"Well, we managed to get there in time to stop your relatives' house from collapsing," said Lupin, addressing Harry in Grimmauld Place. It was the next day, and Order members were flooing in and out of headquarters every half hour. "The real problem was with the magical fires from the curses. They were tough to put out, so we weren't able to save everything. Of course, the Ministry still has to track down and modify the memories of those who, err, saw the unexplainable parts. As far as I know, the muggles are writing it off as a simple house fire. But with Samson…" He shook his head. "There was nothing we could do. He was dead when we arrived."
"And Moody?" The Order had found Mad-Eye unconscious in the backyard of Harry's neighbor. While there was no physical injury, the spell that struck him was strong enough to warrant a short stay at St. Mungo's.
"He's coming around," replied Lupin. "The healers were able to revive him an hour after we brought him in. From what I hear, they can't wait to be rid of him. Apparently he's been demanding to be allowed to make a background check on all of those treating him, and he refuses to take any potions that he hasn't personally checked for poison."
Harry grinned. He never thought Moody to be the type to stay in a hospital quietly. "So has he said anything about what happened?"
"No, the healers won't let us see him," Lupin said. "They just gave us a report of his condition. Stunners can be tricky sometimes and they want a little more time to assess him."
"But he'll be out soon?"
"If all goes well? Very soon."
"Has anything come up about Katashi? How'd he get past the blood wards?"
"I don't know anything about that," said Lupin earnestly. "Apparently Dumbledore has a few ideas of what happened, but he says he wants to speak with you first."
Harry felt a mixture of disappointment and satisfaction. He was glad that Dumbledore was beginning to treat him like an adult and taking him into his confidence, but he had too many questions on his mind, and Dumbledore, it seemed, had little time to answer them.
"As for your relatives' house," continued Lupin. "We're doing what we can to restore it. It's not completely destroyed, as most of the damage occurred in the kitchen and living room areas, but its still severe. You'll be glad to know that your birthday gifts - through sheer luck - were untouched."
"Do the Dursley's know yet?"
"They'll be told," Lupin said bluntly. "Though I'm not sure when. Not too many Order members are keen on going out of their way to give your Aunt and Uncle the courtesy of knowing what happened to their home. I have plans on going this evening."
Harry said nothing, feeling guilty at the fact that - in a tiny corner of his mind - he harbored a slight satisfaction with what happened to the Dursleys' home.
So it was for most of the afternoon that Harry was left to wander through Grimmauld Place at his leisure, though, admittedly, he spent most of his time in the kitchen, half-heartedly glancing through a book of hexes while watching Order members going to and from the fireplace. The Gryffindor part of him wanted to stand up and take action - to take up his wand and play an active role in the Order. But a small, more honest side of him said he wasn't ready, and the duel he had with Katashi the previous day was testimony to that.
Looking back, he realized he could've beaten Katashi in several key instances, but, due to a slow reaction or an inaccurate curse, he failed. His spellwork - due to the length of time without practice - had gone downhill, and he had been using magic that could've been performed by any fifth year.
So, standing up, he climbed the steps in search of a room suitable for practicing curses. Something akin to what the Room of Requirement provided, or even a simple square room with a few targets and reinforced walls would do. When he found one, he began throwing the spells he remembered using late in his sixth year, and, to his dismay, they were wild and off the mark.
"I don't understand," said Ron, entering the room. "Are you trying to hit the targets or the wall?"
"What do you think?"
"For your sake, I'm hoping the wall."
Harry laughed. "So when did you get here?"
"Just now," said Ron. "So I hear you pretty much demolished the Dursleys' house…" There was a short, barely noticeable pause. "You all right?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," said Harry. The wounds he had suffered were small, and, for the most part, superficial. Healing Charms had fixed those in an instant. "But Moody was hurt pretty bad, and Samson, well, he's dead." He had never met the Auror, but still felt the loss.
"Dad told me," Ron said. "He came in pretty messed up - his insides were cut apart." He shook his head. "Hit from the back. Has Dumbledore said anything yet?"
"No, I haven't even heard from him since he brought me back," said Harry.
