A/N: I've been sitting on this chapter for a while now, but I did drop promises in my earlier updates that I would update this, and I did have two margaritas at dinner to fill me with some liquid courage, so I'm gonna stop second guessing and just post. Maybe if I do that, I can finally move on and make more progress on ch24! And also-omgosh you guys-this story hit 1k reviews! And I'm pretty sure this update will bring this fic to 150k, minus the lengthy author notes, ha. Those are HUGE milestones for me you guys! Thanks a lot to those of you that have shared your thoughts/concrit/encouragement/disappointment/whatever. . .all of it has helped me grow so much as a writer, seriously. I hope I can convey the crazy thoughts in my head adequately enough on here to do the story justice Xx

I've been between betas and that's part of the reason that took so long! I badly need to discuss plot lines with someone. But beautifuldisazter offered to help me on Harm&Co and I'm very grateful. Thanks so much!

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Harry winced against the bitter taste of Veritaserum and tried desperately not to aspirate as he choked it down.

He'd never been force-fed this much Veritaserum, not even during his Auror training, and he wondered if he'd be able to resist the potion's alluring pull to speak freely. He somehow doubted it. Beside him Sirius coughed and sputtered, before recovering and letting loose a slew of colorful curses aimed at their captors.

Their captors.

Of all the people he might have guessed would sweep out to meet him, Harry certainly wouldn't have expected to come face to face with the two ghosts he saw currently. People who were long dead in the world he'd come from. People he was led to believe were dead for an even longer time here.

Remus and Lily.

A large lump formed in the back of his throat and he worked earnestly to swallow down his wild emotions.

His face ached where his mother had clenched his jaw and tilted his head back so Remus could pour the Veritaserum down his throat. If she'd bothered asking, himself and he was sure Sirius, would have both agreed to take the potion freely.

He couldn't stop his eyes from flicking over to his mother, assessing her features… her every expression… learning her as he'd never been able to before. She was quite young, and then Harry remembered she had only been nineteen when she'd gotten pregnant with him, which would make her about thirty-seven now. Her long hair was swept behind her head in a haphazard ponytail, not flaming red like Ginny's, but a more muted, copper color. She was hunched over her knees, studying him just as sharply as he was her. She looked sleek and predatory—harder, somehow—than he remembered seeing in her likeness thanks to the few photos he had of her. He turned away sharply and tried not to gag. Perhaps it was the faded blue trench coat she wore over cargo trousers or the lace-up boots which gave her a rather foreboding and unapproachable look. When he glanced up he was met with green eyes very much like his own, like he'd always been told he shared with her, but it was somehow much different seeing them in person—jarring.

He molded his expression into one of careful innocence.

Not his mother.

He worked hard to remind himself. His mother had died, but then so had His Hermione. It was hard to meet Lily's stare and not see her as his family.

Showing fear was highly inadvisable. He needed to act as if he had nothing to hide if he were to pull this off. Glancing over, he saw Sirius bound to a chair same as him, face contorted in stunned horror. Thankfully, someone had thrown Sirius a robe when he was forcibly shifted back to a man.

"Curious," Lily said, straightening to her full height, but refusing to take her eyes off of Harry. "Last I heard, you were a right, spoilt brat. 'Pureblood Poster-Boy,' I was told. Now you're here?" She leveled her probing stare at him. "Of all places?"

"Yes," Harry snapped back, already feeling the potions effects starting to work on him. He clasped his jaw shut and looked away, his Auror-trained-mind subconsciously working to keep him from speaking and focus instead on making sense of where he was.

The rock walls indicated they were somewhere inside the massive fortress he vaguely remembered being hauled up to. It had seemed like nothing more than a series of cliffs and frozen rock adorning the mountain, but once they'd breached the borders of the wards, a series of cave-like towers and turrets forming something resembling a castle came into view. Crossing the wards had felt like wading through thick, viscous syrup, the substance heavy and weighing him down. But when he'd been forced roughly through with the wards shimmering iridescent behind him, he wasn't too far gone to admire the brilliance of this universe's version of Order Headquarters.

