Dumbledore created a chair facing the couch he had made and settled in to wait. Apparently knowing that she would eventually see her friends again, when she was allowed to re-enter the school as an exchange student after the holidays, was not sufficient to resolve the loss she was feeling about being cut off from her friends.
A second possibility occurred to Dumbledore. If Harry had not yet truly made his peace with what had happened to Ron in the Ministry, and given what he felt was an appropriate apology, she might be mourning the loss of the opportunity.
With no way to determine what the actual cause was given Harry's amazing development of her Occlumency, Dumbledore chose to do nothing, merely waiting quietly for Harry's grief to run its course. He felt a smile creeping onto his lips as he considered the picture the two made, Tonks with her current green hair, cradling a black and white haired girl barely half her size against her. Seeing the comfort Harry took in Tonks, especially considering how unwilling Harry usually was to open up to anyone, Dumbledore felt that for once he had made a choice in Harry's life that he would not have to second-guess and for which he would not in the end regret the necessity.
His eye caught once more on the little red-headed figurine of a wizard that Harry was holding. Slipping his wand out, Dumbledore summoned another wizard from the floor where Harry's toys had fallen, and turned it over in his hands, examining it. The one he had grabbed was stone, though several of them were obviously wood. It had no joints, no movable parts, which confirmed that Harry had been using animated transfiguration and not locomotion charms on a jointed transfiguration.
"Dumbledore," Tonks said softly, and the Headmaster looked up. "I don't think missing one day is going to hurt her. I'm going to put her to bed. I'll stay with her until she falls asleep. When she wakes up, she can decide if she feels up to resuming."
Dumbledore nodded, and standing, he walked the two steps to reach the couch and tapped Harry with his wand. Tonks felt the girl in her lap become instantly much lighter. Dumbledore assisted her in getting up without losing her balance or dropping the still crying girl. Harry had quieted down considerably, and was no longer shaking, but tears were still trickling down her face, and she was still clinging tightly to Tonks, sobbing occasionally.
Dumbledore opened the doors ahead of her with his wand as he walked along behind her, following Tonks through the apartment to Harry's bed. When Tonks lay the emotionally wrung out teen on the bed, she held onto Tonks even more tightly. With a sigh, Tonks lifted her again, and settled herself down on Harry's bed, with the smaller girl nestled on top of her. She glared at Dumbledore, who merely twinkled back at her before waving and walking out, closing the door behind him.
With Dumbledore's eyes no longer on them, Tonks pulled Harry to her more tightly, drawing her up so that her head could lie on the pillow beside her own. She did her best to ignore the feel of the smaller girl's breasts brushing along her body as she pulled her upwards. Harry snuggled into her arms, sending shivers through her, and tears pricked Tonks' eyes.
It seemed so little, to hold Harry until she cried herself to sleep, and she wanted so much to be able to do more, to be able to do something real to ease her pain, but at the same time, she felt an immense pain and sadness as she acknowledged that this, little though it might be, was likely more than Harry had ever had before, if they had never even given her toys. That seemed just so very wrong, that someone as precious as Harry, someone so pure should be treated so very badly.
---
"There is something more happening here, Fawkes, than a potions accident. Severus cannot come up with any explanation, any way for the potion they were doing to have that effect. And what an effect! A change of gender, the unleashing of magical potential, the apparently unlimited capacity to cast wandless magic more powerfully and more intricately than he could cast with a wand before, this veela-like allurement that seems to attract both sexes equally, apparent mastery of Metamorphmagic and Occlumency overnight, an ability in Transfiguration that would earn her a Mastery, nay, that surpasses any Master I have yet met, myself included, also apparently gained in an instant, given Minerva's comments about his performance in classes to date, so many inexplicable things. Ah! Not to forget her suddenly perfect vision, the disappearance of his wand, and a sudden openness with her emotions, a willingness to be visibly weak. I would believe her an imposter had I not tested for that very possibility!"
Dumbledore fiddled around his desk until he found a backup tin of lemon drops, pried it open, and plopped one in his mouth, sucking it thoughtfully, while Fawkes merely chirped. "I had to obliviate Severus. I can't risk Voldemort learning what really happened to Harry. I can't conceal that we took him out of classes for 'personal training' directly following a potion's accident, unfortunately, though I've concealed the details of that accident as thoroughly as possible."
"I wish I knew for certain how much Harry actually knew about what happened, and what is happening to him. I would almost think I was seeing the results of a blood awakening, if I did not know that James' background is clean. Lily is a muggle-born, so it couldn't be from her . . ." Dumbledore sighed, leaning back and rolling his lemon drop around in his mouth as he pondered the mystery that now surrounded his favorite student. "I suppose it could be Voldemort's doing in some way, but I can't imagine why he would . . . then again, if he knew that it would make Harry female," Dumbledore sat up, his eyes clouded with concern, "he would not care that he was increasing Harry's power. In fact, he would prefer it, for it would give him more to take, more to command."
A shiver ran down Dumbledore's spine as he considered the terrible possibility that Voldemort already knew what had happened to Harry, and was probably preparing to cast the binding spells even now. "Oh, poor Harry," he whispered, picturing Harry, as small as she had become, looking tiny and pitiful beside a vengeful Voldemort as the dark wizard slew his family and friends. The fact that his own death seemed assured in such a case paled before the pain he knew Harry would feel, being forced to live on in pain and misery when all those he loved were dead.
A single tear slid slowly down his cheek and caught in his beard, glistening in the light.
---
Harry stirred, then froze as he realized that he was lying on something both warm and soft, smelling very familiar.
"It's alright," Tonks whispered, smoothing her fingers gently through his hair. She was not surprised that Harry had woken up so quickly. After all, he had fallen asleep from emotional exhaustion, not from an actual need for rest.
Harry rolled off of Tonks, suppressing the feeling of disappointment as he did so, and sat up on the bed. "I'm sorry, Tonks. I didn't mean to lose it like that."
"It's okay, Harry," Tonks reassured him, sitting up and placing her hand over his. "I don't mind."
