Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize. After all, it is fan-fiction I'm writing, isn't it?
Sins of Angels: Well, this is my version of what will happen in book seven. Please take the time to tell me if I've done something completely wrong so I can fix it. Thanks! Enjoy.
Chapter 1 – The Unexpected Visitor
Harry smiled. He had been in the shade of the tree for what seemed like two hours now. His glasses lay on the ground next to him and his hair dangled over his scar. He was no longer wearing Dudley hand-me-downs. After all, today he was of age. Today he turned seventeen, and could use magic. He was rather happy to share this news with his aunt and uncle. They hadn't been too pleased, but what Dumbledore had said really stuck.
Dumbledore. There was a name that brought unpleasantness. His nightmares had been increasing. He could barely keep himself from screaming as he jumped up, looking around for Sirius and the veil, or Snape. Or Voldemort himself.
He sat up. Something that sounded very much like a car pulled up in front of the house.
"Get in here, boy!" Aunt Petunia called from the kitchen. He sighed.
"What's wrong?" he asked. Aunt Petunia faltered.
"It's for you," she spat and shut the window. Harry bounded up and put his glasses on, running into the house.
Maybe it's Lupin! He thought hopefully. Or Moody! Or Mrs. Weasley! Bill's wedding can't be far off!
His heart sank as he opened the door and realized that none of the people he listed were likely to ride around in a limo. The back of it could be seen from the side of the house. He carefully came out of the kitchen to see a witch he was quite unfamiliar with. She smiled and extended her hand.
"You must be Harry," she said politely. Harry waited for her eyes to travel to his scar and rest there as he shook her hand. But they never did. They stayed fully on his eyes, until she decided to look around. She smiled at him. "Robin Anathema Riddle is the name. Don't look so alarmed, I'm in the Order."
"So was Snape," Harry muttered. The witch gave him a long stare.
"Quite so, Mr. Potter. I daresay, you're very perceptive," she said a bit coldly. Harry sought to change the subject.
"Where are my relatives?" he asked.
"Oh, I imagine they've gone outside to look at my car. I daresay I tried to impress them. Things go much more smoothly when they invite me in of their own accord."
Harry glanced out the door, and, sure enough, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were smiling at the car and talking excitedly. Of course, having a guest arrive in a limo was something they'd want the whole world to see. "Miss Riddle?" Harry said to himself. Was she related to Voldemort?
"Unfortunate mishap in the naming process, Mr. Potter," she said briskly. "I am not one to go around changing my name just because of who gave it to me."
Harry looked up at her sharply. So she was.
Aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon, apparently satisfied with the job they did of informing the neighbors they were with someone important, came back in. "Would you like a cup of tea, Ms. Riddle?" Aunt Petunia asked, in what Harry considered very polite terms towards a witch.
That was the other thing. You could certainly tell she was a witch, no doubt about it. She carried herself as one. But she dressed rather oddly. She wore a long dress with a corset on top. She looked like she had stepped out of the beginning of this century. That is, her style was very formal. Her dress was long and her hair was swirled in the back so as to come out of the top of her head and drop soft curls around her face. She was young. Harry wondered if she was a new auror.
"Oh, that would be very nice, Mrs. Dursley. Two sugars, if you will," she said and smiled again.
Aunt Petunia nodded and went off into the kitchen. Uncle Vernon ushered both her and Harry into the living room and insisted they sit down. When Aunt Petunia brought out the tea, their visitor smiled.
"I am, of course, here to talk about Mr. Potter."
Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon scowled at him as if he were stealing their guest away. "What about me?" Harry asked. He was of age, and she didn't need to talk through them. She turned towards him and smiled.
"Why, about you coming with me. I daresay we have a wedding to attend, and school will be starting soon."
"I barely know you," Harry said guardedly. If he climbed into that car with her, Moody would have his head for sure.
She laughed. "I see you've taken a leaf out of Alastor's book, Mr. Potter. While being suspicious keeps you on your guard, being as paranoid as Moody will drive you mad. Very well. How would you like me to prove I'm not in league with Voldemort?"
Aunt Petunia was picking up quickly that the lady she had taken for royalty was proving to be a witch. Uncle Vernon, not so quick on the uptake, was smiling at her, as she talked to Harry, eager to please.
"Come now, Mr. Potter, you must have learned something in six years at Hogwarts."
