, but somehow his actions always seem to take him out of harm’s way. I’d assumed it was just coincidence or luck... but now I’m not so sure... because I’m pretty sure that Potter must do same thing. It’s the only way he can have survived essentially unscathed against a hundred opponents. With those odds luck just isn’t enough.”

For several seconds the new Head of Security stared into the fire. When he spoke again he sounded worried.

“Do you know how Voldemort became the leader of the blood-supremacy lunatics?”

“By being the most committed and the most depraved?”

“Partly, but that alone wouldn’t have been enough. He became leader because none of his challengers could land a spell on him, and he was sickeningly ruthless in punishing those who tried. The ones who remained had no choice but to follow, whether they liked it or not. To defeat Voldemort we need someone with the same uncanny skill for being almost impossible to hit. If Potter has it then he’s our man. We just have to pray that we’re not replacing one hard-to-kill tyrant with another.”

- § -

Dumbledore stood in his office, staring out the window at the Scottish Highlands. He spoke without turning to face the other man in the room.

“The events I set in motion fifteen years ago will still lead to Lord Voldemort’s downfall. I am confident of that. My concern is more for what might happen afterwards.”

“You think Potter might become the next Dark Lord?” Snape asked.

“Not yet. But his recent behaviour is certainly a cause for concern.” The Headmaster held up his withered hand, “And I may not be around to deal with it. I hope that I can rely upon you to do what is required?”

Snape was incredulous, “You made me swear a vow to protect him and now you’re asking me to kill him if he turns Dark?”

Dumbledore glanced over his shoulder, “Have you finally developed some affection for the boy?”

Snape scowled and his voice became a whisper, “Never!”

“I am asking you to do what is necessary,” Dumbledore continued, his gaze returning to the mountains in the distance, “but only if it is necessary. I remain hopeful that Harry can be guided back to the Light.”

Snape winced as his forearm erupted in pain, “The Dark Lord calls...”

“Then you had better go.”

- § -

Corban Yaxley stood as still as he possibly could, wishing desperately that he was somewhere else; anywhere else. But no, it would have been suicide to ignore the Dark Lord’s call. So here he was, along with the rest of the Inner Circle (or at least the ones that hadn’t been captured or killed in the last few weeks) standing in a large bare-stone room inside the dungeons of Lestrange Castle while Lord Voldemort questioned the poor wretches who’d just returned from a failed mission to capture Harry Potter.

“Let me see if I understand you,” the Dark Lord said in an ominously calm and reasonable tone.

The audience all shifted uncomfortably, glancing at each other anxiously. Yaxley suppressed a shiver of fear. There was nothing more terrifying than Voldemort feigning calm when he clearly wasn’t. It was a very clear sign that somebody was about to die. The men on their knees didn’t seem to know that though. They were not sufficiently senior to have seen the Dark Lord this furious, and foolishly mistook his tone for a good sign. Yaxley would have pitied the poor bastards, except that any clemency towards them might put others like himself at risk instead.

Why the hell had Pettigrew brought the Dark Lord back from Albania, Yaxley wondered bitterly. They’d been much better off without the mad fucker. At least they hadn’t had to abase themselves like House Elves, kissing the crazy lunatic’s feet to avoid being killed or tortured.

People thought the Cruciatus Curse was the worst pain a person could face, but Yaxley knew better. He still shuddered at the things he’d seen the Dark Lord do to blood traitors, muggleborns, and those who disappointed him. Yaxley was no angel, that’s for sure, and had done his fair share of tormenting prisoners, but the things Voldemort did turned even his stomach. The snake-faced man (if what he was now could be called a man) was beyond deranged. He was sick in the head, twisted by magic so Dark that nobody should ever go near it.

The irony was not lost on Yaxley. Voldemort was leading them in their fight to reassert pureblood superiority over the beasts and mudbloods... and yet the Dark Lord had become a beast himself. Nobody ever said that, of course, because you didn’t know who you could trust. But Yaxley knew that most of his fellow Death Eaters shared his hope that once they’d taken over Magical Britain someone would be brave enough to put a Killing Curse in the Dark Lord’s back when he wasn’t looking. They needed Voldemort to secure them that victory, but then his usefulness would end.

Abruptly, Voldemort’s head snapped round to face the crowd in Yaxley’s direction. Yaxley’s eyes immediately dropped to the four men kneeling on the floor in front of the Dark Lord, and he began frantically thinking loyal thoughts.

How dare these fools betray the Dark Lord with their incompetence,” he projected mentally. “They deserve no mercy...

The Dark Lord’s snake-like eyes narrowed, scanning the faces near Yaxley intently. Nobody moved a muscle. A palpable sense of terror gripped them all. If anyone so much as twitched, it would bring them to the Dark Lord’s attention, and you did not want that. Not ever. But especially not right now when Voldemort’s anger had clearly gone beyond rage and come out the other side.

Several long seconds passed. Finally the Dark Lord’s attention returned to the prisoners. Yaxley and many others let out the petrified breath they’d been holding. That had been a close one!

Yaxley berated himself mentally. He knew better than to think disloyal thoughts in front of a master Legilimens like the Dark Lord! Most likely the only thing that saved him was that others in the room were having the same thoughts so it was hard for Voldemort to narrow the source down to a single person. The Dark Lord knew what they all thought of him, of course. That much was clear. And it amused him. Voldemort revelled in the unwilling dominance he exerted over them all.

“More than a hundred Death Eaters,” the Dark Lord drawled as he paced once more in front of the cowering prisoners, “including you four... had Harry Potter and Bella’s mutant niece completely surrounded... and yet you failed to apprehend them. Do I have that right?”

Behind Voldemort all the colour drained from Bellatrix Lestrange’s face. She shrank backwards into the shadows like a whipped dog. The fact that her sister had married a mudblood was bad enough, but for the couple to have given birth to a filthy abomination was a well-known source of shame to her. Much of Bella’s savage zealotry stemmed from a desire to make up for that humiliating taint on her bloodline, Yaxley suspected; that and the fact that Bellatrix was as mad as a box of Cornish Pixies.

Three of the four survivors of the mission slumped in despair at the Dark Lord’s words, but the fourth (who seemed to have pinned his hopes for survival on a courageous display of honesty) spoke up. He wasn’t brave enough to actually meet his master’s gaze though, and kept his head bowed like the others.