Harry nodded, hiding his disbelief. He knew he had screwed up, allowing her to see how weak he really was. It was all he could do not to burst into tears again at the thought. "It's a good thing I'm not being graded, huh?" Harry rubbed his eyes with his free hand.
"On the contrary, Harry," Tonks said in confusion. "You would have received top marks for what you accomplished. Even Dumbledore was impressed."
"Dumbledore saw that?" Harry stared at Tonks with pleading disbelief, and Tonks nodded. Her eyes filled with confusion when Harry's face fell at her confirmation.
"What's wrong, Harry? Are you upset that he saw you cry? He won't think any the less of you for it," she promised him, rubbing the back of Harry's small hand. "He knows that this is terribly hard for you, being isolated from all your friends like this."
Harry hiccoughed, his heart dropping to his feet as his fears found confirmation. "Not . . . not all my friends?" Harry asked her, his eyes pleading with her, unable to hide his desperation.
Tonks understood his meaning instantly, and she pulled him into a warm embrace. "Oh, of course not. Of course I'm your friend, Harry," she swore, tears pricking at her own eyes. "Now, enough moping, Harry," she continued, lifting his chin and looking into his liquid green eyes. She scooted back, pulling Harry with her, until her back was resting on the pillows against the headboard.
"Time to practice your metamorphing, and we can do it right here. Just practice changing your hand."
She pulled Harry around so that his back was resting against her. "Alright, a simple start, make your skin pale again." She barely finished the words when the color drained from his hand, leaving it a stark white that faded back to golden-brown on his arm.
"That's white, Harry," Tonks chided, and Harry giggled involuntarily.
"Pale white," she said, then her hand suddenly took a very slight green tint. "Pale green."
"Fine," Tonks agreed as Harry's hand turned light blue, then light purple. "How about some fur?" Harry's hand instantly sprouted a very fine silvery fur everywhere except the palm. Tonks reached out and stroked her fur, making Harry shiver.
The fur vanished beneath her fingers, and Tonks stared in surprise, as her fingers stroked soft snake-skin.
"Now try structure. Again, start simple, just try and get rid of your pinky."
Harry's shortest finger swiftly diminished, and her other fingers shifted to have more space between them. Webbing appeared between her fingers as her skin turned a darker green, with fish-scales. Her nails became claws.
Tonks leaned forward, resting her chin on Harry's shoulder. "You are doing this intentionally, right Harry?" She did her best to hide her nervousness. Harry was riding close to the edge of what a Metamorph should be capable of. She was reminded of the talons Harry had manifested the day before. She could accomplish similar effects, but that was after years of practice, not on her first and second day of even attempting it!
Harry nodded. "Yeah, it's fun."
His other fingers shrank and thickened. The scales vanished and brown fur sprouted, getting quickly long enough to be considered shaggy. His claws thickened and curved. He turned his hand over and she could see his palm thickening and hardening. The color of his visible skin deepened to a near black. Tonks suppressed a shiver. That was unquestionably an animal's paw. No Metamorph would be capable of that drastic a change.
She watched in silent amazement as Harry's hand shifted slowly, becoming a bird's talon, a cat's paw, and a monkey's hand. She could not suppress her gasp when it reshaped entirely, lengthening from his wrist even as all of his digits merged. A new split appeared as scales covered his hand. In moments the goal of his shifting became apparent when the appendage curled back and looked at her, blinking, its mouth opening to reveal fangs and a forked tongue. He had altered his hand into a perfect snake's head, its body morphing smoothly back to his arm. The only visible malformation was the absence of a throat.
"Wow," Harry gasped, "That's weird!"
"What is, Harry?" Tonks asked worriedly, hoping against hope that Harry would not bring harm to himself by doing this.
"I can actually see through my snake eyes and my normal eyes at the same time!" Harry did not mention that he could also taste Tonks' scent much more clearly. That seemed a bit too weird to mention, even if he did love the taste.
Before Tonks could urge caution, Harry drew back from the direction he was going, and returned his hand to normal. Tonks breathed a sigh of relief, albeit prematurely, for Harry was not done. His skin darkened to a charcoal gray, as he very slowly flexed his fist. Tonks was very confused, having no idea why a mere color change was so interesting, until he turned it from stone gray to a metallic silver, and tapped his fingers together. The contact between his fingers generated an unquestionably metallic clank, and Tonks realized, even as she was reminded of Dumbledore's words about Harry's potential, that he had actually changed the substance of his hand, without losing the ability to move it.
His fingers and thumb elongated and thinned from the second to the last knuckle on. He raised his other hand and summoned a piece of spare parchment. Lifting the parchment, he pierced it with fingers turned knives, and slid his fingers slowly down it, slicing it into strips connected by a thin span at the top.
"You're doing great," encouraged Tonks, even as she forced herself to say nothing about the total impossibility of what she was seeing. "Why don't you try making your hand more masculine, more like it once was."
Harry instantly perked up, and her hand shifted, becoming larger, with slightly shorter fingers. She gasped and Tonks was startled to see tears in her eyes. She was thinking that they were tears of joy at seeing her hand as it once was, until she heard Harry sob, "It hurts." A moment later his hand was once more her hand. Harry turned, flinging her arms around Tonks as he buried his face in her shoulder, sobbing pitifully, his intention to be stoic shattered in an instant. "Why does it hurt like that?" she pleaded.
"I don't know," Tonks answered, shocked to her core. Taking on a male mien was easy enough for her, though she of course could not quite go all the way. But it certainly never hurt . . . she just wasn't willing to risk her more delicate parts on that sort of change.
Desperate to stop Harry's pain, to turn her attention elsewhere, and curious about Dumbledore's statements, especially in light of Harry's Metamorphing performance just now, Tonks helped Harry sit up. "Let's try some conjuration now, Harry. For this one, I don't want you to try any incantations or wand movements. You've seen the old man do it . . . just a flick of the fingers, and knowing what you want to conjure, picturing it perfectly . . . conjure me an apple, Harry."
