Grimmauld Place

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry, oh how I wish I did and I could have my way with him and so many other ickle characters. Alas, I am poor and pathetically obsessed with the world of Harry Potter so I only can write about him.

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It had been almost a week since the last Order meeting had taken place, and Snape hoped that all of their planning would lead to a successful mission. He knew that because of the prophecy, Harry bloody Potter was important to the war effort. Otherwise, he might not care if the "thorn in his side" simply vanished from the face of the earth.

But, no; once again he was planning to save that brat's life. Now there were just two more days before the plan was scheduled to be put into motion, and he was almost cursing himself for coming up with this scheme. It was turning into a logistical nightmare, trying to coordinate enough people to protect not only Potter, but Dumbledore, as well. It would be a magnificent victory to the Dark, if the followers of Voldemort somehow managed to capture Harry Potter and slay Albus Dumbledore at the same time.

He would never allow that happen; it would be such a blow to the wizarding world from which it would never recover.

The location for the fake clash had only been decided upon through many hours of squabbling. It seemed that every Order member had their own idea, and each member believed that their plan was the best option. The majority wanted it to take place in relative secrecy. In the end, it had taken Dumbledore to point out that if no one saw the fight, it would negate the whole purpose in staging it. What they wanted was to have the largest amount of witnesses... well, the largest amount of witnesses that would still be safe for all involved.

Once they had agreed that the disagreement would not take place in secret, it had taken almost another three days of constant bickering before they had finally decided that the perfect place would be in the middle of Diagon Alley. On a busy summer day, as this Saturday was sure to be, not only would there be countless people to witness the altercation firsthand, he could almost guarantee that it would rate a front-page story in the Daily Prophet.

Although most of what the Daily Prophet printed should be taken with a grain of salt, he could only imagine how telling a picture of the Boy Wonder rowing with Dumbledore would be. Not even the Dark Lord could refute such tangible evidence.

Nevertheless, he liked to be over-prepared, and he had found out through discreet questioning that Lucius Malfoy was planning on taking his son Draco to get his school supplies that day. It was almost perfect, really. Malfoy, while always a staunch supporter of Voldemort, would no longer openly risk his position in society. He had always joked, in their relative youth, that there was nothing a Malfoy could not get away with. But he had learned, after the confrontation in the Department of Mysteries, that nobody was invincible. It ended up costing him thousands of Galleons in bribes to keep him out of Azkaban Prison, and even though he still walked around free, he suffered a loss of many of the privileges that he had previously enjoyed.

He had arranged with Malfoy to meet up with them on their trip to Diagon Alley, under the guise that he would be delivering a potion that Narcissa had asked him to make. Although they would only be meeting briefly that day, he had arranged it so that they were scheduled to meet ten minutes before the Order's plan was to go into action.

Therefore, he knew that at least two separate people and a newspaper would give Voldemort independent confirmation that the clash had taken place, while the safety of all major players in this farce would almost be guaranteed. Having two members of Voldemort's inner circle as witnesses was icing on the cake.

He really had to congratulate himself; it was perfect. They would have their proof, yet it would take place in the centre of a well-populated area, so that everybody involved would be relatively well protected.

They had twenty different Order members who were going to be concealed within the crowd, most hiding in plain sight and others dosed with Polyjuice Potion. Everything on their end was planned down to the minute; the only unknown at this point was Potter. However, in his mind, Potter was always an unknown element, kind of like a rogue Bludger: never to be trusted to follow instructions.

However, this time he really was an unknown, even more so than before. The Order had sent owls to his house in the past few days, and they received the letters back unopened. Yet, Dumbledore still assured them that Potter was still at the Dursleys', and of course very safe, but Snape had to wonder. For all of Potter's faults, and there were many, he did not strike Snape as someone that would ignore his friends. The Potions master should know. He had spent the last six years watching those three wander around Hogwarts, almost as if they were stuck together at the hip.