“Yes my Lord, but we were ourselves surrounded and outnumbered by Aurors! They demanded that we surrender, but we fought bravely against overwhelming odds. Only six of us managed to fight free.”

“Six you say,” the Dark Lord noted in transparently fake confusion. “And yet only four kneel before me now. Did the other two take their own lives in shame, or expire from their injuries perhaps?”

The speaker shuffled uneasily, “No my Lord. They fled in fear of your anger.”

Voldemort’s snake-like eyes scanned the audience and selected one of his lieutenants, “You! Take a dozen Death Eaters and find these cowards. Bring them to me before the day is out, or suffer their fate.”

The man in question sprinted from the room, his expression a mix of relief to be leaving and fresh fear should he fail.

“Now,” the Dark Lord resumed, “let us see if your story matches your memories...”

In his characteristically languid style Voldemort drew a wand from his sleeve. He held it awkwardly, thanks to the overly long claws where his fingernails should be, but the Dark Lord seemed unconcerned by the clumsiness of his grip.

Legillimens!

For several seconds Voldemort regarded the prisoner dispassionately while the man screamed in agony. Legillimency was not normally a painful process, Yaxley knew, but the Dark Lord ripped through his victims’ minds so brutally that he made it so. Yaxley winced but dared not look away. He’d spoken to colleagues who’d suffered this treatment, and they attested that they would rather be put under the Cruciatus Curse than go through it again.

The Dark Lord had been delighted when Snape reported that he’d done the same to Potter (rather than teach the boy Occlumency as Dumbledore had ordered). It had proved Snape’s loyalty beyond any doubt, though it did leave Yaxley wondering why Dumbledore let Snape get away with shit like that.

Voldemort ended his mental interrogation and stepped away, “I see.”

The prisoner collapsed to the floor with blood pouring from his nose. Yaxley thought for a moment that the man was dead. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it would be better for the poor bastard if he was. But no, with more courage than Yaxley himself would have shown in that situation, the prisoner struggled back up. He resumed his kneeling position, ignoring the growing crimson stain spreading down his neck and chest.

DO NONE OF YOU READ?” Voldemort suddenly stormed. “They used Peruvian Darkness Powder you fools! How can you not know this? It was used against the Ministry a hundred years ago by the Ashwinders! They only stopped because it has such an obvious weakness – the Homenum Revelio spell. And yet when the Ministry used it tonight only a handful of you thought to cast the counter-spell! How can there be so many imbeciles among our number? Must I do all of your thinking for you?”

Like everyone else, Yaxley hung his head and tried to wish himself invisible. He hadn’t known about the counter-spell for Peruvian whatever-it-was either. And as for reading... when the hell would they have time for reading? The deranged nutcase currently screaming at them kept them busy 24 hours a day! But Yaxley didn’t say that of course. He wasn’t suicidal.

“Potter stated that you were surrounded,” the Dark Lord continued in a more reasonable tone, “and sure enough you were soon under attack. But you never actually saw your attackers, so what makes you think you were outnumbered?”

“The attack came from all sides,” the man cried in a nasal-sounding panic. “No matter which way we turned, explosions and screaming greeted us. We’d established a hundred-yard perimeter around the carriage, but they’d established an even larger perimeter around us, so they must have numbered in the hundreds! It was a trap! Someone betrayed us. We couldn’t win against such odds.”

This was a transparent attempt to deflect blame, Yaxley knew, but it might actually work. The Dark Lord had become increasingly paranoid about spies in the Death Eater ranks lately. How else could the Ministry’s recent victories be explained? Everyone was feeling the pressure now, and they were suffering the Dark Lord’s anger on an increasingly frequent basis.

Yaxley was just as unhappy. It had been fun to be a Death Eater before this summer – they’d tortured and killed muggles and mudbloods with impunity. But those days were over. Now they lived in fear of being raided, imprisoned or even killed themselves. None of them had signed-up for that, and even though they were still torturing and killing, it was hard to properly enjoy it when you were constantly looking over your shoulder.

“We will see if your colleagues’ recollections match your own,” Voldemort drawled, indicating the other three prisoners, “but I am inclined to agree with you. Potter and his pet were unarmed, so the attack didn’t come from them. They certainly played their part once they’d recovered their wands, but this was a well-planned and well-executed trap. It reminds me of the sort of thing that Alastor Moody used to spring on us.” He pointed at someone, “You! Find out if Moody has come out of retirement.” The man sprinted from the room. “Regardless, the Ministry knew what we were planning, so we clearly have a traitor in our midst.” His gaze swept over the lieutenants gathered around him. “Triple the attacks on muggles, but suspend all other operations until further notice. We must root-out this spy before they do more damage.”

On the far side of the room, behind the Dark Lord’s back and out of his sight, a hooded figure slipped silently into the room and blended into the crowd.

“Ah Severus,” the Dark Lord said immediately, turning to face the newcomer, “so good of you to join us. I do hope we haven’t inconvenienced you?”

The newcomer threw back his hood to reveal that it was indeed Severus Snape. He bowed deeply, “I apologise, My Lord. I could not slip away any earlier without arousing suspicion.”

“Of course,” Voldemort replied. His tone was once again calm and reasonable. Yaxley wondered if Snape knew how much danger he was in. It was hard to tell because Snape never seemed to display any fear. On the other hand, he was one of the Dark Lord’s favourites, so he’d never suffered their Master’s anger.

“You assured me that Harry Potter would never kill,” Voldemort noted.

Half the room stopped breathing again. The implied criticism did not bode well for Snape.

“I did my Lord,” Snape admitted, appearing miraculously undaunted. “Dumbledore has been grooming the boy to be a paragon of virtue, and that is what he was... until now.”

“Indeed,” Voldemort agreed. “And what changed?”

“The death of his Godfather hit the boy harder than anyone anticipated,” Snape replied. “Nobody is more surprised than Dumbledore, who’s completely lost control of the boy. The Headmaster’s plans, whatever they were, appear to be in tatters.”

Yaxley was impressed. Claiming that Dumbledore was equally unhappy about this turn of events had a visibly calming effect on the Dark Lord. Snape might yet survive the night. Bellatrix, meanwhile, was looking distraught. The implication that all their recent troubles stemmed from her killing Sirius Black was not lost on anyone. She craned her neck in an attempt to see Voldemort’s expression, but the Dark Lord was facing away from her and didn’t glance her way. Bellatrix slumped in misery, shooting Snape a murderous glare.