Harry looked at her for a minute through watery sea-green eyes, then looked at her hand, and then flicked her fingers with an expression of doubt mixed with concentration. A perfect green apple appeared in her hand. Tonks pulled it away from Harry, and summoned a knife to slice it. She held up the first slice, sniffed it delicately, then bit a small chunk out. "Mmmm, perfect, Harry," she purred, quickly popping the rest of the slice in her mouth, cutting another, and holding it out teasingly for Harry. When Harry reached for it with one delicate hand, she pulled it back and tsked at him. Harry dropped her hand, arching an eyebrow, and this time when Tonks held out the slice of apple, she leaned forward and took it in her teeth, just brushing Tonks' fingers with her soft lips.
"It is good," she said, surprised, as she chewed the slice of green apple.
Bemused, she conjured a seedless cherry and reciprocated, pushing it gently into Tonks' mouth, blushing furiously as Tonks' lips slid over her finger.
"How about some coffee . . . on a tray please, and I like mine with plenty of cream and sugar when I'm not just off a patrol or about to start one." Tonks very deliberately did not mention that learning to conjure a singular object was not difficult, for seventh-years at least, conjuring multiple related items, particularly mixed fluids, was challenging to the point that not all wizards and witches mastered it, having to conjure the bits separately and then mix them.
Harry's fingers wiggled, and a tray appeared on the bed, with a steaming cup of coffee doctored to a nice shade of milk chocolate, and beside it, a cup of hot cocoa with little marshmallows.
Tonks took her coffee and smelled it, smiling at the fresh brewed aroma. She sipped hesitantly, but contrary to her half-formed expectations, the coffee did not taste as though it had been mixed with the cocoa. Instead, it tasted perfect, with plenty of cream and sugar, and a strong but smooth taste like fresh roasted, freshly ground beans. "Oh, Harry," she laughed, "You are going to spoil me for Hogwarts coffee." She grinned at the petite girl who was sipping at her own hot cocoa and moaning appreciatively.
"If conjuration is this easy," queried Harry, eyeing Tonks over her cup of cocoa, "why doesn't everyone do it?"
Tonks sighed. "I only suggested it because you are casting wandlessly. It has to be wandless, you see, to be able to dispense with the wand movements and words, and it needs concentration worthy of an Occlumens to get the details right."
"Oh." Harry felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, and felt like screaming. Ever since he had changed, he had been crying more than he ever had in his life. No matter how strongly he still wanted to conceal his emotions, to hide behind a facade of happiness, he could not seem to manage it.
Tonks saw the depression that swept over Harry at her words, and she set her coffee back on the tray. She gently took the hot cocoa from Harry's hands and set it on the tray as well, then drew her wand and levitated the tray off the bed before slipping it away again. Then she shifted over to pull Harry against her, and ran her hand soothingly through his soft black hair. "Why does that bother you so, Harry?" She asked, softly questioning, inviting him to open up to her.
"All I ever wanted was to be normal," Harry whispered, feeling the tears starting to flow, and hating that he could not hold his tongue. The words forced themselves out in spite of him. "The Dursleys always said I was a freak, and then Hagrid came and proved them right. But I thought at least I could be a normal wizard, but no, I have to be the Boy-Who-Lived. It just never ends. It seems like every time things start to settle down, something else comes up to make me different, to make people stare at me, talk about me behind my back, to give them reason to hate me."
Tonks leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Harry's forehead, and hugged him close. "I'm sorry for you, Harry. I wish I could make it better, I really do. I promise, I'll never turn my back on you, Harry, no matter what."
Harry pulled away after hugging Tonks tightly, and whispered her gratitude, though he knew it was too little, too late. Eventually . . . no, Tonks was smart, it would be soon, very soon, she would realize what his weakness implied for the inevitable face-off with Voldemort. Even if Dumbledore had not told her the prophecy, the whole wizarding world seemed to somehow sense it, expecting him to defeat Voldemort, and she must as well, there was no other explanation for all the effort she was wasting on him. And when she did realize it, she would understand what it meant for her parents, obvious targets for Voldemort, and she would realize how worthless he really was.
---
Unwilling to be observed, Harry waited until Tonks fell asleep, having returned to her own room, after first helping Harry prepare for bed after they had eaten dinner. He would have preferred to leave the castle, or at least go to the roof before doing this, to minimize the chance that someone was observing him, but he could not risk the chance that their shared quarters were enspelled to notify Dumbledore if he left, not to mention the disturbing possibility that his clothes might be magical constructs, which would explain the quantity of well-fitting clothes better than pretending someone actually wasted their time shopping for him, in which case they might vanish outside this apartment.
Harry was quite certain, given his vastly increased vulnerability to Voldemort, that Dumbledore would not be taking any chances that could be avoided. Knowing that Harry would be devastated at once more being isolated from his friends, Dumbledore would surely be on guard for any sign of Harry trying to slip out and meet them.
So he could do nothing more than cast several protective, anti-scrying spells, along with an imperturbability charm, on the room. He slid out from under his bed's soft covers, and padded on silent feet to the center of the open space between his bed and the door to his room.
He carefully removed the silk nightclothes Tonks had laid out for him, and set them aside, then watching his naked reflection in the mirror, Harry relaxed into his new native form, wings springing from his back, his tail peaking out from behind him with a sigh of pleasant relief, as if he had finally set down a heavy load.
He looked at himself in the mirror for a long moment, taking in the warm red glow of his skin. His scar was still shifted upwards, and he still had a white lock in his red hair. It was because of that white lock that, for the first time, he noticed that he had two short black horns, barely poking up through his hair.
He reached up and felt their smooth surface, and grimaced when it sent a tingling of pleasure through him, eliciting certain other following reactions. "Damn it," he cursed to himself, "I thought horns were dead tissue? Why the hell are they so sensitive?"
Lowering his hands, he waited for several minutes, staunchly ignoring the enticing scent drifting up from the slight moisture that had seeped out between his thighs from his inadvertent self-stimulation, until his arousal finally faded completely.
He focused on the passages he had read earlier in the day, during his allotted library time, that described the structure, function, and appearance of the anatomy of bats. He had selected the Barbastella barbastellus as his focal species. Unique in appearance, it was immediately recognizable, with very dark fur, nose, and ears. It had huge ears that practically cradled its eyes, as if its eyes were the stage and the ears a half-ampitheatre, and a very flat nose. He chose it as the closest in appearance to the literal vampire bat which, according to the book he read, was not native to Europe.