"You're with the school?" Aunt Petunia asked. Uncle Vernon was catching on.
"It was in my letter," she said guardedly, and then sighed. "I don't suppose you threw it out?" she asked.
"Damn right we threw it out!" Uncle Vernon roared. "It had that bloody school crest on it!"
"I didn't see any owls," Harry said suddenly.
"That's because I sent it with muggle post," the guest said, sighing again. "In the hope that they may read it. Apparently, that was not the case."
"What do you want?" Aunt Petunia asked, frightened.
"Well, I wanted to extend a friendly warning, for starters," she said, frowning again. "Voldemort is back, and he will no doubt come after you. I suggest a few well placed security charms."
"I will not have magic around my house!" uncle Vernon bellowed again.
"Can't say I didn't warn you. My other suggestion was to move. But he will, undoubtedly, find you. Secondly, I came to collect Mr. Potter. It seems I was the one chosen from the Order, along with the other gentlemen in my car."
"Who?" Harry asked interestedly.
"Why, I have what Alastor so lovingly calls your guard, Mr. Potter. He wouldn't let me leave without them."
"Where are we going?"
"To my place, Mr. Potter. The new headquarters. I daresay they'll be useful."
"Well, off with you, then!" Uncle Vernon said happily.
"Of course. Just as soon as Harry finished packing."
"I'm done!" Harry said happily. In fact, his trunk had been packed for almost a week now, in anticipation.
"Then why don't I got get it while you say goodbye? Up the stairs, I suppose? I'll find it without a problem."
She left and went up the stairs as Harry stared at his only blood relatives.
"You're leaving, then?" Uncle Vernon said, smiling nastily. "Good. And don't come back, you hear? You won't get money out of me."
"I don't need your money," Harry replied coolly. "I've got quite enough of my own, thanks. My parents had quite a bit of gold, you see," he confessed, delighting in their speechless faces. Aunt Petunia stood up.
"He's back," she said. It wasn't a question at all. It was a dull statement. "Don't get yourself blown up too, we can't pay for a funeral!" she snapped. Harry smiled as he realized it was, in a strange way, her wishing him good luck. She tuned to her husband. "Vernon, I fancy a stay at the country. We should move for a while."
Uncle Vernon looked at her, bewildered. "We bloody well will not!" he yelled.
"Vernon, I do not want to end up like my sister!" Aunt Petunia screamed. Uncle Vernon faltered in his argument. "You saw her!" she yelled in desperation.
"Saw what?" Harry asked. It wasn't often that his Aunt talked about his mother. Actually, it was extremely rare.
Aunt Petunia sighed. She walked over to her purse and took out her wallet. She handed him a bunch of pictures, most of the muggle. He was surprised beyond belief that they were of his parents, and more surprised to find she had magical ones. "Look, that Dumbledore person left them to me to give to you when you turned seventeen. I'm rather glad to be rid of the lot. Now you can go away and never think back about us, as we won't think of you."
Harry heard the witch come back down the stairs and saw her stick her face in the room. "Are you about done?" she asked. Harry nodded. "Good, because this trunk is bloody heavy!" she said, and Harry realized her face had turned a bit red. He stood up and said bye to his relatives, pocketing the pictures to look at later. His Aunt gave him a cold stare as was usual, and his Uncle mumbled something, still bewildered. As Harry closed the door, he distinctly heard his Uncle's voice.
"The country would be nice."
He concentrated on helping the witch with his trunk and loading it into the car. She smiled at him.
"By the way, Mr. Potter, I would appreciate it if you called me Robin. I rather detest my last name, and my middle one isn't really a pleasant word to call someone."
Harry nodded slowly. "Call me Harry," he said stiffly as she beamed at him. She opened the door and Harry peered in from what he judged to be a safe distance, his hand on his wand. Remus Lupin smiled at him, holding hands with Tonks, who waved. Moody growled his approval of his caution and Mr. Weasley beamed. Harry smiled and climbed in, followed by Robin.
"Hi Harry," Lupin said. Harry smiled.
"Hello."
"Happy birthday," Tonks said happily, holding out four badly wrapped presents. "There's more at the castle, we just decided everyone should give them to you separately."
"Thanks," Harry stammered as he took the presents. "Castle?" he said, frowning and looking at Robin.
"Yes, sir!" she said happily. "Hogwarts castle is not open year-round for protection under the decree of new Headmistress, Robin Riddle."
