Year 7-03: Preparations and Revelations

A/N: I struggled through some severe writer's block to finish this chapter, so sorry if it feels messy. I decided to move up a crucial moment that I'd planned for much later in the year, because it just felt right to include it here. Enjoy!

Delacour Manor became a site of celebration upon Harry, Dale and Sebastian's triumphant return. Fleur and Apolline shrieked with joy at the news, and while Gabrielle had no idea what was going on, she joined in the festive atmosphere all the same. They shared a large dinner feast out in the garden, laughing and enjoying one another's company to commemorate their success.

Soon the drinks began to flow and music wafted across the chateau grounds. Dahlia and Gabrielle danced a jig around the garden together, while Dale Greengrass did a goofy foxtrot with Fleur and a tipsy Apolline dragged Harry into a waltz. Eventually Sebastian called an end to the festivities when Apolline's drunken Allure became overpowering, forcing Harry to desperate Occlude his mind while Dale drooled on the floor nearby, all to the raucous laughter of the younger girls.

"It is getting late," Sebastian remarked, flicking his wand to kill the music and glancing at the setting sun. "Everyone get some rest, and we will owl Beauxbatons in the morning about getting you two enrolled."

Harry and Dahlia shared a quizzical look. "Come again, sir?" asked Harry.

"Zat 'as been your parents' intention all along," said Sebastian. "To finish your educations 'ere in France while the war runs its course in Britain."

Gabrielle suddenly lit up at the prospect. "You are coming to Beauxbatons?" she said excitedly, looking to Dahlia with admiration. "What if we are in ze same House? What if they let us share a dorm?"

But Dahlia appeared slightly alarmed by the prospect "Are our parents planning to join us here, or are they going to fight?" she asked. "I don't want us to be apart."

"You two are still underage," Apolline added gently. "It is your parents' wish zat you stay away from the war until it ends."

I won't be underage for long, Harry thought stubbornly. He wouldn't be left out of the fight just because it broke out a month before his seventeenth birthday. And judging from the stubborn look on Dahlia's face, she also had no intentions of hiding away while her parents risked their lives.

"We'll write to Mum and Dad in the morning," Harry suggested, looking to his sister. "And figure out our plans. Term doesn't begin for another two months anyway." Dahlia nodded begrudgingly, allowing Gabrielle to drag her away to talk about how wonderful of a time they would have together at Beauxbatons. Fleur eyed Harry warily from across the room, but eventually retired to bed herself.

Harry had no intentions of staying in France. If war was imminent, he would be right there alongside his parents to defend Britain. Besides, he wasn't wasting any more time in a boarding school when there were still three horcruxes left to destroy – four, really, if you considered Neville himself. He retired to his room for bed, but immediately set to work crafting a Portkey that would take him back to England in the morning.

A knock at the door interrupted him as he was putting the finishing touches on the pendant his father had given him. Dahlia slipped into his room, eyeing him suspiciously.

"What are you plotting?" she asked.

"I don't know what you mean," said Harry.

"Don't give me that," she scoffed. "You had that look in your eye downstairs – the one you always get when you're planning something reckless. What are you going to do?"

Harry sighed, and pulled out the pendant he'd hastily shoved in his pocket. "I'm making a Portkey," he admitted. "To go back to Britain."

"And you were just going to abandon me here?" Dahlia demanded, putting her hands on her hips.

"You'll be safer in France," Harry reasoned. "Beauxbatons would be a perfect place for you to finish your education—"

"You're not my dad!" Dahlia huffed. "And don't talk to me like you know better – you're only eleven months older than me!"

"You're not a fighter, Dahlia," Harry sighed. "I couldn't bear to know you were in danger if war breaks out. I've been training all my life for this."

"I'm not going to jump onto the front lines!" said Dahlia. "But I'm betting a lot of people will need Healing soon, and Britain needs all the help it can get. I will not hide in a foreign country and worry if my parents and brother are going to die at any minute."

"I don't know, Dahlia," Harry sighed. "Things are about to get really messy in Britain—"

"You owe me," Dahlia said firmly, poking him in the chest. "How many times have I saved your arse over the past year? How many more injuries will you get that need fixing? I've been training for this too, just in a different way."

Harry sighed...Dahlia had a point. While her safety was his highest priority, she had more than demonstrated her worth over the past year – not only as a Healer, but as a confidant. He could not betray her trust by leaving her here in France while he jumped right back into the fray. Not after all she'd done for him.

"We'll go together, then," he conceded. "And talk to Mum and Dad about it. But you'll have to convince them – I'm not overriding their wishes when you're still underage."

"You're underage, too," Dahlia grumbled unhappily. "But fine. Now, budge up, idiot, I'm tired." And she crossed over to the bed, slipping under the covers.

"Don't you have your own bed next door?" Harry groaned.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight until the morning," Dahlia said matter-of-factly. "I won't let you change your mind and leave in the middle of the night without me."

Harry chuckled in amazement...the thought had briefly crossed his mind. In many ways, Dahlia knew Harry better than he himself did.

"Don't hog the covers, moron," he groaned good-naturedly, climbing into the other side of the bed. He hated the idea of his baby sister being in danger, but in a strange way, having her close by was a comfort in itself, knowing that they could at least watch each others' backs when all hell broke loose.

The next morning was a tense affair. Harry and Dahlia joined the Delacours for breakfast, as Apolline discussed the possibility of Floo-calling Madame Maxime and Gabrielle eagerly chatted about the upcoming term at Beauxbatons. What none of them knew was that Harry and Dahlia had their luggage shrunken and in their pockets, and a Portkey ready to take them back to Raven House. All that was left was slipping away and making their departure.

"Can we watch La Petite Sirene zis afternoon?" Gabrielle asked Dahlia as they finished their meal.

"Maybe," Dahlia said evasively, glancing at Harry. "I'd like to take a walk through the gardens first."

