A/N: Okay, here's my crack at a HONKS fanfic! This story does have Super!Smart!Independent!Happy!Harry, so if you don't like, don't flame, and don't read it. For those that like these kinds of stories, enjoy! Updates will likely be fortnightly, although in some cases it may be longer...schoolwork is more important than fanfiction at this time in my life. R&R if you like it; it's the only reward we get for this!
Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever owned any part of Harry Potter...bugger. Also I'm not making any cash of this, I simply wrote it for the enjoyment of doing so - praise be to J K Rowling!
Harry Potter lay on his bed, completely still. There were untouched plates of food by the door; and the oldest of them were beginning to rot, filling the dismally small room with a rank stench that had Aunt Petunia running as soon as she had shoved yet another plate through the small gap in the door. Harry didn't even hear the door open, nor did he pay any attention to the sounds of retching when the black-haired woman caught the smell of his abode full in the face. His eyes didn't even register the new bowl of food that had been pushed through into the room, and if they had, he honestly would not have cared. The piece of ceiling above him had been completely blank when he had returned from his ordeals at the Ministry, but now had a face carved into it; a face which stared back at Harry with an expression the young-man could only construe as hate and disappointment.
Harry had gotten off the Hogwarts Express in a daze, only just managing to comprehend the words that Mad-Eye Moody had been snarling at his 'caregivers', before driving home in complete and utter silence with Vernon glancing in the rear-view mirror; his face becoming redder and redder as the ride drew on. When they had arrived back at Privet Drive, Harry had gotten out of the car, grabbed his bags, followed his 'family' inside and then retreated to his room – if it could even be called that. He had immediately collapsed onto his bed, only turning to face the ceiling before falling still and staring at the roof, his magic eventually carving the image that had been in his mind since the moment it had happened into the wood above him.
It was in this exact position Harry Potter lay five days later, his eyes still focused on his dead godfather, never having closed them for more than ten seconds since arriving back at the Dursley's. For the first time in several days however, something outside of his horrific and haunting memories caught his attention.
"What the hell are you doing here you FREAK!"
It was when Harry heard the retort from the person, and the reaction he knew such a retort would bring, that the young wizard snapped. "Piss off you stupid, abusive bastard of a muggle; I'm here to see Harry!" In a fraction of a second Harry was off his bed, in another he had his hand on the door, and in the next he had wrenched it open, his hand automatically coming up. His eyes seemed to be on fire, but the glow that was there wasn't the happy glow that a young teen should have been in possession of – it was positively murderous. He immediately took in the situation. Standing with her foot on the top stair was an auror who Harry immediately identified by her bright pink hair, and behind her was Vernon; his face contorted into a look of complete and utter rage, and a knife held in his hand – a knife that was swinging quickly down towards the woman's exposed back.
A yellow flash shot from Harry's hand and hit Vernon's arm, causing a loud crunch to echo out in the quiet hallway. It was a moment later that the screaming began. Tonks had seen Harry burst from his room, a positively deadly look on his face, and had stood, shocked, as the curse had rocketed past her shoulder. When she turned around and saw the mangled arm, and the knife, her eyes had widened as she realized just how close she had been to being killed.
She looked up at Harry and gasped at his gaunt, dead appearance. The clothes he was wearing seemed to hang from his body, and were dark with grime and sweat; dark bags were beneath his eyes; and his face showed the marks of tears that had long since passed. The one thing that horrified her the most however, was the look in his eyes. Whereas the last time she had seen him he had smiled at her, and his eyes had been filled with mirth when she had tripped over her coat, his green orbs now held only a world of pain, sorrow, and hate. She thought she saw a flicker of what he used to be when his eyes met hers, but it was gone almost as quickly when he looked to his uncle, who had managed to drag himself onto the landing and was clutching at his ruined arm in agony while screaming bloody murder at the raven-haired boy in front of him.