“Nevertheless,” the Dark Lord continued, “You gave me bad counsel. Had I known that Potter might use deadly force I would have planned tonight’s attack differently. You have failed me, Severus.”

For the first time since Yaxley had known him, fear showed on Snape’s face.

Voldemort’s wand-arm snapped up, “Crucio!

Snape instantly doubled at the waist, and then crumpled. He fell to the floor and started thrashing around as if he were being electrocuted. His deafening screams filled the room, echoing off the walls. Those around him quickly scattered, creating a wide empty space within which everyone could see Snape’s torment. The Dark Lord watched his victim writhe impassively, clearly making an example of the man. The lesson was clear – if you gave Voldemort bad information, you would regret it.

Abruptly the screaming stopped. For a moment Yaxley thought Snape’s torture was at an end, or perhaps the man had died. But no, his agonised thrashing continued. The Dark Lord had merely silenced him.

“It seems that Potter has graduated from Expelliarmus to the Killing Curse,” Voldemort observed, apparently dismissing Snape’s continued suffering from his mind. “You did well to start him down this path Bella. Now we must assist him on his journey, because nothing would amuse me more than to see Dumbledore’s Golden Boy corrupted by the Dark Arts. He would make a wonderful Death Eater, don’t you think my sweet?”

Bellatrix emerged from the shadows with a manic grin on her face, clearly delighted by her unexpected return to the Dark Lord’s favour. She threw herself at his feet and grabbed onto his robes, staring up at him adoringly.

“Yes my Lord!”

Voldemort stroked her head absently, “Once I have rooted-out the traitor we will strike back. The Ministry will rue the day they took-up arms against me. And as for Harry Potter... within the year he will kneel at my feet just like you, dear Bella.”

For a few seconds the Dark Lord was silent, allowing that proclamation to sink in. Then he strode back over to the prisoners. His abrupt departure left Bellatrix sprawling in the dirt, but she quickly scurried away to position herself beside the throne-like chair where Voldemort would eventually sit.

Now where were we?” the Dark Lord growled at them ominously. “Oh yes, we were discussing the depth of your failure...”

Yaxley had seen some bad things in his life, but what Voldemort did to those poor bastards would haunt him for the rest of his days. The Evisceration Spell was bad enough, but what the Flaying Spell did to a live human being was beyond horrific. Those spells were nothing, however, compared to what the Dark Lord did when the two who’d fled were caught. Their screams filled the Lestrange dungeon for weeks. Yaxley avoided going down there, for fear that if he saw what was happening he would never sleep again.

Notes:

Next chapter should be out soon...

Just in case anybody is worried... Harry will most definitely not end up defecting to Voldy's side in this story!

Chapter 45: Unexpected Consequences

Notes:

Took longer than expected to complete this chapter, largely because I had house guests all week. Sorry about that!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Harry emerged from his morning shower feeling greatly refreshed. He dried himself off, brushed his teeth, and strolled back into the main room of his quarters carrying a glass of water. He’d just taken a swig when he caught sight of Tonks, and immediately sprayed the water back out again.

What the hell are you wearing?” he spluttered.

“Do you like it?” she asked, twisting left and right to admire herself in a free-standing mirror.

Over the top of her Auror-style uniform Tonks had added a full-length charcoal-grey hooded robe. The hood was currently down, but it was clearly large enough to completely hide the wearer’s face when it was up. More eye-catching, however, was the pattern woven into the robe’s fabric. Not only was it comprised of light-grey human skulls overlaid with dark grey smoke... but the smoke was moving. It coiled up from the base of the robe and rippled across the fabric like sooty fumes rising from a fire.

“When you mentioned ‘House Colours’ to the Death Eaters it got me thinking,” Tonks explained. “I wondered if maybe we actually did have some House Colours. So I asked Kreacher and he brought these robes from the Black Family Vault. Aren’t they the coolest? I’ve got one in your size if you like?”

“I don’t know Tonks,” Harry replied, “it’s a bit... Dark-Lord-ish.”

It wasn’t a bit Dark-Lord-ish. It was a lot Dark-Lord-ish. In fact it was full-on Dark-Lord-ish. By December it would be at the top of every Dark-Lord’s Christmas Wish List. Voldemort would burn with envy.

Tonks shot him a confused look, “But that’s what we want isn’t it – to unsettle the Death Eaters by making them think we’re Darker than they are?”

“Yeah but didn’t we do that last night? Is this robe really necessary?”

“Symbolism is important Harry. Without our victory last night this robe would make us look a bit ridiculous. But now it will serve as a constant reminder of who they’re dealing with and what we’re capable of.”

“I suppose,” Harry admitted, “but we don’t want the students to turn against us.”

“They’re just kids,” she replied, waving a hand dismissively. “They’re irrelevant to the war effort.”

Harry thought about that for a moment. He’d never thought about it like that before. Did the students’ opinion of him actually matter?

“They might tell their parents,” he answered eventually. “And erode our support with the population.”

Seriously?” Tonks scoffed. “Since when do parents listen to their children? Mine never did. Still don’t, actually.”

She might have a point, Harry admitted to himself. He didn’t know how his parents might have reacted, but he had plenty of experience of other adults refusing to listen to him: Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Lupin, Mrs Weasley...

Come on Harry, he admonished himself, you need to make better decisions. Think this through!

In an effort to wrong-foot the Death Eaters, Harry and Tonks had already declared themselves to be the House of Black. Did he want to row-back on that? It had definitely freaked them out, made them fearful. That could be useful. And if Tonks needed to embrace a darker self-image for a while in order to process her recent actions... shouldn’t Harry support her in that?

Harry didn’t believe for a minute that Tonks was actually as Dark as her current look suggested. She was like those Goth girls that Harry saw around Little Winging sometimes – they looked scary but Harry had overheard them talking and they were actually very nice. They even helped Harry to escape from Dudley’s gang sometimes by pointing Dudley in the wrong direction.

The problem was that if he adopted a darker image to scare the Death Eaters, it might turn the students against him. There was no obvious way around that, so which was more important: how the Death Eaters saw him, or how a bunch of children saw him? Once he framed the question like that, the answer was obvious – how he was perceived by the students was of almost no importance whatsoever. What mattered was how he was perceived by the adults. But that didn’t just mean the Death Eaters; it meant the magical population as a whole. So how would they take it if he started looking as badass as Tonks did right now? Would they abandon him for fear that he was a new Dark-Lord-in-the-making? Would they withdraw their support for the Ministry?