A harshly forged castle cut into the rock cliffs by wizard hands, and right in the wilds of Wales, to boot. He had been struck by the picture it made, snowflakes swirling around the perimeter but not breaching the protective barrier. An impenetrable fortress smack dab in the land of winter, and far from any place he recognized from the war. He'd been hauled rougher still through the entrance and only vaguely registered how access was frozen shut behind them, another security measure.

Damn, he cursed silently. I should have sought them out sooner.

They were… better equipped than the Order of his world. Better prepared. And if his comparatively measly version of the Order had managed to conquer Voldemort, than he didn't see how this one could possibly fail. What was it they were missing? They clearly possessed a team of clever and capable witches and wizards.

"You will talk," Lily threatened. "You'll be singing like a Fwooper before a rain."

"Lily," Remus spoke low in a warning, and Harry's attention twisted sharply to focus on his former mentor.

His stomach gave a violent lurch. The sight of Remus after all this time spent away was just as jarring as meeting Sirius had been. He was… the same. He could have been the very same Remus from his own world's, the one who had been deprived of his young wife and child. He bore the same scars and the same lines on his face. There was a tenderness in his eyes Harry recognized.

Harry really should have placed discovering more about the Order higher on his lists of priorities. It's what Hermione would have done, had their roles been reversed. He felt utterly stupid for disregarding them so. It might have built trust, had he sought them out sooner. Preferably before he's been inducted in the Knights. But now all he had to defend himself with was one good deed against a lifetime of bad behavior. It was a flimsy shield, at best. He suddenly felt very much like the Draco of his time after having thrown Harry his wand during the last battle, but still being called to stand trial in front of the Wizengamot and answer for his crimes. A day too late and a sickle short.

"Don't Lily me, Remus," Lily said with a hiss before slanting her emerald hard stare on Sirius. "What about you, dog?" Her lip curled in distaste. "Seeing you… showing up here… and with him."

Harry tried not to flinch when he felt her focus shift back to him. Was she always like this? So… hostile? Or was it all an act… or worse… an act reserved primarily for her enemies. He most assuredly did not wish to remain her enemy.

"I can certainly say it's the very last thing I expected."

Sirius made a choking noise in his throat, and Harry saw his jaw working as he prepared to speak. "Sorry to disappoint, Evans," he said— to his credit— with equal disgust, "I know how you can't stand not knowing something, what with that insatiable thirst for knowledge you've always been plagued with. Must be eating away at you."

A resounding crack could be heard as Lily slapped Sirius hard enough to make his face turn the other way. Blotchy, reddened skin spanned over his cheek, forming into the shape of a handprint.

"Don't get a rise out of her, Sirius," Remus intoned tiredly.

Sirius ignored the advice, staring daggers back at Lily, rage swimming in his eyes.

Lily had no trouble meeting his gaze. "What the fuck are you up to?" Hives climbed up her neck, an indication she was at her wit's end, Harry assumed. "It's always been your life's mission to shape him," she darted Harry a glance, "into the spitting image of yourself since the very beginning. Yet now you're here. Why?"

Setting his jaw, Sirius refused to answer her and Harry marveled over his ability to resist Veritaserum, even if the potions effects were still in its early stages. She didn't push, though—and was all too happy to continue on her tirade. Harry felt a smirk tugging at his mouth in the face of her wrath. It was becoming clear where he got his notorious Gryffindor temper from.

"You're lucky every single trace spell we cast confirmed you weren't followed." Lily's brows drew together as if laboring over a tricky puzzle, but the fierce expression didn't leave her face. "I'm not entirely sure if this is some outlandish Death Eater scheme, or if you've gone mad. If it is a trick, you can be sure you won't come out the winning side."

Sirius snorted, looking every inch the debonair Pureblood regardless of his disturbingly vulnerable position.

"Need to curry more favor, is that it?"

Harry was all too happy for Sirius to take the heat while he worked his mind frantically how best to approach their interrogation. He didn't know these people, and he simply had to employ caution in his every word, despite the potion intent on loosening his tongue.