Harry Potter paid his uncle no heed whatsoever, and nodded to Tonks before turning back into his room and holding the door open so that the pink-haired auror could follow. She did, but immediately blanched when she saw the state, and smelt the stench in the room where she knew Harry lived – if living was an action that could even be performed in such a place. Harry closed the door quietly behind her and then walked over to the bed before collapsing onto it; his sudden exertion finally taking its toll on his body. From the bed, he peered over at Tonks and gave the smallest of smiles when he saw her strangely comforting hair. He frowned however, when he looked around the room; not even smelling the stench because he had been living in it for days. "I'm sorry about the mess Tonks."
The metamorph jumped at the hoarse voice, and stared at him lying on the bed. "You're sorry about the mess?" He nodded as if it was the simplest thing in the world, and Tonks felt her heart almost break at the complete acceptance of his horrible condition. She strode over to him, but froze and gasped when she saw the carving in the roof. Harry followed her eyes and felt a surge of self-hate flow through him. The face of Sirius had haunted him every moment since the man had died; his eyes filled with hate when he had turned to his godson the fraction of a second before he had hit the veil, and his eyes had turned blank. It was this last look, this last expression from his godfather that had had Harry in the state he was in currently. Tonks looked down at the young man in the bed in horror; the reason for his condition becoming blatantly clear when she saw the flash of loathing in his eyes as he looked at his godfather above him. "Harry…"
Slowly his eyes refocused, and the worried face of Nymphadora Tonks came into his vision, causing yet another small smile to grace his lips. The croaking voice that came from his mouth however, had the young witch nearly in tears. "I'm sorry I killed Sirius."
The one thing that the depressed young wizard had not been expecting was the pink-haired auror to collapse onto him in tears, clutching at his shirt as if afraid that she would lose him any second. In all honesty, Harry had expected that she would want to be as far away from him when she heard what he said, but it was her words that brought tears to his eyes as she sobbed unabated into his chest. "Y-you didn't, y-you wouldn't ever k-kill Si-si-him Harry; h-he loved you l-like a son!" Harry had absolutely no idea what to say, or do in the current situation, so he simply lay there – not moving a muscle. Eventually Tonks's crying came to an end, and she raised her head from his shirt – wondering why she wasn't repulsed in the least by the dirty clothes. She looked right into his emerald eyes, and frowned when she saw the complete confusion in his dark orbs. "Sirius's will Harry, Dumbledore told us that you didn't want to be there…"
Harry had been silent for five entire days; he hadn't moved once in that entire time, but that most certainly didn't mean that he hadn't been thinking. His eyes narrowed, and he peered down at Tonks – squeezing her shoulder to assure her that the anger wasn't directed at her. "I haven't heard from Dumbledore since the Ministry."
Her frown deepened, and Harry finally realized just what kind of state he was in, causing him to blush in shame and move her off him. She looked up to see what he was doing, and only just caught sight of his ashamed expression as he turned his back to her and rummaged around in his drawer. She was about to ask just what he was doing when she saw the bottle of shampoo and body wash that he produced before hurrying over to the door – a sheepish grin on his face which made her heart leap. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
As soon as he had closed the door to his room, his expression turned calculating, and it remained that way as he walked over into the bathroom – happily noting the sound of an ambulance outside, and the lack of a screaming uncle at the top of the stairs. He turned on the water and quickly diverged himself of his clothes before stepping under the scalding hot torrent; his eyes closed as he thought about the events of the past few minutes, and how they related to his musings over the past five days, and years.
Firstly, his uncle was far more of a fuckwit than he had previously anticipated – not that he hadn't accounted for the possibility but still...there had to be a limit to just how astoundingly stupid someone could be. Secondly, he had been pulled completely out of his depression by one sentence from a woman whose voice he had recognized as Nymphadora Tonks, and lastly, she had given him the last piece of information he needed in regards a major object of his musings. He opened his eyes and blanched when he saw the dirty water disappearing into the drain, even after standing under the water for several minutes. He thoroughly washed himself, and sighed happily when he stepped out of the shower; he felt much, much better than he had when he had entered it.
After a moment's contemplation, he left his filthy clothes on the floor of the bathroom and walked back to his room with the towel wrapped around his waist. He knocked on the door. "It's just me." Without waiting for an answer, he opened the door and stepped into the room – taking a surprised step back when he saw the momentous improvement of the space inside.