He spent a few minutes floundering, trying to transform without metamorphing or invoking the animagus transformation. When it finally clicked for him, it came as a shock. His body simply dissolved, taking his consciousness with it.
High-pitched cries and the flapping of many wings filled the room as Harry struggled to pull his fractured mind back together, and understand what had happened. With a great effort, he changed back, flowing back into himself from all over the room. He lay back on the floor, panting, feeling his breasts heaving in time with his gasps.
"That had to be just about the weirdest experience of my life," he wheezed, rolling over and pushing himself back up into a sitting position, as he pondered what had happened. He had not become a single bat, as he had expected to. Instead, he had become an entire swarm of bats, splitting his mind and body into what felt like hundreds of pieces.
The confusing ordeal had not been without its benefits. He seemed to have a complete mental map of the room, every nook and cranny, where every bit of it was in relation to every other bit. He rather imagined he could navigate through the room in complete darkness without the slightest difficulty. Of course, it also meant that he had not gotten any sort of look at all at what he had become, so he did not know if he had actually become his form of choice, or merely activated some innate ability of his form to dissolve into some particular type of bats.
Bringing down his spells, Harry crawled back into his bed, feeling shivers running up and down his spine as he tried to come to grips with this new revelation. Perhaps the worst of it was the uncompromising realization that he would not be able to use this transformation to pretend it was his animagus form. There was no way anyone watching him change could possibly believe that it was an animagus transformation.
He flipped his pillow over, pressing his head into it, trying to get comfortable, but sleep would not come. The wonder that should have been present at discovering a new ability was entirely overshadowed by his disappointment, and his frustration at having yet another secret to hide. He was sure that if anyone saw him become a cloud of bats, his pretense would fall apart completely, and he would be alone.
Still he knew he needed this, needed to explore all of the abilities and limitations of his new form. Only when he fully understood it could he hope to become himself again.
Just when he was finally becoming drowsy, what seemed like hours later, he felt a powerful drawing, tugging sensation, as if he was being sucked outside of himself. He recognized the fading of his surroundings, and quickly brought his will to bear on the dream he was being drawn into, regaining his original form, here in the one place where he could do so without pain. As he did so, he could scarcely bear to wait to see whose dream was sucking him in, and how they were managing it.
---
"You're sure about this?" Hermione asked, looking deep into Ginny's eyes. The young redhead nodded firmly.
"Absolutely, Hermione. If it is Harry, I want to see him too. If it's not, well, who's to say it won't come after me next? Better to face it two together than one alone."
Hermione nodded, though she cringed inwardly, feeling incredibly guilty and yet very thankful that her best female friend was a Witch and not a Muggle, and so had never seen nor heard of "A Nightmare on Elm Street." She had no real idea how dangerous it could be to face someone in your dreams, but Hermione did. She remembered the blood on her sheets the night before. She was going into this knowing that she could be injured, possibly even killed, and she had not told Ginny.
Hermione pulled her curtains closed and cast a silencing spell, followed by a shielding ward. She hoped that the spells she had found would not only allow Ginny to join her, but ensure that they could use their magic in the dream, however, she realized now that she could not allow Ginny to risk her life unknowingly.
"I haven't . . . ," Hermione began, then faltered. Ginny scooted closer.
"What's wrong, Hermione? It's about last night, isn't it? I had a feeling you weren't saying something, holding something back."
Hermione looked up and Ginny was startled to see tears in her eyes, though after a moment, she realized she should probably not have been surprised. She knew how much Harry meant to Hermione and Ron, and to see him after believing him dead must have been incredibly emotional for her.
Hermione nodded, and Ginny settled back to listen, offering her friend a comforting smile. Hermione smiled back, wanly, her face paling. She knew what she was about to say would hurt Ginny. She knew all too well that she was not the only Gryffindor girl that loved Harry Potter. "I lost my virginity last night, Ginny. I gave it to Harry . . . or at least, I hope I did."
"But it was just a dream, Hermione," Ginny said urgently, leaning forward and grabbing Hermione's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Hermione shook her head, sadly. "No, it wasn't. That's why I was so freaked out when I woke up. I was sore . . . and I found blood on my sheets."
"You . . . you just started your period, right?" Ginny whispered hoarsely, though she knew it was not so. Girls living in close quarters often had their periods come into sync, and it was not hard to learn their cycles. It was not Hermione's time, though Ginny still hoped, crossing her fingers, knowing that it was not impossible for something, an illness she had not paid attention to perhaps, to have thrown off her cycle.
"No, Ginny. My hymen is gone, and I haven't had any significant flow today."
Tears sparked in Ginny's eyes. "Oh, Hermione," she whispered, hugging her friend fiercely. "It was Harry. It has to be," she sobbed, squeezing Hermione tightly, feeling an ache in her heart.
"But . . . if it wasn't . . . it could be dangerous, Ginny. If that physical effect came through, so could an attack. We could die tonight, Ginny," Hermione whispered back, her own voice choked with tears. How could she ask her friend to do this? Yet how could she face it alone?
"Better two together, than one alone," Ginny said again, sniffling and wiping her face. "We can do magic, in the dream, right?"
Hermione nodded vigorously, wiping her own eyes. "That's what the spell is for, to bring us together, draw it in, and grant us power over the dream. But it may have the same power. I'm not certain, but it might have been the one that changed my dream to be in my room."
"But . . . how would it know?"
"I don't know. I hope it is just that it came from my subconscious, but it might be a mind-reader as well."
"Oh, no," whispered Ginny, fearfully, biting her bottom lip. "You might want to find someone else, Hermione. If it pulls up my nightmares . . . well, you don't want to face a Basilisk or T-t-tom."
"There's no-one I'd rather have by my side," insisted Hermione, staring at the other girl with a fierce gaze. "And if it is Harry, you deserve to see him more than anyone."
"Except Ron," answered Ginny.
