|Harry Potter and Shadows of the Great Dragons
Author: Greater Avenger PM
Post OotP. Ages ago, the great dragon protectors that once safeguarded the world suddenly vanished. Eons later, Harry runs into one of them, and they have a common enemy: Voldemort. But what mysterious past are these dragons hiding? And why return now?Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure/Romance - Harry P. & OC - Chapters: 20 - Words: 103,180 - Reviews: 295 - Favs: 213 - Follows: 224 - Updated: 06-23-07 - Published: 11-27-04 - id: 2148297
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters from the Harry Potter books are the intellectual property of J. K. Rowling. These stories are for pure non-profit personal enjoyment. Only the story plots and original characters are mine.
The Craziest Plan...
Harry James Potter, central figure to the ongoing struggle between the self-proclaimed Dark Lord and the rest of the world, sat on the bed of his small room, deep in thought, and perfectly isolated from any news of the outside world.
Harry had been home for a few weeks now, and during those incredibly boring weeks, he had come to realize certain facts about his life at Privet Drive.
First and foremost, he was being watched. Whether it was the ever so slight clanking sound of an invisible wooden leg on the pavement, or the plethora amount of clumsy kids with funny hair color that seemed to need to pass by his house every so often, he knew beyond a doubt that he was being watched.
The second thing he came to realize was that his aunt and uncle seemed to be under some directive to let him out as little as possible. Had this been any other summer, Harry would have found this fairly consistent with his relatives' normal behavior. However, this summer, they were trying to imprison him with much more subtle and gentle methods, even going to the trouble of buying him a computer to keep him busy (well, technically, they bought a new computer for Dudley, and forced his cousin to give up the old one to Harry). If Harry didn't know any better, he'd say they have received "instructions" from the Order to keep him where the Order can protect him the easiest.
Thirdly and most frustrating of all, Harry had realized that the Order was going through his mail, filtering away any news or information that might upset him. He came to that realization after his subscription to the Daily Prophet was mysteriously ruined to the point of illegibility by what seemed like rain and mud, during a week of prolonged dry weather.
That particular edition of the Prophet was reporting, as Harry had learned later, on the unexpected takeover of Azkaban prison by the Death Eaters. They had not simply broken out their comrades from the prison. Oh no. They had actually taken over the ancient and dilapidated castle and fortified it, strengthening the keep into an impregnable bastion of evil. On hindsight, why nobody saw that one coming was beyond Harry. After all, Azkaban was located on a hard to reach island, and the ancient fort-turned-prison already house an incredible number of criminals and dark creatures. It would have been as easy as a flicker of the wand to transform a humid and uncomfortable cell into a cozy and warm room. Though whether Voldemort would bother providing or even allow such comfort for his minions was unknown to Harry.
As Harry sat on his bed contemplating all of this, he became more and more frustrated with the entire situation. The guilt he had felt at Sirius' death had long been replaced by the familiar and resentful feeling of being kept in the dark. The more he thought about it, the more Harry realized that most of the fault for Sirius' death lies with Dumbledore and his so called sense of righteousness. After all, had it not been Dumbledore who kept the prophecy from him? Had it not been Dumbledore who assigned Snape to teach him Occlumency, knowing how Harry despised the vile teacher? And had it not been Dumbledore who saw it fit to not inform Harry about Voldemort's intentions about the prophecy? In fact, wasn't it Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard alive (to some, but no longer to Harry), who, through his failure to control his own school, allowed Harry to be in the greatest danger he'd ever been? Would Sirius be still alive had Dumbledore been more forthcoming with information and more assertive with his authority? No matter how calmly and logically Harry thought about all those questions, he always came back with the same answer for all of them. Yes.
Initially, Harry didn't like the thought of blaming Dumbledore for what he perceived as his own stupidity, thinking that he must still be stricken with grief and looking to place the blame on someone else. But Harry has had much more time to dwell on the matter during the few weeks he's been back, and he came to the uncomfortable conclusion that he, Harry, acted in the best possible way he could have under the circumstances, and that besides Voldemort, the second biggest reason for Sirius' death was Dumbledore. After all, had the vision of Sirius getting tortured been real, could Harry have lived with himself if he didn't go rescue his beloved godfather? And did Harry not try the best he could to block the visions, under the incredibly unhelpful tutelage of Snape, assigned to him by Dumbledore? Harry did not even blame Snape all that much, since the potions professor had been sincere and extremely forthcoming about his apathy for Harry since day one. What he could not get over was how Dumbledore, despite all his implicit and more vocal expressions of his desire to protect Harry, decided to consciously put Harry with a professor who hated him, and kept vital information from Harry that could have saved him much danger.