"Can't say that's surprising. He's been running around so much lately that nobody can keep track of where he's going. He could disappear one day and nobody would know where to look."
"How about Hermione," Harry said. "Is she around?"
"Uhh, I don't think so mate," said Ron uncertainly. "Last I heard she went with her parents when Dumbledore moved them to a safe house."
"A safe house? Where?"
"Dumbledore didn't say anything about it," said Ron, shaking his head.
Harry made a mental note to ask Dumbledore more about the safe house whenever he next met him.
"So what happened anyway?" Ron added. "I thought your house was supposed to have all sorts of wards around it."
"I don't know any more than you do," said Harry. "He just walked in, that's it. I didn't even think he was a Death Eater till some of what he was saying didn't make sense. That's when he, well, I don't even know what it was. It was like he was doing wandless magic, except he was a squib." He went on in detail to explain what had happened, ending when he had warped via portkey to safety.
"A squib that's also a Death Eater? That doesn't sound right."
"Maybe he was lying," said Harry, shrugging. "That would make the most sense."
"Dunno mate," said Ron. "Some things just don't add up."
"Like what?"
"Like why he even bothered to talk to you in the first place. I mean, if he was there to kill you, why waste any time?"
Harry, who hadn't yet thought of what Ron said, considered that for a moment. "I dunno-" He stopped suddenly, a revelation hitting him. "What if he was using Legilimency? What if he was trying to dig information out of my mind before killing me? I might still be alive, but he still has all that information-"
"Wait I thought you were supposed to be taking Occlumency?" asked Ron. "Doesn't that keep people from prying into your mind?"
"Yeah," admitted Harry. "But what other reason is there for him delaying it? My Occlumency ability might've gone downhill over the summer and he could've gone through my mind without me even knowing it." Cold chill after cold chill ran through Harry as he thought of all the things Katashi could've discovered. Secrets about the Order, his own private thoughts, and even details of his relationship with Hermione were now all in danger of being passed on to Voldemort.
"Mate, you don't look too good."
"I need to find Dumbledore," Harry muttered, scarcely aware of his own words. He turned around, running his hands through his hair, his mind racing.
Merlin, what if he found out the full prophecy?
"Where're you going?" Ron called, but Harry was already out the door, almost running down the corridor.
He needed to talk to someone in the Order - warn them of what happened. He was only vaguely aware that he had left Ron - without an explanation - in the training room.
The names of everyone in the Order - what if those were taken?
He went down the steps, scanning the room. He was hoping that Lupin was still around, or possibly Tonks, but his heart surged when he saw-
"Dumbledore," Harry breathed. From the looks of it, the headmaster had just come out of the fireplace, and was now refusing Mrs. Weasley's offer of a meal.
"But Albus you have to eat," she said, holding out what appeared to be two sandwiches. "You've been running around all last night, this morning, and most of this afternoon. You can't convince me you're not hungry."
Now that he was closer, Harry agreed with Mrs. Weasley's assessment. It looked as though Dumbledore had aged ten years - the lines on his face more pronounced, his overall posture that of an elderly wizard. And if Dumbledore was anything, he was not old.
"I'm afraid I cannot stay," said Dumbledore apologetically. "I only stopped by to give news of Alastor's condition, and must be going."
"Err, professor?" Harry asked, not wanting to interrupt but forcing himself to.
Dumbledore turned, his face lightening up considerably. He smiled, and the energy in his blue eyes seemed to contradict his aging appearance.
"Do you have a few-?" Harry was about to say minutes, but, after remembering what the headmaster had just told Mrs. Weasley, he felt rather foolish.
Dumbledore paused for a moment, and Harry knew very well that it was unlikely that the headmaster had a moment to spare. If there was no time to eat, then there was no time to talk.
"Certainly, Harry," Dumbledore said finally. Again, his eyes twinkled and with that twinkle he once again became the Dumbledore from Hogwarts that Harry had known for seven years of his life. "Give me just a moment."
Harry, surprised, nodded, and watched as Dumbledore crossed the kitchen floor to where Lupin sat, reading the Daily Prophet.
"Remus, would you be so kind as to complete an errand for me? First, go to Hogwarts and ask Severus to meet me here at Grimmauld Place. After that, meet with Filius and Minerva and give them these plans for the wards-" He drew a scroll from his robe.