"More than you already have," Lily explained with an arched brow. "Perhaps you've put on this rather elaborate show just to breach the unbreachable, in which case I must say kudos to you—you have managed that, at least—though you won't manage much else."

"I only did what was asked of me," Sirius bit out harshly, glaring in defiance at her, eyes glinting cryptically. "It's what I've always done."

There was an emphasis on his words Harry felt instinctively meant something more, but he could not think for the life of him why it nagged at him so. The adrenaline surging in his chest—that hadn't tempered since he'd battled Bellatrix, Ministry officials, and then made their desperate getaway—made it hard to focus on any one thing.

"Perhaps it would have been a different story altogether if one of you," Sirius paused to glance between Lily and Remus before finally resting on Remus, his grey eyes seemingly finding the man guilty right then and there, "had made yourself known. Don't you think that would have been helpful? You don't think it might have been prudent to let me know one of my best friend's is still alive?" Sirius craned his neck, looking somewhere over Remus' shoulder. "Will Jamie be waltzing around the corner next?"

A muscle twitched by Lily's eye and Remus stood stoically, still having moved very little since having forced them to drink the Veritaserum.

The effects of the potion were kicking in now. Oh yes. In a few more moments, Harry knew he'd be hard-pressed to resist answering any question posed to him. He hoped he could still evade some, at least.

"Let you know?" Lily mimicked, somewhat cruelly. "Reveal to you—a known Riddle sympathizer—that the Dark Lord's most fearsome enemies are not as dead as he's been led for years to believe?" She shook her head, her eyes sorrowful. "I don't think so. You've always been cowardly. You and Peter both. I frequently wondered how the two of you could have ever been sorted into Gryffindor. You chose your side—the easy route—like you've always done. And now you expect me to believe you've had a change of heart, sixteen years in the making after you've been so dead-set on making sure—."

"Enough, Lily," Remus spoke with finality, cutting Harry off from hearing whatever she was going to say next. He glanced behind him and into the shadows cast by the rock ledge shading the room. For the first time, Harry heard movement—the sound of clothes rustling—and he wondered who could be standing back there with their wands trained, watching their interrogation and Harry's own ultimate humiliation. Was Hermione among them? Had she been welcomed by this hostile version of the Order?

Before Remus could continue, he was cut off by Lily once more.

"No." Her eyes blazed in defiance. "You will tell me, Black. You'll tell me why now, after all this time, why is it now that you've decided to grace us with your presence and try your best—no doubt—to fuck everything up."

Sirius eyes shimmered and his jaw clamped and unclamped, before speaking between grit teeth. "Why don't you ask the boy?" he was compelled to tell her, tilting his head Harry's way. "It was his idea after all," here Sirius seemed to regain some of his gentlemanly grace, "I just came along for the ride."

Harry felt two pairs of eyes turn sharply on him and realized he could no longer escape the spotlight. Remus and… his mother would interrogate him and all in front of the room full of mysterious onlookers, most likely.

"How…" Lily paused, appraising Harry with her eyes and seeming to assess his strengths and weaknesses. By the way her lip curled in distaste, Harry assumed he came up on the lacking side. "Puzzling."

Remus' grey eyes—not stormy and intense like Sirius', but sort of muted and dimmed— twinkled in a fashion not unlike the way Dumbledore's had. He eyed Harry with renewed interest and Harry tried not to squirm in the chair he was bound to.

"I think," Remus said, his tone calming and relaxed despite the thick tension in the room, "it's time they're questioned separately."

Lily's eyes grew downright gleeful. She nodded her agreement. "And we're very good at questioning."

The threat lay heavily in the air.

"But you shouldn't be alone with him," Lily turned to Remus, cautioning him, and for the first time Harry noted concern flick over her features.

"I won't be," Remus assured her, before striding over to Harry's chair and flicking several spells over him that had Lily gasping. The man had loosened his binds. "I'll take Neville. You take Cho and Susan."

"But don't free him," Lily stressed, eyeing Remus' actions with horror. "We don't know what he's capable of."