"Ooh, I will come!" Gabrielle agreed. "Let me get my shoes—"

"Actually, Gabby," said Harry carefully, "Dahlia and I have some things to discuss in private, if that's alright."

"Oh...okay," Gabrielle said, looking deflated. Sebastian and Apolline shared a look, but said nothing; Fleur gave Harry a quizzical look, but he deliberately avoided her eyeline, taking his plate to the sink before excusing himself out the back door with his sister.

"Poor Gabby will be so disappointed when she realizes we've left her," Dahlia muttered as they walked through the gardens, looking for a quiet place to Portkey away.

"This way we avoid an emotional goodbye," Harry shrugged. "Our time is running short. Here, this should be far enough."

They paused beside a small fountain, and Harry pulled out the pendant he'd enchanted into their transportation vehicle. He looped one end of the chain around Dahlia's neck before doing the same for himself. Then, just before he could say the activation phrase, a voice interrupted them.

"And just where are you two going?"

They turned; Fleur had followed them to the fountain, hands on her hips in silent accusation.

"Back to Britain," Harry said honestly. "I'm not spending this entire war in hiding, while my parents are in grave danger."

"And you were just going to leave me 'ere?" Fleur demanded.

"You'll be safe here in France," said Harry. "Your family is here, and Voldemort has no reason to go after you."

"How many times do I 'ave to tell you that zis is my war as well?" said Fleur. "My family 'as been helping yours all along, and will be ze first target once Britain is conquered. And stop trying to protect me! I am not some weakling who needs sheltering."

"I wasn't saying that..." Harry sighed.

"You cannot get rid of me that easily, 'Arry Potter," said Fleur. "You need my 'elp, and I do not appreciate being disrespected like this."

"It wasn't meant as disrespect," Harry protested. "I was going to owl you later to plan our next steps—"

Fleur's heated response was interrupted by Dahlia's giggles. "You two argue like an old married couple," she chuckled. "Fleur, are you coming or not?"

Harry expected Fleur to protest, to ask for time to pack her things. "Of course I am," she said stubbornly. She strode forward and grabbed hold of the chain, throwing it over her own head. "Let's go, before Maman comes."

Harry laughed in spite of himself – if there was ever any doubt which Hogwarts house Fleur would have belonged to, it was long dispelled by now. He held the pendant forward, inviting the other two to touch a finger to it.

"Raven House," he muttered. The Portkey activated, hooking the three of them and whisking them away from the idyllic garden. They touched down moments later on the front porch of his safe house, whose gloomy aesthetic brought an appropriate damper upon their collective mood.

"Home sweet home," Harry said grimly.

"Right," said Fleur matter-of-factly. "Shall we discuss our plans?"

Harry glanced sideways at Dahlia before answering. "Perhaps another time?" he suggested. "Once we figure out what's going on in Britain first?"

"Once you get me out of the way, you mean?" Dahlia deduced, folding her arms. "Seriously, what are you two up to? I know you've been doing something in secret for a long time now – you're not as sneaky as you think you are."

Harry was about to come up with some excuse, but Fleur sighed before he could do so. "Oh, Harry," she said. "Don't you think it is time we told her the truth?"

"The truth about what?" Dahlia asked expectantly, looking between the two of them. "What are you planning?"

"Now is not the time," Harry said firmly, giving Fleur a stern look. "We need to check in with our parents and figure out our immediate plans. We can discuss this another day."

Dahlia continued to eye Harry suspiciously, but said nothing. Fleur shook her head in exasperation.

"Fine," she said. "I must go to Gringotts and ensure I still 'ave a job. We will meet up again soon to plan our next moves." And without another word, Fleur spun on the spot and Apparated away.

"She keeps you on a short leash, doesn't she?" Dahlia remarked with a smirk.

"Har, har," said Harry. "She's just as stubborn and obstinate as you sometimes, and that's saying something."

"I resent that," said Dahlia, turning up her nose haughtily, though she grinned at the jab. "Now, let's go find Mum and Dad and get the lecture over with."

"Okay," Harry agreed. "But first, you should take this." He removed the pendant from around his neck and slung it over Dahlia's.

"What's this for?" she asked.

"It's a repeatable Portkey," Harry explained. "It will take you here if you ever get into a difficult situation. The password is the same."

"What if you need to use it?" Dahlia asked.

"Then I'll make another," Harry shrugged. "Or just Apparate. Now, are you ready to go?"

Dahlia nodded and took his arm, and Harry Apparated them away. They touched down in the entryway of Grimmauld Place, which was eerily quiet and gloomy.

"Kreacher!" Harry called out, summoning the wizened elf with a small pop. "Where is everyone?"

"Master Sirius and Madam Amelia are upstairs," said Kreacher. "The Potters are at the Ministry. Shall I take the Potter children to join them?"

"Not yet, thank you, Kreacher," said Harry. "Let's talk to Uncle Sirius first." He figured that would be a good way to test the waters – Sirius was far less likely to be angry with them for returning home without permission, and could help soften the blow with James and Lily later.

They found Sirius and Amelia in the tapestry room upstairs, speaking in hushed urgent tones by the fireplace. They jumped to their feet at the sound of approaching footsteps, and Sirius' jaw dropped when Harry and Dahlia walked in.

"Bloody hell," he groaned. "What are you two doing here? You're supposed to be in France with the Delacours!"

"We came home early," Harry explained. "We couldn't bear to be away while everything is happening over here."

"How did you even get here?" asked Sirius as he pulled the two in for a hug. "When your parents find out that Sebastian Delacour let you leave—"

"We didn't tell him," said Dahlia. "Harry made us a Portkey to get back."

"That's incredibly illegal!" Amelia gasped. "You could have been detected!"

"Not if we stay at least five miles outside of wizarding dwellings," Harry pointed out. "It's not exactly my first time."