"Headmistress?" Harry repeated. She would be expecting him to come back to Hogwarts.
"As of two weeks ago. Hogwarts is now offering land under the best magical guards for wizards to live in. And I will be expecting to see you as a student, Harry."
"Actually," Harry started, a little uncomfortable. He didn't want to talk about it now. He wanted Ron and Hermione there. Strength in numbers, or, at least, comfort. "I was kind of planning on, you know, not actually coming back per se. I was going to go."
"And find Tom?" Robin said. Harry's head snapped up. Had she just called Voldemort by his first name? "Yes, I call him Tom Riddle," she said with a sigh. "It does nothing but inflate his ego to call him by his created name. Rather pathetic, really. Having to call yourself something like Voldemort to forget your past."
Harry stared at her, uncomprehending. She smiled at him again.
"Harry, there is no way I'm going to let you get yourself killed. Dumbledore won't leave me alone in the afterlife, and that goes on for eternity. I don't fancy being yelled at by an old wizard upset because I'm useless. My job is to keep you alive until you can fight Voldemort. Then it's up to you."
"But we have to-"
"Calm down, Harry. I know about the hocruxes. I figured some out, for a start. We'll have plenty of time to plan everything this summer."
Harry looked out the window. It was a blur of color, which didn't quite surprise him at all. So she was the new person in charge. He should have guessed. She walked with authority.
He fumbled in his pocket for the pictures, and took them out. Robin glanced at them and smiled. She reached under her seat and pulled out a neatly wrapped package. She handed it to Harry.
"Happy birthday, Harry," she said happily. Harry took it and thanked her. It was big, and heavy. He put it in front of him and, after careful urging from everyone, opened it. They were books, stacked one on top of the other. And a small palm-sized black book was on top of it all. He reached up and took it.
He opened it and smiled. The first picture was that of his father, who was smiling slightly as his mother invaded the picture at the corner and looked up at him.
"James, you said I was going to talk to him first!" she scolded. James just grinned at her.
"Sorry, love, I can't do that. I don't want my son to be greeted by a speech on the importance of following rules."
Lily frowned at him. "And what makes you think I'll say that?"
"You were writing on the table and rehearsing before Robin came, Lily! Now get out of my picture! My son is looking at me," he said proudly and pushed her politely out.
Harry smiled as his father cleared his throat. "Harry, my boy, if you can see me in the picture, that probably means I'm not currently alive." He winked. "Currently, that is to say. Anyway, before your mother starts lecturing you about the rules and such, I must tell you, don't listen to her! You'll have loads more fun if you just disregard everything!"
"I heard that!" Lily yelled. Harry laughed.
"What are you laughing at?" James said, frowning. Harry stared.
"He can see me?" Harry asked. Robin nodded and his father sighed.
"Of course I can see you! You look just like me! Luck of the genes, there, I expect. Would've hated to have you look like your mother's sister," he whispered, but Lily was still heard gasping.
"Like your cousin was such a looker!" Lily said playfully and James smiled.
"Leave it to your mother to argue with me even after I die. Anyway, I'm here for you son. And I know a bit more than pranks and such. Anyway, your mother's getting mad, so turn the page before she kicks me out, will you?"
Harry turned the page to find another picture, with the name "Lily Evans Potter" on the bottom, and his mother smiling at him. His dad also had a name on the bottom, now that he thought of it.
"I see you grew up to look just like your father," she said, and, smiling, sighed. "Can't have everything, I suppose," she said loudly, so the other portrait heard her. James snorted. "Anyway, Harry, we're here for you. Just don't lose us, eh?" she said, smiling again. Harry turned the page. The next one was of Dumbledore. He listed through. Sirius was there, and there were empty slots reserved for Lupin and the Weasleys, all of them. There was most of the Order, with the exception of Snape. Even Ron and Hermione had a slot.
"You understand how this works, right?" Robin asked. Harry nodded. "Let us hope, then, that the book will have a lot of empty spaces."
Harry nodded again and smiled at the little book. He put it in his pocket, next to the other pictures. He looked at the rest of the books. He had two on hocruxes, three on defensive and attacking spells, one on strategy, one on how the other countries ran their wizarding world, and one on occlumency. He smiled at his guard.
A thought hit him as they stopped at Hogsmeade. He was going back home.