It was hard to know, because Harry had no relevant past experiences to draw upon.

Well, that wasn’t quite true.

He had experienced several occasions when the opposite happened – when his actions (and the way he dressed) had remained unchanged but public opinion had definitely turned against him. Those events certainly argued in favour of public opinion being at least partially disconnected from his image, but it didn’t necessarily mean that he could walk around looking like a Dark Lord without losing support. If he’d done that last year, for example, when the Prophet was waging its campaign against him, it would have gone very badly. But what about now, when Wizarding Britain was at war and they expected him to kill Voldemort?

Sadly, Harry’s experience of the magical world offered no guidance on that because he’d been a baby during the last war. But what about the muggle world, he wondered? Harry’s knowledge of muggle wartime situations was extremely limited, but there had been one war during his childhood – the Gulf War in early 1991, eight months before Harry received his Hogwarts Letter.

During that conflict the USA, UK and a few other countries had sent troops to liberate Kuwait from an Iraqi invasion. Harry wasn’t too sure what had actually happened during the war, since he spent most of it locked in his cupboard, but one thing had stuck in his mind. Throughout the whole conflict his Uncle Vernon had repeatedly asserted that, ‘all we have to do to win this war is send in the SAS’.

Neither Harry nor Dudley had ever heard of the SAS, but Uncle Vernon’s faith in them was unshakeable. It was also shared by much of the UK population (if the Tabloid Press was any guide). The TV networks soon realised that they could capitalise on this by playing reruns of the 1982 movie, ‘Who Dares Wins’.

For the first (and only) time in his life, Uncle Vernon actually ordered Harry to join them in the lounge to watch something on TV.

“You’re going to find out what a real soldier is,” he’d told them.

The movie was apparently an accurate dramatisation of the real-life siege of an embassy in London in 1980. Six armed men had stormed the building and taken 26 people hostage. After almost a week of negotiations the gunmen’s patience had run out. They had executed a hostage and threw the man’s body out onto the street. Five hours later, under cover of darkness, the SAS were given the green-light to re-take the building. It was early-evening on a Bank Holiday Monday so the entire UK population was at home to see subsequent events unfold live on national TV.

Unknown to the public, the expectation was that at least 40% of the remaining 25 hostages would probably die. Miraculously only one hostage was actually killed, while 5 of the 6 terrorists were shot dead. The remaining terrorist tried to escape disguised as a hostage. Fortunately he (along with all the actual hostages) was restrained by the SAS in the back garden of the embassy while they searched for the missing gunman. It wasn’t long before they identified him.

What happened next was Uncle Vernon’s favourite part of the story. Having found the remaining hostage-taker, the SAS escorted the man back towards the embassy building, with the intent of shooting him in the head. But they were forced to abort the execution when it was discovered that one of the TV channels had used a hidden camera to film the man being apprehended alive.

With a look of bloodthirsty pride, Uncle Vernon had told Dudley and Harry, “The SAS are merciless killers boys, make no mistake, but they’re our merciless killers.”

That statement had always stuck with Harry, along with the realisation that Uncle Vernon was far from alone in feeling that way. If a situation arose which required deadly force, the British population wanted to have scary killers available to deal with it. In subsequent years the SAS had not shied away from the reputation they earned that day. In fact they embraced it.

“You know what,” Harry declared, “I think I will take one of those robes. I can’t have you looking cooler than me, after all.”

Tonks strolled over and patted him gently on the cheek, “It’s so adorable that you think you could look as cool as me.”

“Hey!” he objected.

Tonks just giggled and walked back to the mirror.

Oh my god! Teenage Bellatrix Lestrange was giggling! It was super-cute and super-horrifying at the same time.

“The time for being soft-and-cuddly Harry Potter is over,” he declared. “That persona’s not going to help us right now. We need people to fear us. It’s time to embrace the legacy that Sirius left to me and truly become Harry Potter-Black.”

“You know that’s not your actual name right?” Tonks observed.

“Yeah I know, but Sirius made me his heir so I feel like I should take the Black name—”

“Not that,” Tonks interrupted. “I meant the Potter part. Potter’s not your actual name.”

Harry nearly did another spit-take, “Wait... what?

Something in his tone finally drew her attention away from the reflection in the mirror, “After I gave you that watch for your birthday I realised that you don’t know anything about your heritage, so I asked Winky to look into it. So far she’s traced the Potter family back as far as Linfred Potter. He was a master potioneer who invented the Skele-Gro and Pepper-up potions in the 12th century. He lived in a village called Stinchcombe in Gloucestershire, where he had a reputation as a vague and absent-minded chap who would often be found pottering about in his garden tending his plants. The locals dubbed him Linfred the Potterer and by the time he died that had been corrupted to Linfred Potter. He fathered seven children, the oldest of whom married Iolanthe Peverell who was—”

Never mind that!” Harry interrupted impatiently. “What about my name? If my name’s not Potter, what’s my real name?

Tonks shrugged, “They didn’t really have surnames back then. Workers used their profession and wealthy people used their place of birth. So Linfred’s full name was Linfred of Stinchcombe. The ‘of’ was largely dropped from names like that in later centuries. So I guess your real name is Harry Stinchcombe.”

Harry felt like his legs were about to give way. He slumped down on the end of the bed.

“I don’t believe this! First I lose both parents, then I lose Sirius, and now I don’t even have a name!”

“You do have a name,” Tonks replied, losing interest and admiring herself in the mirror again. “It’s Harry Stinchcombe.”

I’m not calling myself Harry Stinchcombe!” Harry replied testily.

“Alright, alright, keep your hair on! Jeez. Keep using Potter then. Nobody’s going to know any different.”

I will know,” Harry grumbled. “But Harry Stinchcombe! I mean... bloody hell! That’s a terrible name. Imagine what Draco Malfoy would have made of it! Hairy Stench-Comb... Harry Stink-Bomb... Hairy Stick-up-the-Bum... Harry Stinky-Cum...”

Tonks gave him a withering look over her shoulder, “So we’re back to Potter-Black then?”

“Maybe...” Harry mused. “But Potter-Black is a bit of a mouthful...”