Lupin simply looked at Dumbledore for a moment, confused, and Harry took it to mean that this was a task normally performed by the headmaster personally. "Of course," he said, and accepted the scroll.
"Send them my apologies for not coming," said Dumbledore. "But I trust that they will understand that something of greater importance came up." Then, to Harry, "Shall we proceed to somewhere...out of the way?"
As Harry made to follow Dumbledore, Mrs. Weasley seized her chance and ran up to shove a plateful of food into the headmaster's hands. "Don't forget your lunch."
Dumbledore, yielding, thanked her and, as they crossed into the next room, whispered to Harry, "She is forever concerned about my health. I eat almost twice as much food as normal whenever she chooses my diet."
They came into a massive living room, which, at one point, Harry was sure would've contained an array of luxurious couches, chairs, and elegant wood furnishings. However, the once-beautiful furniture had been eaten by moths and beetles, and was one of the first things to have been removed from the mansion. Now, in their place, were a few winged chairs huddled around the stone fireplace, the only other adornments being the bookcases along the wall and the brass chandelier hanging above.
"It's good to see that those wounds healed up so quickly," said Dumbledore, moving to occupy one of the seats. He set his plate down, then watched as Harry took the seat next to him.
"Yeah they weren't too bad," Harry replied. "None of them were serious."
"I must admit, Hogwarts is very lucky to have such a skilled healer as Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore said. "While she doesn't play an active role in the Order, she does heal our members from time to time. For that I am in her debt." He paused, seeming to reflect for a moment. "But I suspect you have questions for me, Harry. Given what occurred last evening, you should have many."
"Yes I do, but I wanted to talk to you about something else first," he said, and then, to Dumbledore's curious expression, he added, "I think I might have accidentally leaked information to Voldemort." He didn't need to explain the entire story. He already had related to Dumbledore what had happened during his meeting with Katashi.
Dumbledore looked rather pleased. "You mean you fear that Nori Katashi - your attacker - might've stolen information from your mind while you two spoke?" Another moment paused, where he seemed to absorb the statement. "Yes, I have thought of that, and am pleasantly surprised that you have as well. It is entirely possible that he did, as he would've had direct eye contact with you the entire time, and your guard would've been down as you had at the time thought you were in the presence of a friendly Order member."
Harry's worst fears were confirmed. "So you think he did then?"
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "But remember that a Legilimentist can only detect thoughts that are tied to emotion. And even then, they are oftentimes tied to vague pictures or memories. Hence, the less emotionally-valuable the information is, the less likely it is to be detected. Thus raw facts about the Order would require more aggressive probing. Since you are a skilled Occlumens, it's unlikely that he could've delved too far into your mind without you knowing."
For a moment, Harry said nothing, carefully thinking over the words Dumbledore had spoken. At last he said, "But thoughts about the prophecy, or about Hermione-"
"Would be easily seen, yes," said Dumbledore. "But I would advise against worrying overly much about the prophecy. I doubt Tom would find the exact wording of the full prophecy overly valuable, as it didn't contain that which he had hoped for: a way to kill you. I'm sorry if this invades your privacy, but I must ask you if you believe any feelings you have towards Miss Granger are...sensitive in nature? We must consider another, more dangerous possibility: that Katashi uncovered your more personal relationships with other people."
Harry could feel himself blushing, but struggled to keep his voice even. "Yes, they're, umm, sensitive."
Slowly, Dumbledore extended his hand and rested it on the arm of Harry's chair. He was smiling gently, and his face was brighter than the hanging chandelier could possibly have made it. "I believed as much. Don't let that get away from you. It's a rare thing to find love in these times."
Was what Dumbledore implied true? Did he love Hermione?
Suddenly, he remembered what she had said yesterday. I love you Harry. And he didn't respond. At the time, he hadn't thought of it, his mind was elsewhere.
He couldn't answer definitely. He refused to answer. His brain demanded proof, something comparable to how he felt, and found that had nothing to draw it from. He felt that if he spoke those three words, he was making a long-term pledge, and that, more than anything, made him afraid.
