AUTHOR’S NOTES: First, I would like to thank my betas, Ginnysdarkside, Swishandflick (my newest beta), and Lady Jayne Paisley. You guys are wonderful, not just at catching errors and making suggestions, but also at boosting my confidence. I would also like to thank Swishandflick, Dethryl, and Lady Jayne Paisley for holding my hand while I tried desperately to come up with a decent summary for this story. Finally, I would like to thank all my LiveJournal friends for putting up with my whining regarding my anxiety about posting and for voting on my summary.
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A Cord of Three Strands
By Cindale
Chapter 1
“The Mirror”
“Though one may be overpowered,
two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.”
Ecclesiastes 4:12
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The Dursleys were completely quiet during the drive to their home. Harry sat in the back seat, pressed against the door, as far from his cousin Dudley as possible. He stared out the window, trying to make his mind blank to stem the threatening flood of emotions.
As soon as the car stopped in the driveway, Dudley wrenched open the door, threw Harry a terrified glance, and ran into the house as fast as his elephant-sized legs could carry him. As Harry started to open the door, his uncle Vernon said, “Boy, in the living room, now!”
Harry walked quickly into the house, bracing himself for the inevitable tirade against the menagerie of people who had met him at the train station. Vernon Dursley definitely didn’t approve of his kind in any case, but a woman with pink hair and a man with a magical glass eye were probably a little much for him to handle.
The Dursleys' house hadn’t changed at all; it was just as spotless and orderly as ever. Pictures of Dudley at various ages grinned at him from almost every surface in the living room. At least they were still, Muggle photos; Harry didn’t think he could stand the sight of his cousin winking and waving to him from wizard snapshots.
Harry’s uncle lumbered into the living room behind him, closely followed by his aunt Petunia, who seated herself primly on the sofa. Harry was surprised when the huge man said, “Have a seat,” almost politely, gesturing to the chair adjacent to the sofa. Sinking slowly into the chair, Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the thought of his uncle being anything but horrible to him. He was even more shocked at his uncle’s next words.
“Your headmaster – what’s his name – Dumblydorf – came to visit us last night.” Harry was too surprised to correct the name. “He said we were in danger from that Lord Voldything that’s after you.”
“Voldemort,” Petunia corrected quietly.
“Whatever,” Vernon said, waving a hand impatiently. “I asked him why he couldn’t just keep you at that crazy school of his, but he insisted that you would be safer here – something about your mother’s blood.” Vernon put his hands on his hips and leaned toward Harry. His voice became low and menacing. “I just want to make one thing clear. You’re only here because Petunia insisted we keep you.” He shot Harry’s aunt a hateful look. “I expect you to earn your keep around here doubly now that you’re putting my family in danger – is that clear?”
“Yeah,” Harry mumbled, still in shock.
Vernon must have expected Harry to protest, because the wind seemed to go out of his sails, and his voice returned to normal. “I’ll have a list of your chores ready in the morning, but you can start with cooking breakfast.” He turned abruptly and exited the room, leaving Harry and his aunt staring at each other.
“Well,” Aunt Petunia said briskly, standing and starting for the door, “you’d better get some rest – you’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”
Harry put a hand on his aunt’s arm to stop her. “Aunt Petunia, what else did Professor Dumbledore say?”
Petunia glared at Harry’s hand on her arm, and he snatched it away. However, she stopped and stared out the window as if looking for answers in the darkening sky. “Please,” Harry begged.
His aunt shrugged. “He put us under the Fidelius Charm,” she said to the window. Harry couldn’t believe these words were rolling off his aunt’s tongue as if she had used them all her life. “I pointed out to him that it didn’t seem to work on James and Lily, but he assured us it would this time.”
Harry shook his head a little and managed to ask, “Who’s your Secret-Keeper?”
“He is - Dumbledore.”
“Then it will work. He’d die before he’d betray you.” Petunia turned to look at Harry and he could see the fear in her eyes. The words came out before he even thought, “Why are you letting me stay here?”
She turned away and bustled toward the door, pointedly ignoring his question. “He left you a letter – it’s on your bed.” Just as she left the room, she called over her shoulder, “We expect breakfast on the table promptly at seven o’clock.”