I’ll say,” Tonks agreed emphatically, wiggling her eyebrows at him and licking her lips provocatively.

Harry’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

Tonks feigned innocence, “What? You’re the one who mentioned cum...”

At Harry’s disparaging look she relented, “I can’t help it! It’s been so long since we shagged that I’m starting to get a bit... twitchy.”

“It’s only been a day,” Harry noted.

And a half!” Tonks corrected him, as if that made all the difference. “A day and a half!

“Maybe we should just drop the Potter for now and genuinely call ourselves the House of Black,” Harry suggested in a transparent attempt to change the subject. “It’ll certainly wrong-foot the Slytherins.”

“That might be best,” Tonks replied, turning back to the mirror. “You do know I was joking though, right?”

“Joking about what?”

“About Potter not being your real name.”

What? You mean Potter is my real name?”

“Of course it is you muppet!”

“But you said it was made-up—”

“All surnames are made-up Harry, usually by someone else. Malfoy means ‘bad faith’. Do you think they called themselves that? No, it was some sort of local nickname which stuck. Similarly, Potter started as a local nickname but that was eight centuries ago. Twenty generations of your ancestors have been called Potter since then. I’d be surprised if more than one or two generations were called Stinchcombe. Your surname is most definitely Potter.”

“God damn it Tonks!” Harry stormed. “You really had me going there!”

“I know,” she replied, completely straight-faced. “Honestly Harry, you’re so gullible there’s almost no fun in it.”

Harry scowled at her.

“Personally I don’t see what all the fuss is about though,” Tonks continued. “Half the population change their name at some point; more than once, some of them.”

Really?” Harry replied in surprise. “I didn’t know that.”

“Oh my God,” Tonks groaned, rolling her eyes. “The casual sexism of the male gender never ceases to amaze me. Women, Harry! Women change their names, when they get married!”

Harry winced, “Oh right, yeah. Sorry. I forgot about that.”

- § -

Harry could see why Tonks had kept admiring herself in the mirror. This new robe was seriously awesome. He immediately resolved to wear this and his Auror-style uniform all the time. Tonks informed him that she’d decided to do the same and that she’d replaced all their white shirts with black ones to (as she put it) ‘complete the aesthetic’.

“Are you wearing black eye-liner?” Harry enquired, noting the sexily sinister darkness around her eyes.

Tonks gave him a puzzled look, “You know I don’t wear make-up Harry.”

“Right. Yes. Sorry.” Bloody hell! She didn’t even realise she’d done it!

He decided not to ask whether she considered her jet-black fingernails to be make-up.

They emerged from the Boy’s Dormitory staircase into a bustling Gryffindor Common Room. The students were clearly still a bit over-excited after last night’s events. Harry kept his expression neutral, but he was hugely amused by the wave of shocked silence that swept across the room as people caught sight of him. Mouths literally dropped open. But it was Ron and Hermione’s reactions he was most interested in. He scanned the crowd and soon spotted them. Both were facing away from him, chatting with Ginny and Neville.

Ginny spotted him first. Her eyes went wide, just like they had four years ago when she first saw him at the Burrow. She grabbed Neville’s shoulder and pointed, her hand shaking.

HOLY CRAP!” Neville gasped as he looked up.

Ron and Hermione turned around...

As expected, Ron’s reaction betrayed a mix of shock and horror, but Harry was also surprised to see a hint of something else there: vindication, maybe? Harry wasn’t sure. Hermione’s expression was entirely unexpected though. She looked like she might burst into tears.

Everyone in the room froze in place, heads turning to follow Harry and Tonks as they made their way towards the exit. Harry ignored them, while Tonks glared menacingly. Only once they’d stepped through the portrait hole did Harry relax. A wave of whispering erupted from the Common Room, but was swiftly cut-off as the portrait snapped shut.

Tonks looped an arm through his and grinned, “That was fun!”

The reaction to their new look was the same everywhere – students froze in place and watched them pass in stunned silence.

“These robes are getting a much stronger reaction than I expected,” Harry noted.

“That’s because you grew up in the muggle world,” Tonks replied. “You lack the first-hand experience of Dark Lords that the magical population has had. They've suffered two Dark Lords in the last fifty years and the most recent one, 15 years ago, was so traumatic that his name still terrifies most people. They’ve even passed that fear onto their children, most of whom were toddlers at the time. Think of it like this... Imagine that a fourteen-year-old boy came to your door wearing black knee-length shorts, a tan shirt and a black neckerchief secured with a woggle. Would you be scared?”

Harry wasn’t sure where this was going, “Would I be scared if a boy-scout came to the door? Of course not.”

“Quite. There's nothing fundamentally scary about that outfit. In fact he looks very much like a boy-scout. But what if I tell you that it's 1940's Germany and the boy is a member of the Hitler Youth? Most of the population were justifiably terrified of anyone wearing that uniform, because they could rat you out to the Gestapo if you said the wrong thing.”

“Oh right,” Harry replied in surprise. “Yes, I see what you mean.”

“The daft uniform wasn't inherently scary,” Tonks continued. “Quite the opposite in fact. But what it represented was terrifying. Same with the SS uniform: it wasn't inherently scary, but the people who wore it had the power to execute you on little more than a whim. It's a similar situation here. Your new robe isn't inherently scary, but if it means that you might turn into another Voldemort it's going to frighten a lot of people.”

They were half way to the Great Hall for breakfast when Harry finally voiced another question that had been forming in his mind.

“Why are people looking at us like they’re terrified of us but would also like to shag our brains out?”

“I’m not sure, but if I had to guess I’d say it’s an instinctive primal attraction to a promising reproductive partner.”

“Huh?”

“As someone who can change her appearance at will,” Tonks explained, “I’ve often thought about sexual attraction, and I think it’s driven by evolution. Men generally go for women who are physically good-looking because that implies good health, and for the last four billion years a healthy female partner was the most important factor in whether a male successfully reproduced. Evolution has therefore favoured men who are attracted to good-looking women. It’s been bred into you. If the woman was kick-ass as well... that was just icing on the cake. For women it’s the other way round. The most important factor was whether the man was sufficiently powerful to gain status within the tribe, and hence provide-for and protect his partners and their children. If he was good-looking too, that was just icing on the cake.”

“So men only care about looks and women only care about status?” Harry replied, genuinely interested.