"Her parents are in a safe house now, aren't they?" Harry said at length. "She's protected, right?"
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "I have spoken with her parents, and they have voluntarily relocated. They were resistant at first, I admit, but once I explained the origin of the plague, and what its presence in their neighborhood meant, they began to understand the need. Their safety is now one of the Order's priorities."
The door opened and both Dumbledore and Harry looked towards who had entered.
Snape strode in, wearing his usual black, his eyes sweeping across the room. "Good afternoon, headmaster-" He stopped when he saw Harry. "I was under the impression that this was to be a private meeting."
Harry took a moment to look at the Potions master, and was surprised to see that he looked rather ill. While there was never much color in the Potions master's face, today there was even less, and there was a certain slowness in Snape's movements that could only be attributed to sickness. None of this, Harry was sure, was beneficial to Snape's eternally sour mood.
"Given the purpose of the Order's entire existence," said Dumbledore. "Harry being absent would prove to be counterproductive. You are aware of the details concerning the attack on Privet Drive yesterday?" It was more of a statement than a question.
"Of course," Snape said, moving to an empty chair away from both Harry and Dumbledore. "I doubt there is much I can add. The Dark Lord has been very...resistant to my attempts to intrude on his thoughts."
Harry assumed that Snape meant that, since he was no longer under Voldemort's wing, he was making attempts to traverse the distance between himself and the Dark Lord by reversing the Dark Mark on his forearm. By using the psychic connection the Dark Mark forged between them, Snape could - with great difficulty - see into Voldemort's mind. Such it was with everyone who bore the Dark Mark; they were all servants bound to their master. It was only through great skill that Snape managed to capture Voldemort's thoughts without revealing his own. Harry had only learned this last year, though the exact details of Snape's role were still unknown to him.
Though at times, Harry wondered whether it was a charade, with Snape feeding information to Voldemort while working under the pretense of serving the Order.
But if Dumbledore trusted him, so did Harry.
"This meeting doesn't concern your attempts into Voldemort's mind," said Dumbledore. "It has more to do with a detail I left out when addressing what had occurred yesterday. It wasn't simply a faceless Death Eater that attacked Harry's home, but Nori Katashi."
For the first time, Snape turned towards Harry, a nasty look on his face. "So Potter told you he saw Katashi? He's either hallucinating or lying."
"I assure you that he was doing neither," said Dumbledore quietly, though Harry felt a slight hardness in his voice. "Especially since I saw Katashi for myself."
Snape's expression quickly changed. "That's impossible. He's dead."
"I saw him," said Dumbledore. "I met his eyes and saw the glassy texture. Not even polyjuice could replicate the eyes of a Mind Leaper. It was him."
"Mind Leaper?" Harry echoed.
Before Dumbledore could clear Harry's confusion, Snape said, "You're sure?" He was on the edge of his seat. "He hasn't been seen for decades-"
"I'm sure, Severus," said Dumbledore. "There is no doubt. Alex misled us. One of his targets escaped him."
Harry remembered the Hit Wizard, who had gone across the world with the goal of avenging his family by slaying the three men at fault. While it was never known for certain that the three had been killed, it had been widely assumed so. Evidently, that assumption was wrong.
Snape sunk back into his chair, as though absorbing Dumbledore's words. His eyes - slowly - fell onto Harry. "If he's after Potter, Albus..."
"I know."
Harry glanced between the two of them, not quite understanding the meaning that had been exchanged. "I take it I'm missing something?"
"You're dealing with a true savant, Potter," said Snape absently. "Do you have any idea what that means?"
"No," Harry admitted.
"It's a rare condition - extraordinarily rare -" said Dumbledore when Snape didn't elaborate. "For most wizards, magical ability is evenly distributed. While some may display a certain aptitude towards Charms, Transfiguration, or any of the schools of magic, everyone has, more or less, the same amount of innate magical ability."
"And savants don't?"
"No," Dumbledore continued. "They are the exceptions. Perhaps only a handful are born each century, and, while they can only use their magic in one field, they excel in that field. Once, long ago, I had the pleasure of meeting such a person who worked at the Department of Mysteries. His specialty was Transfiguration, and, though he could transform water into diamonds, he could not so much as perform a simple lighting charm."