That thought made Harry feel extremely uneasy. After all, up until last year, he had looked upon Dumbledore as a role model and, to some degree, as a father figure. But the reality of things can no longer be denied. He, Harry Potter, has no control over his own life. All that he knows, all that he does was at the discretion of Albus Dumbledore. And he, Harry Potter, was fed up with it. If he was prophesized to defeat the Dark Lord, then he would do it in his own terms, and not as a pawn in some manipulative old man's deadly game of chess.
Tomorrow, Harry will start to live his own life. And the Order and the Dark Lord be damned!
Harry James Potter awoke the next day feeling exceptionally happy with himself. Today was the day he will put into action his plan to break free from these people who have essentially locked him up for his so called "protection". What have they actually protected me against? Thought Harry bitterly, memories of the dementors from the previous year flashing in his mind.
He had the perfect plan all cooked up. In order for him to escape from the watchful eyes of Dumbledore and the deadly eyes of Voldemort, he will have to make it so they won't bother looking anymore.
Unfortunately, in order to put his inane plan into action, he will have to obtain an extremely hard to come by creature, a mimic. Harry has only a vague idea of where he can possibly procure such a rare and dangerous creature, and the trip to the place would certainly be dangerous, especially for the famed Boy-Who-Lived. But at this point, Harry was beyond caring.
Knowing, from his own observations about clunking noises on the pavement, that today was one of the days that someone else besides Mad-Eye Moody kept watch on him, Harry simply slipped on his invisibility cloak and headed out. Walking several streets away from his house, and still wondering how the heck did he manage to slip out so easily with all the wards that were supposed to be protecting him, Harry stuck his wand out and hailed the Knight Bus. Flipping his invisibility cloak over so as to disguise himself under a normal looking cloak, Harry hurriedly got on the bus and paid Stan his fare, and responded in as low and raspy as a voice that he can make that he wanted to go to the Leaky Cauldron.
Half an hour and five extra bruises later, Harry gingerly got off the bus, silently cursing the idiots that created the accursed vehicle. Deciding wisely that he'd attract less attention invisible than as a cloaked and mysterious figure, Harry once again flipped his cloak (right side out). He waited a few minutes for someone to come out of the leaky Cauldron so that he can sneak in unnoticed, and headed straight for the magical brick wall and the alley beyond it.
Contrary to all his other visits here, Harry didn't even bother looking around at all the new and flashy merchandise on display in the stores. Rather, he focused his attention on avoiding bumping into people and headed in a beeline toward Gringotts. Amazingly (or perhaps and indication of the darker times), Diagon Alley was fairly deserted, and Harry made his way in front of Gringotts without any hassle.
Once again, displaying a phenomenal amount of clairvoyance, Harry decided that he didn't want to find out what would happen to people who try to sneak into a goblin guarded bank under an invisibility cloak, and thus flipped his own over to act as a normal cloak once more. As he entered the cavernous halls of the building, he felt several curious pairs of goblin eyes on him, but no one came to stop him. After all, it wasn't that unusual to see hooded characters in a building that kept, among other things, strange items of all sorts.
As Harry approached one of the free tellers (who was watching him with a look that Harry swore could burn through solid steel), he realized that he'd made a catastrophic mistake in this well planned trip: he forgot to bring his Gringotts' vault key! Gulping nervously, Harry still approached the teller with all the confidence he could muster. Maybe they can let me in without my key this time? Harry thought naively in a fit of panic. I am, after all, Harry Potter. They would recognize me, right?
Deciding honesty will probably get him the farthest, or at least, not get him in trouble, Harry quickly explained his plight to the teller, taking care to split his cloak just enough to reveal his famous scar. The goblin, clearly not impressed, explained in an almost boring tone that the only way to get into Mr. Potter's, or anyone's vault, was to have a valid key or, if the owner of the vault had set it up, a blood pass.
'A blood pass is essentially a test of your lineage using a drop of your blood', explained the goblin calmly in response to Harry's obvious question. 'They are usually used for family vaults, as it would be easier and more secure than handing out many keys.'
