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SIYE Time:16:38 on 28th March 2024
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Harry Potter and the Lord of Immortality
By Awakening5

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Category: Post-OotP, Alternate Universe
Characters:Albus Dumbledore, All, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Severus Snape, Sirius Black
Genres: Action/Adventure, Humor, Romance
Warnings: Death, Disturbing Imagery, Mild Sexual Situations, Sexual Situations, Violence
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 69
Summary: The war is beginning, and Voldemort seeks to cast fear into the hearts of the wizarding world as reality hits: he is immortal. Harry Potter struggles to accept his new role in the war and find a way to destroy the man who can't die. AU 6th year. Canon ships, especially HG.
Hitcount: Story Total: 49613; Chapter Total: 2349
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Sorry it took so long. Thanks to the reviewers!




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Chapter 15: Infiltration

“The last time he went on a mission, he ended up hating us for it, Albus.”

“It wasn’t his decision last time.”

“From what you tell me, it still won’t be his choice.”

“No more than his last mission was our decision, Sirius.”

-0-0-0-

“Yo u are cleared to leave, Mr. Potter.” Madam Pomfrey finished waving her wand over Harry, casting detailed diagnostics, and put it into her pocket.

Harry smiled and looked at the woman. “No, that can’t possibly be right. You said at least two weeks.”

Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes. “I may have overestimated your time of healing…”

“Doubled it,” Harry said with a smirk. “But that’s okay. I bet you were just hoping I would be here for two weeks.”

The hospital matron let out a long sigh, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I can assure you Mr. Potter, I did not, and do not, hope for you to be here any longer than necessary.”

Harry feigned hurt as he swung his legs out from his bed. “And here I was going to get you a bouquet of flowers to thank you for your kindness and hospitality. It turns out I was just part of the job, though.”

The older woman smiled lightly. “That’s exactly right. Now get out of here before I break one of your bones again.”

Harry quickly got dressed in some robes that Ron had brought by for him. It was early morning, and students were likely just arriving down to breakfast. Feeling quite hungry himself, Harry headed straight for the Great Hall. But not before conjuring a vase full of beautiful lilies for Madam Pomfrey and leaving it on his vacant bed. He wrote a quick note, which simply said ‘Thanks. Until next time…’

Upon arriving at the Great Hall, Harry found the room quite empty. There were just a few students at each house table, including Dean and Ginny, who were huddled together. The closer Harry got, the more he realized the two were having a quiet, angry, fight.

He tried not to eavesdrop as he passed by them, but it was quite difficult not to overhear a few words.

“…lying to me for months.”

“So I left out a bit of spell practice that we do with training, what’s the big deal?” Ginny looked furious. But Harry had to wonder if she was more upset with Dean’s anger, or herself for not being more open with him.

“That’s just one example, Ginny. You won’t talk to me. You won’t tell me what is really happening in your life! And then you sit here and expect me to open up about my family problems?” Dean whispered, but did so with a very sharp tone. Harry sat a few seats down from them, wanting to be close to join them for breakfast once their little tiff was over.

“It’s not the same thing, Dean…I’m not supposed to say–“

“It’s exactly the same, Ginny. You’ve got your little posse and won’t let anyone else in. What else aren’t you telling me, Ginny? Are you screwing Harry behind my back, too?”

Harry’s head bolted up from the plate he had begun to fill. So this was no little tiff. And that was certainly the wrong thing to say to Ginny. Even though he was looking at the back of her head, he knew her face had become very red. He felt the anger emanating from her a few seats down.

“How dare you–“

Harry wondered if he should stand up, make his presence known. But Dean was soon standing, and to his credit, he looked apologetic.

“Look, forget I said that. I was just angry, and my mouth got away from me.”

“Don’t expect to just apologize and think all is forgiven,” Ginny said dangerously. Harry saw her hand moving towards her pocket, where Harry was sure her wand was ready for some hexing.

“I know,” Dean said hurriedly. “Can we just blow off some steam and talk about this later?”

Ginny took a few deep breaths, before she visibly relaxed and nodded.

“Thanks,” Dean said, and Harry could now see sweat on his forehead. “I really am sorry…” Then he turned and left, never having noticed Harry’s presence.

Harry decided to let Ginny cool down for a couple of minutes before he moved a few seats down next to her. She looked up, very surprised to see him. “Harry!” she exclaimed, though Harry saw the fake smile she had on her face before giving him a hug. “You’re out!”

“Yeah,” Harry said hurriedly, anxious to see how she was feeling. “A little sore, but everything’s great. I…er…overheard a little of your fight, Gin. Are you okay?”

Ginny’s face again flushed red, but Harry supposed it was from embarrassment and not anger this time around. “Yes…I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine, actually. This isn’t the first time we’ve had this fight…”

“Really?” Harry asked, in shock. He had always thought they were the perfect couple. “What’s the problem?”

Ginny let out a frustrated sound. “Well, I know he’s going through some tough family times, and so I asked what the problem is, or what I can do to help. Then he goes off about me not telling him anything about my personal life, so why would he tell me?”

Harry nodded. He knew the feeling well. He had a history of keeping secrets from a lot of people, and it always hindered the relationship. “And so you told him about our training?” Harry guessed, from the snippet of the argument he heard.

Ginny nodded. “I was trying to make a peace offering, tell him about my preparations to be a part of the war. But he just demanded to know what we are working on exactly. I think he’s jealous of you, Harry. Or at least the time we spend together.”

Harry looked at his hands, slightly ashamed. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Ginny added hurriedly. “It’s not your fault we’ve become so close.”

“He still shouldn’t have said that you and I have…”

“No,” Ginny agreed, cutting Harry off before he said the words. Harry was grateful for this, as saying the words aloud might make them sound more appealing. “He shouldn’t have. But considering…” Ginny grew slightly awkward for a moment, and wouldn’t meet Harry’s eyes when she continued. “Considering that we’ve kissed–I sometimes have myself convinced I’ve cheated on him. I feel terrible.”

Harry felt horrible as well. It had been his fault, after all–he was the one who let her prank Malfoy with him. He had decided to kiss her to avoid trouble with Snape. He had been the one dreaming about her that night.

“I’m sorry, Gin…”

“Don’t be,” Ginny said again, quite forcefully. “We did what we had to in the situation to fool Snape.” For some reason, hearing Ginny saying the kiss was simply an act, even if true, bothered Harry quite a bit. It made him feel foolish for having enjoyed it so much. “I just need to find a way to be more open with him–while still keeping the secrets of those I care about.”

A daunting task, Harry knew. When he thought about it, Harry realized how very little he had told Abby. The difference was that Abby wasn’t pressing for him to tell her things. He didn’t expect the relationship would last much longer if she started wondering what Harry’s life truly entailed. And Harry was starting to think that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“Well, if there’s anything I can do…or not do…just let me know,” Harry said.

Ginny smirked. “You could start by not kissing me anymore.”

Harry frowned. “What? No deal. I can’t possibly resist you.”

Ginny’s smile faded, and Harry knew why. It was this exact behavior that was getting her in trouble with Dean. But, Ginny’s reservation to tell him so proved to Harry that that was a lot for her to give up. Harry smiled sadly at her.

“Look…I’ll try my hardest to pull back my charm. I don’t want to come between you.”

An indiscernible look crossed her features before Ginny responded. “Right. Thanks.”

And suddenly, Harry felt a great loss. It was odd, almost as though he had just ended a non-existent relationship with Ginny.

-0-0-0-

“No Giants tonight, I suppose?” Remus said softly.

Tonks turned around slowly. It had been over a month since they had spoken more than two words to each other. More than a month since he had kissed her. More than a month since he had said it was a mistake.