Amelia gaped at Harry in shock. Eventually she shook her head and turned away, chuckling in disbelief. Harry supposed it wasn't wise to admit to such a crime to the head of the DMLE, but then again, it was the least of his misdeeds that she was aware of at the moment.

"Never mind how they got here," said Sirius. "The better question is why? Don't you realize how dangerous it is in Britain right now, especially for you two?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Dahlia beat him to it. "As if we would sit around waiting for news of our parents' death to arrive!" she exclaimed. "We're Potters – we don't hide when things get tough. Weren't you just a year older than us when you joined the war back in the day?"

Sirius groaned, and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Not the bloody point".

"You can't be rid of us that easily," Harry jumped in. "So you might as well make us useful somehow, even if we aren't on the front lines."

"That will be up to your father," said Sirius. "You will be of-age soon, Harry, so he may be more lenient with you. But I can't imagine he'll be pleased that Dahlia is here."

"I'm going to St. Mungo's to volunteer," Dahlia said firmly. "Madam Pomfrey told me that she planned on doing the same this summer, to help with the war effort. Someone has to prepare potions and tend to the injured during wartime."

"That is not a bad idea," Amelia acknowledged before Sirius could shut her down. "St. Mungo's is relatively secure, even during wartime, as both sides need medical aid. We've just assigned the first American Aurors who arrived this morning to defend the hospital, so she should be safe there."

"America has sent Aurors?" Harry said hopefully.

"And France, Australia, Germany, Canada, plus several others," said Amelia with a smile. "Their Ministries reached out shortly after the ICW's announcement yesterday. It seems they were all waiting to see if this war would become a truly international affair."

"More like they just wanted to be sure we would win," Sirius grumbled bitterly. "Bloody cowards wouldn't have stuck their necks out otherwise."

"Better late than never," Harry shrugged. "Have the ICW troops arrived?"

"They've been trickling in since late last night," said Amelia. "We expect the full battalion to arrive by the end of the week. Your father has put Moody in charge of organizing and training them."

Harry grinned...he could think of no one better to command a real army in a time of war. Mad-Eye Moody had practically been living in wartime for the past twenty years – the rest of the world was simply catching up to him.

"What can I do to help?" Harry asked.

Sirius and Amelia shared a nervous look. "You can speak to your father about that," Sirius said evasively. "But you will have to be very, very careful in the coming days, Harry."

"Why is that?" asked Harry.

"The DMLE has delayed the investigation into Dumbledore's death thus far," said Amelia. "But a lot of people are demanding answers, and there are a few...vocal advocates calling for your arrest."

The Weasleys, Harry thought with a pang of sorrow. "You don't think that will happen, though, will it?" he asked.

"I'm hopeful we will be able to pin it on Severus Snape and the other Death Eaters confirmed to be present that evening," Amelia sighed. "But it's possible we'll have to call you in for questioning. We've kept your name out of the Prophet thus far, but if they start throwing your name around, we'll have little other choice."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," said Sirius, slapping Harry on the back. "And you'll have our full support when the time comes. For now, we have bigger fish to fry, and hopefully the public realizes that with the war efforts ramping up."

Harry nodded, though a knot of uncertainty persisted in his gut. The Weasleys remained connected and well-respected within the wizarding world, and they would be calling for his head after what had happened a few nights prior. He could only hope that it was a small enough vocal minority to be drowned out amidst the chaos of war.

"Do you think our Mum and Dad will be angry with us?" Dahlia asked Sirius. "For coming back?"

"Only one way to find out," Sirius said as he drew his wand. "Expecto patronum."

A silver dog Patronus burst from his wand and bounded around the room, before standing to attention awaiting Sirius orders. "Tell James and Lily that their children are here," Sirius told the Patronus. "And they have no intentions of staying cooped up in the house, so you'd better come and talk to them." The dog barked its understanding, before leaping out of the nearby window and out of sight.

"Do you really have to make it seem like we're flight risks?" Harry sighed.

"Should we ask Sebastian Delacour if he thinks you're a flight risk?" Sirius asked pointedly. "Now, you two are going to sit right here until your parents arrive."

Harry and Dahlia groaned...Sirius may be the 'cool' uncle, but they knew it was pointless to argue with him when he flexed his authority over them. So they sat side by side on the couch and waited for their parents to show up.

Luckily, they didn't have to wait long. It was less than five minutes before the fireplace flared green, and James and Lily stepped through the Floo, looking stressed. "I'd hoped Sirius were joking," James groaned when he saw his two children sitting before him. "You two are supposed to be in France...what the hell are you doing here?"

"Same as you, I reckon," said Harry coolly. "Preparing for this war we're about to fight."

"We specifically sent you and your sister away to France to get you out of the way of this war!" said Lily hotly.

"Well, we didn't appreciate being left out," Harry shrugged. "So if you want us out of the way, you should give us something productive to do to help instead of shoving us to the side."

"I let you go to the summit with Dale Greengrass, and this is how you repay me?" James demanded. "By putting yourself and your younger sister in danger without our permission?"

Harry opened his mouth to defend himself, but Dahlia beat him to it. "I made him take me with him," she said. "So don't blame him for me being here. I refuse to sit around and wait for news that my family is injured, or worse."

Lily, whose green eyes had been alight with anger, softened slightly at her daughter's words. "Darling, we weren't going to keep you in the dark forever," she reassured her. "We would have given the Delacours regular updates, and I planned to visit you in a couple of days—"

"Or you can see us every day while we're here," Harry pointed out. "And we can be close by if something happens."

"There are enough things for us to deal with right now," James sighed. "I didn't want to have to worry about you two while everything else was going on. I haven't got a clue what I can have you do that won't put you in danger—"

"I'm going to volunteer at St. Mungo's, same as Madam Pomfrey," Dahlia said firmly. "They'll need all the help they can get with Healing and brewing potions."

"And what if the hospital is attacked?" Lily demanded. "Or someone comes in looking for you?"

