To Harry's relief, he didn't have to wait long; Snape arrived at eleven in the morning the first day of summer, and glared at Aunt Petunia while Harry gathered the few things he'd unpacked.
The sight of the enormous manor house eased a tension Harry hadn't even realised he was carrying, but he gave a puzzled frown when Remus was the only one to greet them. "Where's Sirius?"
"Come inside, we'll explain over tea." Remus hugged him, but didn't say anything more until they were comfortably ensconced in the living room, a tea set on the coffee table with a plate full of homemade raspberry scones; Ceri was delighted to have Harry home again.
"First off, Sirius is fine," Remus assured, before Harry could worry too much. "But you might not see much of him this summer. Dumbledore has… persuaded him to offer up one of the other Black family properties as headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix."
Harry had heard a little about the Order, from Remus and Sirius' stories of his parents. Dumbledore's resistance against the darkness. "The Order has re-formed, then?"
Remus nodded. "As soon as Sirius and I left Hogwarts, Dumbledore had us gathering up the old crowd. He asked Sirius if he could use the house maybe three days after Voldemort returned. It all happened very quickly — clearly he's had his plans waiting for a while now." The werewolf didn't look impressed. "We can't tell you exactly where it is — it's under a Fidelius charm — but it's in London. Unfortunately, because Dumbledore has no idea about this place, he believes Sirius has been living on the run for the last year, and has invited him to live at headquarters."
He looked about as pleased with Dumbledore inviting Sirius to live in his own house as Harry did, and even Snape made a face. "He's being watched, too, then," Harry surmised, crestfallen. "Cooped up in that house under Dumbledore's thumb as much as I'm supposed to be at the Dursleys'?"
"That's about the sum of it, yes. Sirius will get away to come here whenever he can — he's been quite happily cultivating a rather grouchy persona, to excuse away shutting himself in his room for hours at a time — but I'm afraid you won't be seeing as much of us all as you did last summer. Albus knows I have my own place, though he doesn't know where it is, and he knows I don't currently have a job, so he expects me to be at headquarters quite often."
"And as far as Albus is concerned, he owns my soul, my body and every minute of my time," Snape cut in with a grimace, "so it's hard to say what he'll be expecting of me this summer."
"Between the three of us, we should manage to always have someone here to keep you company," Remus assured. "But things may be a bit quieter for the next month or so. With any luck, Dumbledore will agree to move you shortly after your birthday, as usual."
"I can keep myself occupied," Harry said, though he couldn't completely hide his disappointment. "I'm just glad to be here."
He claimed one of the scones for himself, then looked up at the two adults on the other sofa. "So how much can you tell me? What's Voldemort up to, do you know yet?" It had only been a week since the night of the third task, but Harry felt like an age had passed in which Voldemort could be gathering strength and numbers.
"I have not yet been summoned, though I suspect I will be soon now that term has ended," Snape told him. "Many of the Dark Lord's old followers have returned to him, and will soon be making overtures towards new ones."
"Has anyone found Karkaroff yet?"
Snape grimaced briefly. "Igor was found, yes. He is… no longer with us."
Harry had expected as much, but it still made him flinch. The man had been creepy, but he didn't deserve whatever awful death he'd been given at the hands of Voldemort and his people.
"Other than that, there's not much to tell," Remus admitted, leaning against the arm of the sofa. He looked weary, though Harry wasn't sure if it was the full moon or just the stress of the last week. "The Order is gathering. The Ministry continues to deny any hint of Voldemort's return — they'll no doubt start firing anyone who's too close to Dumbledore, soon."
"But surely Dumbledore wants as many of his people in the Ministry as possible?" Harry asked, confused. If Dumbledore wanted to keep his hold on the wizarding world, surely he'd need to keep the Ministry under his thumb?
"Oh, he'll keep some of his people in there. Those who manage to hide their allegiance, or are too valuable to fire. But think of it this way, Harry; the Ministry is going to fall, sooner or later. With Fudge at the helm, it's a sinking ship. How will it look if everyone on Albus Dumbledore's side is removed from their jobs, and then the Ministry crumbles?"
