Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 6: Betrayer of the Light

Daphne refused to let Harry ask what was going on until they had apparated onto the property of Dressler Manor and were safely inside. While Daphne paced around the room like a caged tiger, Harry waited expectantly beside the fireplace, his arms crossed over his chest. He had two things he needed to address with his guardian, but he wanted to know about the potential danger first. He waited for her to calm down.

Finally, Harry asked the question that had been on the tip of tongue. “Why are you so frightened that Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban?”

Daphne turned to face him. Her face was pale, but her expression was that of confusion, as if she couldn’t believe that Harry was treating it as nothing. “Harry, do you know who Sirius Black was? Did I ever explain his connection to you?”

“I know that he was an Auror. I know that he betrayed my parents and murdered Peter Pettigrew and a bunch of Muggles. I know that he knew my father,” Harry said. “That’s all I could find in the books I own.”

Daphne looked like she was ready to slap herself. “Merlin, I haven’t told you anything!”

Harry stared at her. “What is there to tell?”

Daphne took a deep breath. “Sirius Black was more than just an acquaintance of James Potter; the man was like his brother. James’s parents more or less adopted Black after he ran away from home.”

Harry frowned. “I know that the Blacks are one of the most powerful and legendary Dark Families in existence, but…”

“That’s an understatement,” Daphne cut him off. “There are other Dark families: the Greengrasses, the Bullstrodes, just to name a few you’re familiar with. There are quite of few of them, actually.” She paused. “But the Blacks are the Dark pureblood family. They are the oldest recorded family. They are also the case against inbreeding; there are a number of incestual relationships on record. Many of them are insane. Andromeda and Tonks seem to have side-stepped that unfortunate gene.”

“Maybe…” Harry said with a smile, thinking of his ‘big sister.’

“This is hardly a laughing matter, Harry,” Daphne told him firmly. Her expression softened. “You are thinking of Nymphadora, of course.”

Harry nodded. “Go on.”

Daphne took another deep breath. “It became obvious that your family was in danger several months before…they were killed,” she said softly, obviously fighting her emotions down at the same time. “The beginning of the Prophecy was leaked to Voldemort somehow, we suspect by a spy. Dumbledore knows who it was, but he won’t tell me.”

“He knows?” Harry replied incredulously.

Daphne nodded. “He’s protecting him. Why? I don’t know.” She paused. “The point is that your parents went into hiding. To prevent their being found, they used a Fidelus Charm cast by Lily…you know what that is, correct?”

“You explained it to me when I was younger,” Harry reminded her. “You didn’t tell me who the Secret Keeper was…” Harry trailed off. Something clicked into place, and he looked up at her. “It was Black, wasn’t it? My father trusted him and he betrayed my parents.”

Daphne nodded.

“He is the reason they are dead,” Harry said darkly. “And now he has escaped? Has that ever happened before?”

Daphne shook her head, running a hand through her hair. “No,” she said quietly. “This is unprecedented.”

Harry suddenly understood at least part of the reason that Daphne was so panicked. “He’s coming after me, isn’t he?” Harry said quietly. “He wants to finish the job…”

Daphne nodded again. She seemed completely lost for words. “Andromeda contacted me…we have these,” she said, indicating the silver bracelet she wore on his right wrist. Harry had noticed it, but never thought much of it.

“Black family heirloom?” Harry asked. Daphne nodded.

“She got them as a little girl, before she married and they cast her out. They heat up when you want to communicate with the other. I know the owner of the Apothecary, and she allowed me to use her floo,” Daphne explained. “Andromeda was transferred, by the way,” she added. “You know how she worked at St. Mungo’s?” Harry nodded. “Well, a combination of her good work and her daughter’s Auror training convinced Amelia Bones to take her as her new secretary. That’s how she knew.”

“Will she get in trouble for leaking secrets like that?” Harry asked.

“Probably not,” Daphne said. “It pertained directly to both of us and Andromeda said they were likely going to send us a warning soon anyway. She said she’ll tell Amelia it isn’t necessary.”

Harry frowned. “How do you know that he’s after me? He’s probably deranged after twelve years with the Dementors.”

Daphne stared straight at him, her gaze hard and fierce. Protectiveness was practically radiating off her. “Black has been whispering in his sleep; most prisoners do. He was also not eating. They thought that meant that he was losing the will to live. It looks like he was getting thin enough to somehow get through the bars of his cell.” She paused. “There is one other thing that I told Andromeda that will be very valuable information for the Aurors. Black is an unregistered animagus: he transforms into a large black dog.”