"Harry gave me a Portkey to get away if I need to," said Dahlia, showing off the pendant dangling around her neck. "And Madam Bones said the American Aurors are defending the place."

"I can use a glamour if I go out in public," Harry added. "Same as I did at the summit."

James still looked uneasy, but he did consider these words. "I spoke with Dale this morning," he sighed. "He said you were quite helpful at the summit...even thwarted a mercenary trap, according to him."

"There were mercenaries there?" Lily gasped.

"Yes, and I got rid of them with no issues," Harry said firmly. "I can take care of myself. What do you think I was doing with Dumbledore all of last year?"

"You only sixteen!" Lily protested.

"Not for long!" Harry retorted. "I'll be seventeen in less than a month—"

"That's still too young! We're talking about dark witches and wizards twice your age—"

"And half my skill level! No offense, but you haven't seen all that I can do—"

"You shouldn't be doing these things at all! You've bitten off way more than you can chew—"

"Okay, enough," James cut in, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Lily, why don't you take Dahlia to St. Mungo's and speak to Madam Pomfrey? If she thinks it's safe enough for her to volunteer, and she agrees to watch over her, that could be a good place for her."

Lily hesitated, but eventually nodded her agreement. "What about Harry?" she asked softly.

James considered this. "Let me talk to Moody," he sighed. "Perhaps he can find a place for him to help."

Harry readily nodded his agreement. He knew that Moody was organizing the ICW troops coming in from overseas – that could be a good place for him to find purpose in the war, besides the ongoing horcrux hunt with Fleur.

Lily and Dahlia departed via the Floo, and James prepared to return to the Ministry himself. "I want you to stay here until I find a place for you," he told his son firmly. "Stay with Sirius, and do not stray off on your own."

"I'll keep an eye on him," Sirius promised. "Cousin Andy is coming over later – Harry can help us with some paperwork that needs revision." That sounded like a dreadful bore to Harry, but he reluctantly agreed.

James returned to work soon after, and that afternoon, Harry joined Sirius and Andromeda Tonks in the library. As expected, the 'paperwork' was mostly busy work, going through hundreds of pages of Gringotts documents and highlighting items of interest from the Black estate.

"Compare the dates at the top of each page," Sirius instructed Harry. "Match up the account numbers and look for any discrepancies. We have to make sure we didn't overlook any liquid funds that might be compromised."

The work was tedious and exhaustive, but it did give Harry a sense of just how vast the Black family fortune was. He knew Sirius came from wealth and spent extravagantly, but the numbers were still dizzying – Harry must have gone through millions of Galleons' worth of assets over those few hours, and that was only a fraction of the accounts.

"Is this all the money that every Black throughout history has accumulated?" Harry asked, unable to sate his curiosity.

"Not all of it," said Sirius. "It doesn't account for outstanding debts and handshake agreements made in the past, or dowry payments when a Black male marries a female of another noble house. There are also unresolved inheritance disputes that complicate matters."

"Like my dearest sister Bellatrix," Andromeda said darkly. "We tried to seize her assets after her death and return them to the Black funds, but they are currently under Rodolphus Lestrange's name and still able to be utilized by You-Know-Who."

"Not entirely," Sirius pointed out. "I was able to use my Lordship to put a freeze on her vault so that no withdrawals can be made, due to her husband's outstanding criminal warrants."

"Huh," said Harry thoughtfully. It had never occurred to him just how much Sirius and Andromeda knew about the inner workings of Gringotts and how to manipulate the system to their benefit. He wondered if they could be a useful asset to locate the horcrux hidden somewhere within the bank. But that would require him to first figure out which vault it was located in, and also tell them about the dangerous work he'd been doing behind the scenes, which was not an appealing option at the moment.

The Potter family reconvened that evening for dinner at Grimmauld Place. Dahlia, now dressed in plain white Healer trainee robes, chatted excitedly about her meeting with Pomfrey and her new quest to brew thousands of Blood Replenishers, Pain Relievers and Skele-Gro potions in a matter of days. James and Lily still looked displeased with their children's presence in the country, but they said nothing to discourage their daughter's obvious passion for combat medicine.

"I spoke with Moody today," James informed Harry. "He's agreed to find something for you to help with organizing troops. He'll be by the house sometime tomorrow to discuss plans with you."

"And you will do everything he says," Lily said sternly. "We will allow you to help, but you are not to run off on your own without adult supervision."

"Understood," said Harry. It was a fair enough compromise, and besides, he knew Moody would be far more lenient with him. Even in Harry's fourth year Moody had recognized his talent and allowed him more responsibilities and privileges than even Dumbledore had, including the Auror's Toolkit that had saved his life multiple times that year.

James and Lily's room was unnaturally quiet that night when they retired to bed. Harry wondered if they were having yet another argument about him behind silencing wards. He knew he was putting them in a bind, forcing their hand by returning to Britain. But he couldn't stand the thought of losing them again and being powerless to help. It made him feel like he was one year old again, stuck in a crib as Lord Voldemort took his family from him forever. Never again.

Should he relieve some of their concern by telling them the truth about his past? That he was not truly a sixteen year old child, but a battle-hardened man of nearly twenty-two, having spent a decade-plus preparing for this war? It might assuage their immediate concerns, but it felt like such a heavy bombshell to drop at this critical juncture. The stress of it might just kill James and Lily. So Harry pushed the thought to the back burner for now.

The next morning, Harry trudged downstairs for breakfast. He sleepily fixed himself a meager breakfast of toast and jam, before making his way to the table. He paused halfway across the room, suddenly sensing something awry.

His wand jumped to his hand, a Shield Charm erecting itself before he could consciously summon it. A flurry of hexes gonged loudly against the Shield, erupting from an unseen assailant in the corner of the room He fired back without thinking, hearing an invisible body drop to the ground. Frowning, he inched towards the corner and cast a silent Revelio, only to find Mad-Eye Moody lying stunned at his feet.