He had also had nearly two weeks to stew over what Harry had told him. Initially, he had been furious at the boy. How dare he insinuate that Remus thought himself worth less because he was a werewolf? Harry simply didn’t understand the ramifications–the dangers of being with a werewolf. The dangers were physical and social. What did he know?

But over the next two weeks, his anger faded, and Harry’s words sunk in. After all, if anyone could empathize with physical and social danger by association without being a werewolf, it was Harry. And when he allowed himself to ponder the words Harry spoke, Remus found himself believing the boy. Remus had been discriminating against himself. He had thought he was an inadequate partner because of his condition. He had become the thing he hated in his society.

Tonks stood in Grimmauld Place; she had been waiting for her partner for watch to show up. She had expected Mundungus Fletcher, but got Remus instead.

“A girl can hope,” Tonks replied at last, with more meaning than Remus would’ve liked. She had been wearing her hair back in a conservative brown for a few weeks. Remus preferred her vivacious pink or purple looks more, but she still looked beautiful. “Where’s Dung?”

“Said he had some leads in Knockturn Alley he needed to follow up on. He looked like he was a little out of it, though,” Remus thought aloud. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was just looking for a late night to drink. He asked if I could fill in for him.”

Tonks laughed lightly. “Yeah, Dung’s seemed perpetually drunk for a couple months, hasn’t he?”

Remus smiled, relieved that they could talk easily. “How are you?” he asked as he stepped forward.

Tonks sighed and rolled her eyes. “The same, Remus. You?”

It broke Remus’ heart to see how hurt she looked. He had caused that. “It’s been an introspective time for me, actually.”

Tonks frowned. He had obviously caught her attention. She nodded her head, motioning for him to continue. “Harry said some things about me a couple weeks ago.” Remus smiled and looked away from Tonks for a moment. “Said I was an anti-lycanthrope. Yelled it at me, really…”

Looking back at Tonks, he saw a very intrigued look on her face. “And why would Harry say that?”

Remus took another step forward, and he noticed Tonks shuffle toward him as well. “He said I believe werewolves don’t deserve the same privileges as other wizards. After he left, I was furious–I’ve been working for equal werewolf rights in the workplace for years. And he just dismissed all that work I’ve done.

“But then I thought about other privileges wizards have enjoyed in their lives that I haven’t had. Sure, work is a big one…but a healthy relationship and family? Being a werewolf has cost me that, too. What do you think, Tonks…do werewolves deserve all the same happiness as other wizards?”

Tonks slowly shook her head. The pair was still slowly gravitating toward one another. “Being a werewolf hasn’t cost you a relationship, Remus. You have.”

Remus stopped his gradual movement forward. “I have…and I’ve come to realize that I’ve been behaving like all the ignorant and bigoted fools I’ve been fighting against for years. And...” Remus trailed off. The question he most feared an answer to was on his lips. “And I have to ask if I’ve forever pushed away the one person who always believed in me, even when I didn’t? Have I already burned the bridges with the one person I’ve ever fallen in love with?”

Silence pervaded the room like a thick smoke. Remus couldn’t breathe as he waited for Tonks’ reply. Each second that ticked by without a response felt like an hour. He never broke contact with Tonks, who stared right back into his eyes.

“I was moving on, Remus.”

Remus’ heart sank in his chest. He looked down at his feet, unable to meet her eyes now.

“You pushed me away, and I was going forward with my life.”

“I’m sor–“ Remus began, but was cut off by Tonks.

“No, I just want you to know how much you hurt me, Remus. Because you kissed me, and in that moment I let myself believe. I let myself believe that you had gotten over yourself, and that things might end happily, after all.

“But it didn’t,” Tonks continued. “You turned around a few days later and said it was a mistake–but I couldn’t go back to moving on. Not when I finally got a taste of the care and love I saw in your eyes.”

Remus gradually brought his eyes back up to meet Tonks’. With eyes glistening, she was closing the gap between them again. And Remus started to hope.

“Remus I need you to tell me right now that this isn’t another emotion-driven confession of love that you will take back in a couple days. Because if it is, the bridges will be burned. Walls will be erected in their place. I can’t keep this up any longer–it hurts too much. You hurt too much!”

Remus felt his heart break once more, and for the briefest of moments he considered leaving her again so he would never hurt her again. But the thought left as soon as it entered his mind. He loved this girl, and he wouldnever hurt her again.

“This is real, Tonks. This is forever, if you want it to be–and I so desperately want it to be.”

Tonks let out an emotional laugh. A beautiful smile came to her face. Remus reached up and brushed a tear off of her cheek. They stared into each other’s eyes for several long moments, begging and receiving forgiveness, seeking and gaining confirmation. This was real, and they would make the most of it.

Their lips met in a gentle, emotional kiss. It was soft and tender, and never threatened to be anything else. After the short and intimate moment, they pulled apart. “I guess we have to go on watch, now?”

Tonks smiled and grabbed Remus’ hand. Before apparating, she commented, “Remind me to send a thank-you note to Harry later.”

Watch was uneventful that night. No Giants, no Dementors, no Death Eaters. But Remus had never had such an exhilarating night, simply sharing the evening in a coffee shop with the woman he loved.

-0-0-0-

“And you’re absolutely positive there are no interior wards?”

Bill shook his head. “There are no absolutes in my business, Professor. However, I can tell you that as far as I can detect, once Harry gets through the hole in the wards I’ve provided, it should be smooth sailing.”

Albus nodded his head. “And how do you feel about Harry’s ability to detect additional protections that may be in place?”

Bill shrugged. “You only gave me a couple of days with the kid, but he’s as competent as an average adult. He should be fine against common wards. And like I said, I’m pretty sure I’ve taken care of the uncommon ones.”

Albus sat ponderingly for a time. “Thank you, Bill. Continue working with Harry until Christmas break. At that point we will decide whether to send him in or not.”

Bill stood, taking this as his cue to leave. He turned and walked towards the office door, but paused before he opened it. “You know…he’s an amazing kid. But you’re asking to send him into one of the enemy bases.”

“I do know, yes,” Albus confirmed, not unkindly. “And I have the utmost assurance that if Harry goes in, he will come out alive. If he wouldn’t come out alive, then he won’t be going in.”

Bill turned and gave a confused look. Albus didn’t need to be a Legilimens to know what Bill was thinking. Could Albus tell the future? How else could he be so certain the right decision would be made?

Bill turned and left, but Albus dwelt on the question.

The truth was, Albus wasn’t sure of anything anymore. He was no longer receiving direction. It was Harry’s turn, now. But they were in a difficult limbo, for Albus remained the Leader of the Light in everyone’s eyes. Albus supposed this was Magic’s plan. Otherwise, a little too much pressure and responsibility would be forced on Harry’s young shoulders.

But ever since Harry had “had a feeling” to stay out and fly (which led to his fight with the Gargoyle), Albus knew he would no longer be receiving those feelings. Instead, Albus would use his wisdom and judgment to guide the war, and ask Harry how he felt about it.

Harry wasn’t quite ready to know he was the new Leader. Otherwise, he would have received a dream. A dream that Albus had had nearly seventy years earlier. The dream would come soon, though. And then, Harry would understand.

That time had not yet arrived, but that didn’t mean Harry shouldn’t be a part of the war yet. He had already been endowed with great power and instinct, and that wasn’t for nothing. Harry was always meant to play an integral role in the war–and Albus had given him the opportunity with sneaking into Malfoy Manor.

