I don't own this, this is completly the property of JKR.
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The afternoon was a flurry of activity for the three teens. Hermione helped the boys pack their belongings, after spending a good two hours searching the small room for their things.
“It never ceases to amaze me how you two can spread your stuff around so completely in such a short period of time,” Hermione proclaimed, doing a very good impression of Mrs. Weasley. “We’ve only been here for a couple of weeks, and you have managed to find every hiding place imaginable for your things. Harry, I found one of your socks behind the lamp on your desk. How in the world did that get there?”
“I dunno-- sock volleyball… or maybe Ron was using a Levitation Charm on my clothes again, behind my back,” Harry said, smiling at the agitated state Hermione was in. He was clearing up the last few books they had been using and stuffing them into Ron’s trunk.
“Argh! Well, if you don’t need me to help you, and since you find this whole thing so amusing, I will be going to Mrs. Figg’s to get my own things packed. It’s three now; I should be back in a couple of hours. Try not to get into trouble while I’m gone, and Harry, if those--Muggles say anything to you at all, let me know. Ginny was showing me some “adjustments” she made to her Bat-Bogey Hex, and I wouldn’t mind trying them out.” Then, with a pop she was gone.
“I don’t care what she says, she is trying rub that whole Apparition test thing in my face. Why didn’t she just walk down to Figg’s; it is only a couple of blocks,” Ron said, searching behind the desk for Harry’s other sock.
“Well, it may be because she didn’t want to see my aunt and uncle again. I have seen Hermione mad before-- I mean, I didn’t think anyone could make her as mad as you do-- but she was really livid down there. You are right, mate; she is a bit scary,” Harry replied, putting the last of his clothes-- with the exception of one sock-- into his trunk and closing the lid. “Hey, what did she mean about Ginny and her favorite hex?”
“Oh, that, don’t worry about it. She told me that Ginny has been really upset these last couple of weeks. She’s been really quiet since Dumbledore’s funeral and has been alternating between being on the verge of tears and screaming at everyone who looks at her funny. Hermione saw her do a Bat-Bogey Hex on Fred that was so intense it took Moody and Shacklebolt together to do the counter curse. See what you have to look forward to?” Ron said with a grin.
Harry did not respond, but instead sank onto his bed. He had reduced Ginny to crying or lashing out at everyone. How could he make this right? No, he had done the right thing. She could not follow him down this path. She was too special to go and risk everything for him. He was not going let her die like so many others he had cared for. She was not going to die for him. He was going to protect her.
“Harry, what’s wrong; why are you looking so upset all of a sudden? Don’t worry about Ginny, mate, she’s fine. She just needs some time to adjust to the situation with Dumbledore being gone and everything. It’s been difficult for all of us, although I didn’t think she was that close to him; I guess she is just taking it really hard,” Ron said with concern.
Harry was drawn out of his thoughts, realizing he had let his emotions show too much and that Ron had seen how upset he was. Fortunately, Ron had also provided a legitimate excuse for his reaction. “That’s not it,” Harry lied, “I was just thinking about the note. When I saw the name on it, my first reaction was to shout for joy. I thought maybe he had come back, somehow. Maybe I had not lost another person in my life. Maybe I hadn’t gotten someone else killed. Once I got over the initial shock and Hermione said she thought it must he his brother, well, it just hit me again that he is really gone.” Harry again sat back, now feeling awful for Ginny and for losing Dumbledore. His emotions were getting the best of him, and he needed a change in subject.
“So, what do the Cannons look like this year?” Harry asked.
Ron must have gotten the hint that Harry didn’t want to talk anymore about matters concerning Dumbledore. “Well, Quidditch Weekly says they’re going to be rubbish again, but I have hope. Their Seeker is getting older, but I think he still has a few good catches left in him.”
“That’s good, since he hasn’t actually made one since our first year, and that was in a loss anyway,” Harry replied, thankful for his friend’s willingness to let the subjects of Ginny and Dumbledore rest. He always thought Ron was much quicker on the uptake than people around him seemed to believe. Well, in all areas that didn’t have to do with girls-- in that area he was as dense as a peace of lead.
The rest of the afternoon passed with discussions of Quidditch, games of Muggle chess (since Harry still could not use magic away from school) and long conversations about nothing in particular.
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When Hermione hadn’t returned by seven in the evening, both young men started to become concerned.