Harry sighed and headed out to the car to retrieve his trunk from the boot. Once he had lugged it up to his room and locked the door, he turned to the letter from Dumbledore.
Dear Harry,
I hope this letter finds you well. I feel I must apologize again for keeping you in the dark about certain aspects of your life. I hope that you can come to forgive me. I give you my word that I will inform you of any future events that affect or pertain to you.
Now that the Ministry has been convinced of Voldemort’s return, we are certain that he will become more active. Therefore, I have taken additional precautions to safeguard you and your family. The Dursleys are under the Fidelius Charm when they are at home. This should allow them to continue with their normal life while being invisible to wizards. I have also added wards to their house to prohibit unauthorized Apparation and incoming Portkeys.
Unfortunately, I must insist that you stay at the Dursleys for the entire summer. You must stay in the house or the garden at all times. I am sorry; I know you enjoy spending time with your friends, but it will be difficult to protect you if you are moved. I must also insist that you send or receive no owls this summer. I suggest you send Hedwig to Hogwarts so she can get some exercise; she will be in danger if you let her out at the Dursleys.
I have obtained special permission from the Ministry to allow you to learn to Apparate, even though you are underage. I feel it could be an important skill for you to have in the days to come. Remus Lupin will be visiting you periodically to give you lessons. He will also be able to carry messages between you and your friends. You will need to insist he give you a password every time he arrives; we understand that Voldemort’s followers are making use of Polyjuice Potion. You and he can work out future passwords for yourselves, but the one for his first visit will be “Cockroach Cluster”.
Thank you in advance for accepting these extra security measures, however uncomfortable they might make you. I look forward to seeing you in the fall.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Harry stared at the letter in dismay. How was he supposed to survive the entire summer with the Dursleys? It appeared the only bright spot would be Lupin’s visits. He scanned the letter again, searching for the date of his first visit, which was not mentioned. Then he thought about the lunar calendar, and his heart sank when he realized the Full Moon was less than a week away. Lupin surely wouldn’t come until after he had recovered from his transformation.
He undressed slowly and crawled into bed, even though the hour was still early. For some reason he felt extremely weary, possibly because of the swirling emotions he had been suppressing all day. He lay staring at the ceiling for a long while, unable to relax, with the faces of Sirius and Lupin floating through his mind. Their expressions were both accusatory. He rolled into a fetal position, allowing the tears to leak into his pillow as he realized he had nothing to look forward to this summer. Even though he would pretend not to, Lupin would surely blame him for the death of his one remaining best friend. For the first time in his life, Harry dreaded facing his former teacher.
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Harry was shocked when he answered the doorbell the next morning. He braced himself as he pictured Lupin’s tortured expression from his dreams, saying, “Harry, if you had just continued Occlumency … if you had just used the mirror … if you had just gone to Dumbledore sooner … if you just hadn’t been so sure you were right …”
“Harry?” said the corporeal Professor Lupin standing in front of him. “Can I come in?”
The teen shook his head to clear it and managed, “Yeah … sure,” as he moved aside. He studied Lupin’s expression as he moved past him. He didn’t look the least bit angry, tortured, or accusatory; in fact, he looked concerned.
“Who rang …?” asked Petunia as she came into the hall. She stopped suddenly when she saw Lupin; Harry thought she must recognize him as one of wizards who welcomed him at the train station.
“Aunt Petunia, this is Remus Lupin,” Harry said, gesturing. “Professor Lupin …”
“Remus,” Petunia said softly. “I-I’m sorry – I-I didn’t recognize you at the train station.”
Harry looked back and forth between them so quickly he thought his head might spin all the way around. His aunt had surprise in her eyes and a faint smile on her lips. Lupin was grinning broadly. “It’s okay, Petunia,” he said. “I’ve changed a lot.”
“Y-you two know each other?” Harry stammered.
His former professor clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Harry, will you excuse me for a moment? I need to talk to your aunt.”
“Sure,” he answered, searching the man’s face for answers, but his expression was unreadable. “I’ll be in the garden behind the house.”