Albus opened a drawer in his desk, and reached into it. He grabbed a silky material and lifted it onto his desk, smiling fondly at the cloak. The Ministry had moved on from the case involving the attack in the Portkey office. That meant that key evidence was removed to a storage room deep in the Ministry. And that meant that Kingsley could finally return Harry’s cloak without drawing suspicion.

While Albus knew not having the cloak didn’t keep Harry from sneaking out at night, he would likely be very grateful for having his father’s cloak returned. It would certainly make him feel more comfortable about sneaking into Malfoy Manor.

But Albus hesitated. He would give the cloak to Harry after he asked him what he thought about the mission. He didn’t want anything influencing his feelings besides Magic.

-0-0-0-

“Woul d you please, for the love of Godric, explain to me why you’re angry right now!” Ginny all but shouted at Dean. She was furious. Because Dean was furious.

Dean huffed. “It’s the same old story with you Ginny–wanting to avoid sharing your life with me! We’re supposed to be a couple!”

Ginny let out a strangled scream. She was grateful that most of the students had already boarded the Hogwarts Express, because she knew they would all be staring at her the way she was releasing her pent up frustration through shrieks of various volumes. “That makes no sense, Dean. I just offered to sit with your friends, because I want to be a part of your life!”

Dean rolled his eyes, and this just fed Ginny’s fury even more. “Yes, conveniently separating yourself, and by extension me, from your friends and Harry Bleeding Potter.”

“What is your fixation with Harry? We’re just friends! What more do you want?”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed sarcastically. “You’re just friends, and I’m the best chaser Gryffindor has ever seen.”

Ginny let out a huff. “Well if you can’t trust me, then I guess you can just sit by your friends alone!”

“Good!” Dean shouted and turned around and marched onto the train.

Ginny took several deep breaths, trying to calm down. She spun around frantically when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Harry.

“What do you want!” She shouted, still mad at Dean, but also frustrated at Harry by extension.

“Easy,” Harry said with a sad smile. “I just wanted to come say goodbye…”

Ginny let out another frustrated noise. “Of course you do. And now I’m going to have to explain to Dean why you’ve come to see me off.”

Hurt came into Harry’s eyes and he responded shortly, with sarcasm. “Sorry I wanted to say goodbye, then.”

“You should be!” Ginny shouted. “Just go back to the castle and have fun with your special holiday.”

“You know,” Harry said, his own voice raising a little. He got in her face, and Ginny noted how exciting it was. “Here I was, thinking I was getting the short end of the stick having to stay here. Now I’m thinking it will be a blessing to get away from all this for a couple weeks,” Harry concluded, waving his hands between them.

Ginny stood her ground. If anything, she thought she was getting closer to Harry. Her blood was pumping and she knew her mind wasn’t drawing conclusions based on logic right now. “And it will be a relief to get you out of my business for a while.”

The air was charged around them, and Ginny vaguely understood how much more passion and excitement was in her meaningless fight with Harry than had been with Dean. “Goodbye, then,” Harry said loudly, though it felt like a shout because he was just inches from her face.

Ginny stared him down. “Great. See ya!”

But neither moved, they just glared at each other, neither quite sure why they were shouting at each other. Their faces hovered inches from the other. They both breathed heavily, not daring to blink. Ginny found her eyes drifting down to Harry’s lips. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, they both turned on the spot and marched in opposite directions.

After finding a compartment with her four roommates, Ginny sat, letting out a long breath. She folded her arms and stared out the window. Rachel Rowly immediately asked her if anything was wrong. Ginny had always liked Rachel–she had been kind to her since her first day at Hogwarts. Unlike Ellie Green, who alternated between acting superior to Ginny and jealous of Ginny. Leslie Jacobs, a third roommate, tilted her head at Ginny’s odd behavior. Leslie had always been the odd duck of the group, but Ginny got along with her just fine. She and Colin Creevey had started dating that year–Ginny was surprised when Colin asked her to go to the Hufflepuff quidditch match. After all, she had suspected not only Colin, but also Leslie, of not preferring the opposite sex. But she had obviously been wrong in her assessment of her friends.

Ginny just shook her head at Rachel’s inquiry into her well-being and Dean’s whereabouts. She was in no mood for talking.

In fact, it took her nearly an hour to cool down. And when she did, she found that most of her fuming had been directed at Harry–who had done nothing wrong. She tried to piece together their absurd argument to make sense of it. But the more she thought about it, the less reason she could give for why she had yelled at him. The only answer she could come up with was how much built up frustration there was with Harry. She didn’t want to admit that, of course, but it was the only reason she could think of that would cause her to turn on Harry like that.

But on top of that, it wasn’t like Harry to respond the way he did.

Somehow, this made her more angry at Harry. She couldn’t help but picture his furious face. Just inches from her own. His emerald eyes piercing her own.

In all of her anger, a thought came to her mind that was as absurd as their fight had been. I wonder what an angry snog from Harry would feel like?

-0-0-0-

What the hell was that? Harry asked himself for the hundredth time since his and Ginny’s fight. It hadn’t taken long for Harry to cool off and realize he had no idea what he and Ginny had been shouting about. And while he recognized that Ginny had no right to explode at him, he should have at least been calm about the situation. He supposed he was simply angry at her for being angry at him. But deep down, he knew it was more than that. Tension had been building between Ginny and him for months, with the simple fixes of removing memories simply delaying the inevitable. At some point, emotions would boil to the surface–it just happened to present itself as anger this time.

And why was she fighting with Dean so much lately? Harry began to worry about the relationship. He knew Ginny had a temper, and therefore any relationship involving her would have to endure a few fights–just like his friendship with her would have to endure this fight. But Dean and Ginny’s fighting was clearly escalating in both frequency and intensity. Harry didn’t know how much longer it would last.

And that notion also became quite compelling. How did Harry feel about the relationship possibly coming to an end? He certainly felt excited by the prospect of a single Ginny. But as he considered it, Harry wondered whether or not he would act on that particular development. The idea of being with Ginny as more than friends was exciting, as was evidenced by the many memories of her stored safely away in his memory vault.

But on the other hand, could Harry be sure that things would work out for them? And if they didn’t work out, would it be worth their friendship? Harry had come to rely on the fiery girl, and couldn’t imagine going back to a time before they were so close. Not to mention the strain it might put on his relationship with her family.

Harry figured he would just cross that bridge when he came to it, and not worry himself over it. Then he cringed as he remembered he was still dating Abby and shouldn’t be thinking of it to begin with. Besides, he had much larger concerns presently than to fret over a couple of stuttering relationships. It had been a few days since students had left Hogwarts. While there were still a few from each house that remained at Hogwarts, the majority of students had left–and that included all from Harry’s year.

Harry sat alone in his bedroom, and shook his head to focus on the task at hand. Thoughts of Ginny would have to wait. After all, he had a dangerous mission to prepare for.

Dumbledore had approached him several times over the previous few weeks, asking how he felt about sneaking into Malfoy Manor. Harry would usually just shrug and respond with something like, “If you think I can do it, then I’ll do it.”

Dumbledore would seem disappointed and they wouldn’t discuss it any more. But, a couple of days before the students left for the holidays, he asked Harry again. But Harry’s reaction and response was quite different. In the middle of his shrugging reply, Harry suddenly felt a swooping sensation. He felt light and confident in a moment. Dumbledore seemed to notice the change as Harry ceased his reply mid-sentence, for his eyes gained their patented twinkle.

“Can I presume you have a good feeling about it?” Dumbledore had asked.

Harry had simply nodded in response, quite shocked by the experience. In hindsight, he wished he’d pressed the headmaster for answers. Clearly, the old man had been hoping to get such a reaction out of Harry. And when Harry reflected on the experience, he found the feeling had been quite similar to the one a few weeks earlier that told him to keep flying–and resulted in the chance encounter with the Gargoyle. Harry was starting to suspect it wasn’t such a chance encounter after all. He would ask Dumbledore about it soon.

