Nose to the Wind // tomarry

Chapter 2: Bring Out All the Good Inside Me

One nice thing about being able to become invisible at the drop of a hat, Harry quickly discovered, was that he could sneak out after he and Will had been put to bed and spy on their parents, honorary uncles, and any of their friends that dropped by in the evening to talk about the state of things in the world. Given, he had to cast some scent- and sound-blocking charms if Remus was in, but that was equally simple, now he knew he could.

As he'd expected, without Harry playing the part of boy wonder, Voldemort was largely winning. There were still pockets of resistance left, like the Order of the Phoenix, but their numbers were dwindling.

"I'm afraid I'll lead them to Andy and Dora," Ted Tonks admitted quietly. "I keep thinking it would be better if I didn't fight, but then I remember what they'll do to me if they have their way."

"Will and Dora, they'd probably be fine," Sirius added, tone dark, "but what about Harry? He's a squib. Voldemort will see him dead, same as you and Lily." He glanced towards Lily, expression apologetic.

"He's a were-born," Remus offered, head ducked down to watch where his fingers were folded together on the table in front of him. "A pack will take him in, will protect him; Voldemort's got too many allies among the werewolves to turn against them just because most of them are squibs or muggles."

"Still," Jacob Robins said, twisting his wedding band around his finger, "we can either fight and risk our lives and the lives of our families, or we can give in and hold still for the Killing Curse, all the while hoping our sacrifice will keep our families safe. There's bad choice at every turn."

"But is it fair to risk the children?" Amelia Bones asked, looking haggard. "This isn't their war, for all they're being dragged into it."

"But it is their war," James insisted. "By the very fact that they're born with magic – or born into the magical world at all – this is their fight. It's their future we're fighting for."

"How is leading them to the slaughter fighting for them?" Amelia shot back, and there were tears in her eyes, a reminder of the family she'd lost, for the too-young bodies she'd had to bury before their time.

Harry crept back upstairs, thinking over the debate. Back in the nursery, he looked towards Will's crib, and a lump in his throat nearly choked him.

He knew Voldemort, knew how utterly mad he was with his soul split too many times, knew how little sympathy he held for familial love. There was nothing any member of the Order could do to stop him from annihilating anyone and everyone who didn't bend a knee to him.

Harry touched his throat, where a chain of rings had hung in another life. One ring, horcrux and Hallow, the beginning of two separate collections. And Death's words, decades and another reality ago: "Your habit of collecting the horcruxes and keeping them in close proximity to each other has healed a great deal of the damage he did to his soul by creating so many."

Harry smiled a wolf's grin, showing too many sharp teeth for a two-year-old's mouth, and set about hunting down a toy he could spell to hold more than it looked like it could, yet was small enough that he could hide it on his person with no one the wiser. He'd spell it with as many protective spells as he could – both human and Death-based – and then it was time to go horcrux hunting. (Again.)

-0-

Harry spent the next couple weeks splitting his nights between spying on the adults and hunting down horcruxes. The locket and diadem were both easy, and he found a Peverell ring in the place of the Resurrection Stone, which seemed to hold the same purpose. The diary had served some difficulty only because Abraxas was still alive, so Lucius didn't have control of the office Harry'd found it in last time. A point me spell showed him to the right room, and his easy manipulation of both wandless and Death magic made acquiring it ten times easier than last time.