Unsure if his parents actually bothered to set up this feature, Harry artlessly asked whether there is a method to find out.
'Yes yes', said the goblin, definitively bored now. 'Follow me, we have a test set up to see which vault your blood can access.' Clearly, this wasn't the first time someone asked that question.
Harry covered his face as best as he could and followed the goblin to a side chamber, where a basin, filled with a clear liquid, was built in the middle of the room.
'Drip some of your blood in the basin, if you please. There is a pack of needles on the side, should you need one.' Commanded the goblin in a tone that clearly indicated that Harry'd better do it.
Harry picked up one of the needles and pricked his own finger. He then squeezed the said finger and let a few drops of his blood drip into the pool. The blood did not get diluted by the clear liquid, as Harry, and, judging from the soft gasp next to him, the goblin had expected. Instead, it turned more and more of the clear liquid into a bloody color, and slowly but surely, coalesced into a number.
'8!', exclaimed Harry puzzled. That is not the number of his vault.
'8!' exclaimed the goblin. . That is not the result he had expected.
Harry turned to him, giving him a questioning look. The goblin proceeded to explain: 'well, to be honest, sir, I thought you were some kind of fraud pretending to be Harry Potter. We get quite a few of those these days, so I didn't think this test would actually result in anything. But who ever you are, you have access to one of the oldest vaults in our establishment. It would be my honor to bring you to it, sir.'
Harry, not too big on people fawning over him because of his fame, was not keen at all on having this goblin accompanying him to this mysterious vault, though he doesn't seem to have many options. He was about to acquiesce when, out of the corner of his eye, he recognized a goblin from his very first visit here, walking by in the hall.
'Hey, Griphook!' Harry yelled, remembering clearly the name of the very first magical being he came into contact with. The said goblin looked at him, apparently amazed at a non-goblin calling out his name, and quickly made his way toward him.
'Yes?' asked Griphook, unsure of what's going on.
Turning to the goblin that brought him in, Harry commandingly said: 'I wish to have Griphook accompany me to the vault, if that's alright with you.'
The said goblin had a disappointed look on his face, but tacitly nodded his head. 'Of course.' Turning to Griphook, he continued: 'His vault should be number eight.' And with that, the goblin left.
A bit confused on what just happened, Griphook nevertheless said in a very professional tone: 'Come with me then, mister…?'
'Potter, Harry Potter.' Harry replied. 'And I would appreciate it if you kept my visit here quiet.'
Griphook simply nodded and walked at an amazingly fast pace toward the wheel-carts, clearly almost excited at the prospect of visiting an old vault.
'Say, Griphook, I don't know if you remember me or my vault number, but I am pretty sure it's not number eight', said Harry, catching up to the goblin. 'So, eh… are you sure there wasn't a mistake?'
'The basin is never wrong', replied the goblin without looking at Harry. 'Vault eight must be your ancestral vault. The other vault you're referring to might only be for fast deposits and withdraws.'
'Ah, I see.' Said Harry, not seeing too much at all. His confusion must have slipped into his tone, for Griphook, without any prompting, proceeded to give a bit more explanation: 'Vault eight, most likely your ancestral vault, was keyed to your blood. The basin has a record of all vaults using blood pass, and, according to its records, recognized you as the rightful owner of only one vault, number eight. This other vault you speak of is not in the basin's records, and most likely was just recently opened for convenient transactions, and most certainly is not opened with a blood pass.'
'Ah, I see.' Repeated Harry as they stepped into one of the chariot carts, less confused this time.
Forty minutes and five dragons later, Harry and Griphook finally stopped in front of a very dusty and old looking vault with the number 'VIII' clearly etched on the door. Beyond that, the vault looked fairly normal. Judging by the two sets of foot imprints on the dusted floor, Harry could tell that only a man and a woman had been here sometime in the past twenty years.
Harry stepped out of the cart and needed a few moments to stabilize himself from the wild cart ride. Griphook looked as unperturbed as ever. 'How do you feed the dragons all the way down here?' asked Harry, trying to make small conversation while waiting for his vision to stop turning.
'By cart', was all Griphook gave in way of response. Clearly, Griphook was not mesmerized by the name of Harry Potter, though Harry can tell that he wasn't being impolite either.
'Well, let's open this thing!' said Harry, after he was sure that the two figures of Griphook had merged back into one.