Harry suddenly remembered something buried deep within his mind. He must have been less than a year old, but he could remember a massive, black, fuzzy creature, licking his face with a giant pink tongue as he squealed with amusement. The memory froze his blood.

“You remember,” Daphne said, her eyes sympathetic. “He used to play with you all the time. I never could have imagined that he’d turn traitor. I didn’t like him, but he…” she paused and Harry was surprised to see tears glistening in Daphne’s eyes. “…he was a good man…if a bit immature at times.” She really was crying now, and laughed slightly. “He actually fancied me at one point,” she said.

Harry was a bit surprised by that, but wasn’t particularly interested. “What made him do it? What made him betray them like that?”

Daphne shook her head, wiping away her tears. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. It didn’t…and still doesn’t…make any sense.”

Harry frowned. “He would know me, then?” he asked.

Daphne nodded, then cringed, as if she was about to say something unpleasant. “The man was…and I suppose still is…your bloody Godfather…”

Harry recoiled in revulsion. His Godfather? Sirius Black, a man who had betrayed Harry’s parents to their deaths, endangered his Godson, and murdered another of his best friends, killed about a dozen innocent Muggles, and had spent the last twelve years in Azkaban was his Godfather? The thought sickened him, made him physically ill. To be related in any way to a Death Eater? He suddenly had a new appreciation for Dean Thomas, whose mother’s brother-in-law happened to be Addison Jugson, who had been one of Black’s fellow prisoners.

Then he frowned, remembering something Daphne had mentioned earlier. “What’s important about his whispering?” he asked.

Daphne paled and stared out the window. Initially, Harry thought it was because she was fighting down her despair and sorrow. When he looked closely at Daphne’s eyes, he was surprised to see that they were blazing with rage. “He was talking about you,” she said in a strained voice. “All he talked about was you. He called you by name. He called me by name.”

She closed her eyes, and took several deep, calming breaths. “I want you to swear something to me, Harry,” she said, gazing deep into his eyes. “And I will know if you are lying. Swear on Merlin’s name that you will not go looking for Sirius Black.” The intensity in her eyes, the protectiveness and love that Harry saw was astounding. He hadn’t erred in his earlier estimation that he was the only thing that kept her going. “I will not bury another loved one,” she vowed softly, but with a fearsome edge behind it that left no doubt as to the depth of her resolve.

Harry took a deep breath. Whatever she may have done to me, the damage is repaired. The relationship may not be; may never be. But I can do this for her. For both of our sakes. “I swear it,” he said firmly.

Daphne nodded. It was an agreement forged in blood, bound by steel. It was a vow that Harry had no intention of breaking.

“I promise, Harry,” Daphne began, “that I will bring Black to justice, or see it done,” she said firmly. “If I find him before the Aurors or Hit-Wizards do, I will kill him,” she said with as much commitment as Harry had given her in the promise he had just made. “He deserves nothing less.”

Harry nodded grimly.

At this moment, the man who had spent the better part of twelve years transformed as a fat, balding grey rat, been the pet of two redheads, the lab rat for two others, and had gone so long without speaking that he wouldn’t be surprised if his vocal cords were rusted from disuse.

It’s better than being dead, though. Or in Azkaban, like Sirius.

Another thing about spending twelve years as a seemingly innocent rat was that he had only himself to talk to. It had taken him a long time to accept his reasons for betraying Lily, James, and Sirius. He’d felt guilty, angry with himself from being guilty, despaired and horrified that he might have made the wrong choice, frustration that he couldn’t ask anyone for help, and finally, furious with himself for ever doubting his loyalties.

The Dark Lord gave me much more than I ever had. He valued me, valued me as a vital resource in his war effort. He viewed me as no different than the rest of his servants. We all serve beneath him and reap the rewards. James and Sirius kept me around for their own ego gratification. Remus kept me around out of pity.

And Alecto and Amycus; they liked me. They thought some of my ideas were brilliant. They taught me the Unforgivables. They had faith in my abilities. They talked to me, helped me get better at eavesdropping and spying. They made me into something that the Dark Lord though was important. I was never important to Dumbledore. All James and Sirius did was trick me into thinking that I was accepted. They manipulated me. After my father died, did they console me? No, they ignored me. Bloody bastards.