But after Harry had told the headmaster that he felt good about the mission, Dumbledore had insisted on Harry not going back to the Burrow for Christmas, despite Mrs. Weasley’s invitation–at least not immediately. They had a mission to do.

And earlier today, Dumbledore had given him some instructions and items for use. He was to spend the day studying the mission, developing a plan, and familiarizing himself with his tools. Harry stood in front of his bed, these items laid out in front of him.

On his left lay two cloaks, invisibility and stealth. It had been a joy to receive his invisibility cloak back. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed it until he felt the silky material in his hands once more. But, when Dumbledore returned the cloak, he gave a warning about using both cloaks together.

Each of these cloaks gave off a faint magical signature. The exceptionally trained wizards–such as Dumbledore, Voldemort, and many Aurors–would be able to detect a magical presence in the room, even if they couldn’t see or hear the wearer. This was how Dumbledore knew Harry had been under his cloak so often. But to make matters worse, when the two cloaks were worn together, the magical signature became exponentially more apparent. Even wizards untrained to magical sensory would detect something was amiss.

This was why Aurors didn’t just wander around in invisibility and stealth cloaks. Sometimes, it made them more noticeable than if they had no protection or disguises at all. So Dumbledore had warned him in his planning that he couldn’t simply wander around in his cloaks.

Harry’s eyes drifted to the right on his bed. Next to his two cloaks lay a new pair of glasses. Harry smiled slightly, recalling his conversation with Fred and George earlier that day. They had come bearing gifts, including this new pair of glasses.

“Feels good to be back in the castle, doesn’t it, George?” Fred had said when he walked into Sirius’ office where they met Harry.

“Sure does. Remember that one time we got expelled for turning this place into a swamp? Feels like just a few months ago.”

“It was,” Harry reminded the pair with a smile. “What have you got for me?”

George made a tsking noise with his mouth before he responded, “It’s good to see you, too, mate. You’re going to feel mighty embarrassed about your lack of manners when you see the gifts we’ve brought you.”

“Gifts?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. “But Christmas isn’t for a few more days! You shouldn’t have.”

“And yet, the ever charitable Weasley Twins have, Harry!” Fred said with a bow. “And it just so happens our gifts are tailored for you perfectly.”

“That’s right,” George continued. “I said to Fred here, ‘Fred, what can we do for that poor Potter boy?’ And naturally the first thing that grabbed our attention was your below average looks.”

“Of course it was,” Harry responded, nodding his head. “Any cures?”

Fred shook his head sadly. “Unfortunately, your beautiful parents did not give you the necessary natural beauty for us to work with. However,” he added with a finger raised for emphasis. “We can at least limit the damage that your rotten relatives have done to you.”

With that, George pulled out a case–a glasses case. He opened it dramatically, revealing a pair of stylish frames with a flourish of his hand. “New glasses?” Harry asked, actually excited by the gift. “Thanks, mates!”

Harry reached for the case, but George pulled it away. “But wait, you must understand how these work before we give you free reign with them!”

Harry narrowed his eyes and dropped his hands. “Are they going to give me black eyes or something? Make me see through women’s clothing, perhaps?”

Fred shook his head. “Regrettably, the Ministry won’t allow that particular feature. We had the prototype ready and everything!”

George also shook his head in disgust. “I was testing them once when Mum walked into the shop.” He looked up at Harry with fear and regret in his eyes. “There are some things you just can’t unsee, Harry.”

Harry gave George his best look of condolence as Fred resumed the conversation. “No…these babies have a much different function. Are you familiar with the goggles we designed for the Order?”

Harry nodded, now understanding. “Sure, they detect the Death Eaters using the magical signature the Dark Mark gives off–then gives the Death Eater a red aura so we know our enemies.”

George, now past his traumatic memory, nodded. “Right in one, Harry. Those goggles can also detect sworn-in members of the Order and can detect some charms and magical signatures such as Disillusionment and some invisibility cloaks. They aren’t perfect or complete, but a good start to give us an edge.”

“But these,” Fred said, pointing to Harry’s new glasses. “These will have a little more detection than the goggles.”

“A little more?” Harry asked, warily.

“Well, they are for you, especially, mate. So while you won’t be seeing any naked ladies around here, your glasses will show you the pretty girls, and even give you an emotional reading.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Please tell me I can deactivate them.”

George huffed. “No respect,” he muttered. “They’ll activate with intent and a tap of the wand. Deactivate the same way.”

“We’ve added as much detection as we could find,” Fred continued. “We doubt all of it will be useful, so you can deactivate individual detections with–“

“–a tap of the wand and intent. Got it,” Harry said, reaching for the glasses.

George handed over the case. Before Harry could put the glasses on and test them out, Fred said, “We’ve also got this for you.” He held out a leather pouch. “Dumbledore ordered these especially, paid a high sum for them, too. Not easy to make.”

“What are they?” Harry had asked.

Harry shook his head in his room, bringing him back to the present. His eyes drifted from his glasses to the pouch lying next to them. He reached forward and slowly opened the pouch and reached in. He felt something creep up his hand, and pulled it out. A bug.

In the pouch were a dozen of them, of varying species. A fly, a spider, a centipede. But while they looked entirely real–they were more of a bug in the muggle sense. Miniature voice recorders, using the same magic Fred and George had developed for the communication devices used by the Order.

The genius behind the creations were that if the bugs were found–the worst that would happen is that they would be destroyed. No suspicion, and no compromising the other bugs. It was brilliant, just like the twins.

Finally, the last object lying on his bed was a map. Created by Snape, the map was crude. Snape hadn’t been everywhere in Malfoy Manor, but he filled out the map as best he could. The building was enormous, and it would take Harry hours just to creep from room to room. He had studied the map for several hours, and would do so for several more before the night came. He didn’t want to have to carry it on his stealth operation.

But right now, Harry was taking a break. He decided to take his new glasses for a test run, and deactivate any detections that he deemed worthless. So, he took his own glasses off his face and smiled fondly at them. While he hated the life that had given him these glasses, it was a nice reminder of the life he had come from. It helped put things in perspective–as horrible as his Prophecy-directed life could be at times, there was a life before it that was worse. Filled with neglect and hatred. Now, he may have a target on his back, but he also had friends and love.

Harry clenched the glasses in his hand and hurled them out the window. He watched as the glasses faded from view quickly in his poor sight. Then, he turned back towards his new frames and put them on his face. Looking in the mirror, Harry made a note to thank Fred and George. He hadn’t realized how ugly his old frames were until he saw the new frames on his face. Harry, normally a humble guy when it came to his looks, allowed himself to feel a little pride at his new look. It was attractive.

But, Harry knew this feature was not their best. He unsheathed his wand and tapped his glasses with the thought, activate. As if someone had just flicked a switch, several lights appeared in his sight, and it took a moment for Harry to recover from the change. He turned slowly on the spot and looked around the room. On his bed, Harry’s stealth cloak shimmered with a faint orange glow. His invisibility cloak gave off no aura, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief–if Fred and George couldn’t detect it, Harry doubted many others could.

Looking out the window, Harry saw a rainbow of colors surrounding Hogwarts. Harry knew it immediately to be all of the many protections and wards the school housed. He knew many of the detectors would be useless for his mission to Malfoy Manor, but was uncertain of which colors matched which wards, so he decided to leave them all on the glasses.