It all began to make sense to Harry. "It'll look like Dumbledore's people were the ones keeping it afloat," he realised. "Then when it's all over, the Ministry will be handed to Dumbledore's people to fix it again." The prospect made him nauseous.
"Albus has been playing this game for longer than the three of us have been alive, combined," Snape pointed out, lips in a thin line. "It is dangerous, for us to try and play against him."
"It's a risk worth taking," Harry insisted. "People will die if we don't. I'll die if we don't. I refuse to let him use me or anyone else to further his own gains."
"How have things been going on your end?" Remus questioned, reaching for another scone. "What has the school been like, in the wake of… everything."
"Honestly, I'm not really sure," Harry admitted. "I kinda kept my head down, after everything. I'm sure Professor Snape's already told you about what Dumbledore said at the leaving feast?" Both adults nodded. "So yeah, there's that. There's definitely plenty of people who aren't convinced by it all. Who knows what they'll think of it by next year. I need to owl Susan as soon as it's safe — she said Neville told all the heirs what happened in the graveyard, but I didn't manage to meet with them before school broke up. Everyone's still in shock over Cedric, I think." Harry tried not to think about it too much, though that was hard with the nightmares. If he let the gaping hole in his heart take over, he'd be useless.
"Understandable." Remus ran a hand through his hair. "It looks like we're playing a waiting game right now, for the most part."
"Well I don't want to twiddle my thumbs while I wait," Harry insisted. "I want to get as much done as I can this summer."
Ceri popped into the room to summon them down for lunch, and Remus insisted on no war-talk at the table. Luckily, Harry was distracted by the arrival of Sirius.
"No one's home," he assured, rounding the table to squeeze Harry's shoulders, and then drop down into the seat beside him. Ceri waved her hand, and a fourth plate floated over. "I assume Remus filled you in?"
"You're living at Order headquarters now," Harry said, frowning only slightly. "Who else is around there?"
"I'm the only one there full-time," Sirius explained, talking between mouthfuls of food. "But there's been Order business every day since Dumbledore claimed the place. Not every meeting holds everyone. And there's been talk of the whole Weasley family moving in now school's over. Albus says it's because their house is too easy to reach, and everyone knows they're a light-aligned family, but really I'm betting he wants his little puppets nice and close to the action, so they can drip-feed you information without telling you anything important at all."
"He's got another thing coming if he thinks Ron and Hermione will tell me so much as the bloody weather these days," Harry said with a snort. "Has he not figured out that we don't talk to each other anymore?"
"Ah, but teenage friendships are fickle, and you'll need all the friends you can get in these trying times," Sirius replied in his best Albus Dumbledore impression. "You'll have to watch out for those two. If anyone's going to make Dumbledore realise you've shed your spells, it's them."
"No war talk at the table, Sirius," Remus warned. Sirius rolled his eyes, but obediently continued eating until his plate was empty. Harry quickly followed, wanting to get back to the important stuff as soon as possible.
Once everyone was finished they returned to the living room, Sirius sitting on the sofa beside Harry with his feet tucked up underneath him.
"I want to train," Harry declared. "Harder than last summer. I want to be as prepared as possible when the war comes. I know I'm young, but I'm part of this, and I'll need to know as much as I can."
"We know," Remus agreed, and Harry blinked. He'd been prepared to fight for that one. "There's no point in keeping you tucked away and hoping you'll stay out of trouble. It hasn't worked once yet," he added with a brief grin. "The schedule might be a little more erratic, but we can work with you like we did last year. Severus will probably cover most of it; if anyone knows what you'll need to know to fight Voldemort, it's him."
"We will do away with time devoted to practicing schoolwork," Snape told him. "I have faith in your ability to pass your OWLs without a summer of extra preparation. I will teach you what I can, but you must be willing to learn. All of it." His dark eyes bored into Harry's. "Not all of what I have to teach you will be light. Sometimes you can only fight darkness with darkness."