And the Dark Lord will return. I know, I can feel it. He isn’t gone forever. He will rise, and I will reap the spoils of his victory. I’ll stand upon the graves of my ‘friends’ and laugh.

This he knew…most of the time, at least. He still doubted himself, but he knew that he couldn’t afford it. He was committed. The die was cast, and there was no going back.

The sunrise over Stoatshead Hill was as brilliant as it was blinding. Peter shielded his eyes with a Disillusioned hand. He knew that he had plenty of time. While his former ‘master,’ Percy awoke early and promptly, and was very attentive and difficult to trick, Ron was a heavy sleeper, snored loud enough to wake the dead, and paid little or no attention to his surroundings. It was very easy to sneak away to watch the sunset. It gave him time to stretch his human body, to think without being impeded by his rodent instincts or senses.

As part of his spying, he’d been taught how to cast a wandless Disillusionment Charm on himself. It, along with his animagus form, was perhaps his crowning achievement. The Dark Lord had been very pleased when he’d managed it. He could even use it when in rat form, though it was much more difficult. Still, he was relaxed enough so that when he so chose, he could scurry back up to Ronald Weasley’s bedroom with the his family none the wiser. After all, even though it was possible to “see” a Disillusioned object or person, it was difficult, and certainly not something one could do by accident. The Weasleys were not peering around searching for small air disturbances.

He really had chosen well when he found the Weasleys. After Bellatrix and Lucius had abandoned him when word of their Master’s fall came down, he had a few goals. He needed to get out of the country. Unfortunately, Black had hunted him down like a trained bloodhound, and he’d been forced to blow up the street and fake his own death. He slightly regretted killing the Muggles; they weren’t even aware of magic’s existence and Peter, coming from a family that freely married with Muggles and Muggleborns, did not hate them as the Dark Lord did.

In the sewers, he had to determine where he would go next. He knew that he needed to stay in touch, but the fact that he’d been unable to read the Daily Prophet or make a Floo Call meant that he’d have to make sacrifices. He had found a redheaded man near the Ministry Building. The man was obviously a wizard. Pettigrew had followed the man to the Leaky Cauldron, where he got a drink after work. He’d managed to hop into the fireplace with him as he returned home.

Sneaking out of the fireplace, he’d wandered around, invisible, trying to figure out if this was indeed a family where he could keep in touch with the events of the wizarding world. That the man he had followed was a Ministry employee had made his choice that much easier. Still, his choice had been made when his Disillusionment Charm had faded and he’d been picked up by the tail by a curious young redhead. That child, he later would learn, was named Percy. The boy had argued vehemently to be allowed the keep the rat, and after his father examined him, (nearly giving him a heart attack from fear of detection,) his family had agreed. The family, he had learned, was the Weasleys, a name he knew from the Order. A perfect fit indeed.

He’d winced when the boy had given him his name the next day: Scabbers.

Peter renewed the Disillusionment Charm, feeling the magic beginning to ebb with the brightening sky. He had always loved to watch the sunrise. He didn’t know why, but the fiery glow in the sky had always made him feel better. After his father had died, each day he’d awoken before dawn to watch the sunrise. James and Sirius dismissed me, thinking I was barmy. Even Lupin looked at me strangely. They acted all high and mighty, and I’m embarrassed to admit that I played along. I was stupid, foolish. I found true power in the Dark Lord.

His sensitive ears picked up the sound of Mr. Weasley feeding the chickens that lived in the garden. It was time to go.

He transformed silently back into a rat and scurried towards the closing door. He just made it. He was scampering up the stairs when he had to dive to the side to avoid the feet of his former ‘master,’ Percy Weasley. Peter paused for a moment, as Arthur had pulled out the Daily Prophet. The man had a tendency to loudly announce important headlines. He unfolded the paper, taking a sip of his morning tea, and greeting his third son. He frowned. “Percy, look at this,” Arthur said, looking pale.

The redhead with horn-rimmed glasses walked over to his father. He gasped, scratching his head in confusion. “Sirius Black?” he asked his father. Peter felt his blood freeze. No, no, it couldn’t be… He listened carefully, almost begging the heavens that he wouldn’t hear what he feared.

“No one had ever escaped from Azkaban,” Arthur said grimly. “No one.”