Turning back inside the room, Harry saw a green light coming from Ron’s and Neville’s dressers, a dull yellow in Dean’s, and a hot pink from Seamus’. Harry laughed a little, wondering what Seamus possessed that would give off a pink aura as he turned back to his own dresser. Therein rested a light silver shimmer, and Harry knew immediately what it was. He opened his top drawer and looked at the offending item, glowing a bright silver now that he was looking directly at it.

Harry reached forward and grabbed his memory vault. He turned it in his hands, feeling a familiar sense of shame come over him. Harry didn’t know if the shame came from what the memories contained, or that he had removed the memories from his subconscious. Harry reached his wand up to his glasses to deactivate the detection but hesitated.

Harry knew deep down that removing the memories was wrong. They were a part of him–they were formed by his experience and helped make up his character. And he had just removed them. Ripped them from who he was. Harry knew he wasn’t yet ready to put the memories back into his head, but he lowered his wand without touching it to his glasses. He would keep the detection in place as a constant reminder to himself to reclaim his lost memories.

Harry let out a long sigh, his mind coming back to Ginny. Considering how much he already thought about the girl, Harry was a little scared about what would happen if he put the sexually charged memories back in. No, he couldn’t do it yet–not while he and she were both in relationships.

He stored the memory box away again and sat down on his bed. He deactivated the glasses and sat in silence for a long while. In time, he returned to his study of the Malfoy Manor map. It was hard to concentrate, but he memorized it just fine. By the time the night came, Harry felt as prepared for the mission as possible.

He put on his invisibility cloak and snuck through the castle, making his way to Dumbledore’s office. There were few students at Hogwarts, and it was after midnight, so he didn’t run into any problems. He made it to the statue of a gargoyle outside Dumbledore’s office and gave the password. After taking the stairs to Dumbledore’s office, Harry knocked. All at once, the reality of the situation hit Harry.

He was about to sneak into the Death Eater base to plant bugs. He would march right in, all alone. He would have only a cloak, some charmed glasses, and his wand to accompany him. If he ran into trouble, he was on his own to take care of the problem. If he couldn’t take care of the problem, he was stranded–surrounded by Death Eaters in an unfamiliar land.

“Enter,” came Dumbledore’s voice from the other side of the door. But Harry didn’t open it. His heart was racing, his face likely had a look of panic on it. He needed to get a hold of himself.

You’ve done this before, Harry told himself. You went to the Ministry, and you were all alone. You got out, you succeeded.

Another voice argued that a few Death Eaters that he took by surprise would be a lot different than a lair full of them.

No, it won’t. Rely on your instinct. The words in his mind acted like a soothing drug, and all of the fear and worry in Harry’s body dissipated immediately. It was replaced by the tremendous swooping sensation, like his lungs were filling with oxygen after being under water for too long.

A small smile came to Harry’s lips and he opened the door. A concerned Dumbledore was the first thing he saw. But confidence replaced the concern the moment Dumbledore saw Harry’s face. Looking around the room, Harry noted a nervous but proud Sirius also in the room.

“Harry,” Sirius said, standing from his chair. “How are you feeling? You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Harry nodded, but gave his godfather a reassuring smile. “I know–but I actually feel really good about it.”

“Excellent,” Dumbledore said with a knowing gaze. It made Harry want to question him, but the thought vanished when Dumbledore continued. “Now, Bill is waiting for us.”

He stood and moved to the fireplace. There, the trio took the floo to a secure location, where they apparated to the edges of Malfoy’s property. When they arrived, Harry saw Bill standing in front of a multi-colored aura, which Harry recognized as a segment of the wards surrounding Malfoy Manor.

Malfoy Manor resided in a valley with rolling hills on three sides. If magic or flying were not an option, there would be but one feasible way into the property. But, as it were, the members of the Order were able to appear on the back side of the Malfoy property, where Bill had been working on the wards for weeks.

Bill turned to face the newcomers at the sound of the apparating crack. His face held a look of uncertainty. Harry prayed that Bill’s hesitation involved his belief in Harry, and not his belief in his own ability to take down the wards.

“Bill, is it ready?” Dumbledore asked, likely thinking the same thing as Harry.

Bill nodded slowly. “Yes…but as I told you before, sir, there’s no way for me to know for certain if there’s a second layer of wards within this layer.”

“But you don’t think there is?” Harry pushed. Bill finally turned to look Harry in the eyes, and in that moment Harry understood that Bill was terrified to send him into the belly of the beast.

“It would be foolish to do so,” Bill said. “Any competent Ward Technician would know that having two layers weakens each layer–the strongest protection is one interwoven shield. And these wards certainly seem like the strongest possible.”

Harry nodded. “So we’ll just have to trust that they were competent when they installed the wards.”

“And that they don’t suspect an underage wizard of being able to breach the outer wards,” Sirius said darkly. Harry smirked. Bill had tried explaining to him why so many wards were only useful against wizards who had come of age. It all sounded like technical mumbo jumbo to Harry, but he understood the basics. When wizards come of age, the magic in their blood was altered somehow. And wards are developed to react differently to different magic signatures. That’s why the Stone Gargoyle was able to make it through the Hogwarts wards, because no one had known or seen their magic signature in centuries.

“There is no evidence of them suspecting we got into the Portkey Office by sending an underage wizard,” Dumbledore responded calmly. “They won’t have put up protections to shield against that. Harry, as long as you still feel good about this, then we are ready to go.”

Harry nodded, still feeling inexplicably confident. He heard Bill sigh before he spoke. “Okay Harry. Like we’ve been training, I need you to check for wards every twenty feet. It will take longer to get there…but better safe than sorry.”

“George and Fred charmed my glasses to detect, as well,” Harry offered. He expected it to sooth Bill, but he only became more distressed.

“You can’t let that take you off your guard, Harry! There are many detectors that can’t be installed in an object. They need to come straight from your wand.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll still cast the charms.”

Bill sighed again, clearly feeling very responsible for Harry’s safety. “Alright. I’ll open the hole in the wards then. I can only keep it open for a few seconds, and then the wards will adjust. I’ve already opened them dozens of times, and I’ve always been able to open them again within an hour. So I will be ready by the time you get back.”

Harry nodded, and smiled bravely at Bill. “Thanks Bill. This will work. We’re going to save a lot of lives by getting these bugs in there.”

Bill smiled back, albeit forcedly. “Of course.”

Siirus grabbed Harry by the shoulders and looked him directly in the eyes. Harry had grown so that he was just an inch or so shorter than his godfather. After all the time they had spent together, Harry felt like he had a brother in Sirius. And he was sure Sirius felt the same way. “You get back here safe, Harry. And if you don’t, make sure you send us whatever information possible to get you out. We’ll be coming in after you, consequences be damned.”

“How about I just come out safely, then?”

Sirius grinned. “You do that.”

After being released. Harry turned to Dumbledore. “Just follow your instinct, Harry. You’ll be fine.”

That same swooping sensation Harry had felt before came back into his chest. He knew it to be true.

“I will.”

Harry turned to the multi-colored lights and waited for Bill to give the okay. “When the lights disappear, jump through,” Bill instructed.

Harry waited patiently, as Bill muttered a string of incantations. Then, he stopped, and the lights in front of Harry vanished, the wards temporarily destroyed. Harry leapt forward, holding his breath. He took a few more steps before turning around. The lights came back within a second of him turning around.

Harry gazed through the aura of the wards to his team. They all smiled at him. “Good luck, Harry,” Sirius said. “See you in a little bit.”

Harry pulled out his wand. “Yeah…see you.” Tapping his glasses, Harry activated the detectors. Just like at Hogwarts, lights suddenly appeared and Harry’s eyes needed to adjust. Harry looked around him, taking in what his glasses revealed.