'Please put your hand on the door. There will be a small sting while the door takes your blood, don't withdraw your hand.' Instructed Griphook.
Harry did as he was told, and after being stung, quite deeply, the door finally opened onto a room almost as big as the great hall of Hogwarts. Besides the piles of gold and jewels that formed into mountains reaching the high ceiling in some places, Harry could see an array of wands, swords, bows, armors, cloaks, and shields neatly ranged along the wall. Portraits of people more or less resembling Harry were hung higher up on the wall, and golden and silver chests were lined up in a few neat rows amid all the mountains of gold. After a few minutes during which both Harry and Griphook stood agape at the titanic treasure in front of them, Harry slowly stepped into the vault and gathered some galleons from the nearest pile of gold into his bag.
'Well, I'm all done here. Let's go.' Said Harry, stepping out of the vault.
'What? That's it? You're not going look at anything? There is a whole museum in there!' exclaimed Griphook, almost yelling, his professional composure obviously lost.
'Eh… yeah, I guess I could. But, I don't have much time today.' Said Harry, a bit taken aback by the goblin's sudden lack of composure.
Turning back, Harry reverently walked toward the stash of weapons, mostly out of curiosity. He recognized the crests of some of the more noble alliances in history on some of the shields, and most of the swords were highly polished, and looked quite deadly, though apparently not magical. However, what drew Harry's attention was a seemingly broken sword, old and rusty. Upon closer examination, Harry saw that the sword was not broken. The handle was intact, while the other end was hollow and appeared to be a cavity where the blade part of a sword can be inserted. Looking around, Harry did not see any blades by itself, and simply shrugged and moved on to the wands. There were all sizes of wands, with a name displayed underneath each, obviously the wand's wielder's. Remembering all the times he got disarmed, and also of his plan for later today, Harry decided to take one of the smaller, easily concealable wands, knowing it will come in use very soon.
He then glanced at the cloaks, which were obviously all magical. Examining the descriptions underneath each, Harry decided to take one that would make his ultimate task of the day a bit easier to achieve, the Gray Cloak of Shadows. The cloak, made of a non-threatening gray material, was charmed to always conceal the upper part of the wearer's face in the shadows of its hood, no matter how much light were shone on the wearer from whatever angle. It also allowed the wearer to blend into the shadows more easily, though nowhere near as effective or versatile as an invisibility cloak.
With that done, Harry glanced at the portraits a bit more closely, but could not find one of his parents. He took a mental note to commission one as soon as possible.
Finally, Harry headed out of the vault once again, and this time, Griphook did not object. They silently made their way back to the surface. Harry thought about all that he'd seen in this new vault, and took another mental note to ask Remus Lupin about the Potter family history the first chance he would get.
'Say Griphook', started Harry on their cart trip back. 'I need to leave some important documents concerning my money, and also get some muggle currency once we get back. Could you take care of all that with me? I'd rather keep the number of people who knew I was here to a minimum.'
Griphook simply nodded, still concentrating on the tracks their were traveling at the moment.
It was almost noon when Harry finally made his way into his ultimate objective of the day. With gray cloak over his head, Harry Potter, second most brilliant symbol of light next to Albus Dumbledore, warily made his way down the shady and perilous corridor known as Knocturn Alley.
Glancing around furtively, Harry was able to find what he wanted after only a few minutes of search. Gathering his Gryffindor courage about him, he nervously stepped into the store with the sign "Zabani's Bestiary" hung crookedly above its entrance.
'Ah! Welcome, young master!' a rather joyous voice greeted him. 'What might I do for you today?'
Harry looked at the man closely. Besides the fact that he resembled one of the Slytherins in Harry's own year, the man was exibiting a cheerfulness that should be illegal in this part of the town.
Nevertheless, he was Harry's best bet for what he wanted, so he simply got to the point: 'I need a mimic. Would you happen to have one?'
The man was obviously a bit taken aback by this strange request. But managed to recover quickly: 'Ah. Those do not come at a cheap price, my young friend. And I only take cash. Show me that you ha…'
'Do you have one here and now?' Harry cut him off, deciding to play the tough and rich customer.
'Why you are in luck. I just received one yesterday.' Came the reply, cheerful as ever.
'How much?' Harry asked, without bothering to look the man in the eye.
'500 galleons, cash.' Said the man, emphasizing the last word quite a lot.
