FicWad

Harry waited every day for the next week trying to find out when he would be freed from the confining prison that was the Dursley home. By the end of the week Harry was almost ready to scream in frustration due to the sheer boredom of the lack of chores and reading material when, during a third idle perusal of his fifth year charms text, he heard three small pops in quick succession. He quickly slammed the boring text closed and palmed his wand into his hand, it was always somewhere on his person, Harry not wishing to be caught unawares, and stalked down the hall to the point of the disturbance.


There was a crash downstairs and a loud curse, "Sorry 'bout that, so, where is he, Mad-Eye?" a slightly girlish voice asked. That would be Tonks, the clumsy metamorphmagus who was injured in the Department of Mysteries just a month ago. Harry wondered if she was badly hurt, but given the racket she was making it was quite unlikely.


"If yeh'd shut up for a minute I'd tell yeh," was the growled reply. Definitely Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, the paranoid ex-Auror who could see through invisibility cloaks, walls and even the back of his own head.


Harry stood sharply, but quickly lowered himself into a crouch. He'd already seen what polyjuice could do. He didn't want to take chances, even if they did seem to be the two Aurors. He hadn't heard the third yet, so he resolved to keep an ear out.


"'E's in 'is room. Surely yeh know where that is," Mad-eye sniped.


"Seeing as I helped to get him out of this hellhole last year, yeah, funnily enough I do know where his room is. Unless of course your old brain forgets these sorts of details, Mad-eye," Mad-eye groaned silently in annoyance. She giggled softly as he stared stonily at the younger Auror. Tonks had been teasing him about his age for a month now, and it was beginning to grate on his nerves.


It was very lucky that the Dursleys were not at home, Harry mused, due to the fact that the disturbance outside would have caused a multitude of shouting, cursing and maybe even cursed Dursleys. Grinning at the thought he focused again, hearing another series of crashes and thumps on the landing. Hearing a muffled 'Reparo', he slowly turned the door handle, his wand at the ready and thoughts of Hermione's gift running through his mind.


"What's the address of Padfoot's old house?" He questioned, his eyes glinting in a suspicious way. The two Aurors jumped sharply.


"Blimey Harry!" The Metamorph replied. "Why'd you do that? Almost gave me a heart-attack."


"What's the address?" the Boy wizard repeated, with a stony visage upon his otherwise kind face.


"Not telling yeh tha'," was the gruff reply, "what if yeh've kidnapped Potter an' are just waiting for us te give away important information?"


Harry thought about it a moment and decided to go a different route, "Nymphadora, what face reminds me of my cousin?"


The Auror scowled at the hated name and scrunched up her face. Within seconds it contorted into a visage similar to that of a pig.


Mad-Eye then pushed her out of the way, aside her squawk of indignation, and shot off several rapid fire questions about Harry that he struggled to keep up with but was eventually rewarded with a less suspicious glare and Mad-Eye's wand out of his face.


Harry laughed and lowered his wand, placing it back into the waistline of his jeans. That, at least, was something that couldn't be faked.


"Wotcher Tonks, Mad-eye. Who's the third? I heard three apparitions."


"Wotcher, Harry," the Metamorphmagus replied "the third was Kingsley; he's 'securing the perimeter'," she mimicked the latter part of the sentence in a perfect impression of the rumbling voice of the black Auror, causing Harry to chuckle under his breath.


Harry, still snickering lightly, asked, "How are we getting to Headquarters? My broom's still at Hogwarts."


"Dumbledore got us a Portkey this time," she replied, "saves us freezing while we fly there, even if I do always fall over."


"Grab hold then, Boy," Mad-eye rumbled, holding out a bright yellow and green, striped sock, "let's get going. I don't feel like staying in this hole all day."


"Me neither," Harry replied, quietly acquiescing and grabbing the eclectic sock that was either made by Dobby or belonged to the venerated old Headmaster. 'Probably both,' he thought in amusement.


"Good. Oi, Kingsley, hurry up!" she hollered, prompting the return of the Auror Captain.