Harry knew her words were only logical, and he knew this witch who wore his mother's face was not his mother, the knowledge still didn't lessen the sting of her words.

Not in the slightest.

"We've apprehended his wand, administered Veritaserum, and will have two armed and capable wizards questioning him. There's no need to keep him restrained." He offered his hand to Harry and Harry took it carefully as he pulled himself to a standing position. "You won't give us trouble, will you?"

"No."

Remus clapped him on the shoulder but Lily still eyed them dubiously. "That's a good lad." The man who wore his former mentor's face prodded him forward and looked over at Lily. "I don't, however, fault you for keeping Sirius bound during his inquiry." A faintly mischievous smirk passed over his lips, and Harry could have sworn he sensed fondness—a certain affection—when he spared Sirius a glance. "He is a full grown wizard, after all."

Lily huffed. "You just think the girls and I can't handle him, is the real truth."

Remus only smirked wider, and Harry looked away.

Who he was to be confronted by gave him pause.

Dressed in the distinctly sensible way Harry now attributed to Order members of trenches and combat boots, and moving with a graceful litheness he was surprised to note from the man he once knew, was Neville Longbottom.

Harry almost didn't recognize his former housemate. He was slimmer and taller and his shoulders were broad. The wizard was certainly more muscular than Harry was himself. His hair was longer than Harry remembered, falling slightly in his face, a face that Harry was disturbed to realize held not a trace of the trademark kindness Neville was known for. He certainly lacked no confidence.

Harry was thrown.

"Come on," Remus prodded him towards the menacing version of Neville. "We only want to talk… understand your reasons for coming to us."

Harry gulped. "Alright."

Two witches pushed past them, heading towards Lily and a bound and restrained Sirius. He was mildly surprised to recognize Susan and Cho, who once again looked glaringly different than the versions of them he once knew. Harry felt a glimmer of sorrow for Sirius, having been the one to pull him into this situation in the first place, but he didn't have time to reflect on how he could have improved the situation as he hastened to march off to his own—as Remus so delicately put it—inquiry.

~oOo*oOo~

"Hey, Potter!" Neville said with false enthusiasm, his grin hardly disarming. "Are you happy to see me?" He clapped his hands down on the worn wooden table that stood between them. "Or better yet…" He squinted in contemplation. "Have you come to join our cause?" His tone suggested he hardly believed such was the case.

Harry shifted uneasily, feeling alarmingly guilty for something he hadn't even done. But he was guilty of other things, he supposed.

"Hey… er, Longbottom," he hazarded carefully, all the while aware of Remus' eyes on him. "Funny thing, that… because as a matter of fact—."

"Don't give me that shite, Potter," Neville hissed in a warning, his eyes defiant. "Nearly everyone here is used to your manipulations. Do you think we'd up and fall for your ploys that easily? You'd be better off sending Nott… Hell—Nymphadora herself with the Weasley twins to boot before you sent yourself."

Harry seethed whilst simultaneously wrapping his head around the information Neville unintentionally gave him. He already knew at least two of the Weasley brothers were something of heroes to the Knights, but he hadn't yet discerned what Nymphadora Tonk's role was in this topsy-turvy world he'd traveled to. Apparently, she was yet another enemy—and a foreboding one the former Potter should have heard of—if Neville's comment was any indication.

"Easy, Neville," Remus bid, not taking his eyes off Harry. "We're only having a talk—a friendly chat between wizards—no need for hostility."

Throat clogging with emotions, Harry stilled his features and met the probing gazes of the two former professors—one Herbology professor in his world's future and the other his own Defense instructor in his world's past—each had left their mark on him.

Damn his luck. Finding himself in a predicament where Hermione was alive and well had always been his most desperate wish, but to be here among the Light and regarded as an enemy? It was bloody disconcerting. He couldn't stand it, and wished nothing more but for their acceptance. It was a foolish move on his part to not seek them out sooner. Perhaps fences could have been mended… before he took up cause with the bloody Death Eaters. He glared at them in silence, his bitterness causing him to feel hopeless. He'd mucked it up, and now he'd marched himself straight onto enemy lines in his foolhardy pursuit of a witch who wanted nothing to do with him. He glanced down, desolate.