Lupin gave his shoulder a squeeze and followed Petunia into the living room, shutting the door behind him. Harry stared at the closed door for a moment before he came to his senses and ran up the stairs two at a time. He flung open the lid of his trunk and rummaged until he found a rolled up Extendable Ear. He raced downstairs, stood next to the door to the living room, and watched the flesh-coloured thread snake under the door.
“… happened to you, Petunia?” Lupin was asking in a gentle voice. “You used to be so interested in magic, and now you hate it?”
“Well, it didn’t do Lily any good, did it? And now, look at Harry – having to hide from the same evil monster! Why shouldn’t I hate magic?”
“No, I don’t think that’s it at all. If that’s how you felt, you wouldn’t treat Harry so …”
“What are you accusing me of?” Harry did not need the Extendable Ear to hear that.
“Nothing – calm down. I haven’t heard Harry complain about you, but I get the impression he thinks you hate him. He stays away from here as much as possible, Petunia. You’ve got to admit that’s … unusual.”
Petunia didn’t answer, but Harry heard a small choking sound, which could have been a suppressed sob.
“It’s jealousy, isn’t it?” Lupin asked in his quiet way. “I saw the way you used to look at her. She could do magic, she had two handsome blokes fawning over her, and your parents doted on her.” Harry heard a sound like someone getting up from a chair and sitting again. “Petunia, you’ve got to let her go. Harry doesn’t deserve your bitterness. He’s a sensitive lad – he craves love and acceptance.”
Harry heard someone get up again and footsteps approaching the door. “I don’t think it’s any of your business, Remus. I think it’s time for you to leave.” Harry jerked the Extendable Ear out from under the door and ran for the garden, shoving it in his pocket as he went. He quickly kneeled in the flowerbed and began pulling weeds, his mind whirling from the conversation he had just overheard.
He heard Lupin walk out the back door and into the garden, but he waited until he spoke his name to stop weeding and turn around.
“Er,” Harry mumbled, rubbing his hands together to remove the dirt, “I think I’m supposed to ask you for the password.”
Lupin laughed lightly. “Cockroach cluster. But I think you should have asked before you let me in the house, don’t you?”
Harry blushed slightly. “Are we going to start Apparation lessons today?”
“No,” the older man answered. “I wanted to talk to you first. I imagine you’ve got some questions for me?”
“Yeah,” Harry acknowledged, standing up, “like how do you know Aunt Petunia?”
Lupin smiled and his eyes looked distant. “Sirius, James, and I visited the Evanses a couple of times during hols.”
“Not Peter?”
“His parents wouldn’t let him visit a Muggle home.” Harry wondered about that for a moment, but Lupin broke into his thoughts, clearly wanting to change the subject. “Come on,” he said, jerking his head toward the garden bench. When they were seated, he asked, “Any other questions?”
Harry thought for a moment before speaking slowly. “I guess I want to know exactly what’s going on. What’s the Order doing? What’s Voldemort up to? Is the Ministry helping in the fight against Voldemort? Where are Ron and Hermione? Is Order Headquarters still at …” He broke off, unable to say Sirius’s name.
Lupin searched Harry’s face and seemed to come to a decision. “Voldemort and his followers have been quiet since the incident at the Department of Mysteries. We think the Ministry’s acknowledgement of his existence was unexpected and that the loss of several Death Eaters was a blow to them.”
“Won’t they just escape?” Harry asked in a bitter voice.
“I don’t think the Ministry will allow that again.” Lupin’s face turned grim. “If nothing else, Fudge is afraid – no, scared to death – of the negative public opinion he has received since he acknowledged Voldemort’s return. The Public believes he should have recognized it sooner.” Harry gave a derisive snort. Lupin continued, “The Order is finding it easier to recruit supporters now, of course. But our insiders in the Auror Department are keeping quiet about their membership for now.”
“Why?”
“Makes it easier to try to find Voldemort’s moles.”
Harry digested that information, and then another thought occurred to him. “Not that I’m complaining, but why are you being so open with me?”