“Black was one of You-Know-Who’s followers, right?” Percy asked excitedly. “A spy, a traitor?” Peter would have laughed at the thought. He still thought it rather astounding that people had believed Sirius capable of turning on his friends. He despised his Dark roots, everyone knew that. How they believed he was capable of kneeling at the Dark Lord’s feet was beyond him.

Arthur nodded. Peter remained frozen on the stairs. “Yes, he betrayed the Potters, if you remember…” the man wiped his brow, frowning. “Not much information about how he managed it, though. Just that he escaped.”

“Did you and Mum know him in the War?” Percy asked. “You did fight with the Potters, didn’t you?”

Arthur’s face darkened. Peter already knew the answer. He didn’t know Arthur Weasley well, but he knew that he’d been in the Order. Sirius had been as well, so it was only reasonable to assume they had crossed paths at one point or another. “Yes, I did…well, to a extent. We were…rather busy with you and the twins, and Molly was pregnant with Ron and then Ginny.” He paused, taking a sip of his tea. “We didn’t do much in actual combat.”

Percy nodded. “So what does this mean? Will they be calling people off their normal duties until he’s apprehended?”

“Undoubtedly,” Arthur replied. “I’d be surprised if I wasn’t given an assignment related to the search. Or at least work transferred from another department.” He sighed. “I doubt it will be worth much, though,” he said grimly.

Percy frowned. Peter was thinking about leaving right now, but he stayed to listen to his former ‘master’s’ question. “Why Dad?”

“Because it will be the Azkaban Guards who get him, no doubt in my mind,” he said. “Those Dementors are the best there is.”

Dementors. Peter hated Dementors. He was absolutely useless at casting a Patronus.

Unable to process any more, Peter scurried back up the stairs, dodging around the steps of Molly Weasley as she headed down to make breakfast. He silently crept back into Ron Weasley’s bedroom. The occupant was still snoring loudly, sprawled on the bed wearing his bright orange Canons pajamas. Peter climbed up the bed, jumped to the table beside it, and hurried back into the cage. He used his claws to pull the door closed, then settled down, appearing to sleep.

There was no chance of that. Peter’s twelve peaceful years as a family pet might soon be coming to an end.

Now, as he lay half-awake on the morning of September 1st, Ginny’s letter still lying on his nightstand, he recalled that conversation, and the more interesting one that followed it.

Daphne probably hadn’t been still for more than two seconds since they’d arrived back at Dressler Manor. Despite Harry’s vow that he would not go after his parents’ killer, she was wound up like a spring. She seemed to have endless energy, pacing the polished floors of the Manor constantly. Even an update from Andromeda hadn’t calmed her nerves; indeed, it had only made it worse.

Harry had decided that it might be best to wait for her to calm down to tell her about what Luna had done. He needed to tell someone, though. He’d settled on writing letters to his friends and to Tonks. He basically summarized what Luna had told him, what she had done, and the fact that he felt more…complete then he had since perhaps the previous year. The more Harry thought about it, the more it seemed likely that he had begun to sustain mental damage from the strain of his unconscious battle with the possessing spirit of Tom Riddle.

He also told them about Sirius Black. He did not mention his direct connection to the man; he wasn’t sure if even he was comfortable with it yet.

And he did not mention his tremendous increase in magical power or the Prophecy. He wanted to tell them, badly, but it simply wasn’t an intelligent thing to do. Their minds were completely undefended. The knowledge could be very dangerous in enemy hands. While eventually it might give him strength, his power for the time was a burden, a dangerous behemoth that if unleashed could kill him and anyone around him. It was wild, untamed, the very essence of Dark Magic. It could be put to only one use, and that was destruction. Even the simplest Lighting Charm would be capable of causing permanent blindness.

Tonks already knew, of course, but she had promised not to share her knowledge with anyone, not even her mother. The other piece of data, his vague knowledge of the Prophecy, was dangerous for painfully obvious reasons. If a follower of Voldemort got hold of it, Harry’s life would be in great danger. He was still merely a thirteen-year old wizard. He stood no chance against the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange…or Sirius Black.

Once he had sent the letters off with Hedwig, he had decided to give his guardian the good news. The question, of course, was whether she would believe it. She might be understandably skeptical that the daughter of the editor of the Quibbler had accomplished something that the combined knowledge of Daphne, Dumbledore, and all the resources they had at their disposal had not.

Harry found Daphne miraculously still, slumped in a chair in front of the fire. She appeared absolutely exhausted, but appeared to have calmed down somewhat. A book lay discarded on the table beside her, a cup of lukewarm tea in her hands. She was staring into the fire, oblivious of anything going on around her. “Daphne?”