The Order was already planning a trip to collect the boy tonight and bring him back to Grimmauld Place. Snape was glad that he was not in charge of that mission. Potter had made it clear last summer that he did not want to spend time at Sirius' old house. He could only imagine what the spoiled, arrogant boy's reaction would be.

---

Hermione had spent the last few days researching the active ingredients that were key elements in different kinds of power-controlling potions. Although this branch of Potions was not exactly what they were trying to replicate, it was as close as they were likely to get. There had to be some kind of correlation between the major ingredients in them, maybe even one that they could use to base their new potion on. So far, in all her extensive research, she had found very little usable information. Her eyes were starting to hurt as she had devoured what seemed like hundreds of books already.

It was incredibly exasperating to the young witch; never before had she faced such a difficult problem. Before, it had simply been a matter of finding the right book when she'd had a quandary to resolve. But now, she and Professor Snape were expected to develop a completely new potion in as little time as possible. She had always felt a strong need to prove herself capable in everyone's eyes; therefore, she did what she always did and scoured the library in the hopes of finding any reference that could help them accomplish their goal. In a way, it was exciting and frustrating at the same time.

Deciding that maybe a small break would help clear her mind, she got up from a chair and started looking for some light reading. The old library at Grimmauld Place held a multitude of fascinating things. Its floor-to-ceiling shelves were filled with books, some as old as Merlin himself; it was almost like having her own Restricted Section.

Although, the ratty green furniture had seen better days, it was comfortable, and this little room was easily becoming, at least in her mind, the perfect place to spend days, if not weeks, lost in the treasures it held.

Slowly looking around the room, she tried to decide which shelves might hold something to take her mind off their problems. Walking over to a shelf by the window, she started perusing the books located there. Almost at once, her eyes fell to a thin, brown book; a book she was certain she had never seen there before. Pulling it from the shelves, she noticed that it had no title listed on the outside of the book.

'I wonder what this might be,' she thought. The book's brown cover was cracked and slightly fraying at the edges. 'It looks really old; why have I never seen it before?'

Her time at Hogwarts had taught her to never underestimate what a book could do; she had found books that screamed at her, ones that tried to eat her fingers, and even books that could curse her, so she knew that even the most innocent-looking book had to be handled with care. Slowly, she started to open the cover, but instead of a horrid surprise, it only held the title page. She read Plants with Uncommon Uses by Perceilius Bartholomew Thornbush. She felt her heart leap for joy. Even though this book was not exactly what she was looking for, it might just have a clue that they needed.

Feeling rejuvenated, she quickly sat down and started reading. It seemed like only a few minutes had passed when she read:

Extreme caution should be used when experimenting with fluxweed. The major property of this plant is that it causes a change, or morphing, of the person, plant, or potion it has been used in. For example, in Polyjuice Potion this plant's properties are the major reactants that cause the potion to actually change us into the desired form and take on the appearance someone else, for a short period. Yet when we try and substitute fluxweed for a different ingredient, when fluxweed is used in another potion, or even when fluxweed is collected at a different moon cycle and accidentally used in the Polyjuice Potion, the properties of the potion are completely changed.

She continued reading, and after a few paragraphs came to this entry: As we were discussing previously, the major ingredient in Polyjuice Potion is fluxweed collected at the full moon. However, when fluxweed is collected at the new moon, it has the ability to morph the taker's magic when ingested. Unfortunately, not much research has been done into the effects of using fluxweed collected at the new moon because of this particular side effect. In the few examples we have seen, after ingesting potions made with this ingredient, the morphing of the person's magic is significant. Their raw ability to wield power is lessened and what is left no longer reacts in the usual manner.

She wondered excitedly if this could be it. Quickly putting the other books around her chair away, she picked up the book and rushed to find Professor Snape.

---

Gradually descending the rickety old staircase down to the basement lab, Hermione tried to calm herself. She knew that Professor Snape might be working on a delicate potion, and in her exuberance she did not want to startle him. A slight bump of the hand was all it sometimes took to ruin a complex potion.