It was… pathetic. And Harry felt he lived up to the word quite spectacularly.

One accomplishment in a never-ending sea of failures.

How were his accomplices fairing? Were they the subject of angry curses and further truth serums? Were they currently being judged—as he was—for their shortcomings? They were… all of them… born on the wrong side of this war. To gain the trust of Muggle-borns and their sympathizers would be a difficult feat to manage, especially given a history of living a life of indulgence in Tom Riddle's new world order. How could he ever have convinced himself it was a good idea to bring Sirius and the others along? Things were clearly in a far worse off state than they had been in his world.

He was doomed.

"They tell me you can produce a Patronus Charm."

Harry jolted upright as if Ennerviated and met Remus' searching gaze. For the first time, a flicker of hope flared inside his chest.

"Is it true?" Remus probed. "Can you really cast one?"

"Yes," the Veritaserum compelled him to answer and he didn't see the point of resisting.

Remus sat back, evaluating him.

Neville looked on with distrusting eyes. "A corporal one?"

Harry gave a jerky nod. "It takes the form of a stag."

He didn't stop to think what it meant that they knew. How such knowledge indicated Remus and the Order had already questioned Harry's co-conspirators before approaching him. No, he didn't stop to wonder, but the truth of the fact hit him squarely in the chest just the same. A painful reminder. This wasn't the Order he'd been a part of. This was an Order more conniving… more ruthless… more willing to commit crimes just to ascertain the truth or press an advantage. They were a more desperate Order than the one he'd known… an order who had been fighting for years.

Begrudgingly, Harry felt a flare of respect for them.

"Who taught you?" Remus said, as friendly as he pleased, but Harry sensed the demand in the delicately phrased question.

"You," he blurted, before blanching and stopping himself between darting a guilty glance between Remus and Neville. "I mean… someone like you," he amended. "A mentor of sorts."

The intensity of Remus' stare sharpened. Indeed, Neville was skewering holes in his side with his own stare.

"Hm," Remus hummed, and Harry worried he would probe further, but the shifter chose not to. "I see. I must admit," he favored Neville with a mischievous look, "we are a bit… thrown. You see, no one could have expected how many spells you'd add to your regimen before next we saw you."

For the first time, Neville appeared to be the uncomfortable one, clenching his jaw as he refused to remove his gaze from Harry's.

"Er… spells?" Harry ventured tentatively. Did they test his wand. But one look in Remus' surprisingly shrewd and calculating gaze and he could tell of course they'd tested his wand. The last spell he'd performed was Apparition, but perhaps they had a tracing spell that could discern an entire night's worth of spells, not just the final one. Or maybe witnesses had relayed some of what they saw. Harry felt nauseous as he considered all the dark and complex spells he'd performed that night.

"Quite extensive duelling ability you have there, Harry," Remus commended, but where Harry expected to see genuine praise, there was only calculation. "Mind telling us where you came by such knowledge?"

"Sirius," Harry couldn't keep from voicing the half-truth. He physically made himself expand on the explanation. "And… further tutelage." He thought of his Auror training. The statement was technically true. "My godfather has always been attentive in expanding my duelling knowledge. He's hired tutors." Not an outright lie, by Sirius' own words. Not the outright truth, either.

Remus nodded. "Impressive."

"Quite so," Neville interjected, starting a mock clap. "The Knights must be so pleased to have you."

"I've always had little control over my fate," Harry told them cryptically, another truth. "It was always expected of me that I would join them." The second always was hard to get out but if he told himself to isolate his old world from his thoughts, he supposed that was true as well.

Remus studied him intently. Harry tried not to shift uncomfortably in the rickety chair.

"Why have you come? Why would you save the girls?" Neville was relentless. "How could you convince Black to stick his neck out for anyone, let alone Malfoy whom we both know he's never favored. What would even prompt you to? Is it all some elaborate mission you've been given?"