"I'll learn it," Harry said. "I trust you." Snape wouldn't teach him anything that wasn't useful. He needed to know how the other side worked in order to fight them.
"Once we've learnt what the Order and Voldemort's first moves are, it'll be easier to plan more long-term," Sirius said. "Getting rid of Voldemort won't be simple, but there's got to be a way, and I'd bet anything that Dumbledore knows what it is. He won't tell anyone, of course, but maybe if he leaves enough hints we'll be able to figure it out."
"Surely whacking him with a killing curse will do the trick?" Harry asked, brow furrowed. The three adults looked grim.
"The Dark Lord has devoted a lot of time towards the study of immortality," Snape revealed. "The fact that he managed to return at all means he must have managed it to some degree. Whatever magic he has performed must be reversed before we can be rid of him."
The prospect of Voldemort being immortal had Harry's lunch sitting heavy in his stomach. "Fantastic. Of course, the secret lies with Dumbledore. Merlin forbid he tell anyone just in case they steal his glory from him."
"We'll find a way," Sirius vowed.
"How much am I letting Dumbledore control me this year?" Harry asked. "He's bound to have some idea that the Compulsion charm hasn't stuck by now. And I'll be honest, I really don't think I can force myself to go back to playing nice." He'd made too many overt moves away from that behaviour, and if he went back to it he might not be able to do what he needed to do.
"Let him think you've simply grown too old and too strong for the Compulsion to stick," Remus suggested. "If my suspicions are correct, he's got bigger things on his plate right now, but as long as he can keep you close and downtrodden he'll be happy. He might actually prefer you isolating yourself from Ron and Hermione, as long as he doesn't see you gain too many new friends. He'll want you to feel like you have nothing worth living for, whenever he's ready to have you sacrifice yourself."
It was a grim time indeed when they were talking about it so plainly. "As long as he doesn't find out I've lost the magical block," Harry replied. "How do I make sure he doesn't find out?"
"The check was easy for the goblins, but it's a complicated bit of magic for wizards. He'd need to have you alone and unaware for at least thirty minutes," Snape explained. "Don't end up in the Hospital Wing, and you should manage to avoid it."
Harry had managed to stay out of Pomfrey's care for most of the previous year — up until the end, at least. "I'll try my best."
"You'll have to be very careful meeting the other heirs, this year," Sirius said. "The closer the lot of you get to coming of age, the more Albus will want to keep you separated. Isn't one of them seventeen now? The Warrington kid?"
"Yeah. His uncle won't let him take the family seat, though." Harry had a thought, and he turned to Snape. "What's going to happen with the Slytherins? All the ones whose parents are Death Eaters?"
"As of yet, nothing," Snape assured. "The Dark Lord is not yet desperate enough to want to mark underage wizards. They will have their roles to play at school, of course — some more openly than others. And I too must play my role. But Slytherins are nothing if not resourceful."
Harry was even more glad that he'd managed to get to almost all of the Slytherin heirs before Voldemort returned. There were other students with Death Eater parents, of course, but the ones in his year made up a solid chunk of them, and they needed to know they had options. With any luck, the younger years would avoid the war, and the older years… Harry prayed they could keep the casualties to a minimum.
"We'll try and keep the inter-house relations strong with the Slytherins, especially the younger ones," he promised. "Those who have to play their parts are one thing, but the reputation of Slytherin house is bad enough as it is. The last thing we want is a bunch of eleven and twelve year-olds thinking the rest of the wizarding world hates them. That's how we got in this mess to begin with." And that too was Dumbledore's fault. Cunning and ambitious never meant evil before.
"I will protect my charges the best I can," Snape said. "Unfortunately, as the Dark Lord must believe me loyal, those who are questioning their loyalty would never come to me. Having other avenues for them would be appreciated."
"Maybe Blaise could be that for them. His mother is neutral, everyone knows that. I'll owl him about it as soon as I can." Harry had a long, long list of owls to send as soon as possible.
"Speaking of owls, do you know if the twins have made any progress on solving our little monitoring problem?" Sirius asked. Harry shrugged.