His guardian jolted in surprise, nearing spilling the tea on her lap, but recovered. “Yes, Harry?” she asked without looking at him.

“Well, I’ve got…pretty good news…” he said, not completely sure about how to present this so as to make Daphne treat it as credible. He needed to be careful here, or he might make his guardian panic about his condition getting worse. Daphne’s rope was fraying, his composure getting worse as the school year drew closer. Harry still could not completely understand her anxiety that she might lose him, not only by his death or abduction, but by his willingly leaving her for someone else, like this Professor Remus Lupin whom he had never actually met. It was irrational, but Daphne’s thoughts weren’t always what one would consider reasonable.

“What, you managed to heal yourself?” Daphne snapped bitterly. She was obviously still quite upset. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for,” she said apologetically. “I’m just…”

Harry grinned. “How’d you guess?” he asked brightly.

Daphne stiffened. She placed her cup of tea on the table and got to her feet. Then she stared right at him.

Harry kept grinning. “Go ahead, try. Take a look and see,” he told her. He felt her presence in his mind immediately. She seemed to linger, as if trying to eliminate any remaining doubts.

She withdrew and gasped. “I don’t believe it…You don’t hear any more voices? You aren’t getting lost in your thoughts as much?” she asked hopefully.

Harry nodded. “You won’t believe who helped me either,” he said brightly. Simply seeing his guardian cheerful for the first time in weeks was pleasure enough. He deeply cared about her, and deep inside of him lay the fear that she might just give up sometime, give in to despair. Harry didn’t want to think about what would happen then.

“Who?” Daphne asked. “I don’t understand; why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, probably with more bitterness than she had intended.

“Luna Lovegood,” Harry finally said. “She’s-”

“That’s impossible,” Daphne snapped dismissively. “I know who she is, you’ve told me about her. She’s a schoolchild, a strange one but a schoolgirl nonetheless. How in Merlin’s name could she repair damage like that?”

Harry shrugged. He really didn’t know himself. He would need to delve deeper into the mysteries of Luna. “I don’t know,” he admitted sheepishly. “She said that my mind was a mess, that all the books were knocked out of the shelves and the floor had holes in it…I guess she reorganized the books and fixed the holes in the floor?”

Daphne frowned. “But that’s not possible…she’d have to be an extremely powerful Legilimens…or something else…”

“She put her hands on my temples,” Harry added. “Does that mean anything to you? She also said that she helps her father all the time with his headaches.”

“Could she have the ability to manipulate another person’s mind?” Daphne mumbled to herself. She shook her head. “I don’t understand, but she did something. The change is tremendous.”

“Maybe you should ask Dumbledore?” Harry suggested. “Either way, I think he’ll keep a closer eye on her from now on.” He remembered something. “Well, the thing about Luna is that she always seems to have these insights…it’s strange, to be perfectly honest,” Harry said. “She’s capable of saying something incredibly mature, and yet she goes on about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, which everyone, (including, I suspect, her,) knows don’t actually exist.”

“You think she knows that the things she’s talking about aren’t real?” Daphne asked in surprise. “I know where they come from; her father Novitas is considered to be completely barmy by most.”

“Maybe he’s the only one that treats her normally,” Harry proposed. “It’s possible that she might respect what he believes out of loyalty. Everyone else thinks she’s either just strange or unbalanced.”

Daphne shook her head. “That isn’t important,” she said dismissively. “I’m just glad that you’re finally healed.” Her voice was very odd, definitely strained, and with a great deal of regret and guilt. “I’m-”

“Don’t,” Harry cautioned her. “I know…trust me, I know.”

“I’m going to call Dumbledore,” she said. “Have you told your friends yet?”

Harry nodded. “I owled them already.” Daphne appeared slightly hurt by the fact that she hadn’t been the first to know. Harry thought that if he’d felt she would listen reasonably, she would have been the first. “I wanted to wait until you’d calmed down a bit.”

Daphne nodded. “There’s one other thing,” Harry said, minding Griphook’s warning. “I ran into Blaise Zabini today.”

Daphne frowned. “Zabini? I don’t know them personally, but I know that they aren’t affiliated with either the Dark or the Light.”

“But they have connections with both,” Harry finished. “I know.”