“I’ve come to the conclusion that trying to protect you from information isn’t a good idea,” Lupin said hesitantly, obviously choosing his words carefully. He studied a spot on his trousers and said, “The reading of Sirius’s will is next week, and I’ll be named your guardian. W-we talked about it last year, j-just in case …” Lupin paused for a moment, drew in a deep breath, and looked at Harry. “I hope that’s okay with you.”
Harry stared at the shy look the older man was giving him for a moment as he swallowed the hard lump that was forming in his throat. It was ironic that Lupin was looking to him for acceptance when he felt that the man should be blaming him for Sirius’s death. Harry forced a small smile and nodded slowly, not trusting himself to speak.
“You’ll have to stay with the Dursleys, of course, for safety reasons,” Lupin continued. “But in the wizarding world I’ll be considered your legal guardian, and I feel you should be told everything you want to know.”
Harry nodded again and managed to mumble, “Thanks.”
“Do you still have the mirror Sirius gave you?”
Harry started; he had forgotten about the mirror. The weight of his guilty feelings suddenly seemed to crush him down and he leaned over, burying his face in his hands. If he had only used the mirror, Sirius would still be alive! Lupin should hate him, he probably did…
“Harry?” He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He scooted to the far side of the bench like a trapped animal and turned mortified eyes toward Lupin. But Lupin didn’t look accusatory, only concerned. He said, “I just wanted to let you know I have Sirius’s, and we can use them to communicate.”
Harry looked at his knees; he couldn’t stop the tears, and he didn’t want Lupin to see them. “No,” he finally managed, “it’s broken.” He suddenly felt the need to explain. “He gave it to me as we were going back to Hogwarts, so I couldn’t open it then, and I was afraid it was something that would lure him out of hiding, so I didn’t want to open it, and then I forgot about it, and I found it after he … was gone … and I was angry … and I … I broke it. I-I still have the … pieces.” He discreetly wiped his face and looked at Lupin, his eyes begging him to understand, to forgive him.
The man’s eyes widened in comprehension and then settled into an expression Harry couldn’t read. “Harry,” he said firmly, “I don’t blame you. You can’t blame yourself. Sirius’s death was not your fault.”
Harry looked at his knees again and whispered, “Yes, it is. If I had used the mirror …”
“Then Sirius would have found another excuse to come out of hiding, or Voldemort would have found another way to expose him. Don’t blame yourself; blame Voldemort.”
Harry couldn’t speak, but Lupin’s words comforted him slightly. He heard Lupin slide closer to him and felt a hand on his shoulder. Harry relaxed a little at the fatherly gesture of comfort.
“Blame Voldemort,” Lupin repeated in a quiet voice. “Your anger against Voldemort could serve you well in the days to come.”
Harry raised his head slowly and met his gaze. He whispered, “I have to kill him,” but he realized Lupin already knew.
“But you don’t have to do it alone,” said Lupin, releasing his shoulder. “Professor Dumbledore and I have discussed it at length, and we agree that we should empower you instead of just protecting you. We’re working on ways for you to get extra training in magic, starting with Apparation lessons. We don’t plan for you to face him alone, or unprepared.”
It was amazing how much the former professor’s quiet words reassured Harry. He took a few deep breaths and found himself relaxing further. After a few moments, he repeated a question that hadn’t yet been answered. “Where are Ron and Hermione?”
“They’re both at home. I’ve told them both to send letters for you to Order Headquarters. I’ll bring them when I visit you. And you can send letters with me.”
“Are you staying at Si- … er … Order Headquarters?”
“Yes,” Lupin said, looking away, “but I need to find somewhere else to live. The house just isn’t the same since … it’s just too quiet.”
“How often can you come?” Harry asked, thinking how much he would look forward to Lupin’s visits.
“I should be able to come at least once a week, maybe more often. Dumbledore considers it an Order priority for you to learn to Apparate, and he’s trying to get special permission for you to do magic when you’re in the presence of an adult wizard. He wants you to practice hexes and defences later in the summer.”
Harry gave his first genuine smile in weeks. “Thanks, Professor Lupin.”
“Come on,” said Lupin, standing and jerking his head toward the house, “let’s see if we can fix that mirror.”