"Nice instincts, lad," Moody appraised him as Harry revived him and helped him to his feet. "Never let your guard down, even in a presumed safe environment."

Lily came rushing down the stairs towards the commotion, frowning at the sight of Harry's shattered plate and breakfast strewn across the ground. "Must we do this so early in the morning, Alastor?" she groaned.

"James instructed me to get your boy ready for the war," Moody said unapologetically, waving his wand to clean up the mess. "But it looks like he's already most of the way there. Albus taught you well...a little too well, perhaps, if the rumors are to be believed."

Harry froze at these words, but quickly realized Moody was joking with him. If anyone would understand Harry's need to kill the Headmaster to ensure his silence, he supposed it would be Moody. The man had always struck Harry as more open-minded about the dark deeds that must sometimes be committed in the name of winning a war.

Moody joined Harry at the breakfast table, filling him in on what was happening with the ICW troops. "Been trickling in by the hour from all corners," he said. "Motley crew of morons if you ask me. None of these kids have seen real action in their lives...the biggest battles they've had to wage were against peaceful protesters in their home nations. I'm pretty sure the Chinese blokes helped their government suppress those Muggle protests back in '89, but they refuse to talk about it."

"Will they be ready when the time comes to fight?" asked Harry.

"They'd better be," Moody said darkly. "I'll have to whip 'em into shape first, and fast."

"Do you think Voldemort is planning an all-out attack?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Aye, almost certainly," Moody grumbled. "All of the suspected Death Eaters and sympathizers have been pulled from the ranks of the Ministry. That tells me he's plotting something big – the only question is when."

"How soon do you think?" Harry asked.

"Could be days, could be weeks," Moody shrugged. "It's hard to know what he's thinking. It's possible that the Arthurian Protocol ruse is still preventing him from making a move against the Ministry."

"He likely knows it was a ruse by now," Harry reasoned. "Now that my father's intentions are clear, he'll recognize that he was simply being delayed."

Moody gave Harry a curious look. "Awfully perceptive, Potter," he appraised the teen. "You seem to understand how the Dark Lord's mind works better than most."

"I have faced him multiple times and lived," Harry shrugged. Over a decade of combating Voldemort had granted him a special kind of insight into how Tom Riddle operated. He just knew instinctively that the Dark Lord would be furious at the deception, and the Potters' failure to heed his warning to leave the country.

"Well, I intend to put you through your paces," said Moody. "Once the rest of the troops arrive, I'd like for you to join us for training."

"I suppose I could use the warm-up," Harry nodded. "Who will I be reporting to?"

"You misunderstand," said Moody. "I want you to help me train them. You're ten times the fighter than any one of those fools, and if they can be half as effective as you in battle, we might stand a chance in this war."

Harry glowed internally at Moody's praise. But it was interrupted by a loud raspberry from the stairs.

"All hail the almighty Harry Potter," Dahlia said sarcastically as she entered the kitchen. "Can't keep a girlfriend, but he can somehow command an army."

Harry scowled as Moody laughed riotously at the quip. "How have you been, Miss Potter?" Moody greeted her. "Still practicing your Healing, are you?"

"Good to see you again, Professor," Dahlia greeted him in return. "I'm helping Madam Pomfrey at St. Mungo's to prepare for injured fighters."

"Good lass," Moody appraised her. "Britain is in need of talented Healers. Poppy says you're a natural." Dahlia beamed at the praise and stuck her tongue out playfully at Harry again.

Moody departed the house soon after to tend to business, leaving Harry alone once more in the townhouse. He refused to remain idle, spending his time in the Black library scouring the ancient tomes for anything useful he could find. He located a couple of nasty-looking hexes and curses that he filed away for future practice, figuring he could use as many tools in his arsenal as possible to keep himself and his loved ones alive.

He also set to work on creating more emergency Portkeys to give to his other family members. He was beginning to theorize if a single Portkey could be used to travel to multiple destinations, activated by different passwords. What if he could enchant a single object to take someone to Grimmauld Place, Godric's Hollow, Raven House, the Ministry of Magic, and Diagon Alley as they pleased? He didn't know if such a device existed, but he could imagine the magic involved to make it work, so he planned to experiment throughout the summer when he got the chance.

Harry also kept up with the news in The Daily Prophet in the coming days. The publication was full of praise for Minister Potter's strong response to Dumbledore's death and display of strength against the 'great evil' that was Voldemort. The reporting sounded optimistic that the arriving army would be able to quash Voldemort's forces with ease, but Harry had no way of knowing how well-founded that belief was. The paper's primary aim was likely to prevent a panic, especially with Amelia and the rest of the Ministry leaning on them heavily.

On Harry's third day back in Britain, he received a cryptic letter from Fleur requesting a meeting that evening. He was beginning to feel stir-crazy cooped up at home, as Moody had not yet summoned him to begin training with the ICW forces who were still arriving from abroad. This would give him an opportunity to do something productive and feel like he was tangibly contributing to Voldemort's demise.

Luckily, his whole family was absent that evening when the time came – James was at the Ministry, Lily was operating her business with Remus and Alessia, and Dahlia was working late at St. Mungo's. Harry Apparated to Raven House, where he found Fleur sitting on the dusty sofa, reading solemnly from a piece of parchment.

"What do you have there?" Harry asked.

Fleur looked up with a saddened expression. "I got this letter by owl yesterday morning," she sighed, handing Harry the parchment. He began to read, recognizing Bill Weasley's handwriting at once:

Dear Miss Delacour,

My name is Bill Weasley. You may remember me as the redhead who trained you at Gringotts some months ago. Of course you likely know this already, as my family informs me that you and I dated for a period of time.

I regret to inform you that my mind was recently invaded, and I have lost all memory relating to our relationship. I do not know what the status of said relationship was, or if you and I were on good terms or not. If you are wondering why I have not contacted you or shown any affection towards you, this is why. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you.