"No need to shout, Tonks," the man said, arriving in the pristine kitchen in record time, "Did I miss anything?"


"No. Just the usual: Harry making sure we're us; There was me thinking we only got that from this old goat," She said, gesturing to the bristling man next to her.


"Say that again, Rookie. I dare yeh," he replied, rising to the taunt. His eyes glinted as he threatened the younger of the two.



"Now now, no need to fight," Kingsley intoned, looking to derail the coming confrontation. "Ok, everybody ready?" he asked, waiting for their nods and, grabbing hold of the Portkey himself, he spoke the activation phrase, "Lemon Drop".




The foursome arrived in the gloomy hall of the Black manor with a crash. Tonks and Harry, as per normal fell to the ground, and due to being connected to Mad-eye and Kingsley by means of the sock, the others fell also.


Harry looked out from his slightly claustrophobic position on the dusty floor and saw the dark interior of the stained house. The Order and Molly Weasley had obviously had very little chance to clean through the past year.


So it was a curious site that the matron of the Weasley family walked into, with three Order members and her surrogate son piled up in a tangled heap in the middle of the floor.


Harry was the first to notice the podgy woman's stare and attempted to speak. "Hello, Mrs. Weasley," which came out slightly muffled due to the fact that his face was being squashed into the ground.


"Harry, you poor dear, let's get you up," she screeched, running over and pulling him from under Shacklebolt while simultaneously trying to hug the life out of him.


"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley," he tried to assure, shaking her away, but the woman would not listen and turned her attention towards the guards.


"Kingsley, Mad-eye, Tonks, I expected better of you. Collapsing on the poor boy like that; who knows how he's feeling and you go and do that."


"Molly..." Kingsley began, only to be interrupted by Tonks.


"So it's our fault we can't land?' Tonks exclaimed, an undertone of bitterness in her voice which took on a self-loathing tone as she finished, 'For your information, it was partly Harry's fault that we got into this mess. But if you want someone to blame, then blame me. I'm the clumsy one. I can't seem to do anything right here," and with that bitter statement, she stomped moodily out of the ancestral Black house, leaving Harry and Kingsley to stare after her regretfully.


Molly Weasley was left quite shocked by the outburst, and tried to defend her point. "What did I say?" she asked, rhetorically.


"Nymphadora is having some problems at the moment, Molly," a new voice intervened, one that was easily recognisable as belonging to the most respected wizard in Britain: Albus Dumbledore. He steeped out from the shadows looking as vibrant as ever in lurid purple robes. "Harry, may we speak for a moment?"


"Of course, Professor," the boy wizard said with barely concealed venom Dumbledore's eyebrows raised at the confrontational tone, but said nothing as they stepped silently into an unused side-room. Harry still wanted to scream and rage at him about the prophecy and Sirius, but he didn't know how to do so without looking like a child in front of the other Order of the Phoenix members.


The room they entered was covered in dust and cobwebs. Dumbledore raised his wand and pointed it at the door, mumbling a few words under his breath. Harry paused a moment before picking up a small piece of jewellery and throwing it at the door. It bounced away a few inches before the door and Harry nodded in satisfaction at the imperturbable charm.


"Have a seat, my boy," the elderly professor said, gesturing to the filthy mess in front of him. They sat, staring at each other. "So, Harry, how was your holiday?" Dumbledore asked, trying to break the silence that was becoming even more uncomfortable by the second.


"Fine. Would've been better if I'd actually been allowed post this year, but hey, I suppose you can't have everything in life," Harry replied, somewhat dryly.


"Harry," the elderly wizard reproached, "you know that the letters could be easily intercepted."


Anger bubbled up in Harry like a volcano of rage at the elderly Headmaster's condescending tone, "that excuse doesn't work, Professor," practically spitting out the honorific, "because you know as well as I do that Ron and Hermione know nothing about the Order because they aren't members! If I wanted information about Voldemort, Sir, I would speak to you in person."


Dumbledore opened his mouth, presumably to explain himself, but Harry continued, an unusually cold tone coming from the boy.