“His mother, of course, is well known. Arabella Zabini is know throughout the wizarding world for her powerful abilities as a Songstress and her beauty. Her music can lift the spirits of defeated warriors or even lower morale in the enemy.” She smiled. “Sort of like a cross between a Siren and a Phoenix…his father is an Illusionist, one of the best,” she added.

“I suspected as much,” Harry said. “Blaise appeared and disappeared without a trace.”

“Teaching his arts to his son,” she said softly, mostly to herself. She cleared her throat. “He came with a warning, I imagine. He probably informed you of something that I’ve known since we returned to England: the purebloods are intrigued by you.”

Harry nodded. “I suppose it’s pretty obvious when you think about it.”

Daphne looked him in the eyes. “Harry, I won’t stop you from finding out more and even contacting some of the purebloods, Light or Dark, they can be equally dangerous. But I want to know who, how and why, simply because I know more about most of them then you do. You will need some of them on your side, eventually. One thing that I always disagreed with Albus about was including Dark families in the Order of the Phoenix. There were a number of them I felt might be interested in the protection and benefit the Order. Albus was dead-set against it.”

Harry was intrigued. “I’m surprised that you were an advocate for them,” he admitted. “I’d think it would be the other way around.”

She shook her head. “My family believed in the old ways,” she explained. “At a young age, my father taught me about the rituals, the ceremonies, the importance of certain dates. My mother taught me the history of our family and our Allies, which included the Longbottoms, just to name one.” She paused, obviously trying to keep her composure. “As a magical heir from birth, my family received numerous offers of marriage. The ability of aura detection is prized.”

Harry nodded. “So I imagine that you had a different perspective on this than Dumbledore.”

“Yes,” Daphne said. “The Dumbledores are not a very old family. In fact, no one really knows where the line came from. I now know that they were descendants of Godric Gryffindor, but very little else; Albus has never been very forth coming with his family’s background. Needless to say, while he knows a great deal about purebloods, simply through his frequent interaction with them, he does not at all care for their pureblood supremacy ideas. He believes that Muggleborns are worth the same as the noblest pureblood. His opinions are not popular.”

“I certainly share that belief,” Harry pointed out.

Daphne nodded. “As do I. My parents were not of the same opinion, but they accepted Lily because she proved herself so well, much in the same way that Hermione does: she outperforms her peers.” She paused, and performed a Warming Charm on her tea before taking another sip. “The problem is that Dumbledore shows disdain for those who believe differently. The man is brilliant and a great leader, but, to be perfectly honest, when Voldemort came for you, we were losing. Badly.” She shuddered for a moment and then took a few deep breaths.

“The Order was scattered. We’d lost almost half the original members, and the Aurors had been decimated. Wainwright’s Ministry was teetering on collapse; he was under heavy fire from Bartemis Crouch and Cornelius Fudge. Voldemort had command of the Giants, the Trolls, and even a number of the Northern goblins were beginning to lean his way, anticipating victory. The werewolves had already joined his cause, and he had sent envoys to the vampires, though they were much more difficult to persuade.”

“Why?” Harry asked. He didn’t know much about vampires, mostly because few, if any of them, inhabited England. They were found mostly in Eastern Europe.

“Because they aren’t well organized. Yes, they do have clans and clan leaders. But most vampires are solitary, and care little for large-scale events. They feed off animals, mostly,” she said. “Yes, they do attack Muggles, but not as often as people believe. Vampires are powerful, but they have a number of key weaknesses, such as sunlight and fire, that make it to their benefit not to draw too much attention from the wizarding governments of Europe.”

Harry nodded. “So they didn’t see how they could possibly benefit from joining Voldemort, because if they began attacking en masse, they’d put themselves in serious danger.”

“Exactly,” Daphne said. “Anyway, back to the purebloods and Dumbledore. He refused to admit anyone to the Order that would not regard the Muggleborn and Half-blood members as equals. As you can imagine, most refused. Some even cast their lots in with Voldemort.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Harry protested. “How can he possibly turn away help in the face of defeat?”

“He’s a man of conviction,” Daphne explained. “A lot of people never understood why Dumbledore never ran for Minister of Magic; some think it’s because he was too modest. I think it’s because he would have made a terrible politician. Politicians can only stand up for what they believe in so much before they have to make compromises for the sake of progress. Dumbledore wasn’t willing to work with the purebloods. It’s as simple as that.”