"No."

"Answer everything." Remus folded his arms over his chest, his gaze probing.

"No," Harry reiterated. "Doing what we did has probably made us enemy number one as far as the Knights are concerned. The truth is…" Harry swallowed several times, scrambling for what to say and what his tongue would allow him to say. He had some skill at resisting Veritaserum so long as he manipulated the question, but in this case he settled mostly on the truth. "I suppose it mainly has to do with Hermione." He sighed and tried to meet the surprised gazes in front of him. "It started with her anyway." And that was true, also. "She made me see… things that were wrong in the magical world. At first I thought I could protect her, so I performed well in front of Riddle. He promised me her safety, that I could…" His face twisted in a grimace. "That I could keep her. And it was fine for a while. But it still bothered me. And she wasn't happy. Not at all. I tried to convince her this was the best way… the best life we could have, but she insisted on taking up arms against the Ministry and finding… you guys." He exhaled a loud breath through his nose, twisting his hands guiltily in his lap. "I'd always been led to believe the Order was… weak. I didn't think trying to join the Order was anything other than a death trap, so I tried to talk her out of it. But then the raid happened at the Malfoy party and I started to second guess what I'd been told. I felt terrible for apprehending Lovegood. Hermione looked at me as if I'd betrayed her… as if I was the enemy. And after that, everything started to unravel. Draco and Pansy came to beg us for help. Hermione just left. I felt more guilty than ever… and I suddenly realized I didn't care if the Order was a lost cause or if I was choosing the harder path… I had to make things right. I had to save Luna and help Draco." He shifted his stare to Remus, taking in his unreadable expression. "Sirius didn't take much convincing—he's a good person. He's just for so long suffocated those feelings and he's grown numb to what was happening. But now it's different. We want to fight for the Light."

Harry held his breath and fought from wincing, afraid of what kind of response his confession would be met with. Remus' face was still inscrutable, but Neville looked doubtful, at best.

"That's a pretty speech, Potter," Neville said, finally breaking the silence. "But one thing doesn't make sense—why would Granger, the girl you bullied and were terrible to all through our Hogwarts years—make you see anything?" He shook his head, as if he couldn't accept the notion. "You expect us to believe your about face in morals was directly triggered by her?" He snorted. "I can't believe that. Maybe it's not just your spells you've mastered—maybe you have a knack for resisting potions as well."

Neville had a point, but the truth was he wasn't lying. Hermione really had been the trigger. He thought about the person he was becoming back in his old world—a bitter war veteran bent on getting knackered and imbuing in potions. His morals had taken a dive. When he'd arrived here with a second chance and whole body, he'd approached the road ahead with a vicious cunning that would have stunned the idealistic young man who'd fought and beat Voldemort. It was only thanks to Hermione—this world's Hermione—that he found his righteous sense of justice again.

"Harry," Remus gentle voice pulled him out of his private musings. "Can I call you Harry?"

He nodded.

"Neville brings up a valid point. When did your feelings for the girl change?"

Harry ducked his eyes and took a deep breath before looking up again. "It's always been there." Not a lie. "I think I tried to pretend it wasn't, because I wasn't supposed to like her." He thought about Ron and how Hermione had always been his girl. There was no room for Harry. By the time he'd come to terms with his feelings, they both were with other people. It had been too late. "I did terrible things to her," also not a lie, "but I couldn't keep lying to myself." He stopped himself just short of confessing his love for the object of his obsessions.

Neville pursed his lips. "I'm still not sure."

Remus sighed deeply. "Normally, I wouldn't even consider the possibility of a school boy being able to resist Veritaserum, but as the situation is a grievous one, and you've already proved above average skill in spellcasting, I trust you understand we'd like to take further precautions?"

Harry tensed, but his only outward response was a slight clenching in the muscle by his eye. "Of course." He mentally prepared himself for what he was sure would come next. Just like with Riddle, he had to allow Remus to enter his mind. Blocking him was out of the question. That meant he had to have memories prepared and ready. But what to let him see? Was it possible Hermione had revealed his secret? Should he fully divulge he was out of place in this universe? His instincts told him no. But if this was a test and he didn't tell them, perhaps he would face even more trouble.

