Chapter 15- Letters(part 2).

When Fudge began to repeat himself, Albus shook his head irritably and silenced the howler by sending it flying to the fireplace with a banishing charm. He'd hoped to have the full backing of the ministry. Fudge's hard-headedness was going to make things more difficult.

Albus pushed his half-moon glasses up on his head, and passed a weary hand over his eyes. Nothing was going the way it should. The construction of wards and protective spells around the Burrow was nowhere near finished. When he'd essentially promised Harry that he could travel to the Burrow later in the summer, he'd hoped that Cornelius would allow some Aurors to assist. Fudge had flatly refused, though, saying the his Aurors had more important things to do than to cater to the whims of a spoiled child. Arthur and Molly were doing what they could, usually in the evenings, struggling with the unfamiliar spells, and even going as far as to recruit their older sons to help. Albus himself was helping as much as his schedule allowed, but progress was frustratingly slow. Warding of this magnitude was usually done by an experienced team.

Dumbledore replaced his glasses, and reached for the rest of his mail. At times like this he found himself wishing dearly that none of this was necessary. The old magic he had been able to use when enclosing Privet Drive had made things far easier. That spell, and a few wards to alert Arabella of any witch or wizard in the area, was all that was necessary to ensure Harry's safety from magical attack. The blood-magic spell was difficult, but compared to the complicated web being woven around the Burrow, it was nothing. Albus wished they had the luxury of simply invoking that spell again, but as much as they loved him, the Weasleys were not Harry's blood relatives.

Still, the headmaster found himself in awe of their loyalty, dedication and persistence. It certainly would be easier to send Harry a note of apology, telling him that things weren't working out as planned, and that he couldn't come and stay after all. Albus grimaced, imagining the howler Molly would send if he suggested that.

On the bright side, this only had to be done once. Once the wards and protective magic were in place, Harry could travel to the Burrow anytime they cared to invite him. Obviously, the Weasleys weren't planning on abandoning the boy now that things were beginning to heat up, but there seemed to be more to it.

Ron, especially, was eager for the shielding to be completed, and Albus got the feeling it wasn't just because he and his siblings wanted Harry to come play backyard Quidditch. It was almost as if they thought Harry was somehow unsafe at his uncle's house.

That was nonsense, of course. The boy had the best magical protection available, and the reports on file at the Ministry always stated that he was being adequately cared for. Albus frowned a little. He had found it odd when Harry had come to him in his second year, and requested permission to stay at Hogwarts during the summer, but had dismissed it as a passing whim, probably the result of some now-forgotten row with his relatives. Besides, Harry was an intelligent lad. If things were not right at home, he would tell someone.

Or would he?

Dumbledore's frown deepened. Harry did have an alarming habit of trying to work things out himself. Proud, and fiercely independent, the boy seemed determined to prove himself, only asking for help when absolutely necessary. Albus smiled, and shook his head fondly. Even Harry's friends found this maddening at times.

In his many years as headmaster, Albus had become good at identifying different personality types. People who showed the traits Harry exhibited generally came from environments where their guardians had encouraged them to be creative independent thinkers, and shored up their confidence and feelings of self worth.

Generally. Unfortunately, that wasn't always the case. Sometimes, those same qualities showed up in children who had been belittled, or neglected. Staunch, persistent little souls, they somehow seemed to sense that they had worth, no matter what was said, and were determined to show the world that they had merit. Surely Harry didn't fall in the latter category...or did he? It would certainly explain his almost instinctive mistrust of authority figures.

Albus prided himself on his ability to put students at ease, and gain their trust, but getting the boy to open up had proven uncommonly difficult. Although, to be fair, Harry had come to see the headmaster this past year when he'd had a vision in Divination. It was possible he was finally earning the boy's trust.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers thoughtfully. Perhaps he should look further into the matter, and question the Weasleys. It was possible, however unlikely, that something had been missed.

A muffled ping caught his attention, and the top sheet of a stack of parchment marked "Mrs. A. Figg" began filling with writing. Arabella was reporting from the United States. Agents were sent into the field with a charmed piece of parchment, and a special quill. To report, they simply wrote what they wanted to say. The message was transferred from their parchment, and appeared on the corresponding piece in his office. It was one of Professor Flitwick's more ingenious inventions-faster than owls, and virtually untraceable. Albus read along as she wrote, and smiled a bit. Her mission was actually going fairly well, all things considered, but she had run into a few delays, and the parchment fairly crackled with her frustration.