"So what're you saying Katashi is?" asked Harry. "What kind of savant?"
"His ability rests with the mind," said Dumbledore. "Perhaps you, Severus, should be the one to explain." He looked towards the Potions master, who seemed not to hear.
At last, Snape spoke, though it was almost like he was reciting the words out loud to himself. He was staring into the air, not looking at either of them. "Mind magic is far different from spellwork- from mere wand waving. There are those that argue it is not really magic at all, as it has been recorded that some muggles have had the ability to perform Legilimency and other mind skills as easily as wizards. Unlike conventional magic, mind magic centers in the cerebral cortex, and is little influenced by the use of a wand."
"So what're you saying he can do?"
"Besides Legilimency?" said Snape vaguely. "I know for certain he can perform Occlumency and Telekinesis, though he also claims to be able to see into the future." He stopped, seeming to choose his next words carefully. "Or, rather, he has the reputation for having True Sight-"
"True Sight?" repeated Harry. "Is that like Divination-?"
"No," said Snape. "And do not interrupt me again. There's a very fine distinction between Divination and True Sight. Divination is performed by aging gypsies in broken-down alley shops using tea cups and crystal balls, while authentic Seers have True Sight. It involves the ability to see the consequences of every action ahead of time, the length of which is determined by the strength of the Seer."
"The Dark Lord uses him to kill some of his more difficult targets," continued Snape. "And I daresay that's why he attacked your home. He was hired to do it."
Hired? Harry thought. "He's not a Death Eater?"
Snape shook his head. "No he's not. It's not unusual for the Dark Lord to look outside for assistance to particular problems. On the whole, Death Eaters are not exceptional spellcasters or brilliant wizards. Indeed, those that join only have one common trait: they have an insatiable appetite for power."
"So you have an insatiable appetite too?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.
Dumbledore spoke quietly. "Harry..."
"My reasons for joining were different from the others," said Snape sharply, turning to Harry. "My own, personal reasons are none of your concern."
Before Harry could reply, Dumbledore interjected, "The reason I asked Professor Snape to be here was so you could understand who this man is, Harry-"
"Who he is?" asked Snape, almost mockingly. He snorted. "If you really want to know who he is, Potter, then I'll tell you. He's conscienceless. He's never what he says he is, and he's a liar. Want to know what else? He's a bloody Mind Leaper."
"A what?"
"He can jump into other people," said Snape, talking faster and more vehemently as he went. "He can push himself out of his own body and into another, fully possessing it. It's a feat only a few can perform, but if you can do it successfully, you can achieve a sort of immortality if you make wise decisions. And wise decisions are easy to make when you have True Sight."
Suddenly, Harry remembered the brains in the Department of Mysteries, and what they had done to Ron. Was that what the Unspeakables were doing? Trying to imitate a Mind Leaping?
Dumbledore raised his hand to slow Snape's tirade but the Potions master didn't stop. "You call him Nori Katashi but that's only the name of his body. He's old, so old that the Ministry's records of his suspected activities start five hundred years ago, though he's easily far older. He's practically like another species-"
"Calm yourself, Severus," Dumbledore said. "He's not immortal, and certainly not a threat if we are careful. Voldemort is still-"
"Not a threat?" Snape countered. "How then did he break through the wards around Potter's home on Privet Drive?"
"I don't know," admitted Dumbledore. "Though it is now clear that they were becoming weaker."
"Wards can become weaker?" Harry asked in confusion.
"No, not all wards," said Dumbledore. "But you must remember, these wards were based on your mother's love." Snape stirred in his seat. "You are older, Harry, than you were when your mother gave her life for you. You have matured, and have grown independent from her. That is not to say that her love for you has faded, but just that you have found...other sources of love that have detracted from the ward's effect. Perhaps they were not strong enough to cause a Killing Curse to rebound as it had once done with you."
"However, none of this would cause the wards to be weak enough to admit Nori Katashi into the household," continued Dumbledore. "And I'm afraid that until we learn more, it will remain unknown to us. I have no feasible theories as of yet, as all would require a small amount of your blood, which, I strongly doubt, would find its way into his hands. Nonetheless, it's clear what all this means."