"No idea, I only managed to ask them on the train. I suppose I just have to hope no one owls me until they figure it out. Am I being monitored already?"
"Yes; ten people on a rotating schedule, to watch you all hours of the day. You got lucky; Albus almost put Moody on the rotation, but then I suppose he found another job for him," Remus said. Harry winced; Moody and his magical eye would've made it very hard to hide Harry's absence. "Sadly, he wouldn't put me in for it. Said it would be unfair to make me watch you when I'm not allowed to speak to you."
"Basically he can't trust you not to give the game away," Harry said ruefully. "He's not completely daft, then."
"No, it seems not," Remus agreed.
Sirius glanced down at his watch and grimaced. "I should probably get back to headquarters; someone usually pops in around five to make sure I'm not up to mischief."
"They expect a lack of mischief? You really have got them fooled, haven't you?" Harry grinned. Sirius barked out a laugh.
"For the most part. Twelve years in Azkaban gives me an excuse for all kinds of weird personality quirks."
"What about the quirks you had before you went to Azkaban?" Snape drawled. "What's your excuse for those?"
Sirius laughed harder. He leaned over to give Harry a hug, ruffling his hair. "I'll try and get away again when I can, but use the mirror or send Ceri if you need me urgently." He bid goodbye to Remus and Snape, then called Ceri to take him back.
"You should go unpack your things, Harry," Remus suggested. "I think we've said about all we can for now."
Harry obediently left the adults alone and retrieved his trunk from the hallway, levitating it up to his room. He turned his Wireless on to listen to music while he unpacked, a smile on his face at being back in his own bedroom. It was good to be home.
.-.-.
Harry was ready to dive right into training the next day, but Remus had other ideas. "It's your first real day of summer, cub," he insisted over breakfast, "and I know once you start it'll be all you do. Take today to have fun, get used to being back here. Go fuss over Buckbeak, he's missed you." His face softened knowingly. "You haven't had any real length of peace and quiet to process what happened since the third task, have you?"
Harry's heart twisted painfully. "That was mostly intentional." He'd had one evening at the Dursleys, in which he'd read a book to keep himself distracted from the hollowness in his chest.
Remus snorted, shaking his head. "As bad as your mother, you are; she didn't like facing her grief either. Her dad died right around exam time in sixth year, and she worked right through it until she about had a breakdown." He put a hand on Harry's back, rubbing soothingly. "Take some time to let yourself feel things. You'll appreciate it later on."
"What if I just do my homework all day?" Harry suggested hopefully. Remus levelled him with a flat look.
"I'll have Ceri confiscate all your textbooks. No homework until you've had fun for a bit." He blinked, his own words echoing in his head. "I don't think that's how grounding is supposed to work. You're a weird kid."
"So I've been told." Harry thought about arguing further, but Remus was pretty set on it, and it had been a while since he'd been flying. His Firebolt had been sorely neglected since Christmas. "Fine. Can I go fly? Will you be home today?" Snape had already left on Order business, and Harry wasn't supposed to go flying if no one was in the house, just in case something bad happened.
"I'll be here until five; there's an Order meeting tonight, so we'll all be out for an hour or so, but we'll be back in time for dinner."
"That's fine," Harry assured. He could handle a couple of hours alone. "I'll see you at lunch. Thanks for breakfast, Ceri!" he added to the house elf, who beamed at him.
Some of the tension in Harry's shoulders left him as soon as he kicked off into the air, and he closed his eyes against the breeze as he flew in slow laps around the half pitch. The last time he'd been on his broom, he'd beaten Viktor Krum. The last time he'd been on his broom he'd been with Cedric.
Part of Harry hated Remus for forcing him to take stock of his emotions like this, but he knew it was for the best. At school everything had been so loud; even when people were giving him space, the whispers had still been present. He hadn't felt any right to mourn Cedric when there were people like Cho and Patrick around; people who had known Cedric for years, who had loved him.
He still didn't feel much of a right to mourn Cedric now. Not when it was his fault the boy was dead.