Hermione giggled, shaking her head. "You think I'm letting him into my dreams? You've got to be joking."
"So . . . how do we do this?"
Taking a deep breath, Hermione drew her wand. Ginny followed her lead, drawing her own wand to the ready. Hermione cast several spells in slow succession, the last dropping them both off to a deep slumber.
---
Hermione found herself in a dim grayness, and spun frantically. Her heart soared when a red head of long hair hove into view. "Ginny, you made it," she cried.
Ginny nodded, clutching her wand nervously. They felt a pulse in the distance. "It's drawing him . . . er, it . . . in. Get ready."
A light appeared in the distance, green threaded with black. Their hands tightened on their wands, skin whitening from the pressure, as a dark figure became visible in the light, haloed by it, back-lit so that they saw nothing but a dark silhouette.
Light rushed around them, startling a shriek out of Ginny, and a poorly aimed Leg-Locker Curse out of Hermione. They found themselves in the Gryffindor Common Room, with no sign of the approaching figure. Hermione turned slowly, feeling her heart thudding painfully in her chest. Her breath came in short gasps, and she could hear Ginny nearly hyperventilating behind her.
A sound drew their attention and their wands to the staircase that led up to the boy's dorm. "Hermione? Ginny?" Ginny gave a sob of relief at Harry's voice, then squeaked as Hermione grabbed her arm, preventing her from rushing forward. Together, they watched as Harry nervously came down the stairs, eyeing their wands, which tracked him closely.
"What are you?" rasped Hermione, stepping back as Harry drew close, pulling Ginny with her.
Harry seemed to crumple at her words and the hard look in her eyes, collapsing to his knees. He looked up at them with pleading green eyes, trickling lines of tears shining on his cheeks. "I'm a freak," he said softly, "I'm not worthy of your love, 'Mione, I know that. I'm sorry, but I just couldn't refuse you, not when you were in that much pain. I know it was wrong, but I couldn't help it." He looked down. "I'll understand if you hate me now. It's no more than I deserve."
Hermione stood as if struck, her fear that this was not Harry warring with her desire to comfort him. Ginny winced as Hermione's grip on her arm began to hurt, but she bit her tongue and said nothing. She too was fighting between not wanting to be taken in by a seductive fantasy, as she had by Riddle's diary, and wanting to comfort the boy she loved.
"Who are you?" demanded Hermione, her voice choked by tears.
Harry looked up startled, his mouth gaping. "'Mione?" He jumped to his feet and rushed forward, covering the distance between them faster than either of the girls could react. "Oh, please no, please don't let me have hurt your mind. You have to remember me, you have to!" He stared around wildly, even as his hands gripped her shoulders.
Ginny stared in wonder as the walls of the common room fell away. She heard Hermione's voice several feet from where Hermione was standing, and spun to face the new threat. Her wand hand dropped as she stared open-mouthed, as a very young Hermione gave a disturbingly small Harry a hug and told him that he was a great wizard.
Harry turned back to the girl he was holding. "You . . . you haven't forgotten me . . . then why don't you know who I am?" Harry turned and stared at Ginny, his eyes burning with emerald flames. "You recognize me, don't you Ginny?"
Ginny nodded, stepping back and raising her wand. Her voice trembled. "Step away from Hermione, Harry," she ordered, gulping. Harry loosened his grip and stepped back, clearly puzzled.
"What's wrong, Ginny? And . . . ," he paused, staring, then looked back at Hermione. "How are you both here? Whose dream is this?"
"You know you're in a dream?" demanded Hermione, her own wand lifting.
Harry nodded convulsively. The Gryffindor Common Room returned. "I don't understand, 'Mione, Ginny, what's wrong? I . . . I'm really sorry if I hurt you, 'Mione. I never wanted to hurt you."
"Just tell me who you are," ground out Hermione, her wand shaking slightly.
"I'm Harry!" Harry protested, clearly bewildered. "I don't . . ." He stopped short, gulping. "Oh." He tugged nervously at his collar. "Uhmm . . ." He looked up bewildered. "I don't know how to prove it, 'Mione? Anything I told you could have come from your memories . . . I . . . I can do something sort of like Legilimency when I'm in a dream. I haven't invaded your privacy, at least I've done my best not to, but how can I prove it when anything I say could have come from you?"
Ginny stepped forward, and gestured at a couch. "Have a seat, Harry." Harry complied and she continued, "The main reason she is afraid is because she is convinced that you are dead. It seems the . . ."
"Dead?!" interrupted Harry with a yelp. "I thought that scene last night was just a nightmare, 'Mione. I didn't realize you really thought I was dead! I thought Dumbledore told everyone I had been taken for training?!"
"Just explain, Harry. Where are you, and why is Dumbledore so reticent about it? Hermione thinks they are trying to cover up your death to keep the public from panicking."
Harry shook his head. "It is a cover-up, but not of that 'Mione." He looked down at his hands. "I . . . I can't tell you what really happened to me, but I'm not dead, not even injured. There was an accident, and Dumbledore is afraid that I am really vulnerable to a particular class of spells right now, and he is frightened that Voldemort will find out. The extra training bit isn't pure cover-up, though. I am receiving extra training, and the accident was not all bad. Somehow, it helped me finally figure out Occlumency and Legilimency. No more classes with Snape!" Harry crowed the last sentence, and grinned when a small smile crossed Hermione's face.
"I'm sorry if you were hurt by all this, 'Mione, Ginny, but they won't let me send letters. I did not know I could do this, travel into someone's dreams without leaving my room, until I was thinking about you last night, and I got sucked in to your dream, Hermione. I think it might be another effect of the accident."
"But what accident?" probed Hermione, wringing her hands, her wand-tip swinging about aimlessly now.
Harry sighed. "Dumbledore must have memory-charmed you. There was an accident in Potions. I guess he did not want anyone even remembering that there was one, in case Voldemort found out and worked out what happened, particularly since there are Death Eater's kids in that class."
Hermione shook her head fitfully. "No, I remember an accident, you got hit by Neville's potion. You were treated for boils! Nothing dangerous, nothing that would . . . when did you leave?" She turned to Ginny, visibly confused. "It wasn't right after the accident, was it?"