The primary purpose of this letter is to warn you about the teenager Harry Potter. My memories of him have also been removed, but my family assures me that he is the person responsible for my mental assault. My sister also insists that he is responsible for Albus Dumbledore's death and the kidnapping of my brother Ronald. Prior to my memory being modified, I also supposedly told my family that he is not to be trusted, so whatever I learned about him must be severe enough to warrant my attack.

He is extremely dangerous, and I suggest you stay far away from him if he attempts to contact you. It is possible he removed my memories of you out of jealousy, in an attempt to steal you from me – he may attempt to steal your memories as well, if he has not already.

Wishing you well, wherever you are. If you have any further questions, you can finds me at my desk at Gringotts during business hours.

Cordially,

William Weasley

Harry handed the letter back, deep in thought. "Well...it's not so bad," Harry offered. "It sounds like he's angry at me, not at you."

But Fleur was staring down at the letter with trembling hands, clearly conflicted. "It is so...formal," she muttered. "Like I am just a colleague. A stranger."

"You basically are now," Harry shrugged. "He doesn't even remember meeting you."

"I know," Fleur sighed. "It is as though everything we went through together never 'appened. I knew zat would be the case, but it did not sink in until now."

Harry gave her a moment to compose herself. He knew it must be taxing for her, given the history she had with Bill. Sure, maybe they hadn't worked out as a couple, but this was the opposite of closure – it was perpetual uncertainty, never knowing what might have been. In a way a proper break-up might have been preferable, since at least then both sides could move on.

"It matters not," Fleur eventually said, tossing the letter aside with a stoic expression. "Let us discuss our next steps."

"What's happening at Gringotts?" Harry asked. "Do you still have a job there?"

"I do," Fleur confirmed. "I 'ave been assigned to the Foreign Investments division...there is much money flowing into Britain from all corners of the planet due to the war. Some to the Ministry, some to private accounts suspected to be affiliated with Death Eaters."

"Is that legal?" Harry asked. "Can we stop them?"

"Ze goblins have no interest in stopping them," Fleur shrugged. "They are becoming rich due to all ze transaction fees, so why should they care? All I can do is flag ze most suspicious transactions and pass them along to the Ministry."

"That's good," Harry nodded. "Perhaps you should connect with my Uncle Sirius? He's handling the Black family accounts and might appreciate a fuller picture of where money is flowing within the country."

"I will reach out to him, then," Fleur nodded. "But what about ze horcruxes? How do we plan on finding them?"

"We know there are four left we need to find," said Harry. "The Cup, the Sword, the snake, and Neville. I'm willing to bet the Cup is in Gringotts, and the Sword might be as well. But we can also try and obtain the Sorting Hat from Hogwarts to get the Sword without having to track it down."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Fleur demanded. "I doubt you will be welcome within Hogwarts anytime soon, and stealing such a valuable artifact will not go unnoticed."

"I'm still working that bit out," Harry sighed. "We should focus on the Cup first while I figure out a plan. Is there any hope of accessing a vault without raising any alarms?"

"The highest profile vaults are heavily protected," Fleur sighed. "Not even a goblin can access them without strict monitoring and accounting. But even if we could, how will we know which vault ze Cup is in?"

"It has to be someone that Voldemort trusts," Harry reasoned. "Not Lucius Malfoy – he wouldn't give two horcruxes to the same person. Maybe Snape, but he hadn't yet proven his loyalty until this June."

"What about Bellatrix Lestrange?" Fleur suggested. "She was considered 'is right-hand woman for many years."

"It's possible," Harry conceded. "But who knows if he moved it after her death? Her assets would have been transferred to her husband Rodolphus, and I'm guessing his accounts are among the most secure."

"Indeed," Fleur nodded. "All of ze confirmed Death Eaters' accounts are under heavy scrutiny. We could never break in without causing a commotion."

"Maybe the Ministry could help us gain access?" Harry wondered aloud. "Could my father force the goblins to open a Death Eater's vault for us?"

"Possibly," Fleur acknowledged. "Though that would most certainly alert Voldemort to what we were doing. Do we really want that?"

"No," Harry sighed. "Not this early, at least. We'll have to move quickly once we figure out where the Cup and Sword are. I'm assuming the snake will be with Voldemort, and it'll be up to Neville to show his face whenever the time comes."

"Then what are we meant to do in the meantime?" asked Fleur.

"See if you can compile a list of all known Death Eater vaults and the protections around them," Harry suggested. "Then we could narrow down which ones are most likely to contain the Cup and figure out a plan of attack when the time comes."

"I can do that," Fleur nodded. "What will you do in the meantime?"

"I'll look into getting into Hogwarts to get the Sorting Hat," said Harry. "But it might take some time...my parents are watching me pretty closely. They still think of me as their vulnerable sixteen-year-old boy, not realizing that I'm one of the most prepared fighters in all of Britain."

"Then perhaps it is time zat you tell them the truth," Fleur suggested.

"I don't think sharing the details of the horcrux hunt will persuade them much," Harry sighed.

"I do not mean that," said Fleur. "I mean the truth about who you really are."

"No way," said Harry, shaking his head. "It's not the right time for that."

"And why not?" Fleur demanded, crossing her arms. "If they knew what you've truly been through, they may realize you are not their frightened little boy after all."

"That's partly what I'm afraid of," Harry muttered. "That they won't see me as their boy at all."

"Don't you think they deserve to know?" asked Fleur.

"Someday, sure," said Harry. "But there's too much going on right now, and I don't want to overwhelm them. I'm not sure if my family could handle a bombshell like that right now."

Before Fleur could respond, an unexpected voice interrupted: "A bombshell like what?"

Fleur and Harry wheeled around; Dahlia had descended the stairwell, wearing a dragonhide apron, gloves and goggles.

"Dahlia?" Harry groaned. "What are you doing here?"

"Brewing," she said simply, brandishing the pendant Harry had given her. "I figured our personal stock could use replenishing before things get too out of hand."