“Not only,” Tonks replied, “but we’ve been bred to strongly favour those characteristics. We’re not slaves to those impulses though. We can still make informed decisions. It’s just a lot harder when your brains are being scrambled by attraction hormones. And there are always exceptions of course... like Hermione.”

“Hermione?”

“Yes Hermione. Ron’s attraction to her makes total sense, because she’s smoking hot. But her attraction to him? I have no idea what that’s about.”

“Wait!” Harry said suddenly. “Did you say that men had partners... as in more than one?

Tonks snorted, “You think powerful men had just one partner? No chance! That’s only been a tradition for the last few thousand years. Before that a man would take as many partners as he could hold onto, because why not? Meanwhile, the women would attach themselves to whichever man could protect them best. They’d have taken his other partners into account when making that assessment of course, but the existence of other partners wouldn’t necessarily have been a deal-breaker. Survival is more important to reproductive success than monogamy.”

Seriously?” Harry replied.

“Oh yes,” Tonks assured him. “Women don’t view other partners with the revulsion that men do. Evolution has favoured men who are very territorial about their women, because jealous men are less likely to remove their DNA from the gene pool by unwittingly raising some other man’s child. Women, on the other hand, always know who their children are, so evolution didn’t favour territoriality anywhere near as strongly. Nobody wants a cheater of course, but if a man was open about the fact that he had other partners and he had lots of power... he might still have been the best choice.”

Before Harry could react to that bombshell, a girl’s voice reached them from just around the next corner.

“You heard what Fudge said. Potter’s definitely dumped Granger. It’s that damned bodyguard that’s the problem now.”

“If she’d leave Potter alone for two minutes we’d have a chance,” agreed a second female voice.

“I wouldn’t need two minutes,” stated a third. “I’d be all over him like a cheap slut. Just unzip his fly... and voilà! He’d be putty in my hands!”

“If he’s like putty when you give him a hand-job you’re doing something wrong,” noted a fourth.

They all howled in scandalised laughter.

As Harry and Tonks turned the corner a group of seventh-year Ravenclaw girls came into view. The one facing Harry’s way immediately flashed him a dazzling and flirtatious smile. Unsure what else to do, Harry gave her a friendly smile back. She looked like she was about to say something, but then she emitted the loudest fart that Harry had ever heard. The girl paled in horror, then turned and sprinted away. Her gang of friends hesitated for a moment and then sprinted after her.

Harry glanced at Tonks, whose wand was just disappearing back up her sleeve.

“You know,” he observed, “that’s the third girl who’s farted in the last few minutes. I’ve never heard so much farting.”

Tonks shrugged, “Girls do fart you know. I mean not me, obviously, but other girls. Maybe they had beans for dinner last night. Or maybe they’re just massive windbags.”

“So it’s not because you cast some sort of farting spell at them?”

She gave him an unconvincingly baffled look, “A Flatulence Jinx, you mean? Never heard of it.”

Harry was still trying to get his head around that when they bumped into Luna Lovegood at the entrance to the Great Hall.

She curtsied demurely to Harry and then again to Tonks, “Supreme High-Lord Potter-Black, Supreme High-Lady Potter-Black.”

Harry laughed and put an arm round the blonde girl’s shoulders, encouraging her to walk alongside him.

“Actually it’s just Black now,” he informed her, “we’ve dropped the ‘Potter’. And the Supreme High-Lord thing was just a joke.”

“Was it?” Luna replied with a hint of disappointment. “That’s a shame. Benevolent Dictatorships are by far the least-bad form of government. I think you would make a lovely Dictator.”

“Thanks Luna, but I’m not sure that being a Dictator is really my thing.”

“Would you like to practice on me?” she offered with a cheery smile. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“That’s a very kind offer,” Harry replied, not knowing quite how to take that, “but I’m good for now.”

“Okay,” she replied brightly.

“When’s your 17th Birthday Luna?” Tonks asked.

“In 527 days,” Luna answered immediately, “on 13th of February 1998. Why?”

“No reason,” Tonks replied.

Luna shrugged and skipped away towards the Ravenclaw table. Tonks watched her go with a frown creasing her features.

“That girl needs protecting,” she said softly.

- § -

They took their usual seats at the Gryffindor table and started helping themselves to breakfast. As more people arrived and the table filled-up it soon became clear that the other students were avoiding them. A large gap separated Harry and Tonks from the next-nearest person. Meanwhile, the rest of the table was becoming increasingly overcrowded. Tonks snorted in amusement.

What a difference it made to have her here, Harry realised. If he’d been on his own dealing with this isolation he might have found it difficult to take. Even if he’d had Hermione and Ron with him, as he has in previous years, it would have been hard to swallow. But with Tonks here... he genuinely couldn’t care less what the other students did.

Harry scanned the room. Pretty much everyone was holding whispered conversations and looking his way. That was even true at the top end of the room, where Dumbledore was presiding over a packed High Table. Every single Professor had turned-up, it seemed. Except for Snape, whose usual chair was conspicuously empty. Harry had never seen so many of the staff here at once. Even Professor Trelawney had made an appearance, which was a very rare event before lunch. For a moment Harry thought that Fudge was absent, but then spotted him at the end of the table, largely obscured from view by Hagrid’s enormous frame.

“They’ve come to see us,” Tonks advised him, noting the direction of Harry’s gaze.

“Us?” Harry repeated. “What for?”

“It’s not every day that someone defeats a hundred Death Eaters,” she replied.

Hagrid waved cheerfully to Harry, and then noticed Harry’s robes. The grin fell from his face, replaced by an uncertain frown, and his hand dropped back to his side. Nevertheless, Harry smiled and waved back. But then Tonks nudged him.

Hermione and Ron had just entered to room, followed by Ginny and Neville. Hermione seemed to be having a heated argument with Ron, which culminated in her hissing something at him and then plastering a forced smile on her face. She took the seat beside Harry while the other three took seats opposite. The room gradually fell silent as everyone turned to watch.

“Good morning Harry,” said Hermione, with a valiant but unsuccessful attempt to sound casual.

“Morning Hermione,” Harry replied. His tone was even but he was actually very happy to see her. Losing Hermione as a friend still felt a bit raw, and he wasn’t sure he could face the idea that she might be gone forever. If she was sitting with him now then that day had not yet arrived.

“What do you think of our new robes?” Tonks asked in a matter-of-fact tone more appropriate to discussing the weather.

Harry shot the metamorph an irritated glare which she entirely ignored.