"Privet Drive is no longer safe for me," Harry finished for him.
"I'm afraid not."
OOO
It wasn't until later, when Hermione arrived at Grimmauld Place, that he was able to relate what he had learned. Ron was no where to be found, and when he asked, Mrs. Weasley told him that he was visiting Fred and George in their shop. With the way he had abandoned Ron so suddenly and without explanation in the training room, Harry felt more than a little guilty. He had left Ron behind.
Regardless, he told Hermione what happened at Privet Drive and in his subsequent interview with Dumbledore and Snape, answering her questions along the way. He wondered whether Ron's absence wasn't a blessing in disguise, as he doubted that he would've had the willpower to tell everything with such a heavy, awkward feeling between the two of them. In many ways, it was worse than their usual outright bickering.
"I don't even know what to say," she said when he had finished, her eyes wide. "You're- You're all right, aren't you?" She moved from her chair and came closer, seeming to try to get a better look at him. "I don't see any wounds-"
"Madam Pomfrey took care of those," said Harry. "Her potions healed them overnight." He was surprised by both her and Dumbledore's concern over his wounds. They were nothing, hardly worth mentioning. Considering the damage that could have been done to him from that bloody sword, he got away without so much as a scrape.
"Are you sure-?"
"They're fine," he said with a reassuring smile. "If Madam Pomfrey says they're fine, they are." He couldn't even imagine her response should he actually get any real wounds that left lasting scars.
"How did he even get inside?" Hermione asked, frowning. "Some of what Dumbledore didn't make sense. It's obvious that whoever was firing those Killing Curses couldn't get come in, so how could Katashi do it? If you were protected, how could Killing Curses come in at all?"
"Oh, right," said Harry, who had left out that particular part of Dumbledore's explanation. "Well, he said the wards were becoming weaker." He deliberately didn't state the full explanation, for it strongly implied something that he didn't feel ready to commit to.
That he might be in love with Hermione.
Hermione looked puzzled. "How could the wards be getting weaker?"
"Err, dunno."
"That's strange..." she said, raising one eyebrow. "Dumbledore doesn't have any theories?"
"No, not really," said Harry quickly, then, changing the subject, he added, "Are you parents all right? Ron told me they were moving to a safe house."
"They're fine," Hermione said. "They're still getting used to being around wizards and witches, but overall I think they're taking it well. Speaking of Ron-" She looked around. "-where is he?"
"Fred and George's," replied Harry. "Dunno when he'll be back."
"Oh," she said, frowning, and just then, the kitchen fireplace roared to life and two figures stepped out.
"Unbelievable how they run that place," growled Moody to Kingsley, who had emerged after him. "Small wonder that Bode was killed in there. Hardly any security measures in place at all." He stopped when he saw Harry, his magical eye seeming to take a moment to sweep over him. "Well, Potter, you seem to have made it out all right. Kingsley gave me the watered down version of what happened. How do you think you fared?"
"My spellwork felt off," said Harry. "And I wasn't really prepared for him in the first place-"
"Wasn't prepared?" echoed Moody, both eyes locking onto him.
Harry realized there probably wasn't a worse thing he could've said to the ex-Auror. "I figured since he crossed the threshold, he was safe. You said that enemies couldn't cross the threshold."
"So I did," Moody said. "So what? You never relax your vigilance." He limped towards the kitchen counter, then turned to Kingsley. "You're going back to the Ministry next, right? Dumbledore should be there with Madam Bones. See if you can send him back here so he can hear a firsthand account of what happened. I don't want to leave any details out."
Kingsley nodded and left, vanishing in a swirl of flame in the fireplace.
"Have you been training, Potter?" Moody asked, turning once more towards Harry. "Haven't been idle, have you?"
"I was practicing this afternoon."
"Good," said Moody. "Don't want to waste that experience you earned. It's best to train while it's all still fresh in your mind, so you can better learn from it. So what happened, Potter? How'd he catch you off guard?"