Ginny shrugged helplessly. "I . . . I can't remember!"
Harry nodded. "Dumbledore obliviated you, I expect. He is really scared that Voldemort will get wind of this. For that matter, after he explained what could be done, so am I."
"Will we see you again? In real life?"
"When the danger has passed, I expect."
Hermione burst into tears, and Ginny looked little better. They both rushed him as one, pressing him back into the couch, and snuggling up to him on either side. "I'm sorry I doubted you, Harry," whispered Hermione. "I don't regret it."
Harry smiled tenderly at her, putting his arms around them both. "It was just a dream, 'Mione, but I was glad to do it for you. You know I would give anything, do anything for you, both of you."
Hermione shivered, and Harry looked at her, wondering. "It wasn't," Ginny stated from the other side when Hermione failed to speak.
"Wasn't what? It was a dream," insisted Harry.
"But not just one. Hermione woke up with blood on her sheets."
Harry paled. "Oh, no, I'm so sorry Hermione. I had hoped that it was just me, because of how I got into the dream."
"What do you mean, just you?" asked Ginny suspiciously, staring up at him.
Harry flushed a deep red. "Uhm . . . er . . . well, er, Hermione . . . when I woke up, I was stuck to my bed, from the blood on my back. 'Mione's a bit of a wildcat," he finished, using the name he had used then in the dream, and smiling gently at the bushy brown hair pressed against his right side. Ginny's mouth gaped as she stared at them in disbelief.
Harry looked back to Hermione. "Please say you can forgive me, Hermione." He looked down. "I should have found another way to comfort you. I wish I could say or do something to make it better, but I can't. I'm not actually even allowed to see you. I expect Dumbledore would be angry if he knew, though I did not know I could do it the first time, and I would swear something else drew me here this time. But please, please say I have a chance of earning your forgiveness? It is hard enough knowing that I can't see you again, can't talk to you while we're awake, that I have to be alone, I don't think I could bear it if I lost either of you forever."
Ginny glanced at Hermione and saw that the bushy-haired girl was too choked up to speak, speechless in the face of the pain in Harry's voice. Ginny turned back to reassure Harry but he spoke again before she got the chance.
"You know, it doesn't make sense to me. Dumbledore said several times that the power I have that Voldemort doesn't is love, but if that is so, then why am I always losing it?" Harry's hands were twisted in his lap as he stared at them, too afraid of what he might see in Hermione's eyes to look up. Ginny's hand entered his view, insinuating its smaller form into his grasp.
"Th-there's nothing to forgive, Harry," Hermione finally managed to choke out past her tears.
Ginny smiled and, lifting Harry's face with her free hand, pressed a kiss on his cheek, and whispered, loud enough for both to hear, "There's no-one she would rather have given her virginity to but you, Harry."
"But . . . but I can't be there for her!" Harry protested. "What kind of boyfriend could I be when I can't even see her?"
"It's not forever, Harry," Hermione said, lifting her head, joy and sorrow mingled in her brown eyes. "You will defeat him, and then we can be . . ."
Harry stopped her, putting a finger over her mouth, his face a mask of anguish. "No," he whispered. "I can't tell you why now, not yet, but after it is all over, I don't think you will want me."
"Why? Because you have to kill him?" Hermione laughed at the shock in Harry's eyes. "I won't reject you, Harry, no matter what you have to do to win, to end this. And . . . and if you don't come back, then I'll still be glad. I'll be forever grateful I got this much of you."
"I . . . I don't know how you knew that, though it is true, but that's not why I'm saying this." Harry shuddered, picturing Hermione's inevitable reaction when she learned that he was a demon, a Dark Creature, ever so much worse than merely having a single dark ability that might have come from Voldemort anyway. No, this was supposed to be a reflection of his soul or personality, wasn't it? Wasn't that why people could not choose their animagus form?
Ginny and Hermione watched, perplexed, as Harry broke down again. Ginny shifted about to bring her mouth near Hermione's ear, and whispered. "I don't think we should ask anymore about the future, Hermione." Hermione nodded fervently. They wrapped their arms around their sobbing friend and hugged him tightly. They knew there was no way for them to guess what reassurance would actually reach him when they did not even know what he feared. Well, they knew he was afraid that they would not want him, or at least that Hermione would not, but they did not know why, and so had no idea how to convince him that it was not true.
Finally Harry regained his composure, and apologized once more for losing control, and for being unable to tell them why he believed they would not want him when they saw him again.
After they had reassured him that he was forgiven, Ginny asked a question that had been on her mind. "Harry, why . . . how were you able to recognize Hermione's affection for you, and act on it? You've been all but oblivious up to now."
Harry sniffled, rubbed his hand across his nose. "I think it's because of my legilimency-like abilities in dreams. I saw and felt how she felt, from her perspective. I . . . " He looked down, and heaved a deep sigh. "I don't have a lot of experience with love, or affection. I don't really know how to recognize it, or how to respond. The only reason I was able to help you at all, 'Mione," he continued, squeezing her gently, then looking back at Ginny, "is because I gained a new set of instincts. I can't really talk about them, but without them, I would have been even more helpless then I was facing Voldemort."
Ginny shuddered at the name, but giggled. "That's exactly what I was wondering. You've always seemed helpless when facing a crying girl."
Harry frowned. "I hate to ask this, of either of you. I know you won't like it, but please, please don't go digging into what happened to me. My disappearance is going to lead to people watching my friends to try and find me, and you might lead them to a dangerous conclusion without knowing it. Professor Dumbledore is afraid that if Voldemort learns the details of what happened, that this whole war will be over very quickly, with the wrong side winning." He shuddered at the thought, knowing that if it happened, he would be by Voldemort's side, like a caged bird, watching as Voldemort used his power to torture his friends.
"At any rate, I need to let the two of you sleep. I'm not sure exactly how I know, but being in this sort of waking dream does not leave you well-rested." He paused for a moment, as the two girls tightened their hold on him. "I love you both, I hope you know that. Good night."