Everyone he'd said as much to had yelled at him for thinking it, but he didn't see how it could be any other way. The Cup was a portkey because of Harry, Cedric had touched the Cup because of Harry; he was dead because of Harry.
Harry wondered if it would have hurt less if he hadn't spent half the year getting to know Cedric, becoming friends with him, competing against and alongside him. If Cedric was just some random Hufflepuff student, would he still feel a tidal wave of grief every time he so much as thought about him?
It was so unfair. Cedric was one of the best of them. He was Hogwarts champion for a reason, but more than that, he had been good. So Hufflepuff it had driven people mad sometimes, in the best of ways. He'd hoped to join the aurors when he left school. He'd wanted to fight Voldemort — he'd told Harry, one night, that he would be at his side when the fight came.
But the fight got to him far, far too soon.
Harry let out a scream that was lost in the howl of the wind as he sped up, and he realised he was crying. He hadn't cried since the night in the Hospital Wing.
The hole in his heart was back, bigger than ever, and Harry imagined reaching into his chest and grabbing the edges and just pulling until the hole was so big it consumed him entirely, just let all his grief and rage spill out until it was all that was left of him. Sometimes, it felt like it had already done so.
He was glad, so very glad, that he wasn't being left at the Dursleys. It was bad enough being there for a regular summer; if he'd been left alone with his muggle relatives and all this grief and anger, he surely would've gone mad. Nothing to do but sit and worry at the edges of the hole, fall deeper and deeper inside it, let the guilt swallow him up.
It surprised him when he heard a bell ring in the distance — how was it lunchtime already? He'd barely even started! But apparently he'd been flying through his grief for far longer than he realised. His hands were clenched so tight around his broom it ached to move them, but when his feet touched the ground the hole in his heart felt a little bit smaller.
It wasn't magically better. Like Madam Pomfrey had said, there was no potion or spell that could fix that. But it was a start.
He was glad it was just Remus in the kitchen when he came in; he didn't think he was quite ready for Snape to see him in that state. The werewolf's face softened, and he held out his arms. Harry didn't hesitate to fall into them, burying his face in the man's chest. "I'm so sorry, cub," Remus murmured, stroking his hair. "I know he was a friend of yours, and he was far, far too young. I'm sorry."
Harry thought about his own grief, and thought about what it must have been like for Remus when Harry's parents died. They hadn't been much older than Cedric, and they were practically his family. "How did you do it?" he asked croakily. "How did you move on, when you lost Mum and Dad?"
"Honestly, for a long while, I didn't," Remus admitted. "I went through a bit of a rough patch. But eventually I realised that Lily would've kicked my arse six ways to Sunday if she saw what I'd let myself become, and James would have been right behind her." He held Harry close. "I know it sounds hard, but the best thing you can do for those you've lost is live. Carry on living, even when they couldn't, because that life is precious and you never know when it's going to run out. It never goes away, not truly. There are some days I can hardly breathe for how much I miss James and Lily. But those days get further apart, in time. Especially now I have you back in my life." Harry was silent for a long moment. "More people are going to die, aren't they?"
"It's very likely, yes," Remus confirmed, voice tinged with sadness. "War and death go hand in hand. But if we're smart, and we're lucky, then the deaths will be minimal. And if we're very lucky indeed, everyone we care most about will survive the war. But I can make no promises." He leaned down to kiss Harry's hair. "You can't blame yourself for every casualty of war, Harry. Even the ones you think you could have prevented. That way lies madness, and I love you far too much to let you do that to yourself."
"I love you too, Moony." Harry still marvelled at how easy it was to say those words and mean them, after years of having no one to say them to at all. He had so, so much to be grateful for, these days. "I'll… I'll try." Guilt was a hard creature to shake, but he was working on it.
"That's all I can ask." Remus smiled, patting him on the back and guiding him towards the table. "Now sit down and eat, you must be starving."
.-.-.
Remus left for the Order meeting at five, and Harry entertained himself by reorganising his bookshelf; he was slowly filling in the space, and was eager to buy more now he was home. He'd almost run out of fiction books entirely. When Ceri called him down for dinner, he was slightly disappointed not to see Sirius, and angry once he heard the reason why.