Hermione looked Harry up and down, “They’re very erm... unusual.”

“They are aren’t they?” Tonks replied brightly. “Did you know that students were allowed to wear robes like these to school as recently as the 1890’s? How fun is that? Of course that was before the Dark Arts gained such a bad reputation.”

Bad reputation?” Ron repeated in disbelief.

He howled when Hermione very-obviously kicked him under the table and fell into a disgruntled silence.

“It probably helped that the Headmaster was Phineas Nigellus Black,” Hermione noted, as if nothing had happened.

“Probably,” Tonks agreed. “Would you like one of these robes? We have lots. They’re for members of the Black Family really, but we could make you an honorary Black.”

“Um—” Hermione began.

No she would not like one!” Ron interjected angrily, “because unlike some,” he glared at Harry, “Hermione is not turning Dark!” Ron leapt up and glowered down at Hermione, “I’ve heard enough! Are you coming?

“Stop being ridiculous Ron,” she scolded. “Sit back down!”

“I don’t associate with Dark Lords,” Ron declared loudly. “Ginny, Neville, are you coming?”

When neither of them moved, Ron hissed in disgust and stalked off to join Dean and Seamus.

“Was that really necessary?” Harry asked Tonks quietly.

“Necessary?” she replied innocently. “No. But it was useful.”

“What are you two talking about?” Hermione demanded.

Harry’s voice dropped to a whisper, “Tonks deliberately goaded my former best friend into denouncing me as a Dark Lord.”

“What for?” Ginny asked.

“To fool the Slytherins and Death Eaters into thinking that’s what I am.”

“So you’re not turning into a Dark Lord?” Ginny enquired.

Of course not,” Harry scoffed. “We just want them to think we are.”

At that moment a flood of owls poured-forth from the owl-hole in the rafters. Letters and copies of the Daily Prophet began raining down on the students like giant confetti. Harry’s hand shot up and caught his newspaper just before it hit him in the face, Hermione yelped as her copy crash-landed on her empty plate with a loud clang, and Neville groaned when his copy smacked him on the side of the head and bounced off into a pitcher of pumpkin juice.

Tonks snatched the Prophet from Harry’s fist, and quickly unfolded it to reveal the front page headline:

Harry Potter and Auror Nymphadora Tonks
Awarded Order of Merlin 1st Class
for saving Hogwarts

Below that was an aerial photo of site of the battle – a devastated swathe of forest, with bodies still hanging from the trees.

BLOODY HELL!” Neville exclaimed as he flattened his sodden newspaper out on the table.

Similar exclamations began erupting all around the Hall. Hermione gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes rose from her newspaper to meet Harry’s.

How did you survive this?” she whispered.

Once again, Harry and Tonks refused to provide any details on the battle. But as the meal progressed it became very clear that those who’d heard Tonks’ tale the previous night hadn’t been shy about sharing it with other Houses. That, combined with the photo, soon had everyone shooting fearful or appraising glances at Harry and Tonks.

Just when Harry thought the meal couldn’t get any more surreal, Snape staggered in. He was leaning heavily on a walking stick and looked like he was suffering a fever: his skin was pale and pasty, his eyes dark and sunken.

“What the hell’s wrong with Snape?” Ginny wondered.

“Cruciatus exposure,” Tonks replied, following the man with her eyes and drawing her wand.

But Snape didn’t head their way, he hobbled over to the Slytherin table and handed a scroll to the nearest Prefect. The boy nodded and rose from his seat. The room filled with frantic whispering as everyone watched the Prefect stride across the room towards the Gryffindor table.

As Harry had expected, the Prefect walked straight up to him, handed over the scroll, and departed.

Harry unrolled it and read:

For leaving school grounds,
drinking alcohol and breaching school curfew,
in clear contravention of school rules:
50 points from Gryffindor and
4 hours’ detention every night for a month.

Harry’s eyes rose to meet Snape’s across the room. The man said nothing, but he glowered smugly. With a deep breath Harry rose from his seat. Tonks, looking dangerously angry, did the same. The widespread whispering quickly fell silent as the pair made their way towards the High Table.

Harry handed the scroll to Dumbledore without a word. The Headmaster unrolled it and read the contents, then passed it to McGonagall, who did the same and then passed it to Flitwick.

Dumbledore’s voice was calm and reasonable, “I’m not sure what you expect me to do about this Harry. The school rules are very clear, and despite any subsequent... mitigating circumstances... the fact remains that you broke the rules. It is the Professors’ duty as guardians and educators to enforce those rules.”

Harry’s reply was equally calm and reasonable, “I agreed to return to Hogwarts on condition that you overrule all detentions.”

The Headmaster smiled indulgently, “I assumed your demand was merely a childish tantrum. A school cannot function without discipline my boy, which is why I would never agree to that.”

Harry kept his eyes on Dumbledore and said nothing, but he did hold his hand out towards Tonks.

“God damn it!” she hissed, and then fished around in her pockets. Eventually she retrieved a gold coin and placed it on Harry’s palm.

The smile on Harry's face didn't reach his eyes.

“I told Tonks that you were a lying sack of shit,” he explained, “and she bet me a galleon that you weren’t.”

MR POTTER!” McGonagall shrieked. “You will address the Headmaster with the respect he deserves!

“I just did,” Harry replied facetiously.

McGonagall gasped.

“What about you Professor Flitwick?” Harry enquired, turning towards the diminutive teacher. “Do you have anything to say?”

Flitwick glanced at the Headmaster and then shook his head, “Regrettably, my hands are tied.”

Harry nodded sadly, “And you, Professor Sprout?”

“Professors do not over-rule each other, Mr Potter.”

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Snape, who hadn’t moved from the end of the Slytherin table. He’d folded his arms across his chest though, and was clearly enjoying himself immensely. Meanwhile, at the far end of the table Fudge was still eating his breakfast as if nothing was happening.

So much for ‘running interference’ Harry thought bitterly. Apparently the man was just here to stuff his face, so Harry would need to handle this himself. But that was fine. Harry had known this day would come. It was time to play his trump card and let these idiots know that their actions would have consequences.