He gently guided them into a true deep sleep, at which point he once again woke up on his own bed. Of course, there was no blood this time, and by now he really was tired, so he quickly dropped off himself.
---
Harry awoke to a damp pillow and aching eyes. Though he tried to ignore it and get back to sleep, turning and flipping his pillow over, sleep would not come back to him and tears continued to fall from his eyes. The thought of what he had stolen from Hermione, what he could never give back or repay her for, tore at his heart.
That Ginny, who had loved him for so long, now knew exactly how despicable he was did not help in the least, either. He remembered his breakdown the night before, the first time he had truly released his grief in front of anyone, and a deep shame stole over him. He had burdened poor Tonks with his tears and grief when she was probably hurting as badly as he was. After all, Sirius had been her cousin, and there he was, crying on her, making her comfort him, when he was the bloody reason her cousin was dead! She should hate me, he thought.
He remembered the rather contrary feelings that he had discovered in her during his first night in her chambers, and shivered, feeling doubly ashamed. She thought that he was an innocent victim of a potion's mistake. She did not know that it was entirely his fault, that it was wholly his doing that he could no longer face Voldemort, nor even be seen by him without risking the safety of the world. He had stolen her hope before she even knew to have it, as he did not think she had heard the prophecy yet. But he had, and he knew. He had been their one chance, and he had thrown it all away.
Now, because of his colossal arrogance, as Snape would say, he had trapped her here taking care of him, unable to find the man she needed. The words of the Dursleys came back to him then.
Yes, he truly was now a freak, and a waste of space. He couldn't even deal with their Voldemort problem for them, he couldn't be Ron's friend, or Hermione's boyfriend, except in dreams. He couldn't be Dumbledore's hope, or Remus' link to his friends, or even Malfoy's nemesis.
A different fear took him then, as he crawled out of bed, brushing his sweat-matted hair from his face. Even Tonks he only had until the holidays! Then Dumbledore would reintroduce . . . her . . . to the school, so she could see her friends again . . . but they would not know her, and they would be suspicious of Harry's extended absence, and . . . and she was a Dark Creature! She would surely be sorted into Slytherin, and then they would not even want to know her, but she could hardly imagine finding friends amongst the Slytherins.
There would be no excuse or reason for Tonks to continue associating with her, she would have lost Hermione and the Weasleys, and all the Gryffindors, she would be surrounded by darkness . . . and what would Dumbledore think of her when she ended up in Slytherin? The hat had already wanted to put her in there, doubtless because it could see what was really in her soul, there could be no doubt about where it would put her now that her inner being was exposed. What if it told Dumbledore the truth?
Heck, she couldn't even count on going back to the Dursleys! They would never believe she was Harry. She wouldn't be allowed to tell Remus or any of the other Order members the truth, lest it reach Voldemort's ears somehow.
"Alone," she whispered, tears coursing down her cheeks again.
As she saw it, she now had really only one chance. She knew that against all logic, Tonks did not hate her for Sirius' death, and that Tonks' love for the old Harry had carried over enough for her to find dreaming of being with the new Harry acceptable, though she would most likely never act on those dreams in real life. She was reasonably certain that Tonks lived alone, based on the few memories she had seen of her life as an Auror. And Tonks was undeniably lonely.
"I'll have to prove I'm not useless," Harry whispered, as she stripped and got in the shower. "I don't think she has a house-elf, so I've got a chance. If I can just convince her that I'm useful to have around, she might let me stay after Dumbledore lets me come back to Hogwarts."
She felt a frisson of fear as she wondered what Tonks' reaction to learning that her ward was now a Slytherin might be, but even if the fumbling Auror felt it necessary to punish her for her freakishness, it would be better than being alone. At least with Tonks she could imagine it was for the love the Auror had held for the old Harry, and not out of hate as it was at the Dursley's.
Finishing her shower, she dressed quickly, and discovering that Tonks still slept, she set about making breakfast, hoping to prove that she could be as useful as a house-elf. As she cooked, mixing conjuring with old fashioned cooking, she remembered the good part of the previous day's evening. Feeding Tonks and seeing the pleasure the beautiful woman took in her food was a far cry from the indifference and insults she received from the Dursleys, and she comforted herself with the image of bringing her teacher breakfast in bed.
---
Once more Tonks woke up with the memory of intensely erotic dreams about Harry, in spite of sleeping in her own room. This time, though, she knew they were her own, for she had cast a shield against Harry's allurement before going to sleep. "I love you, Harry," she whispered sadly as she got up and went to shower.
As she enjoyed the warm water, she considered the puzzle of Harry's new name. If she knew Dumbledore, she would not have to worry about picking one. Not only would he do that, he would probably also provide a complete life-story for the newly-named girl.
She wondered how Harry would react to having a new identity. At least she would have most of two months still to get used to answering to her new name, and learning her new history, before she would have to play it for real when she rejoined the school after the holidays.
Tonks felt a stab of pain in her heart as she realized that she was going to lose Harry then, just as surely as Harry was going to gain new friends. They would be back to a simple, normal, hands-off student-teacher relationship. She would not get to hold that slender, warm body as Harry cried against her, or watch her innocent face as she slept, or see the new-found joy as she discovered the delight most children knew early in life, of playing with her own toys.
She sighed deeply. Painful though it was, it also held out the hope that she might make it through this enforced isolation without Harry coming to hate her. She might even come out of it better off than she started, given Harry's exceedingly unusual emotional vulnerability. She had been expecting him to just shut himself off completely, as he had done the year before; instead, the recent changes seemed to have opened up his emotions as much as they had his magic. She wondered if they were connected.
Shaking herself out of her maudlin mood, Tonks finished her shower. In her bedroom, as she dressed, she could smell the savory scents of rashers and bangers and other morning foods. For a moment she thought that Harry must be up early, and had asked for breakfast from the house-elves, but then she remembered that the house-elves could neither see nor hear Harry, so how could he have contacted them? Thus far it had been Tonks who had had to ask for two meals at each meal-time.