The most obvious change was that instead of simply a small piece of the wards being visible to Harry where Bill was standing, a wall had appeared, flush with colors, interweaving. The lights stretched on for some distance left, right, and up into the sky. The lights faded the further away Harry looked, but he knew that the wards formed a dome around Malfoy’s property.

Harry shifted his gaze to the center of that property, where a large building stood nearly a mile away down the hill from where Harry stood. It would be a long trek, with a few inches of snow and casting detection charms every twenty feet, but it would be worth it. He cast a charm on his feet, preventing footprints from appearing in the snow, and he began marching towards the manor.

Minutes passed, and Harry obeyed all of Bill’s instruction. Their hours of basic ward training had given him an understanding of what he could expect and how to deal with it. For nearly a half hour, Harry encountered no problems. However, as he neared the enormous home, a shimmering orange ward came into view. Harry knew what it was, having seen it numerous times in his instruction from Bill, and it made him stop dead in his tracks.

The familiar orange shimmer shining through his glasses gave Harry cause to pause. The ward was a simple one, an indicator of spell casting. The alert would notify its caster of when a spell was cast, and what spell it was. It was not a strong enough ward to detail who cast the spell, or the exact location, except that it was within the boundaries of the ward.

Harry paused for two reasons. First, he had to rethink his attack plan. He could no longer rely on his ability to fight out of a situation, as the combat curses would warn Malfoy that a fight had begun on his property. Then, Malfoy would gather his Death Eater friends to find the source of fighting, and quickly defeat Harry.

Second, Harry had to wonder why Malfoy had put up the ward. As it was not a part of the regular protection system that Bill had been working on, Harry had to imagine it was Lucius who had put it up for a special occasion.

And what sort of special occasions do Death Eater fugitives have besides Death Eater meetings, really?

So Harry stood for a few minutes, debating the options that he had. He could come back another time, yes. But by entering the wards, Harry had already increased the chance of Malfoy finding a breach in his protections, assuming he checked them with any sort of regularity, which he would be foolish not to do. So to retreat and come back another day increased the chance of being trapped immensely.

No, Harry decided. He needed to press on. He had felt good about it before, and he hadn’t planned on using magic anyway. This just took that option, a plan B, away from him. If anything, having this extra ward in place might put Malfoy at ease, should he ever notice a strange breach in his wards.

So Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak, and marched on. He opted for invisibility over soundlessness, since he had more faith in his ability to not make sound than to not be seen. Because the combined magic would alert some Death Eaters to his presence, he could not afford to use both his invisibility and stealth cloaks.

Harry passed through the orange ward, tucking his wand away to avoid accidentally casting a spell without thinking. He walked the remaining hundreds of feet, hoping Fred and George’s detection glasses would pick up on any more wards, as he could no longer cast detection charms.

He arrived at the home and went directly to a side window that he had seen as a prime entrance. It was locked, but Harry pulled out the penknife that he had bought to replace Sirius’, which he had melted at the Department of Mysteries. Like the house, the window was an antique, with a key lock where the window latched shut. Worming the knife into the slot, the window opened up. Harry breathed a sigh of relief before opening it wider and sliding into the manor.

Harry shut and locked the window, then stood in the empty room, taking it all in. This was one of the many rooms in the manor that held very little purpose. Harry shut his eyes to envision the Malfoy Manor map that he had studied. He quickly outlined his plan of attack in his mind. There were few areas of the home that needed to be bugged, including the dining room, study, and specific bedrooms.

Harry did not envy the order member who had to sift through the hours of recording that would take place with the bugs.

But there was one room that was most important to be bugged, and that was the action room. According to Snape, Voldemort had commandeered one of the rooms in the manor for himself. It was here that reports were made and orders were given to individuals. This information would be invaluable to the Order, and would certainly ease the pressure put on Snape.

Still wrapped in his invisibility cloak, Harry decided to swing by the action room first, to see if he could get in. He wandered down a long corridor, and down a staircase, into the basement. Walking through the wine cellar, Harry slowed his pace, cautiously watching for any signs of movement. None came, and he made it all the way to the door to the action room without conflict.

The conflict, however, came when Harry tried to open the door. It was locked. And Harry didn’t dare jiggle the door knob harder or use his penknife, in case the room was occupied. He determined to come back later, and hope for a different result.

So Harry wandered throughout the manor, placing bugs throughout the home. On the main floor, he made sure the entryway, kitchen, dining, and sitting room were all infested. He moved up to the second floor and had to increase his stealth. It was late at night, and according to plan, almost everyone was in the many rooms of the manor. On just three occasions Harry needed to stop his movement and hold his breath. Two of those instances involved drunken Death Eaters, far too inebriated to notice an invisible intruder. The third time Harry had to hide himself was from a sleepy Antonin Dolohov, who made a quick trip to the loo.

Harry was somewhat upset with himself for not deactivating his glasses before he entered the no-spell zone. There were colored auras everywhere, highlighting the many magical items scattered throughout the home. It was distracting, and made Harry flinch many times, worrying someone was close by.

But Harry managed to get through most of the second floor, carefully watching for Draco’s and Lucius’ bedrooms. The home was so big, that there were many empty rooms of no purpose. On top of that, Harry was confident several known and wanted Death Eaters resided in this home. And Snape had not known much about the upper two floors, so his map was of little help. Instead, Harry was forced to wander about until he happened upon Lucius Malfoy’s bedroom.

Harry crept from room to room, silently opening it just a fraction to look inside. Sometimes he would throw in a bug, other times he let the room stay clean; there were a limited number of bugs, after all. On multiple occasions, he found Death Eaters. With one exception, they were all asleep. Fortunately for Harry, the Death Eater that was not asleep was in no shape to catch him. Like the pair of Death Eaters Harry had passed earlier, the aged man was clearly wasted from a night of heavy drinking. Harry decided to shut the door immediately and continue his search.

At last he found Lucius’ room. Like he had done with every other door, Harry carefully and silently opened the entrance to the master suite. Just opening one of the double doors, Harry managed to slip inside without a sound, and crept forward, looking for the bed to see if it was occupied. His glasses quickly found the red hue in his detection glasses associated with those bearing the Dark Mark. Harry was reminded of his trip to the Slytherin Dungeons just a month earlier as he found the bed with a couple of blonde-haired Malfoys fast asleep.

It was an odd thought that Harry could just kill them here and now, and be done with one of the threats in the war. But, he had to think about the bigger picture. Lucius and other Death Eaters might spill some valuable information from this house, and they would stop using it as a headquarters if the owner was found dead in his bed. In addition, the conversation Harry intercepted between Lucius and his son suggested that Lucius was having a change of heart. A second spy would be very valuable, especially one as close to Voldemort as Lucius Malfoy.

So Harry reached into his pocket to pull out the bug bag. He snuck closer to the bed, convinced that most conversation would take place there. Harry once again felt sorry for the Order member who would be assigned to listening through this bug, as he might encounter a few unpleasant sounds. But the good outweighed the bad, and Harry placed a spider listening device on the underside of the nightstand. For insurance, Harry placed a second bug under the bed.

As he stood and turned slowly, a gray-colored aura caught his eye. It did so because it was not the first time Harry had seen this exact shade of light silver that night. The aura came from the closet at the side of the room, and Harry moved towards it, too tempted to pass up on the opportunity.

With much practice, Harry silently opened the closet door as well and found the source of the silver aura on the shelf inside. It was a memory vault, just as Harry had. This vault seemed of much higher quality than Harry’s, but Harry knew it all the same. It was shaped like a large teardrop with a flat bottom to stand on and was made of marble. Harry stared at it for a long minute, debating with himself about what he should do.