Finally reaching the bottom of the stairs, she noticed Professor Snape was not working on a potion but was sitting at the desk in the corner. She drew a deep breath, held her chin up, and walked over to him.

"Sir, I have found some information that might help us with our potion," she said excitedly. Placing the open book on the desk in front of him, she watched as he read over the text. Slowly, his eyes ran once over the page and then read over it again. His face lifted from the book in front of him, his eyes met hers, and a small smirk settled on his face.

"Miss Granger, this information has some promise. However, it is not a guarantee that this will work."

"I understand that, Sir. But I do think that this is the most promising information that we have found to date." A large smile spread across her face, and she said, "Sir, what kind of transformations do you think this would do to someone's magic?"

"I'm not certain; however, we can guess that because no further tests have been done with this, they are most likely troublesome changes," he said with a devilish smirk on his face.

Hermione stood there gazing for a moment at the dour Potions master; she was amazed at how much difference a slight smile and glint in his eyes could make. Although he really was not that old, it sometimes seemed that he was aged beyond his years. Her mind wandered for only a moment on what his life could have been like if there had never been a Voldemort. She knew she was just dreaming, but she liked to think that he would be content with life and maybe doing Potions research or enjoying the freedom to do whatever struck his fancy.

She shook her head slightly, hoping he did not notice she was staring at him. She pulled her mind back onto the subject at hand. Suddenly, now that they had a possible potion to test, her mind wandered to other questions she had yet to allow herself to express. Snape looked to be more forgiving than she was used to, so she set about asking a few questions.

"How are we going to test this potion, Sir? I mean we don't know how it would affect somebody's magic, so it's not like we can ask somebody to test this for us," she ventured.

"Surely, the all-knowing Miss Granger realizes that all creatures have a form of magic. Otherwise, we would not be able to test our potions on animals; they would not give us the accurate representation on whether the potion would work or not. You must know that many of the ingredients we use in our potions would kill Muggles and most animals almost immediately. It is not only our magic infused in the brewing process, but also the magic within us that changes the poisonous properties into our medicines, elixirs, and salves." Snape continued to lecture. "Take for example, when you ingest aconitum, or more commonly known as monkshood; it literally only takes three to six milligrams to kill someone. Yet when brewed correctly, it is an important ingredient in the Wolfsbane Potion."

"I understand that, Professor. However, that still leaves us with how will we know exactly how it will affect Voldemort's altered state? It's not like he's a normal human, like we are... he's changed himself, as I am sure you're well aware, so that there will be no way for us to know for sure exactly what kind of animal to test on. How will we even know if the changes in his body allow potions to work the same way on him as they do us?"

"Unfortunately, sometimes with research the answers are never easy to obtain. However, in this instance, I think our best bet is to test this new brew on animals that have a similar characteristic to humans and snakes. So, in essence, we will be testing two separate animals. This issue is one that we have some time to work out. Our main concern right now is to first brew a working potion, and then we will determine exactly how to test it. Just like the Polyjuice Potion, this altered concoction still takes thirty days, so right now we have time to think about it."

"Sir, would it be possible for us to partially transfigure an animal into a snake?" she questioned further. "I mean, people mess up their Transfiguration all the time in class. Take a Ron for example; one time in second year, he was trying to change his rat into a goblet and it only partially changed. Is there some way to control that?"

"Well, since neither of us, thank the gods, is in possession of a broken wand, I don't think that Mr. Weasley's particular form of Transfiguration accident will work for us." He sneered as he continued, "Though Transfiguration accidents are quite common in school, I am not aware of any spell that would accomplish your desired effect. However, I will speak with Professor McGonagall; she may know of one."

Knowing from the look on his face and the tone of his voice that she had pushed her luck with this particular topic to the end of his patience, she racked her brain to find another topic that might open him up once more. She had greatly enjoyed his lecture earlier on the magical properties of animals, and was hoping that she could coax him to share more of his extensive knowledge. Deciding on what her next topic would be, she took a deep breath and hoped it would work.