“She said it would be a couple of hours, but it has been four; where could she be?” Ron asked. He was not the panicky type, except when it came to Hermione. “Should I go try to find her or something?”
“No, hold on a second; I’ll give her a call at Mrs. Figg’s,” Harry said, feeling uneasy about her delay, but not overly worried. He knew Hermione, and thought she may just have found a good book and become so engrossed in it that she forgot the time. She was probably just sitting by the fire reading.
“How are you going to call her? These crazy Muggles have blocked the fireplace, and you don’t have any Floo powder anyway,” Ron began, just as the answer struck him. “Oh, you are going to use a-- a fellytone thingy, aren’t you?”
Harry rolled his eyes at his friend’s utter lack of knowledge about the Muggle world. “It is called a telephone. You know, you should have taken Muggle Studies with Hermione in our third year.”
“Why would I do a thing like that, when I have you two to tell me all I need to know? It would be like reading Hogwarts, A History, when I have Hermione to tell me everything that’s in it,” Ron proclaimed, sounding very pleased with himself.
Harry grinned and started for the door. Just as he was about to grasp the doorknob, the door swung open, catching Harry in the shoulder and knocking him backwards.
“What are you doing sneaking up to doors like that? Trying to lock us out of a room in our own house are you?” Uncle Vernon blustered as he cautiously stepped into the room, followed by Dudley. They were both dressed in their best suits and looked quite pleased with themselves.
“We are going to dinner with the Mayor of Little Whinging,” he announced, as if he had been invited to visit the Queen herself. “I expect there to be no funny business while we are away, and mind you keep that little tart of a--”
He got no further, as Ron was on his feet in a second, wand raised, turning a rather impressive scarlet. “You’d better watch it, Dursley, or I may have to do some funny business on you right now!”
Harry was also on his feet, but he knew that showing his anger to Uncle Vernon was not the best way to handle the situation. He stepped between a bright red Ron, and a violently purple Uncle Vernon, arms outstretched to hold them apart.
“It’s all right, Uncle; we won’t be here when you get back. I am leaving tonight, and this will probably be the last time you will ever see me again. I would like to say thanks for all that you did for me, but in all honesty, you didn’t do much. I will say good“bye, and I hope that life treats you all well,” Harry said, feeling almost no emotion. He stepped back and sat down on his bed, looking around. He was puzzled by the way he felt, or rather the lack of feelings. Shouldn’t he be happy about leaving and never coming back? Shouldn’t he feel sad about leaving the place that he grew up in? There was nothing there at all-- no sadness or joy, just emptiness.
He was pulled from his thoughts by the voice of his Aunt Petunia. “Well, good riddance to you and your freak friends,” she huffed from the hallway, having just caught Harry’s words. Uncle Vernon growled at Ron and turned to march out of the room. “Come along, Dudley, the mayor awaits.”
Dudley, however, did not come along. He stood staring at Harry sitting on the bed. He had a very puzzled look on his face, as if he was trying to work something out in his head. He stepped forward tentatively, and motioned for Harry to come closer.
“What do you want you?” Ron spat, looking warily at the hefty young man in front of him.
Dudley looked at Ron, with some caution in his eyes, but continued to motion for Harry to come over to him. “Harry, I want to tell you something before you go. Something I should have told you a long time ago.” Dudley seemed to be pleading at this point for Harry to come to him.
Harry got up, wondering what could possibly be so important to Dudley. He had never shown the least bit of consideration over the years, so why now? Harry was hesitant, but the curiosity was becoming overwhelming, so he moved closer to Dudley, who was standing just inside the doorway. As he moved closer, Dudley took a step back, looking out of the door to see if his father was with in ear shot. When he turned back around, Harry was right in front of him, with Ron standing directly behind him, glaring.
Dudley flinched slightly at the sight of Ron staring down at him. Ron was 6’4” if he was an inch, and while he was not nearly as broad as Dudley, he still cut an imposing figure. Dudley quickly pulled Harry closer to him, as if he was going to share a secret. “Harry, I just wanted to say…,” he whispered.
Harry was burning with curiosity now. What on earth did his cousin have to say to him that he could not, or would not, allow his mother and father to hear? Perhaps at least one of his relations had actually changed his mind about him. Perhaps someone in his family, at least his biological family, was willing to accept him.