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The next few weeks were the most pleasant Harry had ever experienced at number four, Privet Drive, which, of course, was not saying much. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia ignored him except to give him orders; Dudley totally ignored him. His chores included cooking the meals, cleaning the loos, weeding and trimming the garden, washing the dishes, and doing the laundry. Most days he worked from dawn until dusk, but he did not mind much since it kept his thoughts away from unpleasant memories. In addition, with his body so utterly exhausted at the end of each day, he usually fell easily into dreamless sleep.
Remus came as often as he could, usually twice per week, but was careful not to fall into a regular pattern in case someone was watching the house. He always brought thick, informative letters from Ron and Hermione, and occasionally, to his surprise, letters from others, including Ginny, Neville, and Bill. Fred and George had even started sending him periodic financial reports about their Diagon Alley store, Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, since he had given them the money to start it.
His guardian had insisted that Harry call him by his first name, and Harry was struggling to comply. It was difficult to change the habit after three years, but he agreed it no longer made sense to address him as “Professor Lupin.”
Even though he talked to Remus through the mirror almost every day, Harry lived for his visits. It was bliss to be able to use magic and not have to pretend he was a Muggle, if only for a few hours. Harry was Apparating between his room and the garden after only two lessons, and during the fourth, he managed to Apparate to Mrs. Figg’s house. He begged Remus to let him Apparate to the Burrow to see Ron, but Dumbledore had left instructions that he not go any farther than Mrs. Figg’s. Harry felt obligated to comply since Dumbledore and Remus were being so forthcoming with information.
They also practiced hexes and defences. Remus drilled Harry on using magic to repel hexes, but also insisted he practice dodging spells without his wand. It seemed wise to be prepared for any situation.
Harry watched the Muggle news every day and devoured copies of the Daily Prophet that Remus brought him, but there continued to be no apparent Death Eater activity. It was tempting to be lulled into complacency.
One day toward the end of July, Remus showed up on the Dursley’s doorstep sporting a brand new shirt and slacks, a neat haircut, and sunglasses. Harry eyed him warily and asked for the password. Remus chuckled as he gave it, and Harry stepped aside to let him in.
“What’s with the new look?”
Remus laughed harder. “Well, you know Sirius divided his estate evenly between you and me …”
“Yeah,” Harry encouraged.
“Well, he specified that I couldn’t keep my half unless I spent one thousand Galleons on myself within two months of his death, and I’m not allowed to buy books.”
Harry joined in Remus’s laughter. “That sounds something Sirius would do! Having fun?”
“Actually, it’s been difficult. I’ve really gotten used to pinching Knuts. I’ve still got about nine hundred Galleons left to spend.”
Harry lost himself in pleasant thoughts of Sirius for a moment, and absentmindedly reached out his right hand to take the stack of letters Remus offered him. He snapped out of his reverie when Remus seized his wrist.
“What’s this?” Remus asked sharply, staring at the faint scars on the back of Harry’s hand.
Harry told Remus about his detentions with Professor Umbridge with his eyes lowered, unable to face the look of horror he knew would be on his guardian’s face.
When he finished, Remus was silent. Harry chanced a look up; Remus was obviously struggling with strong emotions. He finally managed, “Why didn’t you tell anyone about this?”
Harry inclined his head defiantly. “I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.”
“S-satisfaction?” Remus repeated in a loud voice. “You could have gotten her sacked and saved everyone a lot of trouble last year!”
Harry bowed his head and whispered, “I didn’t think of that.”
Remus sighed heavily, and spoke in a normal tone. “Look, Harry, you’ve got to think about how your actions affect the people around you.”
Now Harry began to get angry. “Don’t you think I do? That’s all I think about, Remus! I have to kill Voldemort! Me! Every person who gets hurt in this war, every person who dies, all of it is my fault because I haven’t killed him yet.”
Remus sat down heavily on the couch as if stunned by Harry’s tirade. After a moment, he quietly said, “Harry, don’t ever make the mistake of assuming you are alone in this.”
Harry looked up into his guardian’s eyes and marvelled at the love and concern he saw there. He walked over and joined him on the sofa, holding out his hand for the letters once again. But Remus grabbed his wrist, looked at it thoughtfully, and asked, “Were you the only one?”