She sighed, getting up and replacing her book on the small bookcase she had taken it from. “I hate to do this, Harry, but both of us know that you are going to be extremely important in the coming war. We both understand that it is only a matter of time before Voldemort returns. You may be the leader for this war that Dumbledore was in the last.”

Harry was speechless. This was the first time that Daphne had really spoken to him about this. He knew it as well as she did, but somehow, not talking about it had made it seem as if the burden didn’t exist. It did now, and Harry knew that he had to accept that.

“And you cannot repeat this mistake,” she said firmly, turning to face him. “As much as I hate to say it, the fact that the Dark purebloods are showing interest in you is a very positive thing. You might be able to learn to deal with some of the tamer ones before taking on the more conservative families.”

Harry just stared, open-mouthed. The mountain in front of him seemed insurmountable. I’m just a kid, he thought. I’m thirteen bloody years old. And I have to start preparing to be a leader?

“I’ll help you, Harry,” Daphne said, likely reading his thoughts. “You won’t be in this alone. You should try to bring your friends into this slowly. If you plan to keep them beside you, they need to be better prepared.”

“I know,” Harry said thickly. He stared into the fire, and could only hope that it wasn’t the rest of his childhood innocence going up in flames. He wasn’t ready to be man yet. He had barely begun to live…

“…Master Harry Potter?” a high-pitched voice questioned, breaking him out of his reverie. Harry looked down to see the large, bulbous green eyes of Dobby the House-Elf alarmingly close.

Harry jerked away. “Merlin, Dobby would you please not do that? I don’t like it when I wake up with you so close to me!”

Harry’s outburst had clearly frightened the poor creature. He had fallen to his knees and was begging forgiveness. He’d settled upon this method after Daphne had expressly forbidden him to injure himself. It was equally annoying, but at least caused no physical harm to him. Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. Dobby had taken a liking to him, and while it was nice to have a fanatically loyal House-Elf at times, it wasn’t when that Elf interpreted Daphne’s request to ‘wake up Harry’ as ‘Wake him up this instant or you will be punished.’ Harry silently cursed the Malfoys for making Dobby like this.

“Dobby, it was just a request,” Harry said calmly. “I’m not angry with you, I’m just making a suggestion.” Neither of which were actually true. He was a bit angry, because he’d told the Elf not to do it before and he was ordering him not to, not suggesting it.” Either way, it made the House-Elf cease his self-degradation and begin praising his ability to forgive. Why exactly did Daphne hire you? He wondered for the umpteenth time.

“Mistress Daphne Dressler says that Master Harry Potter should awaken and ensure all things are packed for Master Harry Potter’s departure to Hogwarts, sir,” Dobby explained quickly. “Mistress also says that Dobby is to be accompanying Master Harry Potter to Hogwarts and work in the kitchens, sir.”

Harry stared at him. He suddenly felt a slight urge to murder his guardian. Earlier in the summer, he might have been alarmed. Now, he knew the thought was perfectly reasonable. For Merlin’s sake, he means well, and it’s difficult to hate him, but he drives me and the other house-elves absolutely bonkers.

“Daphne told you to go to Hogwarts with me?” he replied.

Dobby nodded so quickly that Harry feared…no, hoped…that he might suffer from whiplash. “Yes Master Harry Potter sir, Mistress said that Dobby was to report back on any strange happenings at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Mistress also instructed Dobby to not let Master Harry Potter know that he is there.”

“Don’t I already?” Harry questioned. “Or were you not supposed to tell me that?”

Dobby frowned. “Dobby doesn’t know…oh no! Mistress said that she would tell Master Harry Potter about Dobby’s being at Hogwarts…BAD DOBBY!” he squealed loudly. Harry swore he heard a laugh from downstairs. His homicidal impulse towards his guardian increased. She’s doing this to annoy me and bloody well enjoying it!

“Dobby!” Harry snapped. “Stop!” Dobby stopped speaking. “I doubt Daphne will mind that you spoiled the surprise,” Harry said, just barely resisting adding in a more…descriptive adjective in place of ‘surprise.’”

“Oh, Master Harry Potter is the greatest and most kindest wizard ever!” he squealed. More laughter. Harry’s patience snapped.

“DOBBY, SHUT UP!” he bellowed. “You did your duty, now go away!... and don’t punish yourself!” he added. Dobby slunked out of the room.