To take it would clearly tip off Malfoy that someone was present. While Harry was confident the twins had hid the magical signature of the bugs, a thorough search would discover them, and they’d be destroyed as if they were normal bugs. They had been magically programmed to hide, but who knows how well they could do that.

Then again, this was a memory vault. And Harry had to wonder what memory Lucius could have that he needed to hide from everyone, especially an accomplished Legilimens like Voldemort.

Harry reached forward and took the vault, and crept out of the room. For the remainder of the mission, that memory vault burned a figurative hole in Harry’s pocket. Even while he was bugging Draco’s room and resisting the temptation to hex the smarmy git, Harry was wondering what memory Lucius could find so valuable that he would preserve it in a special vault, away from his own subconscious and other prying minds.

Finished with the third floor, Harry knew it was time to get out. But he had to check the action room again before he left. Harry made his way down two more flights of stairs and into the wine cellar once more. He crept towards the door, fully expecting it to be locked.

Harry reached out to turn the knob, only to find it turning from the other side. Harry stepped to the side quickly while reaching into his pocket for another bug. He didn’t have many left, but he would only need one for this room.

Harry pulled out a bug right as the door opened. Harry held his breath and threw the bug into the opening of the door. It landed at the feet of the Death Eater emerging from the room, before scuttling into the room. Only time would tell if the bug got settled into a good hiding spot, because the door was closing before Harry could take a second shot inside.

In addition, Harry had other things to deal with. Namely Macnair, who had stopped dead in his tracks just a few steps outside the action room. Harry wasn’t sure if he had made a noise or if Macnair had somehow sensed his magical signature, but Macnair’s hand slowly inched towards his wand, and Harry knew he needed to act fast.

He leapt forward and kicked out at the Death Eater’s hand, which had just grasped the wand. The force dislodged the wand from his weak grip, and the stick of elm wood went soaring across the cellar, onto the floor, and under some wine shelving. Macnair yelped in pain and surprise before he lashed out at the invisible assailant.

Harry knew it would be so easy to stun the man and be on his way, but he couldn’t risk alerting Lucius to his presence. He was also terrified that Voldemort was just on the other side of the door and Lucius would be the least of Harry’s worries.

But Macnair was not calling for help, which led Harry to believe Voldemort had already left, via floo travel or apparation. Instead, the Death Eater was swinging his arms madly in Harry’s direction. Harry backed away slowly, blocking the swipes with his own arms. Harry was immensely grateful for the muggle fighting practice he and Ginny has been doing for months. He was easily able to fend off the man, especially with his advantage of invisibility.

Then Harry’s back pressed up against another wine shelf, and he was unable to move away from the wild swinging of Macnair. The man realized he had Harry pinned and used that to his advantage, grabbing at the invisibility cloak as he swung his arms manically. He grabbed onto Harry’s cloak on his arm as Harry tried to block a punch, and yanked hard on the clothing. Harry swung his own fists in an attempt to beat the man away, but the damage was done. Harry heard a loud rip, and his cloak flickered, its magic being disturbed by the physical damage.

Harry pushed the man away in anger as he realized there was a witness now. Macnair stumbled backwards, and his eyes grew wide as he recognized Harry flickering into view in front of him. Harry cursed as Macnair turned to run towards his wand or the stairs and gave chase.

Harry was easily the quicker of the two. Macnair was a large man, not particularly fast on his feet, but Harry guessed it would hurt mightily to suffer a direct hit from the man. Harry caught up to him, grabbing Macnair’s wrist while holding out his foot. Pulling the man’s wrist up behind his back, bending his shoulder and arm at an awkward angle, Harry used Macnair’s momentum and loss of balance to send him to the ground. Harry fell on top of the Death Eater, pulling his wrist up higher as he attempted to get him in a hold.

Unfortunately, Macnair was as strong as he looked, and rocking his body, threw Harry from his back to the side. However, in the process, Harry heard a satisfying pop from the man’s shoulder as it came out of its socket. Macnair let out a low growl of pain as he stumbled to his feet, watching for the flickering of Harry’s cloak.

Harry had stood up and was assessing the situation. Macnair, holding his arm tenderly, glared at the flashing image of Harry. “Alright Potter. You want to dance?”

He lunged out at Harry, who sidestepped the man easily, pushing his back as he passed by Harry. He ran into another wine shelf before turning quickly and striking out again. Harry blocked the right hook with his left forearm. Knowing Macnair’s left arm was almost useless at this point, Harry swung his right fist up with all his might into Macnair’s gut. The man was large, but his abs were clearly lacking in the muscles that his arms and legs had.

Macnair hunched over in pain as all the air left his lungs, and his stomach threatened to empty itself out. Harry clasped his hands together in a great fist and swung down hard at Macnair’s lower back, where the kidneys rested with little protection. Macnair fell flat on his stomach, letting out a throaty growl of pain. Harry dropped quickly on the man’s back and wrapped his arms around the man’s neck in a headlock.

Harry’s plan was to render Macnair unconscious, so that he would have more time to decide what to do with him. However, Macnair had other plans, as he recovered enough from Harry’s attack to begin rocking his body again. This time, however, Harry managed to stay in position, withstanding the mighty throws of Macnair. Harry felt Macnair’s good arm reach up and grab at his cloak, trying to pull him off before his oxygen supply ran out.

Instead, Macnair found the penknife in Harry’s pocket, and ripped it free. He swung wildly with it, and sunk it deep into Harry’s upper thigh.

Crying out in pain, Harry acted out of instinct. He couldn’t continue his hold, and risk repeated stabs to his leg, but he couldn’t release, and give Macnair new life–especially now with both of them injured. Instead, without thinking, Harry twisted his arms, and Macnair’s head spun with a crack. He immediately stopped moving, and his hand released the knife, dropping to the ground with a soft thump while the clang of the knife echoed in the cellar.

The only sound that could be heard for nearly a full minute was Harry’s breathing after he rolled off of Macnair and sat against the shelving unit, the wine bottles rattling lightly. He stared at the lifeless Death Eater, his hands shaking. Harry couldn’t feel the pain in his leg yet, as his mind tried to process what he had just done. He simply stared in shock.

After his breathing regulated and the pain in his leg resurfaced, Harry was able to shake his head clear of the shock. He couldn’t think about what he had done. Not yet. He just needed to take care of it. So Harry pulled off his cloak and shirt. He then spun his shirt into a makeshift bandage. Steeling himself, he reached forward and grasped the hilt of the knife.

“Like a Band-Aid,” Harry whispered to himself, before yanking the knife out of his leg. He let out a sharp breath as pain soared through his leg and blood quickly emerged, from the newly opened wound. Harry quickly wrapped his shirt around his wound, and tied the fabric tight on the opposite side of his leg. The blood flow out of his leg ceased, and Harry knew it was as good as he would get without magic.

Harry sighed as he looked back at Macnair. He would have a long hour ahead of him.

-0-0-0-

Sarah never could sleep when she knew Sirius was on a special assignment for the Order. She would lie on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She couldn’t help but think of all the possible outcomes of his mission. In tonight’s case, it was Harry she was more worried about; but, if Harry failed, that also meant Sirius would go charging in after him, so her worry extended to Sirius as well.

She would get up out of bed, try to occupy her mind. Reading was useless. She would scan the same sentence over and over again, as her mind drifted to more urgent matters. Cleaning was productive, if not effective at distracting her. She tried to bake, hoping some of the instructions would be complicated enough to keep her mind occupied. All that resulted in was a fire nearly escaping from the oven.

Sarah supposed she should be grateful for the minutes of distraction the fire caused.