"I take it that we will have to wait five nights to harvest the fluxweed," she stated weakly.

"I am well aware of when the new moon is, Miss Granger," he stated viciously. "I am a Potions master. Besides, the wait will actually serve our timetable well; we have many things that are going to be taking place in the next few days. I would suggest that you continue your research in the meantime and stay out of our way."

"But Sir, isn't there something else I can help you with?"

"No, Miss Granger, there is nothing you can help me with right now; you need to focus on staying out of the way. There's too much to be done to worry about some nosy chit sticking herself where she doesn't belong."

Surprised at the fierceness of his words, she blinked several times to keep her tears from running down her cheeks.

Hermione knew not to force the issue any further, or she would likely find herself relieved of the few duties that she had left. She quickly gathered up a few books, and climbed the stairs to go back to the library.

---

It was just after ten o'clock at night when Harry heard a strange noise coming from downstairs. It almost sounded like people were whispering, and he heard the stairs squeak softly, like someone was climbing them. He knew that it could not be his aunt and uncle, for they had already gone to bed almost an hour ago, and truthfully, they would never worry about being quiet, anyway.

He wished again that his wand was not locked away with the rest of his school supplies, for it made him feel like a sitting duck. He desperately wanted whoever it was soon to be just on the other side of the door to be members of the Order. However, he knew it could just as easily be a group of Death Eaters.

Although Professor Dumbledore had always told him that the Dursleys' house was the best place for him during the holidays, Harry never quite believed him. Harry thoughts that Dumbledore would always do what was best for him was always tempered in the back of his mind, knowing that he also wanted a weapon that would be victorious against Voldemort. Add that to the fact that the headmaster had always kept important things from him in the past, leaving him with a lack of knowledge about some things. And too often, that lack of knowledge had managed to get people hurt or even killed, which made him sometimes question what the old man told him.

Of course, that lack of trust was also compounded by the fact that he had always been told that Hogwarts was safe as well. Yet several times over his years there, Voldemort or his followers had managed to gain entry to the school.

His ruminations were stopped suddenly when he heard voices right outside of his bedroom door. Quickly, he climbed behind his bed, hoping that it would at least give him a chance to surprise whoever was on the other side of the door.

"What do you think they got all these locks on the door for?" he heard a female voice ask.

Harry breathed in a sigh of relief as he recognized Tonks' voice. Slowly rising from his hiding place, he hoped that she would not make too much noise opening the door. Getting out of the house without his aunt and uncle finding out would make this escape easier on all of them. He could imagine how angry they would be at having their sleep interrupted, but that anger would be made worse at having their sleep interrupted by people that they loathed.

One by one, he heard the locks being charmed open. Knowing that his freedom from the small room was imminent, he hoped that he would not have to explain the locks or his magical belongings being kept locked in the cupboard under the stairs.

Even though he had many friends that were Muggle-born, all of their families seemed to accept that magic was just a part of them, not that it made you some kind of unnatural freak. Harry could not think of even one friend or Order member that could truly understand the irrational fear that his family held for the magical world.

Years before he even knew he was a wizard, he had wondered what it was about him that made the Dursleys hate him so. Then, once he had heard the truth about his parents and the magical world, it still made no sense to him. How could they hate a part of him that he could not change even if he wanted to? Could it really be a fear of what they did not understand that turned into a fierce hatred that could cause them to treat an innocent child so cruelly? He knew deep in his heart that he would never find the answers to such questions, but he could not stop himself from wondering

Only once had he confided to Hermione the truth about the way the Dursleys had treated him. Although he was well aware that she had already known that things were not quite right at his house, the look of pure shock on Hermione's face had made him realize that he could never confide the whole truth to anyone else again. She had wanted to go straight to Dumbledore and tell him, but Harry knew that would do no good.