Harry got up and showered, dressing in a t-shirt and jeans for the trip to King’s Cross. When he came in, Daphne was there, still chuckling. “You know, you might have been a bit too harsh on him,” Daphne advised. “Nor did you pack like I asked you to.”

Harry gave her a look that clearly said: “Get over it.”

She waved her wand and Harry’s school things and clothing flew into his trunk. “Hedwig hasn’t come back yet, has she?” Harry asked. Daphne shook her head, then left, still chuckling occasionally. Harry was torn. He was happy that his guardian felt good enough to act in such a lighthearted manner, but he was still fuming from Dobby’s wake-up call. And she knows I hate to be woken up by him too.

They ate breakfast silently. Daphne’s good mood had apparently faded with the realization that she was sending Harry away from her with Sirius Black on the loose, most likely after him. Harry broke the awkward silence. “I’ll do everything I can to stay safe,” he assured her.

Daphne sighed. “I know that, Harry. I trust you…I just don’t know if it will be enough. Black is powerful, intelligent, and resourceful. He’s also impulsive and judgmental, though that won’t help you much.” She sighed. “He’s loyal, but I just…I can’t see him joining Voldemort.”

“But he did,” Harry said.

“I know. I just… I could never have believed that I’d misjudged his character so badly. But that said, he is guilty.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “He was your parent’s Secret Keeper. Dumbledore performed the Charm himself. I was there.”

“Could they have changed?” Harry asked.

Daphne shook her head. “Impossible,” she said dismissively. “They would have told me. Lily would have told me.”

“But what if…” Harry began.

Daphne looked almost angry with him. “Harry, that’s enough. The bastard’s the reason your parents and a number of other Order members are dead.”

Harry nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply…”

“I know,” Daphne said, sounding exhausted. Obviously, she had been pondering the same question a great deal. “I know.” She checked her watch. “We should leave. Did you contact Hermione and Ginny?”

Harry shook his head. “I got their latest letters yesterday. They’ll be there.”

Harry didn’t have wait long before he was pulled into a typically fierce embrace by his bushy-haired best friend. He hugged Hermione back. When she let go, she looked into his eyes, as if searching for confirmation that he was really healed. “I’m fine,” he assured her. He smiled. “Just glad to see you.”

“Me too,” she replied softly. She frowned. “Have you seen Ginny? It’s rather difficult to miss her family…oh, Hi Daphne,” she added, noticing Harry’s guardian for the first time. She waved back distractedly, and seemed to be searching the platform for someone. Harry shrugged and picked up his trunk.

“I’ve already loaded mine,” Hermione explained as they approached the Hogwarts Express. “My parents had early appointments, so they got me here about an hour ago,” she explained. Harry knew that Hermione’s parents were both Muggle dentists.

Harry loaded his trunk into the luggage car. In the pocket of his jeans were his shrunken school robes. Once they had gotten his things aboard, they went back in search of Ginny. Harry spotted Ron Weasley chatting amiably with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan. Neville Longbottom, standing nearby, waved at him. Harry waved back, then approached the redhead. “Weasley, do you know where I might find your sister?” he asked in the politest voice he could muster.

The boy glared at him. “Why should I help you?” he spat.

“Because you are a civil human being?” Hermione offered. She grabbed Harry’s arm, obviously bent on avoiding a confrontation. “C’mon, let’s go look for her elsewhere.”

He followed her lead,searching around the platform a bit. Then Harry saw her speaking with his guardian. He rushed over and snuck up behind her playfully. “Looking for me?” he whispered in her ear.

Ginny jumped, turning bright red. Both Hermione and Daphne laughed. Ginny glared at him. “Don’t do that,” she ground out.

“I couldn’t resist,” he admitted. “Come on, let’s get your stuff loaded.”

After they did so, Harry sent Hermione to find them a cabin while he and Ginny went back for goodbyes. Daphne was standing in the shadows again, possibly so that no one else could see the tears in her eyes. Harry gave her a warm embrace, which she returned fervently. “Stay safe, please Harry,” she mumbled. Harry took a step back and looked her in the eyes.

“I will,” he said. “I’ll keep my promise.”

“Thank you,” Daphne said softly. She bent and kissed him on the forehead, running a hand through his messy hair. Harry felt the familiar warmth of her love and protectiveness. “If you need me, I will be there for you.”

“I know.”

With one last hug, he bid farewell to his guardian, heading for the sanctuary of his friends. At that moment, Harry knew for the first time that, eventually, he would be able to forgive her.