The headmaster picked up Arabella's report and filed it with the others. Black and Lupin were doing well, as were Moody and Fletcher. With any luck, they would all be back in time for the next scheduled meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. Currently the field agents were warning International Confederation of Wizards members about current events, and sniffing around for indications of dark activity abroad while they were at it.

Albus looked up sharply when a snowy owl flew in his open window. Ah, there's no rest for the weary, he thought, as he removed the letter she had tied to her leg. Well, speak of the devil, he grinned when he opened the letter and glanced at the signature. It was from Harry.

6 July 1995

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I hope you're enjoying your holiday. Sorry to disturb you, but a couple of things have happened that I thought you might like to know.

The first thing is, I have a summer job. I know you wanted me to keep close to Privet Drive, but my relatives didn't exactly give me a choice. I don't mind, though. Staying busy helps keep my mind off... Harry seemed to pause here, and tap his quill against the parchment, before deciding on ...things.

Harry had skipped down to begin a new paragraph, and had tapped on the parchment with his quill some more. Dumbledore could almost picture him, frowning, and worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he struggled to properly phrase what he wanted to say.

The job isn't really what I'm writing about, the letter finally continued, it's...well, sir, I think my link with Voldemort has...changed since the TriWizard Tournament. I think it's stronger.

Albus frowned worriedly. This didn't sound good, but at the same time he was overwhelmingly grateful that Harry had decided to volunteer the information now, instead of waiting until after the fact as he had done so often in the past. The whole tone of the letter had changed. Harry was clearly reluctant and tense, unsure about what reaction his news was going to elicit.

It started a couple of days before the end of term, Harry reported. I kept hearing voices. It was like listening to whispers, or a conversation that was too far away to hear properly. It doesn't happen all the time, and I didn't really notice it at first, because of all the babble at Hogwarts, on the Hogwarts Express, and in King's Cross. I thought I was just hearing people around me.

A couple of nights ago, I was up quite late. There was no one around but me-everyone else was sleeping. I heard the voices more clearly that time. Voldemort was angry because of some delay in the brewing of a memory potion. He wants to use it on Peter Pettigrew for some reason. I tried to hold on to the connection, but I lost it before he said why. I hope this information is of some use to you. Sorry it isn't more.

I have enclosed a letter for Professor Lupin and Snuffles. If it isn't too much trouble, could you make sure they get it? Thanks in advance.

Yours Sincerely,

Harry Potter

Albus re-read the next to last paragraph twice, utterly convinced the phenomenon was genuine. For the first time in days, his eyes twinkled merrily, and a smile graced his features as he considered this new information source. There was no way Harry could have known about Severus' memory potion, or how he had "unfortunately" run out of a key ingredient that had to be special ordered. Dumbledore frowned a bit when he remembered something. Harry hadn't mentioned his scar hurting, but the boy tended to be stubbornly closed-mouthed about such things. Perhaps he should ask.

Laying Harry's letter aside for the moment, Albus picked up the envelope addressed to Lupin and Black. He felt odd, opening their letter, but the charmed parchment was the most efficient way of sending correspondence. Besides, it would be a nice treat for the two Marauders. They had been looking unusually grim lately.

Fetching his wand, Dumbledore cast Flitwick's charm on the letter, and laid it on top of Sirius and Remus' stack of parchment. When he activated the charms on the paper, he watched as Harry's message was soaked into the parchment, and disappeared.

That done, the old wizard began to plan. With Harry all the way down in Surrey, owling would never do. It was too slow, too risky, and Hedwig was too recognizable. He would send Harry an agent's field pack. He wanted any information on Voldemort as soon as it was available. The first order of business was to reassure Harry, so that the boy wouldn't be afraid to report what he heard...or saw for that matter. Dumbledore frowned. Harry hadn't mentioned having any visions, but Voldemort had been fairly quiet since his resurrection. Perhaps he simply hadn't had any. Yet. Picking up his favorite quill, Albus reached for a clean sheet of parchment, and began to write.

______

Ping! The attention signal went off on Remus and Sirius' charmed parchment. They were currently staking out a promising site for possible Death Eater activity. Remus had just started his shift, and Sirius was stretched out on the bed, already asleep.

Remus idly lowered his binoculars, and looked at the parchment, to determine if it was something worth waking Sirius over. His jaw nearly hit the floor, when he read Dumbledore's quick note of explanation:

Remus and Sirius,

Mr. Potter has contacted me with a request to forward this letter to you. Do not worry, nothing seems to be amiss.

Albus Dumbledore

Remus glanced over the letter, torn. On one hand, Harry's letter was rather innocuous. On the other hand, it was a letter from Harry, and Sirius would want to know immediately. Signing, he shook Sirius' shoulder. "Padfoot?"