Dudley glanced back again, looking nervously over his shoulder. “I just wanted to tell you that…” He turned back to Harry and threw a wicked punch that caught Harry squarely in the face. “That you really are a freak and we are glad to be rid of you!” Dudley howled as he ran out of the room.
Harry toppled back into Ron, causing both of them to fall heavily on the floor between the bed and Ron’s cot. Blood started spilling out of Harry’s nose. He knew that it was broken; he recognized the sensation from the previous year. His eyes watered, and he was very dizzy as he sat there entangled with Ron on the floor.
Ron burst with rage and extricated himself from underneath Harry. He got to his feet and raced out of the room, leaving Harry sitting there, blood dripping from his nose, feeling consciousness slipping from his grasp. He heard a pop come from somewhere, but was too dazed to figure out from where.
“What happened?” Hermione exclaimed as she saw Harry lying there on the floor, covered with blood. “Where’s Ron? Harry, what happened?” She got to Harry’s side and started cleaning the blood off his face, only to find that his nose was still bleeding and looked to be sitting slightly to the right on his face. She realized that his nose was broken and set about trying to stem the blood flow as best she could. She noticed his glasses lying on the ground next to his head. “Reparo,” she said, flicking her wand at the glasses. She then picked them up and put them into the pocket of her jeans.
Ron reentered the bedroom breathing heavily, and redder than Hermione had ever seen him.
“Ron, what happened? Why is Harry’s nose broken; what is going on?” she asked, completely confused by the mess she had Apparated into.
“That no good, foul--” Ron stammered, trying desperately not to launch into another tirade of curses that would cause Hermione to yell at him, “--cousin of Harry’s punched him just before he left with his parents. I ran after him, but he was in the car and they were gone before I could get to him. Oh, if I ever see that big fat Muggle again, I am going rip his arms off and beat him to death with them,” Ron exploded, sitting down on the Harry’s bed and looking down at him. “How is he?” he asked in a much calmer voice, his concern for Harry outweighing his hatred of Dudley.
“Well, his nose is broken and I can’t fix that, but it looks like the bleeding has started to slow. The Order, or at least Mr. Dumbledore, will be here in an hour or so, and we can get him fixed up then. Harry, can you stand; are you all right?” she asked, taking his hand and lifting his head slightly.
“Yeah, I think I am all right; this is nothing I haven’t felt before anyway. Between Bludgers and Death Eaters, I have had worse.” He slowly got to his feet, Ron stepping in to give him a hand and leading him to a chair. “I can’t believe that git actually suckered me in. I should have known it was a something like that,” he said, slowly shaking his head.
“So, where have you been the last four hours? You said it would only take a couple to get yourself packed,” Ron said angrily, turning to Hermione as he remembered his feelings of panic over her delay.
“I was packing, and then I had a quick letter to write. I knew that you two would be here all afternoon discussing Quidditch or something, so I decided to get the letter done before I came back. Sorry if I don’t keep you updated on every second of my day, Ronald,” Hermione shot back, her anger beginning to rise.
“Enough, guys; I can’t take this right now,” Harry spoke up, stopping the impending row in its tracks. “Hermione, we were just concerned because, well, because we don’t want anything to happen to you and in these dark times… you know,” Harry interjected, speaking for his friend. “Ron, she is a big girl and can take care of herself,” he said, looking over to Ron.
Ron simply nodded, looking at Hermione. Hermione, however, was looking at Harry. “You would do well to remember that too, Harry,” she said matter-of-factly.
This struck Harry as a very odd thing for her to say, but before he could respond, his brain kicked in. She knows, he thought. Hermione sat looking at him, her eyebrows raised in an expression that clearly said, Yes, I do know, and we are going to be talking about some things. He quickly turned his head.
Before he could think of a subject change, there was a crashing sound in the kitchen, followed by muffled voices. Ron got to his feet, looked back at his two friends and said, “Stay here. If they are friends I’ll be right back; if they are enemies, then you will know pretty soon.” He walked out of the room.
A minute later Ron came back into the bedroom with Remus and a witch Harry didn’t recognize in tow. Harry noticed as they entered that Remus and the witch were holding hands, so he thought it safe to assume she was Tonks. Remus looked like he always did: old ragged robes, slightly graying hair that made him look older than he was, and very pale skin. The smile on his face, however, looked more natural than it used to. He had laugh wrinkles around his eyes-- something Harry had never seen before-- which took some of the age from them. Harry thought that Tonks was having a very good effect on his former professor.