"That Portkey was meant for emergencies only," Harry groaned.

"Well, I'd rather be prepared for an emergency ahead of time rather than wait for one to happen," Dahlia retorted. "But enough about me...what are you two talking about?"

"Nothing," Harry grumbled irritably. "It doesn't concern you. Don't worry about it."

"All I do is worry about you!" Dahlia protested. "I know you've been hiding things from me for a long time, and I don't understand why! Don't you trust me by now?"

"Harry," said Fleur softly. "I think it is time to tell her."

"Not you too…" Harry groaned.

"She is your sister," Fleur said firmly. "You may not realize it yet, but zat is a bond that cannot be broken."

"Which I figured you would know by now, idiot," said Dahlia. "We've known each other for sixteen years."

Harry felt a pang of guilt and sadness at her words. He did not, in fact, know Dahlia that long...he would never get to experience those ten years he missed out with her before arriving in this timeline. A single tear ran down his cheek as he fought in vain to Occlude away the emotions.

Fleur gently took Harry's arm and guided him to the couch. "It is not healthy to keep these things bottled up inside," she said. Dahlia looked on with concern, no longer in a joking mood, realizing that this was something major.

"She might hate me," Harry said hoarsely, fear beginning to seep in at the thought.

"I could never hate you," said Dahlia, rushing to sit beside him. "What's all this about? You can tell me anything...I'm your bloody sister. We have each other's backs, no matter what."

Harry looked up into Dahlia's wide, green eyes, sensing her worry and support. It did nothing to assuage his feelings of guilt and fear that she would never view him the same way. But Fleur was right...she deserved to know the truth.

"You're not my sister," he said. "Not really."

Dahlia narrowed her eyes at him. "If this is an adoption prank, it won't work," she deadpanned. "We're practically twins."

"I'm not...from here," Harry said awkwardly. "I'm not the same boy you grew up with for the first eleven years of my life."

"Well, that's obvious," Dahlia scoffed. "People change with time. So what?"

"That's not what I mean," Harry muttered. "Look, I'm a time-traveler, okay? I was sent here from another world, one where I was raised very differently than here. One where you didn't even exist."

Dahlia processed this, not fully understanding. "How?" she asked.

"It's...hard to explain," Harry groaned. "Where I come from, I was the Boy Who Lived, not Neville. The Dark Lord came after me when I was one, and killed Mum and Dad. You were never born, and I was raised by the Dursleys. Then when I was nearly sixteen, I was...killed, sort of, and sent here. I woke up on my eleventh birthday, and Mum and Dad were alive, and you existed...and I just didn't say anything."

Dahlia's eyes grew wide as she took this in. Harry felt hot shame creep up his neck, and he couldn't bring himself to look his sister in the eyes, staring remorsefully at his feet.

"And I felt so loved, and wanted, and I didn't want to ruin anything by telling you the truth," Harry continued, his voice hitching in his throat as Fleur squeezed his hand reassuringly. "But you were a stranger to me that day. Whoever it was you grew up with before I turned eleven, he's not here anymore. And I feel awfully that I took that brother away from you. I've felt like an impostor in my own family ever since."

Harry continued to stare shamefully at the ground, trying to steady his erratic breathing. After a few moments of silence, he finally forced himself to look up and meet Dahlia's gaze. She had angry tears in her eyes, and she was looking at him with an expression of deep hurt.

"Why wouldn't you tell me that sooner?" she demanded.

"I'm so sorry," Harry muttered. "I thought...I thought you wouldn't love me anymore if you knew the truth." He sat in shameful silence, waiting for her to lash out, to hit him, to yell at him, to tell him to get out for taking away the boy she knew growing up.

"You absolute idiot," Dahlia choked. Then, she launched herself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug.

"You are the best brother I could have ever asked for," she sniffed into his chest. "You're kind, intelligent, humble, and have always looked out for me. I've looked up to you ever since you rescued me from that Chamber four years ago. Why the bloody hell would you think I wouldn't love you the same? If anything, I love you more than ever."

"B-but I'm not—" Harry stammered.

"Listen, the brother I grew up with was a spoiled brat," Dahlia said with a watery chuckle. "And a bit of a bully, like Dad was as a kid. I thought it was strange when you changed so abruptly, but I figured Hogwarts had mellowed you out. I don't think we would be nearly as close today if whatever happened didn't happen."

"So you're not upset?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Only that you didn't trust me sooner," said Dahlia. "Who else knows about this?"

"Just me," Fleur said softly.

"Are you going to tell Mum and Dad?" Dahlia asked.

"D'you think I should?" asked Harry.

"I think they deserve the truth," Dahlia reasoned. "It might be a tough pill to swallow, but they ought to know, don't you think?"

Harry nodded; of course she was right. "I will...someday, at least," he muttered. "Things are a bit hectic right now...maybe when things settle down a bit."

"You think they ever will?" asked Dahlia.

"Yes," Harry said adamantly. "I've been using what I learned the last time to beat Voldemort ever since I got here. And we're getting close, Dahlia. I swear it."

He pulled Dahlia in close and kissed her on the forehead. She rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes in contentment. Harry felt a wave of relief wash over him as he realized he had not ruined his relationship with his sister...if anything, this would bring them closer together.

"Will you tell me about your other life?" she asked. "Before we met?"

"It's not a pretty story, Dahlia," Harry chuckled.

"Neither is the mess we're in now," Dahlia pointed out. "I want to know what your real childhood was like."

Harry hesitated a moment. "I do have a Pensieve we could use…" he said nervously.

"You do?" said Fleur, suddenly alert. "I too am curious to see your old life. Will you show us?"