He remembered the disappointment that he felt in his first year when he had practically begged the headmaster let him stay in school over the summer, and he was informed that it was against the rules. Of course, that feeling had doubled when he learned that the Weasleys would have gladly taken him in. At that time, he was never really given a good reason as to why they were not allowed to. In his mind, a house with a wizard or witch would surely have been just as safe as his relatives' house. He learned later the reasons why he was forced to live with the Dursleys, yet it did not make it any easier.

He was now aware, though, that there were many people out there that actually loved him, and that fact really made a difference to him. It was the love of Sirius Black, and his subsequent death, that ended up bringing the harsh realities of life into perspective for Harry.

He had known even in his first year, when he had to fight his possessed Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, that Voldemort was a real threat to him. The situation with Voldemort had only escalated since that time, and now that Harry knew the truth, he would do anything in his power to see that Voldemort was defeated for the last time.

Harry was beginning to wonder exactly how long it could possibly take to open up a few locks; what was happening on the other side of the door?! Maybe in his fervent wish to escape this house, he was just imagining that people had actually come to collect him. However, he wondered how that could be; he was positive that he had heard people.

The bedroom door opened, slamming loudly against the wall. Harry cringed, knowing that there was no way anyone in the house could have possibly slept through the racket.

"Wotcher, Harry," Tonks said cheerfully. "What are you doing with all those locks on your door? Don't you know if you want to keep people out that they need to be on the inside of the door?"

"I'm sure he is well aware of that fact," a soft voice replied for him. "You all right?"

Harry watched the slightly rumpled man enter his room. Remus Lupin looked even older than the last time Harry had seen him. He imagined that Remus was still taking the loss of his old school chum even harder than he was.

"Yes, Remus, I'm fine," he told his former professor, and friend. "Do you think we could just get out of here?"

Before, anyone was able to answer his questions; a loud bang was heard down the hall.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, boy?" he heard his uncle screech. "What have I told you about making noise?"

His uncle's questions were ended as he barged into Harry's room and noticed several people in there.

"What do you think you are doing? Inviting your freaky friends into MY house now, are you? Leave NOW!" he shrieked.

Remus stepped forward and calmly told the red-faced man, "We are just collecting Harry, and then we will be gone."

"What do you mean, you are taking the boy?" Uncle Vernon questioned. "That freak isn't going anywhere; not with you people, and not to that blasted school. Every year it is the same thing; he goes and learns those unnatural things. All it has ever done is get his no-good, lazy parents killed, and then they stuck us with this ungrateful wretch... I won't have it anymore."

Harry looked at Remus in time to see him pull his wand and point it at his uncle. He had never seen Remus' eyes so full of fury as he walked up to Vernon and said, "He will be leaving tonight. Harry get your things... we are going."

"Remus, my things are locked up downstairs," Harry said apprehensively.

"Well, then we'll just have to go get them, won't we? But, first... Petrificus Totalus."

Harry watched as his uncle's large body froze up and fell to the ground with a loud thud. Harry smiled to himself; he had wanted to do that to his uncle many times before. It was only the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Under-Age Sorcery that had kept him from it before.

Following Tonks, Mad-Eye, and Remus out of the bedroom door, he noticed his aunt spying out from her bedroom door. She had hidden Dudley partially behind her body, Harry guessed, in case they decided to attack her as well.

Dudley, even though a horrible bully, was still very frightened of magic. Of course, if Harry's only exposure to magic had been receiving a pig's tail, a Ton-Tongue Toffee, watching his beloved aunt swell up and fly off like a big balloon, and the Dementors, he might even be afraid of magic too.

Not that he felt sorry for Dudley. Memories of his cousin's abuse took away any real compassion Harry might have had for him. Even so, he could understand Dudley's fear.

Once downstairs, a quick Alohomora took care of the locks on the cupboard door. Remus cast a levitation spell on Harry's trunk, and they walked out the front door.

"Everyone, grab a hold of this handkerchief. The quicker we get out of here, the better," Mad-Eye said, his magical eye swirling around in its socket.