"Mmm...?"

"Paddy, wake up!" Remus said, shaking harder. Some things never changed.

"G'way, Moony..."

"Okay, have it your way. You can read Harry's letter later."

"...'kay." Sirius rolled over.

Remus Lupin examined his fingernails, and counted backwards from ten. When he got to five, Sirius' ice-blue eyes popped open. "What?" he asked blearily. "Harry?"

"Harry. You remember, don't you? Nice kid, about so high," Remus held his hand up. "Black hair? Green eyes? Glasses?"

Sirius scowled irritably. "I know what he looks like, Moony. What about him?"

Remus held the parchment between his thumb and forefinger, and dangled it in front of Sirius' face. "He sent us a letter. Or more precisely he sent it to Dumbledore, and he sent it to us."

Sirius sat up immediately, and snatched the letter out of his friend's hand. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"I did say so in the first place."

Sirius waved a dismissive hand at Remus, and returned his attention to Harry's letter.

6 July 1995

Dear Professor Lupin and Snuffles,

I don't know when this letter is going to get to you, but I thought I'd write anyway. Things are okay here. I've been working on my assignments, and have a summer job, so I'm keeping busy.

I hope things are going well for you...where ever you are, and what ever you're doing. I haven't heard from anyone yet, but it's only been five days since end of term.

This isn't much of a letter, but it's been very quiet so far, and I've told you all my news. Be careful, and I hope to see you, or hear from you soon.

Harry

Sirius smiled fondly as he read over Harry's letter. He glanced up at his friend. "Do you think he's okay Moony?"

Lupin shrugged. "Seems to be. It's kind of hard to tell with Harry though."

Sirius grimaced. "Tell me about it. Did I tell you what happened last summer, when his scar hurt?"

"I don't believe so, no."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "He sent me a letter. Said his scar hurt. I, of course, wrote back straightaway, and told him I was returning to Britain."

Remus nodded encouragingly.

"So as soon as he gets my letter, he writes back just as fast as he can, and tells me he must have imagined his scar hurting." Sirius shook his head in exasperation. "I ask you. He wouldn't have written the letter in the first place if it hadn't been bothering him." He sighed then, and looked as serious as Remus had ever seen him. "He's just so...so small !" Padfoot blurted. "He looks like a stiff wind would blow him away."

Remus smirked, suddenly. "Better not let Harry hear you carrying on like that. Did I ever tell you what happened at the beginning of his third year?"

Sirius considered the question, briefly. "You told me about meeting him on the Hogwarts Express, and his reaction to the Dementors, then you skipped ahead a bit, and told me about how he did in class, and how he learned to conjure a Patronus."

"Oh. Well I left one bit out, then," Remus said, his amber eyes dancing with mischief. "I sent an owl ahead, explaining about Harry's reaction to the Dementors." He shrugged slightly. "It was a little unnerving seeing him go down like that. Anyway, when we got to the school, Professor McGonagall called Harry, and his friend Hermione Granger to her office. I found out what happened later."

"Well?" Sirius prompted.

"Minerva had summoned Madam Pomphrey to her office, and she immediately started fussing over Harry. Even threatened to make him spend the night in the hospital wing."

Sirius' eyes widened in comprehending horror. "In front of Hermione?"

"Oh, quite. Then Madam Pomphrey did something even more unforgivable."

Sirius' eyes were round now. "What?"

Remus' lips were twitching now. "She said dementors are terrible things, and started carrying on about the effect they have on people who are already delicate."

Sirius winced in sympathetic embarrassment. "Ouch. Poor kid."

"Indeed." Remus chuckled a bit. "I heard that Harry got right indignant about the whole thing. Told Poppy he wasn't delicate." He sobered, and looked Padfoot in the eye. "He was right, you know. He's about as tough as they come. I learned that when I taught him to conjure his Patronus."

Sirius nodded absently, looking at the letter again with a sad half-smile on his face. "You're right, of course, Moony. I just don't remember Prongs ever being that small."

Remus rolled his eyes. "That's because he wasn't, you daft git. Harry obviously inherited Lily's bone structure." He paused a moment, then added pointedly, "He did have two parents, you know."

Sirius grinned sheepishly in reply. Remus was right, as usual. He was going to make some comment, but he was interrupted by a huge yawn.

"Go back to sleep, Padfoot. Sorry to wake you."

"No," Sirius replied, his voice already thick with sleep, "you did the right thing. I really should reply to that letter, though."

"It'll keep, Paddy. I'll start the letter, and you can add your part when you get up."

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