When Remus lifted the 10 ¼ cypress wand and trained it on Harry's face, he physically tried not to flinch and met his former professor's stare resolutely.

"Legilimens."

Unlike when he'd faced Riddle, Harry didn't even try to throw his guards up. Perhaps Riddle had only been testing him, but Remus was searching for information—he would be unrelenting, though Harry couldn't be sure how that measured up to Riddle's laziest attempt at Legilimency. He tried to console himself with the notion that if he could fool Riddle, he could certainly deflect Remus.

The invasion of his mind was no less shocking.

Remus swept through his head with a powerful wave of heady magic that gleamed a rusty reddish hue and smelled like copper. Against his instincts, Harry allowed him entry and had a whole slew of memories waiting for him to flick through.

The memories he showed were initially inauspicious enough—lounging around in the common room with his friends… eating in the Great Hall… racing on his broom in an arena full of avid onlookers… but then he gradually allowed more memories to slip through. Furtive glances at Hermione from across the class… sitting behind her in Charms so he could he could watch her work… stealthily following her in the halls after dark to make sure she made it safely to their dorms. He even allowed the one memory he'd stolen from her—hazy in his mind but he mended it to seem authentic—it was the one where his former self had tricked Hermione by asking her to the Yule Ball. Remus lingered here and Harry packed the stolen memory with powerful emotions—a deep shame for liking someone he shouldn't, a cowardly fear his classmates would think less of him, and a deep-seated guilt over what he'd done to a girl he cared so strongly about. The memory reeked of authenticity, nothing like the tampered with memory he'd obtained from Slughorn all those years ago. He followed that memory up with snippets of their budding relationship. Their private lessons… the white lilies he'd conjured for her… their first kiss. He backed the visions up with more emotion—not just the overwhelming attraction he felt for her that couldn't be more real—but the love and devotion that suggested he would do anything to protect her. He let Remus see the memory where he'd attacked Ron after discovering him hurting Hermione, and gladly showcased the rage he felt at the time. Remus lingered once more on the memory of Harry cornering Luna, and the impact of that decision to turn her in when he was so hesitant to. He swiped through more memories, philosophical discussions with Hermione he infused with a strong feeling of conviction and enlightenment, Greyback tearing into him and the reminder that the wound still smarted, relief upon seeing Luna and Tracey, and cold, hard determination when the Ministry arrived at the Manor and he and Sirius turned bravely to face them. The desolation he felt when Hermione left him. Remus stopped on another memory of Harry and Sirius at Potter Manor and Harry felt Remus' magic pulse curiously as he paused to eavesdrop on their conversation. I suppose it was my stubbornness, pride, and brashness that got me into Gryffindor, not my pride. And then… you're my kin. The only kin I've ever known. Harry's heart clenched in his chest and it wasn't an emotion he had to fake.

Remus smoothly withdrew from his mind and Harry found his muscles were clenched, his hands gripped tightly around the seat. Slowly, he forced himself to relax, breathing rapidly as he regained his composure.

Straining to keep his features open and honest, he brought his eyes up to Remus. Remus studied him for a time, and beside him Neville could barely contain himself.

"Illuminating," Remus finally said, his voice roughened and breathing slightly labored.

Harry didn't blame him—he felt just as drained. The whirlwind of emotions causing him to feel just as taxed as when he'd fought Bellatrix and then the Ministry officials.

"What?" Neville could no longer keep from prodding. "What did you see? He's lying, isn't he? Somehow he's figured out how to lie…" Neville trailed off uncertainty, brown eyes searching Remus.

He gave Neville a cursory glance, features softening before turning again to face Harry. "He's telling the truth."

Neville blanched, his eyes flashing with something akin to guilt Harry planned on dissecting later.

"He genuinely cares for the girl." Remus' mouth twisted in a tired smile. "I do worry, Harry, that your affection for Granger trumps any loyalty you may build with us."