Harry deftly flipped open his bag, showing the glowing gold coins he has inside. Quite frankly, Harry was getting tired of carrying that much gold around, and wondered briefly how he managed to toss a bag of 1000 galleons to Fred and George at the end of his fourth year.
'This way' said the man, cutting into Harry's musings.
They went into the back of the shop, where a multitude of creatures were housed (Harry even saw what looked like a dragon egg stashed carefully in a corner). Finally, they came to a cage with a small kitten in it, though the cage looked big enough to contain a gorilla. Harry gave the man a questioning look.
'Ah, you want to verify the merchandise, eh? Well, I don't blame you.' The man said, still fairly cheerful, and obviously misinterpreting Harry's look.
The man then proceeded to look the kitten straight in the eyes and reached out a hand for the kitten to touch. As soon as the contact was made, the kitten started to change shape, rapidly growing size. In a flash, an exact duplicate of the storeowner was standing in the cage, holding the real owner's hand.
The owner then took a familiar looking kitten out of a small cage, obviously the original, and repeated the morphing process. Once the mimic returned to the size of a manageable cat again, the man turned to Harry and smiled.
'As you can see, healthy and functional. Good enough for ya?' said the man, ever cheerful.
'Yes, this will be satisfactory.' Harry replied, keeping the amazement out of his voice. Though he knew exactly what a mimic was supposed to do, seeing it in action was quite another thing.
'Of course, you know that it cannot simulate the mental capabilities nor the magical abilities of the subject, right? No matter what you make it mimic, it's not gonna get smarter than your average house pet.' Said the man. 'But I bet you can still get a rise out of it. They mimic submissive girls pretty well.' Concluded the man with a wink.
Harry blinked a few times before realizing what the man was implying. Of course! That's what most mimics are usually used for, and hence their illegality. Harry was dumbstruck. For an incredibly brief moment, he found himself imagining how to make the mimic look like… Harry caught himself just in time, and mentally shook the thought out of his head. Trying to keep all emotions out of his voice, he tossed his bag of galleons to the man and simply said: 'I will take it. Count out what you need. I won't be needing a cage.'
After a lengthy count of the coins, Harry left the store, a small, blindfolded kitten held securely in this arms, wrapped loosely inside his invisibility cloak.
Now comes the craziest part of his so far brilliant plan.
Walking back into Diagon Alley, Harry carefully took the gray cloak off, and strode into the sunlight. Several gasps and a few cries of 'It's Harry Potter' were heard amidst the thin crowd. Hoping he was not making a giant mistake, Harry slowly walked back into the Leaky Cauldron, and onto the muggle streets beyond.
Sure enough, soon, the footsteps of someone following him could be heard. Hoping the person trailing him was from the correct faction, Harry carelessly made a sharp turn, making it look like he was taking shortcut through one of the darker passages behind a few buildings. Sure enough, the footsteps followed, and not at all silent. Harry quickly spun around, and was shocked to see the face of Bellatrix Lestrange sneering back at him. This new turn of events was definitively not in Harry's plans. Here was the woman who killed his godfather. Should he not stay and fight? No. Later. A more logical part of his brain told him.
Harry's initial shock was evident on his face, and gave a genuine reaction that Bellatrix didn't think to suspect. She decided to taunt the little boy a bit, and ranted on and on about Harry's incompetence. Harry replied with a few caustic remarks of his own. Undaunted, the death eater decided to use choice words about Harry's love life and the size of parts of Harry's anatomy. Lestrange became so caught up in her rant that she realized that Harry was running away from her a few seconds after the fact. In his flight, Harry knocked over a few garbage bins to slow Lestrange's progress, for he needed some time if he were to pull his plan off.
Soon, he ran pass by a dead end alley, with a giant garbage bin near the end, obviously used by the inhabitants of the nearby buildings as target for garbage bombing. Harry quickly unfolded the kitten out of his invisibility cloak and tore the blindfold off the cat. Soon two harry's were staring at each other. After guiding the fake Harry to a hidden place behind the garbage bin, Harry quickly covered himself with his invisibility cloak and stood beside his double, who was making strange noises. Sighing heavily, Harry took out his wand and cast a silencing charm on the mimic. Not a moment too soon, as Bellatrix just turned into the dead end.