"The Weasley family and Hermione Granger are moving into headquarters tonight," Remus told him, grimacing faintly. "It's earlier than we expected. It'll be harder for Sirius to get away, but he promises he'll come over as often as he can."
"What are they all doing there, then? Surely they aren't involved in the Order; half of them are still in school!" Harry couldn't see Mrs Weasley letting her kids get involved in a war council, Dumbledore or no.
"Oh, certainly not," Remus confirmed. "They'll be cleaning mostly, I expect; the house is in a bit of a state. The twins weren't happy at being left out of meetings, since they're of-age, but Molly overruled them."
"I have no doubt they'll find a way to eavesdrop by the end of the month," Snape pointed out dryly. Harry snorted.
"By the end of the week, more like," he remarked. "They're very quick when they're motivated properly." He stabbed a roast potato. "What else is the Order up to?"
"Not much, in all honesty. We're still just gathering people and getting the word out. Albus has a few people in the Ministry trying to weed out those who aren't loyal to Fudge, but it's slow going."
"Several members of your guard seem concerned that you have not left the house," Snape told him. "Albus suggested you were merely grieving. He isn't worried about your lack of movement; with any luck, it'll stay that way."
"It's only been a few days yet," Harry said doubtfully. People wouldn't buy the grieving excuse for much more than a week or two, surely?
"I didn't manage to speak to the twins, but now they're living at headquarters it should be easier. They seemed surprised to see Sirius there; I think they thought he'd be with you," Remus added.
"They know I wasn't at the Dursleys' last summer. They probably assumed I'd be more with Sirius than you; they know Sirius is my godfather, they don't know you're practically my other godfather." That proclamation made a brief smile flicker across the werewolf's face.
"Well, if you want to send a message to them, let us know and we'll find a way to get it to them."
"You should tell them you're the Marauders," Harry suggested with a grin. "They'd do anything for you, then."
"We'll save that for when we really need a favour," Remus returned. "Or when Sirius starts going stir-crazy and needs a distraction."
"Merlin help us all if those three ever team up," Snape sighed. "It's a small mercy that I only have to survive one more year of them at school."
"It'll be quiet without the twins around," Harry agreed, though Snape was probably happier about that than he was. "So. I can start my training tomorrow, right? What's first?" Taking the day to relax had been good, and sorely needed, but he was eager to start doing things.
"You'll find out in the morning," Remus said, shaking his head with an indulgent smile. "If we tell you now, you'll spend the rest of the night reading up on the subject and pestering us to start early."
"Well, yeah. What else am I supposed to do all evening? You forbid me from doing homework." Snape raised an eyebrow at that, and Remus flushed.
"Stop making me sound like a monster for wanting you to enjoy your summer freedom," he argued, rolling his eyes. "If you're that desperate to write an essay, I won't stop you."
Harry shrugged; he didn't actually want to do his homework yet. "I'm open to suggestions."
"You're a brat, is what you are," Remus growled playfully. "You can play chess with me, and tell me how things have been going with Draco. Getting second-hand information from Sirius probably isn't as accurate as I'd like it to be."
Harry couldn't help but smile at the mention of his boyfriend, though it was lessened by the fact that he hadn't managed to spend time with him in the last week of term. He was desperate to write to him. He'd do that in the morning, if it was safe.
"Must I be present for that conversation?" Snape asked despairingly. Remus smirked.
"Well, you're welcome to go to bed early," he drawled. "But we get so little time together these days…"
Harry laughed as Snape glared at his partner, unimpressed at the blatant attempt at emotional manipulation.
And yet, he followed them to the living room, letting Remus lean back against his legs as he sat on the floor to play chess with Harry, pretending to ignore them while he read a book and Harry gushed about Draco. Harry knew better, though; he could tell the man was listening, as his lips quirked whenever Harry mentioned something Draco did that was particularly Slytherin.
He cared. He just refused to admit it. But Harry was starting to learn his tells.