"That leads me on to my next point. I need to join the Order. Or at least know what Voldemort's planning next. I need training as well; I highly doubt Voldemort's going to just let me hit him with a Tickling Hex. Unless, of course you think I can hug the man to death?" Harry's tone became gradually filled with scorn, even as he took on a slightly thoughtful look, "That might scare him to death but I'd still need to get close enough to do it."


Dumbledore was struck dumb by the youth's hostile tone for a moment but quickly brought up a reply, "Harry... yes, I can arrange that. But it may take a while. The new minister, though much more amiable than Fudge, still rebuffed my attempts to persuade him to lower the Reasonable Restriction for Underage Wizardry. I trust that you can wait until term begins for your training?"


Harry allowed a small smile to creep across his face, "Thank you, Professor. When was the new minister inaugurated? I cancelled my subscription to the Prophet because of the tripe they call news."


"Minister Fudge was removed from office on the 10th. His successor, a Mr. Scrimgeour, was elected on the 15th and has already proposed a large scale renovation of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in order to combat the Death Eater threat. I suggest you reactivate your subscription, Harry, because even in the most biased of articles, there does remain a slight semblance of truth" Dumbledore was right, Harry mused; the writers had to get their ideas from somewhere, seeing as they were obviously in no way intelligent enough to completely fabricate a half-way believable tale.


"I think I might just do that, Sir," at this Dumbledore smiled. Maybe there was still hope for his rather tenuous relationship with Harry.


"Moving on to less important matters; I'm sure that your friends will be very happy to see you and likely feel that I have done them an injustice by dragging you away so soon, so... "


Harry's face grew stony once again as he indignantly interrupted his once favourite professor, "I'm sorry; Professor, but you didn't drag me anywhere. I felt I needed to speak to you as much as you did me. Otherwise I would have simply walked on."


The wizened wizard seemed to deflate before Harry's eyes as the boy started to walk away. "I am sorry that things have become so strained between us, Harry. Tell me, how can I atone for my misjudgements?"


"Bring my Godfather back," was Harry's cold reply as he continued to walk with anger still bubbling inside of him, not turning to see a lone tear sparkling as it made it's way down Dumbledore's face.




Ron and Hermione were extremely shocked when the door at which they had been trying to listen was suddenly ripped open with such force that it was almost torn from it's hinges. They instantly noticed their best friends' eyes were glinting with barely controlled rage and his face was contorted in a fearsome expression of ice cold anger.


Ron was the first to pull back, "Muh...muh... mate... we didn't hear anything! Honest!" Ron seemed very anxious to escape, Harry noted, "I need to go... um... help mum! Yeah, that's it, I need to go help mum. See you later Harry!"


Harry's expression of hate broke down as he saw his friend scamper away. It instantly split into a grin and soon he was laughing so hard that he had to hold his sides to keep himself upright. "Did you see his face!" he chortled towards Hermione, who had adopted an expression of mixed shock and confusion. "What?"


"You mean you aren't angry we tried to listen?" she asked, muddled at the quick change.


The young man's face changed again, "yes, I am. But I know I'd have done the same thing. I guess it's just lucky Dumbledore warded the room or else I'd really be angry around now."


Hermione's face became ashen at Harry's words. He was right; she had broken his trust. "Harry," the girl exclaimed, "I didn't mean to! I just had to know what was so secret that you had to talk to the headmaster!"


"It doesn't matter what you meant, Hermione. You still did it," Harry finished, already beginning to walk away. "If you don't mind, I need to find a room. I don't particularly feel like staying with Ron. He'd probably lie awake all night wondering if I was about to get my revenge, the fool," he added fondly, with a look of reminiscence upon his face.




Harry settled down in a room on the top floor, it had been cleaned recently, if the lack of dust was anything to go by, but the bed was comfortable and it was away from the rest of the house.


'Was I too harsh?' he wondered silently. 'They were practically trying to spy on me!"


'Maybe I'm getting too paranoid.'


"Nah, I wasn't harsh enough,' he finished, allowing the void of sleep to claim him.