'Aha. Where will you run now, little potty?' Bellatrix roared, spotting the fake Harry's not so well hidden form. The real Harry replied with a few sarcastic remarks, and shot a few jinxes toward the loathed woman for good measure. Bellatrix, now furious from Harry's taunting, started to throw killing curses here and there. Harry replied with the blasting curse. Bellatrix then used a banishing charm on the giant garbage container the harry's were hiding behind, and knocked both to the ground. Though the real Harry quickly scrambled to his feet and released the fake Harry from the silencing charm, and threw his own wand in the general direction of the other Harry's hand. The lifting of the silencing charm had the desired effect, as the fake Harry was mourning in pain. Bellatrix slowly walked up to the prone form of Harry Potter, a smirk on her face.
'Well, my master will be pleased.' Said Lestrange, triumphant. 'Let's make a portkey, shall we?'
By this point, Harry had already snuck back to the entrance into the dead end alley, and in as low and gruff a voice as he could manage, yelled: 'Stupefy' using his newly acquired small wand, not really trying to miss at all. The curse was dead on, but Lestrange, living up to her reputation, had a shield already up. Harry continued to fire a flurry of hexes at Lestrange from his invisibility cloak, taking care to change the tone of his voice here and there, and shifting his position all the time.
Bellatrix, thinking she was under attack from the Order of the Phoenix, took cover behind the very garbage bin Harry used as a shield, and spat out loud: 'Well, if I can't bring the boy in, I guess I will just kill him!' Pointing her wand at the prone form of Harry Potter, who at this instant, was staring back at her with big, wide eyes, and bellowed: 'Avada Kedavra!' She then conjured a long dagger and proceeded to plunge it right through Harry's heart, though the body was already lifeless. Checking Harry for a pulse and finding none, Bellatrix disapparated with a small 'pop'.
Harry was about to walk over and check on his dead double when two new sets of footsteps came rushing by. Turning around under his invisibility cloak, Harry saw that it was none other than Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. They hurriedly kneeled besides the dead form of Harry, and finding no pulse, dejectedly sunk to the ground. Shocked silence followed for a while.
'Tonks, you should rush back to Headquarters, and let them know what happened…' started Remus, before losing his voice in obvious pain and sorrow.
Tonks silently nodded and apparated away.
Harry, no longer being able to take in the sight of the last of his parents' friends in such obvious pain over something he did, slowly undid his invisibility cloak. Remus looked up, and stared at him, an expression of total shock on his face.
'Let me explain', croaked Harry.
'Yes. Explain why I shouldn't check myself into a mental asylum… please.' Remus replied in a monotone.
So Harry proceeded to quickly explain about how he was fed up with people controlling his life and how he came up with the perfect plan to escape. Slowly, but surely, Remus saw the advantages of this plan, though his more responsible side still wish to drag Harry back to headquarters and lock him in a safe for good measure. At that thought, Remus chuckled to himself.
'And I also read that upon their death, mimics would remain in whatever shape they were in at the time, so I th… Hey, why's so funny?' Asked Harry, a bit miffed.
'Ah nothing. It's just, right now, part of me wants to drag you back to headquarters and lock you in a safe.' Said Lupin with humor. 'But I then realized that's exactly what you were trying to escape from.' Lupin chuckled a bit more, and then turned serious.
'Harry, I may be crazy, or maybe it's just the 'Sirius'ness in me (another chuckle), but I think I will go along with your plan', Lupin started. Then, suddenly turning serious, Remus continued: 'So long as you can bare the thought of hurting all those people that cares about you.'
'Well, I thought about that too, actually.' Harry said, now back underneath his invisibility cloak for good measure. 'Can you tell Ron and Hermione about me being still alive and all? But only after they have displayed their initial shock in front of other people… I think I need that initial expression to be genuine, or Dumbledore might know something is up.'
'Hmm… you do realize, that you are using people's emotions to your own ends, don't you, Harry?' Remus said softly.
'Yes… but there is no other way.' Said Harry sadly. 'And don't preach to me about all that using people stuff. You and I both know that the supposed all high and noble Dumbledore is using people left and right even as we speak!'
'I know Harry. But sometimes, things just have to be this way.' murmured Lupin. 'Well, be safe Harry. And promise me you will write me every week to let me know you're ok. Otherwise, I'm going straight to Dumbledore.'
'You don't need to threaten me, Remus. I would have written anyway.' Replied Harry softly. 'Take care of you too!'
And with that, Harry Potter left the alley where his own dead corpse laid, a dagger through its heart.