Finishing dressing in a bit of a rush, Tonks hurried into the front room. To her surprise, there was no food there. She sniffed, and realized the smells were coming from the small kitchenette attached to the apartment, which she had never used. Sidling over to the door, she pressed it lightly inward and peeked inside.
She saw exactly what she had anticipated seeing. Unable to contact the house-elves, and having learned to conjure just the day before, Harry was busily making breakfast. Tonks watched in bemusement as Harry scrunched up her nose in concentration, summoning several eggs into her hands, before cracking them over a bowl.
Tonks made a mental note to ask Harry why she was conjuring the raw materials and cooking them, instead of conjuring the finished product, of which she had clearly demonstrated the day before she was more than capable.
A twinkle of light caught Tonks' eye and she watched as a tear slid down Harry's cheek, dripping from reddened eyes. No need to ask, Tonks realized. She was clearly trying to keep herself busy enough to not dwell on her grief. "I was right in telling Dumbledore we need to get her out of this castle," Tonks decided, pushing the door open further, and stepping into the small kitchenette.
Harry squeaked and turned in surprise. No food was spilled or lost, however, as Tonks had deliberately waited until Harry's hands were empty. Harry's face fell when she saw Tonks, and Tonks felt a pang of sorrow. She had so hoped that Harry would never have cause to look at her like that.
"Oh, I meant to be done when you woke up," Harry said, flustered, "I'll clean up everything when I'm done, I promise!" She cringed when Tonks stepped closer, and Tonks immediately reassured her, while hiding how much Harry's reaction made her want to go curse a particular trio of muggles.
"It's alright, Harry. I'm not mad. You are free to use this kitchen anytime you like. Okay?"
Harry nodded, grinning relievedly at her. She bustled around, and in moments, had laid out a morning feast in front of the bemused Auror. She settled into a chair across from Tonks, an expectant look of mixed worry and hope on her tear-streaked face.
Tonks obediently tried the food and made appropriate noises of appreciation and delight, none of which needed to be feigned, particularly when her darling protege had remembered exactly how she like her coffee. At her urging, Harry finally sat and joined her in eating.
Tonks watched Harry carefully, sensing that something was different about her this morning, and it went beyond the grief she had been overcome by the previous evening. She was reminded somehow of a puppy, pathetically eager to please, but at the same time, she saw fear in Harry's movements, some worry or concern was eating at the girl's mind.
Even as she thought to herself that she needed Dumbledore's wisdom and experience to read this riddle, the wards informed her of his arrival. To her surprise, Harry's fear seemed even more obvious for just a moment, as Dumbledore entered the kitchenette, before the young girl clamped down on her emotions, becoming visibly calm and collected.
Dumbledore carried a small packet of papers with him, and Tonks guessed at once what they were. He set them in silence in front of Harry, who reached out to touch the cord that bound them nervously, then glanced at Dumbledore. She made no further move to open the packet or look at the papers. Instead, she seemed to be searching for something in the older wizard's gaze.
Tonks rocked back and forth impatiently, then becoming exasperated with Harry's apparent reticence and Dumbledore's infuriating complacency, she snatched up the packet and unwound the cord, flipping the cover off and looking at the first page.
"Neerja Karuna?" she said, sampling the name. "Does it mean anything?"
Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling. "Neerja means Lily," he said, smiling softly at Harry, whose eyes widened appreciatively. "And Karuna is a form of love."
Harry smiled softly, wistfully. "And my family?"
Tonks looked further down the page. "Wizarding parents . . . but then how . . . ah, I see." She looked up. "Your parents lived in Muggle society in India to avoid notice. They had been training you themselves, in secret, but have sent you to Hogwarts to finish your education here. Since India was under British rule for so long, it makes sense for them to send you here to complete your schooling, instead of Beauxbatons or Durmstrang, but why . . ."
She flipped the page, running her finger down the next page in search of something, then paused to glare at Dumbledore, before snickering. "Your parents wanted you out of the country because . . . oh, this is rich, because another wizarding family there was pressing them to agree to an arranged marriage." She lost it then, laughing in spite of Harry's glare.
Dumbledore raised his hands in placation when Harry's emerald glare turned on him. "Now, now, Harry, or rather, Neerja. You were sent here to avoid the marriage, remember? Because your parents are enlightened, and married for love, and want the same for you."
"But they're still alive?" questioned Harry, who had been waiting to learn how his family had been lost.
Dumbledore nodded. "Not only are they still alive, but they are real. They are a childless couple, however, having lost their only daughter to an illness. This was many years ago, and they retreated from the wizarding community there before her birth, to avoid exactly this sort of entanglement, which is common there. So while the pregnancy there is a matter of public record, your birth and death, and of course, your name, are not."
"And what do they think of this?" Harry asked, her voice trembling.
"They are old friends of mine, and children of older friends still. They will maintain the charade, sending you letters and gifts, to which you will reply appropriately. At some point, you may choose to visit them, but it will not be required. Tonks will still be your guardian here, though the story will be that I assigned her to watch over you as you are still underage, and here alone."
Harry frowned, relieved that it did not sound as though they would not be seeking to replace his parents, but concerned nonetheless. "How will they send letters? I can't make an owl fly all the way to India!"
"Indeed not," Dumbledore agreed, "but that is not of immediate concern. Rest assured, I will find a means for you to correspond with them. I am also working on a way to resolve this bonding issue. There is also, now, a more pertinent issue." He turned to Tonks. "Are you certain about this move?"
Tonks nodded emphatically. "I really don't see any other option right now. We're risking too much otherwise."
"Very well. I'll begin the wards immediately." He turned back to Harry, and offered her a gentle smile. "Take heart, Neerja. Things will get better soon, and at the least, consider this your chance to taste normality, for a change. You will, after the holidays, be nothing more than a normal exchange student. No more stares and long silences when a new rumour breaks in the Daily Prophet. And you will make new friends, and probably recover your old ones anew, as well. At any rate, I must be off to see about warding your new residence," he finished, looking to Tonks again, then saying goodbye and walking out.
Harry stared at Tonks, a feeling of painful dread trickling down his neck. "New residence," Dumbledore had said. She was leaving. Leaving him. She had finally had enough. Who would he be dumped with now?