Ultimately, Sarah sat in the sitting room, waiting for the fireplace to turn green and admit the love of her life.

It was nearly four in the morning before it happened. When it did, Sarah’s eyes had been shut from the weight of her lids. But sleep had not come. She immediately stood as Sirius emerged from the fire, his face set in determination.

“How did it–“ she started as Sirius closed the gap between them. But she couldn’t finish as Sirius put his lips firmly against hers.

It took her by such surprise that she didn’t return the kiss before Sirius broke it off. He pulled back, his hands holding her face gently.

“I love you, do you know that?” His eyes and voice were so earnest, she would have known him to be telling the truth even if she couldn’t sense his emotions, which he was letting flow freely toward her. He was honest. He was scared. He was anxious.

“Of course I do, Sirius,” Sarah replied as she reached up to hold one of his hands in hers. “Is everything okay?”

Sirius’ eyes grew tired. “No. Everything is not okay. We are at war. People are dying. Innocence is dying!” he said with a fierce whisper as his eyes dropped to the ground. “Harry will be okay, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He looked back at Sarah, the anxiety in his eyes manifest. “I was reminded tonight of how short life can be, Sarah. Any day, anyone can be taken. It might be a Death Eater, it might be some random bloke caught in the crossfire, or it might be one of us.

“I need you to know how much I love you. I need you to know that I would give my life for you. That I want to give my life to you. Whether I die today, in a year, or when we’re one hundred years old, Sarah, I want you to know that I was yours. I would be your husband, if you’ll have me.”

Sarah was shocked, to say the least. Sure, when both stints of their relationship were added together, they had spent over three years of their lives with each other. However, Sarah never expected him to commit so fully so quickly. It had only been a few months since they had forgiven each other of their past transgressions, after all.

But if she was shocked, her joy quickly outweighed the feeling as it swept throughout her body. She felt a smile come to her face, which prompted a slight grin from Sirius. “Of course I will have you, Sirius!” she let out with a laugh. She pulled him back to her and kissed him soundly.

“In fact, I’ll have you right now,” she said with seductive smile after pulling back slightly. Sirius grinned before pushing her back onto the couch. All worry was gone, but sleep still did not come for a while.

-0-0-0-

Luciu s Malfoy awoke with an odd feeling. He had no idea what that feeling was, or why he should have it on Christmas Eve, but he had it none the less. He rose from his bed, placing a tender kiss on Narcissa’s cheek before wandering towards the bathroom. After showering and shaving, Lucius made his way to his closet to get dressed.

Every morning, he would open his closet and see the memory that spurred his every action of late. He couldn’t afford to keep it in his head, for fear of the Dark Lord peering in his mind without permission. However, he still wanted it to drive his actions, despite it being removed from his subconscious. So he kept it near his robes, to be reminded every day of what his motives should be.

But this morning that memory did not greet him.

“Cissy!” Lucius shouted in panic. He turned around quickly as Narcissa shot up in bed. “Did you move the memory?”

Her eyes widened in fear. “No. It was there last night.”

“Only the Dark Lord and Macnair were visitors last night,” Lucius whispered. He had his usual occupants of escaped convicts, but they wouldn’t take it, only to have no place to run off to. He ran over to a tabletop in the corner of the room and looked at a silver disk on his desk. The disk showed Malfoy Manor property, and many of the occurrences there. There was a blue dot from the action room. “No magic was used aside from the Dark Lord apparating away.”

“You don’t think he could have snuck in and taken it?”

“There’s no reason for him to,” Lucius said. “You and Draco have all of your memories of the memory stored away as well.” He looked back at the basin. “Why didn’t Macnair ever leave through the floo or apparation point?”

He waved his wand toward the disk, murmuring an incantation. Nothing happened. “He’s not showing up…”

“How could he not have left, but not be here?” Narcissa said as she made her way to the table beside him. “You don’t think the Dark Lord killed him, do you?”

“With what spell?” Lucius said, indicating the lone light on the disk. Only one spell had been cast, and it was apparation. “Side-along apparation could be possible, but that’s not the Dark Lord’s style. Especially with someone fully capable of apparating.”

“So someone stole the memory and killed Macnair?” Narcissa asked. “A third party?”

Fury arose in Lucius. It seemed the only likely scenario. Someone had broken into his home. He didn’t know how it was possible. He had checked the wards just two nights before. No hole had ever been opened, and there was no noticeable tampering. Turning back to the disk, Lucius waved his wand once more. A myriad of colors emerged, as Lucius studied his wards.

They looked just fine, presently. He moved his wand in a counterclockwise motion, and watched the representation of his wards move in reverse throughout the night. He marveled at the beauty of his wards, so intricately weaved, changing gradually with time to keep even the best cursebreakers on their toes. As the hours ticked by in reverse in front of him, Lucius began to doubt more and more that someone could have gotten in.

But then he saw a small hole open in his wards. It was just a moment and then it was gone, and not nearly enough to allow a witch or wizard through. Lucius slowly rotated his wand clockwise until the exact time of the opening. He stared at it in disbelief.

“What, did they send a Goblin or House Elf through?” Narcissa said to his side, also examining the strange hole in his wards. It was not a complete hole, which led her to believe it was a different magical creature that had gotten through.

“No…” Lucius said slowly and pointed at the defense. “These two wards are still active–few magical creatures could get through. At least not of any maturity.”

Then it hit him. “Underage Wizard,” he said with a whisper.

“What?” Narcissa said, shocked. “But look at all of these wards preventing wizards.” She motioned at several that would, indeed, have kept out a mature wizard.

“The wizard’s blood doesn’t reach maturity until age seventeen,” Lucius said, shaking his head in defeat. Several other pieces were falling into place. “Most stores and shops have to put up additional specialized wards to keep out juveniles. It never crossed my mind–I figured my wards were enough. But they took down the necessary ones, and sent someone in.”

Narcissa sat down on a chair at the table. “Who was it? Who has your memory?”

Lucius sat down as well. His mind racing. “No doubt Dumbledore has it by now. But I can only assume it was Potter.”

His wife looked up sharply at him. “Potter? Draco says he is average at best. There is no way he could have gotten through the wards, known your memory was here and steal it, kill Macnair, and get out all without you knowing.”

“Draco is an insecure and jealous boy, Narcissa,” Lucius said. He loved his son, but he certainly had a lot of growing up to do. “This is the Harry Potter who has defeated a Basilisk, fooled me into freeing our House Elf, survived the Dark Lord’s return, survived the Ministry attack, resisted our son’s attack on his mind, and cursed him without any hesitation. I will not have our family continue to underestimate him.”

“But…how?”

“It ’s clear now who broke into the ministry and killed Mark Rodgers, incapacitating two others in the process.”

“Potter did that?” Narcissa asked in disbelief. “Since when did he become a trained killer?”

“It’s the only explanation. None of the wards were breached. He must have learned I was storing a memory from Draco’s mind, somehow. And then Dumbledore sent him in here. I know they’ve got a curse breaker in the Order–he must have opened the hole. I’m just amazed the old man trusts the boy so much to waltz into my home and take my memory.”

Lucius truly was amazed. Potter was the same age as his son, yet demonstrated maturity and power far beyond his years.

“So what do we do? We can’t tell the Dark Lord without mentioning the memory.”

Lucius shook his head. A small smile came to his face. “They won’t be getting into that memory vault anytime soon, luv. Which means we still hold a few cards should things continue to favor them.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Lucius chuckled. “You know…this whole time I’ve been comparing the Dark Lord with Dumbledore or the Order of the Phoenix. The truth is, the score is now Potter three, Dark Lord one.”

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