WHO THE FUCK DO YOU PEOPLE THINK YOU ARE?” Harry yelled, making half the Professors jump. “I’M THE FUCKING CHOSEN ONE YOU MORONS! YOU THINK I HAVE TIME TO WASTE ON DETENTIONS? YOU THINK YOU CAN TREAT ME LIKE SHIT AND I’LL STILL KILL VOLDEMORT FOR YOU? GUESS WHAT? YOU CAN KISS MY FAT HAIRY WHITE ARSE!

All the Professors, apart from Dumbledore, were completely taken aback by that outburst. Meanwhile, Tonks very conspicuously leaned back to give Harry’s arse an appreciative glance.

IF YOU THINK IT’S SO EASY KILL HIM, YOU CAN DO IT YOUSELVES!” Harry roared. “BUT ONLY ONCE YOU’VE DONE THAT WILL I ATTEND ANY OF YOUR FUCKING DETENTIONS YOU PATHETIC SELF-RIGHTEOUS DISCIPLINE-OBSESSED WANKERS!

To Harry’s left he saw a wide grin spread across Snape’s face. To Harry’s right, Fudge finally finished his meal and started dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. But straight in front of Harry, Dumbledore’s patience had clearly run out.

Anger flashed in the Headmaster’s eyes and he started to rise from his seat.

He was barely half way when Tonks’ wand, which she’d drawn earlier, snapped up to point straight at his chest.

Dumbledore froze, staring at the tip of Tonks’ wand in surprise.

It felt like every single person in the room stopped breathing.

Tonks’ voice was icily calm, “Sit back down Headmaster, or I’ll be forced to put you down. And in case you’re tempted to go for your wand, I should warn you that I’m authorised to use deadly force against anyone who threatens the safety of the Chosen One. The expression on your face right now puts you squarely in that category.”

“ENOUGH!” somebody roared suddenly. Every head in the room turned to look at the source.

The High Inquisitor rose from his seat and stepped out from behind a shocked-looking Hagrid.

Harry wondered if Dumbledore had been unaware that Fudge was present, or forgot that he was there, or perhaps didn’t think Fudge would intervene... because as soon as he spotted Fudge he slumped back onto his throne-like chair with an air of defeat.

To Harry’s surprise, Tonks kept her wand trained on the Headmaster.

“Professors Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall,” Fudge announced loudly enough for the entire Hall to hear him, “you were told in no uncertain terms what would happen if you subjected Harry Potter to any further mistreatment. Your actions just now have not only done exactly that, they have endangered the lives of every single person in this country. It is well-known that only Harry can defeat You-Know-Who. If Harry chooses not to do so we are all royally screwed.”

Now it all made sense! Fudge placing himself at the end of the table behind Hagrid and saying nothing while the Professors once again failed to support Harry: he’d been giving them enough rope to hang themselves!

“Each of you is therefore fined two thousand Galleons,” the High Inquisitor declared.

Gasps echoed around the room and the grin fell from Snape’s face.

“You have two weeks to pay up, after which warrants will be issued for your arrest.”

Dumbledore’s expression turned stony, but (just as he had when Umbridge pulled this sort of stunt) he said nothing. McGonagall, on the other hand, looked absolutely aghast. The previous fine had already been beyond her means, so she must have borrowed money to cover it, probably from Dumbledore. This one would certainly bankrupt her, unless Dumbledore once again stepped-in to pay it.

A stunned silence filled the Hall, but the former Minister wasn’t done.

“Professors Flitwick and Sprout, your failure to protect students from a flagrant abuse of authority by your colleagues is a disgrace to your profession. You are hereby fined five hundred Galleons each and ordered to attend a Hearing at the Ministry this afternoon to discuss your implicit support for the Death Eater organisation.”

The two professors looked thoroughly stunned, but Harry had no sympathy for them. They had never helped him and deserved to be raked over the coals for it. Harry quickly examined Fudge’s face. He was certain that the man was enjoying this, but his expression conveyed nothing but noble indignation. It was an impressively disingenuous display. The man’s gaze flicked past Harry to his next victim.

“Professor Snape, as I’m sure you are aware, the Chosen One saved the school from a Death Eater attack. I find your attempt to discipline him for actions which earned him an Order of Merlin 1st Class deeply offensive. Your punishments are therefore cancelled, and in light of your inability to use your powers responsibly, you are permanently stripped of your authority to impose punishments of any kind upon any student.”

Normally Harry would have expected sharp intakes of breath from the Slytherin students at that declaration, and cheers from the other Houses, but the silence remained absolute. Nobody was willing to attract the attention of the man currently handing the Professors their collective asses. Snape, meanwhile, was clearly having trouble controlling his anger: his expression was absolutely murderous. Harry was certain the man was going to draw his wand, so Harry drew his own. But at a glance from Dumbledore, Snape merely glared daggers at Fudge instead.

Dumbledore straightened in his chair as Fudge turned to face him.

“Headmaster Dumbledore, you are hereby demoted to Deputy Headmaster. I will assume the post of Headmaster myself.”

Everyone, including Harry, was astounded by that announcement. Dumbledore closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again, but before he could respond Fudge turned his attention elsewhere.

“Professor McGonagall, despite repeated warnings you have once again failed in your duties. It is now clear that you are more concerned with maintaining your status than protecting the children in your care. I find you unfit for any position of authority and you are therefore dismissed with immediate effect. You have two days to pack your bags and leave the School. If you fail to do so, like Professor Trelawney did last year, you will be fined one hundred Galleons per day until you do. Your duties as Head of Gryffindor will now fall to the Head Boy.”

For several seconds McGonagall stared at Fudge as if she were struggling to comprehend his words. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell face-first into her breakfast. The entire room descended into chaos. Half the professors including Dumbledore leapt to McGonagall’s aid, Snape whirled on the spot and swept from the room as fast as his limp would allow, all four student tables exploded in uproar, and Tonks finally lowered her wand.

Harry’s eyes met those of the new Headmaster. Very slowly and deliberately, Fudge smirked.

And that, Harry realised, is how a vindictive former Minister for Magic takes his revenge: by completely gutting Dumbledore’s support base and taking his job.

Notes:

The stuff about Harry’s surname is actually canon. You’ll find it here. The stuff about the SAS is also true. The robe that Tonks and Harry are now wearing is the Dark Arts robe from the recent video game, “Hogwarts Legacy” (which was originally going to be called "Hogwarts Dark Legacy" apparently). The game is set in 1890 and the player is allowed to wear that robe around the school without challenge from the professors.

This story just passed a quarter of a million words! Woohoo! 🥳