Tonks, on the other hand, was unrecognizable. She had flaming red hair that she wore long, dark brown eyes and pale, freckled skin. If Harry didn’t know better, he would have been sure that she was Ginny’s older sister. She stood taller than Ginny by a couple of inches, but that was the main difference.
Remus was quick to notice the damage to Harry’s face. “What happened?” he asked with concern.
“Going away present from my cousin; I didn’t duck quickly enough,” Harry said with a mirthless laugh.
“Wotcher, Hermione, Ron,” Tonks said, grinning. She then turned to Harry. “Harry, I’ll take care of it,” she sighed. There was no warmth in her voice, and Harry began to wonder what he had done. As she walked towards him, he was struck again by just how much like Ginny she looked, and it hit him like a ton of bricks. She knew too.
Oh, this is just great, Harry thought. Is there a girl that doesn’t know that I broke up with Ginny? He sat up straighter as Tonks grabbed him under the chin and pulled his head up so that they were face to face. “We’ll talk later,” she whispered as she waved her wand and fixed his broken nose. She let his chin fall out of her hand and made no move to clean up the mass of blood around his face and on his clothes.
He pulled out his own wand to try to clean himself up, but realized he still wasn’t allowed to do magic. He looked at Hermione with pleading eyes. She took pity on him and cleaned up the blood, then handed him his glasses.
“Thanks,” he said sheepishly, and she turned and headed for the door.
“So where is Mr. Dumbledore?” Ron asked brightly, completely unaware of the distress that Harry found himself in.
“Just downstairs; I think he is looking for the Muggles’ alcohol to see if there is anything worth…um, borrowing,” Tonks declared as she led them back out of the room. Remus shrank their trunks and put them both in his pocket. Harry grabbed Hedwig’s cage and they started down the stairs.
“Wow, what sort of spell is that?” Ron exclaimed. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
“Oh, that is just a Reduction Transfiguration. I picked it up in my travels. Makes things much simpler when you have to make a fast get away,” Remus explained.
Downstairs, they were greeted by the sight of the bartender from the Hog’s Head standing before them. He was wearing a rough leather traveling cloak that seemed far too hot for a summer evening, a hat pulled low over his eyes, and what looked like cowboy boots.
Remus looked at the astonished faces around him, smiling as he said, “May I introduce Aberforth Dumbledore.” Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in shock; they had never imagined that the old, menacing-looking barkeeper from Hogsmeade was Professor Dumbledore’s brother. It was hard to see the resemblance with his hat pulled down so low, but the height was a pretty good match.
“Good evening all,” he growled. “It seems that you were not expecting me. Albus always spoke so highly about your ability to figure things out, but you never suspected that I was his brother. Stands to reason, I guess-- you have only been in my pub a couple of times. Nice to meet you all properly; now we must be off.”
“Where are we going, sir?” Harry asked, still astonished to see the man who had once, according to Dumbledore, been prosecuted for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat.
“To Grimmauld Place, of course, we have some business to discuss.” He then waved his wand and the faux fireplace vanished, leaving the actual fireplace that was hidden behind it. “Okay, in you go.” Harry stepped forward and took some Floo powder. He tossed it into the fireplace and stepped in. “Number twelve, Grimmauld Place,” he shouted. He was immediately swept into the Floo Network, the familiar warm sensation of the green flames surrounding him. He spun towards his destination, elbows tucked in so as to avoid hitting anything.
He landed on his feet in the fireplace at number twelve, Grimmauld Place with a thump and fell forward, landing on his chest. He never was any good on the dismount.
“Still better then Apparating,” he said as he got to his feet and wiped himself off. He looked up and was so startled he almost fell backwards into the fireplace again. Ginny was right in front of him, staring at him with those beautiful brown eyes.
“Hmf,” was all she said as she turned and walked out of the room without so much as a backward glance.
“Well that can’t be good,” Harry said, just as Ron tumbled out of the fireplace, knocking him over once again.
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A/N I have to thank my Beta JenC, and prebetas Kerrbear, and Cableguysmom for there help. If not for them this story would be unreadable. Thanks ladies. This chapter is a bit short, future chapters will be longer. Please read and review.