“No. Lee Jordan had a similar detention with her, and I’d be surprised if there weren’t others.”
Remus nodded. “Umbridge is still Fudge’s Senior Undersecretary, even though she’s not at Hogwarts any more. I’m wondering if we could get the Daily Prophet to run an article about her abuse of students. I have to admit I would enjoy seeing her forced from office by public opinion.” Harry must have looked worried, because Remus hastened to say, “If we could get Lee to agree to an interview, and find out about other victims, it might be possible to use your story anonymously.”
“Just don’t get that foul Skeeter woman to do it.”
“Actually,” Remus said, tilting his head to the side, “Rita Skeeter’s rudeness and sarcasm might be perfect for this.” Remus released Harry’s arm and pushed his letters from his friends into his hand. “Ron mentioned something about birthday gifts for you, but I’ll have to bring them after your birthday. Sorry – you know the Full Moon is the 30th.”
“Yeah, that’s okay,” Harry said absently, flipping through his letters.
“I hope you’ve been reading your defensive magic book – I want you to try some new blocks today.”
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Harry felt a little depressed on his birthday since Remus couldn’t visit him. He hadn’t even had the usual flurry of owls bearing gifts right after midnight. So unfortunately, his birthday was just another boring day in the Dursley household.
However, after dinner that night, Aunt Petunia surprised them all by producing a cake for pudding. It wasn’t decorated to be a birthday cake, but his aunt made a point of serving him the first and largest piece with a tiny smile, despite Uncle Vernon’s deep scowl.
After dinner, Harry retired to his room for the night and curled up on his bed with one of his defensive magic books. He was surprised by the timid knock on the door. “C-come in?”
Petunia opened the door quickly, peering behind her as if she was afraid of being caught. Harry sat up, hiding the book under the pillow instinctively. She closed the door behind her, crossed to the bed, and thrust a beautifully wrapped package into his hands. He stared at it for a moment and stammered, “Th-thank you.”
“Well, open it!” Petunia said sharply.
Harry opened the package reverently, revealing an old, dusty photo album. He looked at his aunt briefly with questioning eyes, opened the book, and gasped. Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared at the first page for a moment and then flipped quickly through the rest of the book. It was filled with pictures of his aunt and mother as little girls.
He looked at Petunia in disbelief. She clicked her tongue impatiently and said, “I’ve got plenty of other albums – my parents were a nightmare with the camera. You can have that one.” She turned abruptly and left the room, slamming the door behind her.
Harry stared at the door for a moment and then turned his attention to the album. He spent the next two hours carefully examining every picture, not bothering to check the tears running down his face. The girls were young; the pictures must have been taken before either of them was old enough for boarding school. Petunia was consistently taller, implying that she was a few years older than Lily. The album depicted the girls dressed up for Easter, on holidays at the beach, and decorating a huge Christmas tree, as well as doing every day activities such as baking cookies and playing with a cocker spaniel puppy. Harry devoured the image of his auburn-haired mother with his eyes. Even though the Muggle photographs were still, he could feel the love between the two sisters radiating from the pages, as well as the protective feelings of the older for the younger.
When the images began swimming before his eyes, he put the album carefully on his desk, undressed, and got into bed. He stared upward in the darkness, wondering what had happened to the sisters’ loving relationship. He finally fell into a sleep filled with the images of two girls, the shorter with red hair, and the taller with blonde.
The peaceful image of two girls running on the beach, hand in hand, was suddenly engulfed in flame. Harry slowly realized that it was not the beach that was burning, but a building, a very familiar building…
Harry struggled to wake up as he saw the Dark Mark in the sky above the flames and heard a familiar voice in his head singing, “Happy birthday, dear Harry, happy birthday to you…”
He awoke drenched in sweat and shouting. He sprang to his feet, threw the lid of his trunk open, and groped desperately for the mirror. When he found it, he screamed the name of his guardian repeatedly until he saw his face.
“Remus!” he shouted, not noticing the haggard look of the older man, “The Weasleys! The Burrow! It’s on fire! It’s burning! Do something!”