The rotting food had been banished; the bed on which he had been lying had been cleaned, expanded, and redressed with dark red sheets; the floor had been covered in plush carpet; and the room itself had expanded to almost twice the size. Harry looked around in astonishment, his eyes finally coming to rest on the now-black-haired woman that was sitting on a brand new couch. She smiled warmly at him, and he felt himself smiling back; a surge of happiness flowing through him. She raised her wand and flicked the door closed before he felt a surge of magic signalling that it had been locked. "Wotcher Harry!"
For the first time in several days, Harry laughed. It was as if a dam had broken, and everything that he had been holding back flooded from him all at once. He clutched at his sides as the laughter took hold, and paid no heed to the tears rolling down his cheeks. Tonks would have been worried had she not seen the dancing mirth in Harry's eyes, and she was nearly in tears herself – but due to relief that the young man in front of her wasn't completely lost.
He collapsed to his knees after about a minute, and was soon gasping for breath while trying to calm himself. Tonks noted his dilemma, and cast a small spell that was used to counter the cheering charm, hoping against all hope that it wouldn't return him to his previous state. Harry looked up as he felt the calm envelop his mind, and nodded thankfully at Tonks when he saw her wand aimed at his head. He picked himself off the floor, albeit painfully because of his unused muscles having been given quite the workout, and hobbled over to his dresser where he pulled out a baggy pair of hand-me-down boxers. As he was about to pick out a shirt he felt a hand on his shoulder, and tensed for a moment before relaxing when his body realized that it could only be one person. He turned around to face the female auror, and felt his cheeks flush when he saw her warm smile. He looked down at her hands, and peered cautiously into the bag that she was offering him. His eyes widened when he saw the brand new clothes inside, and his emerald orbs locked with her violet ones. There was a moment of awkward silence before Harry took the bag and smiled at her. "Thanks Tonks."
She felt her heart skip a beat at the gentle tone he had used; a far sight from the croak she had heard before, and turned away quickly to hide her slight blush. "No problem Harry, I'll just look out the window while you change."
He smiled at her back and nodded, before taking a few steps back, placing the new clothes on his bedside table, and beginning to get dressed into the hand-me-down boxers and t-shirt. "I like what you've done with the place."
She smiled warmly, but frowned when she remembered the state of the room when she had arrived. "I thought you might." She hesitated before speaking again, and she heard Harry sigh from behind her. "How did you live?"
His silence made her think that perhaps she had asked too much, and she was about to apologise when his voice came from behind him, slightly muffled as he pulled the shirt over his head. "What else was I supposed to do? Go and demand that Dumbles let me leave? I highly doubt that such an act would get me anything more than a quick obliviate and a compulsion charm to return."
"Harry!" She spun around angrily, but blanched when she saw the angry look on his features – not that the dark bags under his eyes helped with the overall effect.
When he noticed her gaze his expression immediately changed, and softened. He walked over to his school trunk that was next to his bed and pulled out a small, leather book before throwing it to the witch. He showed no outward surprise at her quickly and accurately snatching the book from mid-air, but filed the observation away for later use. He watched her eyes widen when she opened the book, and then snap to his face when she realized that nearly the every page had been used. It was no wonder really; the title "Dumbledore; why he's a manipulative old bastard" on the first page was an eye-opener right off the bat, let alone the facts that were written in the pages that followed.
Harry took the one step to his bed, and was asleep even before his head hit the pillow. Tonks was too busy to notice, but when she finally finished reading thirty minutes later, she stood up, spun around, and yelled, "I am going to bloody kill that manip-" before cutting herself abruptly short when she saw Harry lying on his bed, completely oblivious to everything around him. She placed the book on the newly-conjured desk and walked quietly over to the bed, looking down at the sleeping wizard who had a happy, contented smile on his face.
She felt her cheeks flush at the smile, and caught herself before her hand brushed lightly over his cheek. She mentally berated herself, what the hell are you doing Nymphadora? He's sleeping, and you're twenty three for God's sake! She shook herself and stood up, before collapsing into a comfortable chair that she conjured for herself – only one thought running through her confused, angry, and stunned mind: what the bloody hell is going on?