As much Harry hated Portkeys, he quickly grabbed a hold of the handkerchief and prepared himself for the nauseating ride.

---

Harry stumbled when his feet hit the ground. Travel by Portkey always left him fighting to keep his balance, with a queasy stomach, and too disoriented to pay attention to his surroundings. Being disoriented meant that he was defenceless, and that was what bothered Harry the most. Too many times in his life he had been defenceless against what was going to happen: Dudley and his "playful games", Aunt Marge's mean temperament and horrible yapping dogs, the Basilisk and its poison seeping into his bloodstream, knowing that death was just around the corner, and facing Voldemort in forth year... that had been the worst experience of his life: kidnapped by Portkey, tied to a gravestone after watching Cedric's murder, and then having his blood used to bring that sadistic bastard back to life.

Harry knew that these people were Order members and friends. They would not harm him. Nevertheless, he felt a growing wave of terror through his body.

Taking several deep breaths to calm himself, Harry slowly felt the terror recede as his surroundings came into focus. He noticed they were standing in front of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. His mind reeled with emotions, and suddenly he was not sure if he would rather be still locked in his room at the Dursleys' than here, at Sirius' house.

He had hoped that his last few weeks of the summer holidays would be spent at the Burrow, or even Hogwarts. Almost anywhere was better then being stuck here. This place was a constant reminder of the mess he had created.

He knew that, in the real scheme of things, where he spent the rest of his summer was not important as long as he was safe and his friends were safe, as well. At least here he would get to see them, and maybe even find out what was going on in the world. Bucking up, he straightened his shoulders and followed Remus into the house.

Almost as soon as he had walked through the door, he had an armful of squealing girl. Wrapping his arms tightly around Hermione, he returned the hug almost ferociously.

"It's good to see you, Harry. I've have been so worried," she said, stepping away from him. She looked him over to see that he was indeed okay.

"I've missed you too, Hermione. I am sorry I couldn't write, but Uncle Vernon -" He stopped talking suddenly, very much aware the eyes of several people were on them, not even trying to hide their blatant eavesdropping. "We'll talk later."

"Okay, Harry," Hermione replied. "You look hungry; would you like something to eat?"

"Most definitely; dinner was a long time ago." Harry tried to hide his eagerness at the thought of actually eating a full meal. "I am a growing boy, after all."

Hermione entered into full mother mode as she ushered the skinny boy into the kitchen. Harry's appearance really frightened her. It looked almost like he had lost a full stone since school let out less than a month ago.

Her mind worked overtime as she fixed Harry a plate of leftover food. She took in his pasty skin that betrayed a lack of sun and clothes that were hanging on him even more than usual. It told Hermione what his summer had been like, so far.

As she was setting down the plate in front of Harry, Professor Snape walked into the room. She noticed immediately how tired he looked. It seemed that for days he had been working untiringly. She knew that something was going on; there had been several Order meetings over the last few days, and Professors Snape and Dumbledore had been at Grimmauld Place almost continually.

When Harry arrived, she had thought that his "rescue" was the reason for the increased meetings. However, with Snape here after the team had already returned, she was aware that something entirely different was being arranged, and again she was being left out.

Her temper flared. Here she was, old enough and smart enough to be working on finding a way to defeat Voldemort, yet not allowed into Order meetings or to be included on whatever other plans they had.

Harry and Hermione were slightly startled when Snape said, "Mr. Potter, Professor Dumbledore will be here to speak with you tomorrow morning. I suggest you not keep him waiting. It may not be term time, but that does not mean you can laze about all day long."

Harry's green eyes flared in anger as he replied, "Don't worry; I wasn't planning on lazing about. I will be up to meet with Professor Dumbledore."

"Make sure you are," Snape sneered back. "Insolent boy."

Snape turned around quickly and strode out of the room with his robes billowing around him.

---

Author's note: I want to thank my betas Keladry and GingerGurl. Without them, this story would not be nearly as good.

I would also like to take a moment and that the wonderful people that have reviewed this story.