"Well, when he knocked on my door, he said he was from the Order," explained Harry. "Since he crossed the street from where you, I figured you saw him and cleared him, and besides, Death Eaters don't exactly knock on your door before coming in, do they? Anyway, I let him in, and then we sat down and talked for a while- me and Dumbledore figured he was trying to perform Legilimency on me. Then I started realizing that parts of his story didn't quite add up: like his claim that he was in the Order the same time as my mom and dad. I remembered the group photo of the Order you showed to me two years ago, and he was definitely not in it. That's pretty much when he attacked me."
"Not bad, Potter," growled Moody, looking slightly impressed. "You recovered, and picked up discrepancies. You still let him make the first strike, which was foolish, but you lacked the experience. Now you know, Potter, so don't make the same mistake twice. You're lucky to have escaped from that one."
"But Harry," said Hermione. "How'd you know when the photo was taken? I mean, it's clear now that he wasn't from the Order, but what if he was authentic and had joined after the picture was taken, you wouldn't have realized the difference."
Moody's eye swiveled towards her. "Granger's right, he could've been a real Order member. But I would've done the same as Potter in that situation. When your gut tells you something, you better follow it, whether it's logical or not."
Hermione frowned, seeming to reflect on that for a moment, while Harry said, "So what ended up happening to you?"
"I'll tell you when Dumbledore arrives," Moody said. "No point in telling the same story twice."
He lifted himself from the table and limped to the counter, flicking his wand so that a nearby pitcher of water poured itself into a fresh glass. "In the meantime," he continued. "I'd like to speak with you, Potter. Alone."
Harry nodded, unsure of what Moody wanted. He met up with the ex-Auror as he left the kitchen, and, in a lowered voice, Moody asked, "Do you make sure you're protected when you're with her?"
Startled, Harry stared at Moody, surprised at the bluntness of the question. He searched for amusement or sarcasm in Moody's face, but found that he was deadly serious. "Excuse me?" Harry asked.
"Do you make sure you're protected when you're with her?" Moody repeated gruffly. "You don't want to run into any problems because you weren't using protection."
"Errr, well, I don't think- uhhh, I don't really need to, umm, worry about that right now."
Moody stopped immediately, both of his eyes focusing onto Harry. "Are you saying you aren't using protection Potter?"
"I just haven't had the chance to use it yet," said Harry awkwardly.
"Do you know what kind of protection you need?" growled Moody. "I'm sure you need a demonstration-"
"No," said Harry instantly. He could only imagine how that kind of demonstration would go. "I think I got the, err, general idea behind it. I already know the charms and such."
"Good," he said. "You can never be too careful in those situations. You don't want anything going in or coming out without your knowledge."
"Yeah, of course," said Harry, wanting the conversation to end. There was something very wrong in having this particular discussion with Mad-Eye Moody.
"One time," continued Moody. "When I was young and foolish, I didn't use protection. I was with Arthur Weasley at the time-"
This is not happening, Harry told himself. This is just a nightmare Voldemort created to drive me insane.
"As it turns out, Death Eaters were right on the other side of the wall, and we didn't even know about it," He gave a rattling chuckle. "You can only imagine the surprise that was."
"Yeah...really..."
"We found them and captured them, of course," said Moody. "But they could've escaped, and that would've been disastrous. So that's why you wear protection, because you just don't know."
"Uhhh," Harry had a strange feeling that he had missed out on part of the story. Suddenly it dawned on him. "Wait, are you talking about...room protection? To stop eavesdroppers?"
"Of course," Moody growled. "What did you think I was talking about?"
"Errr, nothing. Nevermind." Harry swore he saw Mad-Eye grinning, but when he turned to look, he saw he was mistaken. He had a strange feeling that he had just been fooled.
"Good then, Potter. Because protection is something every wizard needs to have."
(A/N: Good to be back writing again; though I see I lost a lot of my readership over my long hiatus. Anyway, would anyone appreciate me adding a summary of The Maw as an introductory chapter to this story, so this story could be better understood? I know that I've forgotten some points of the Maw, and I wrote it all. It might be useful to help refresh everyone's memory better.
Regardless, the next update won't be until after the holidays. I know these chapters are a bit shorter than they used to be, and the time between updates longer, but they're coming.)