Harry knew he couldn't rightfully say no as both girls looked to him expectantly. He sighed and flicked his wand, summoning the stone basin from its hiding place to hover in front of them. Fleur and Dahlia looked on in awe as he closed his eyes and envisioned key moments from his past life. It was a strenuous task, and it took immense effort to extract the memory strand from his mind, but once he had done so and deposited it into the Pensieve, he felt tremendously better, like a load had been lifted off of his shoulders.

Harry lowered his face towards the shimmering surface within the bowl, beckoning the other two to join him. They fell forwards, landing roughly in a small, enclosed, darkened space. "Is there something wrong with the memory?" Dahlia asked, elbowing Harry in an attempt to create more space for herself.

There came a sharp rapping from nearby, and a slat opened, letting light into the tiny space. "Get up!" Aunt Petunia's shrill voice called out. "Time to make breakfast!"

The door to the cupboard under the stairs opened, allowing Harry, Dahlia and Fleur to climb out. Fleur and Dahlia gasped when they saw ten-year-old Harry emerge, in all his emaciated glory – skin and bones, Dudley's ratty clothes hanging off his bony frame, broken glasses hanging on by a thin strip of tape. Young Harry trudged into the kitchen to make breakfast for the Dursleys.

"Why are you living with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon?" Dahlia demanded. "And why did they treat you like this?"

Harry did not want to dwell on his unhappy upbringing. So he closed his eyes, and the scene shifted to the hut on the rock, as Hagrid handed Harry his Hogwarts letter and explained the truth about James and Lily. Dahlia quivered with rage as Hagrid chewed out the Dursleys for their mistreatment of Harry.

"I'll kill them," she growled. "I'll bloody kill them as soon as we get out of here."

"They aren't the same people they were in my other life," said Harry sadly. "They never had Damian. They were bitter about being stuck with me. You can't blame their alternate selves for something they never did."

"But you were abused!" Dahlia sniffed, angry tears rolling down her cheeks. "It's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair," Harry shrugged. "It was a long time ago, anyway."

He shifted the scene again, this time to a happier memory. The Hogwarts Express...meeting Ron and Hermione. Arriving at Hogwarts for the first time. The boat trip across the lake. The Great Hall. The Sorting.

"I knew it!" Dahlia exclaimed as Harry was Sorted into Gryffindor. "You're no bloody Ravenclaw...you're too thick to belong with them."

"So you admit that Gryffindors are dumb?" Harry quipped, ducking low to dodge a slap to the back of the head as Fleur giggled beside them.

Harry showed various scenes from his first year at Hogwarts. Saving Hermione from the troll. Playing his first Quidditch match. Receiving a Weasley sweater for Christmas. Investigating Nicholas Flamel. Confronting Voldemort and stopping Quirrell from obtaining the Philosopher's Stone, as Fleur and Dahlia wrung their hands together in anguish.

Harry sped through most of his second year, showing them the petrifications and the quest to save Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets. He went into his third year next, drawing confused questions from Dahlia when Harry was informed that Sirius Black was trying to kill him. The truth eventually came out as Harry showed them the showdown in the Shrieking Shack, with Peter Pettigrew being exposed and escaping into the night.

Next came his fourth year, as the Triwizard Tournament was announced and the rival schools arrived to Hogwarts. Harry's name came out of the Goblet, causing an uproar; Dahlia burst out laughing as Fleur called Harry a 'leetle boy', just as she had in this lifetime. He showed them the three tasks and the graveyard ambush; both girls gasped in shock as Cedric was killed and Voldemort returned, with Harry narrowly escaping.

Harry didn't dwell long on his fifth year, either. He showed them the formation of the Order, Umbridge's nastiness, and the plot to rescue Sirius from the Department of Mysteries. Dahlia screamed when Sirius was struck by Bellatrix's curse and fell through the Veil, shortly before Harry dove after him, plunging the scene into total darkness.

They were expelled from the Pensieve, finding themselves back on the couch in Raven House. Fleur and Dahlia said nothing, sitting in shock at everything they'd just seen.

"Next thing I knew, I woke up here, on my eleventh birthday," said Harry. "I'd never met my parents or sister before that day. And I knew from that moment on that I would do anything to protect you."

"You must have been so traumatized," Dahlia muttered. "No kid should ever have to go through what you did."

"Probably not," Harry shrugged. "But the last six happy years with you have mostly made up for it. Besides, it prepared me for what I knew was coming, and what's still to come."

"It is no wonder you did not trust Albus Dumbledore," Fleur remarked. "He did absolutely nothing to keep you safe."

"And that's why I've worked so hard to protect Neville," Harry said bitterly. "Because nobody else would. And no matter what he's done, I didn't want him to suffer the same fate I did."

Dahlia wrapped her arms around Harry in a tight hug. "Thank you for showing me," she whispered. "And trusting me. I still love you no matter what."

"Love you too," Harry whispered back. His heart could have burst with happiness at her words. He shared a significant look with Fleur, who seemed to tell him without words, I told you so.

"Maybe sometime I can show you memories of your other childhood," said Dahlia. "The one with us that you missed out on. We got up to some shenanigans that I'll always cherish."

"I'd like that," Harry smiled. The prospect of experiencing the decade-plus that he'd missed with his parents and sister was an unexpected gift he never thought he'd received.

"It is getting late," Fleur remarked, glancing at the clock on the wall. "You two should return home before anyone notices you've gone."

"She's right," said Harry, standing from the couch and helping both girls to their feet. "Let's get going."

He linked arms with Dahlia, who was starting to sway slightly on her feet from fatigue. Harry shared one last look with Fleur, giving her a silent nod that said, Thank you. Fleur nodded back with a smile, and Harry Apparated back to Grimmauld Place with his sister in tow.

That went much better than expected, Harry thought to himself as he readied for bed that evening. He thought his relationship with Dahlia was on the cusp of ruin, but instead, she had accepted him for who he truly was, just as Fleur had predicted. It gave him hope that his parents would react the same, though it may be more difficult for them to wrap their heads around. That day would come eventually, and at least he knew he would have Dahlia's support when it did.