Aspen Sunlight - A Summer Like None Other

"Oh, sweetie. Come here," said Molly, opening her arms wide.

"No!" Ginny stomped a foot so hard that the floorboard under Harry vibrated. "I'm fine, Mum. Percy's fine! You'll see--"

She ran past Harry and pounded up the stairs to her room, her hair streaming out behind her. Harry made a convulsive move as though to go after her, but changed his mind when Hermione gave a shake of her head.

Molly started to detach herself from Ron, but stopped when the twins came back in.

"We'll go up," said Fred, forced cheer in his voice. Or at least, Harry thought it was Fred.

As the twins ambled up the stairs after her, Ron made a noise of disgust. "They'll tell her brainless jokes until she turns green and pukes," he snarled. "Like that's what Ginny needs just now--"

"Oh, hush, Ron," moaned Molly, folding him into an embrace again, with her husband hugging the both of them. Ron squirmed, but then he let himself be hugged.

Looking at the three of them, Harry felt like he'd swallowed hot coals, or maybe one of Snape's vials of strong acid. His throat hurt, all the way down, and hiss stomach felt like it was filled with fire. He was getting dizzy from the sensation, and the room around him went fuzzy as he stared, the edges of everything starting to blur, just like it would if he were crying.

But he wasn't crying. He couldn't, because what good would that do? He was just thinking that it was all so unfair , and that life really couldn't be so horrible. Could it? The entire Ministry, destroyed, just like that? Percy, dead, when the moment before his hand had pointed to"Work," as though life would go on as it always had?

But then, Harry had seen death come swift and merciless before.

The whole world could change in one instant; he knew that. It had happened when a baby had defeated Voldemort, and then again, years afterwards, when Voldemort had resurrected himself using that same child's blood.

And now, the world had changed again, Harry thought, a dawning sense of horror sweeping through him. He'd been expecting this for a long time, but still, some part of him had never really thought it would happen.

But it had, and there was no turning back from it. The war had begun.

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The four of them ended up gripping a ribbon Dumbledore had enchanted the moment before with Portus.

Harry staggered as he fell out of the whirl that was Portkey travel, but he managed to keep on his feet. Not so Dudley, who was fairly flung out of the spell. He ended up careening on his arse across the floor, only stopping when his head collided with a bookshelf, knocking several volumes off the shelves.

Snape would normally scowl about that sort of thing, Harry knew, but instead, he offered a hand to help Dudley up, and got him seated safely on a couch. "Draco, if you would see to a healing spell," he murmured in a distracted voice.

"I can--"

"No, you can't," Draco interrupted. "I've seen your lexicon and you haven't covered those yet."

Draco was right, of course, but Harry still insisted on using a damp flannel to clean the gash on Dudley's scalp, and not just because he wanted to do something to help. He also thought that Dudley would find all-magical healing a little bit daunting.

Draco gave Harry an impatient look, but then, he just waited until Harry stepped away, and then waved his wand over the wound to close it.

In the meantime, Snape had been down the hall to his bedroom. When he returned, he spoke briefly to the Floo. After a glass of pumpkin juice sparkled into existence on the coffee table, Snape drew out a vial of pale blue fluid from his robes, and in full view of everyone, tipped it into the dark orange liquid. "A sleeping draught," he said, motioning for Dudley to drink the juice. "Magical healing is notoriously draining. It would be best for everyone if you drank that and got some rest."

Draco had a dead-pan look on his face, like he was deliberately hiding his thoughts. Harry couldn't manage the same. What was Snape on about? Healing a little scratch like Dudley had got wouldn't be draining!

Dudley was staring at the glass, his expression doubtful. "No offence, Professor Snape. I know you teach Potions and I'm sure you know what you're doing, but I didn't like that pumpkin stuff much--"

"Harry, if you'd be so kind," said Snape, his voice as smooth as cream.

Harry almost scoffed, but then he caught the expression in his father's eyes. Do this , it said. Now.

Well, fine. Snape wouldn't hurt Dudley, that much was sure. "Go on, Dudley, drink up," Harry urged, crushing down the impulse to turn to his father and ask what he thought he was doing. "You'll want to wake up tomorrow feeling fine, not with your head . . . uh, still throbbing with . . . uh, reciprocal magic."

Dudley sighed and drank the juice. "Come on, my bed," said Harry, leading the way. "You remember where the loo is, I'm sure . . ." He hastily dug some pyjamas out of his trunk and transfigured them to a larger size. "You've only got about five minutes until you're out of it, so best hurry . . . What?"

"You were hissing."

Oh, right. Dudley had heard Harry talking about how his magic had returned, but Harry hadn't gone into details. "Yeah, I know some pretty wild spells," he said, not wanting to explain everything all at once. Besides, it wasn't the kind of thing Dudley could probably understand very well.

Harry waited until Dudley was settled in bed and snoring, and then quietly closed the bedroom door as he went back to Snape and Draco.

Once in the living room, he couldn't help but firm his jaw as he stared at his father. "All right, what was that? Magical healing is draining? Any particular reason you decided to drug my cousin and lie about why you were doing it?"

"I don't care for your tone," said Snape, but his own was mild.

"Oh, give over. I trusted you enough to play along, but now I want the truth!"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I actually considered dosing him on the sly, but I trusted you, too."

That brought Harry up short.

"Wait," said Draco. "Healing a little cut is one thing; it's just a matter of stretching skin together, but I thought things like potions didn't work on Muggles."

Good thing Dudley's already asleep, thought Harry. No point in reminding him how none of us could use magic to help his mum . . .

"They don't," said Snape. "That was an infusion of a Muggle sleeping remedy, finely ground."

Harry gaped. "You keep things like that on hand, do you?"

"I acquired a few such when last your cousin visited." Snape's brows drew together. "We're getting rather far from the point, gentlemen. I want Harry to give a report to Albus so that we can decide how best to proceed after tonight's events, and for obvious reasons, I do not want your cousin privy to all the Order's secrets."

That made so much sense that Harry almost groaned. He should have thought of it himself, but his mind was still too full of horror to fit one more thing in. Perhaps that was why he'd been so intent on arguing with Snape about the potion--for a moment, it had distracted him from that very horror.

But now, of course, he had a new nightmare blooming in his mind. He suddenly understood better just what kind of stress his brother had been coping with these past weeks. "Dudley's a target," he gasped. "Voldemort knows where he lives, and he'd definitely attack him to get to me--"

"Agreed. Now that Voldemort is active, your cousin will not return to Number Four." Snape took a seat and crossed his ankles. "We'll arrange something, Harry, but that can wait until he wakes."

"Maybe the Dark Lord will attack in the meantime and do away with that horrible Piers character," Draco drawled.