Harry's jaw tightened, not exactly pleased with having his feelings laid bare in front of his maybe/possibly enemies. "I care about her," he admitted. "But I want to help the Order too. I'd like to be on the right side, this time." He clenched his fists and opened his palms in a gesture of peace. "If you'll have me."

Neville's eyes were piercing.

Remus inclined his jaw. "It remains to be seen whether or not you're ready to commit fully to our cause, but if that's your wish—we will give you the opportunity to prove yourself."

Harry almost felt light with relief.

"You'll find it will be no easy task."

~oOo*oOo~

When Harry was reunited with Lily again, he was surprised to see exhaustion written all over her face. He'd been dreading seeing his mother again—more fearful to face her than he had been under Remus and Neville's scrutiny—but it would appear interrogating Sirius had left its toll on her.

Lily pressed her eyes closed and ran her fingers through her hair. Her eyes snapped open when she Remus cleared his throat. The tiredness vanished.

The witch straightened to her full height, tapping her shoe impatiently against the stone floor. "Well?"

Harry's eyes scanned for Sirius, but the only other person he saw was Susan resting her back along the far side of the room. His breath caught as he was instantly plagued with worry.

Lily arched a brow. "What's the verdict?"

"It would appear our fortune has changed," Neville informed her, voice laced with sarcasm. "Potter intends to join our ranks."

She pursed her lips. "I see." For a moment, the weariness crept back in her features and she turned away. He relaxed for a fraction of a second, but then she whirled around, wand clenched tightly in her hand as she purged the distance between them in long strides. She grabbed his chin and tilted his head back with one hand, and trained her wand at his dome with the other. Taken by surprise, he was stuck between wrenching away and standing passively. "Legilimens," she whispered. Her spell ripped savagely through his mind. It was not the spellcasting of an accomplished Legilimens, but rather a forceful, desperate attempt that would surely leave him with a throbbing headache. He resisted the urge to throw her out, but instead grit his teeth against his instincts. He wasn't prepared, but managed to scramble together some memories for her to see. The tidal wave of emotions had him reeling, but he bore the intensity of her attack for the sake of sating her curiosity.

Seconds later, she pulled out of his mind just as brutally as she'd entered it. A short bark of laughter breaking the air. "He loves her." Her eyes sought Remus'. "Can you believe it?"

Harry bristled, baring his teeth and grabbing his head.

Something in her eyes suggested she could hardly believe it herself. What was it with the people of this world who couldn't see him as anything but evil? It was incredibly frustrating, especially when he'd proven he wasn't lying under truth serum and Legilimency, to say nothing of all he'd kept hidden. His temper flared hotly, and he had to remind himself to keep it in check. He was only feeling what Draco and other turncoats had felt when they'd decided to change sides—except ten times worse.

Remus face was grim. "You needn't have done that," he chided her. "It's taxing on you and the boy."

Lily didn't seem to hear him, her jaw set cruelly. She skewered Harry with her emerald green gaze and he blatantly stared back, hoping it unsettled her to see herself in him.

"Must be a Potter affliction." She gave a careless shrug. "Courting Muggle-borns." Her face twisted in a sneer. "An obsession passed down from your father, no doubt."

Adrenaline pounded at his temples, causing his breath to quicken. "You couldn't be more wrong," he retorted frostily. "What Hermione and I have has nothing to do with you and… my father."

"What Hermione and you have," she taunted, "is nothing. I've been in her mind. Oh, yes. She wants nothing to do with you."

Harry bit his cheek to keep from snarling at the woman. The notion of Lily doing that hack of a Legilimency job on Hermione made his stomach roil. Still, he realized with defeat that his mother might not be lying. He'd only just started teaching Hermione Occlumency. Chances were even an unaccomplished Legilimens like Lily could breach her barriers—especially if Hermione let her. He knew fully well Lily's taunt was at least honest.

"That's enough," Remus spoke softly, but his voice demanded action. "It was a very brave thing for Harry to do what he did. He deserves a chance to prove himself. There's no use pushing him away."

"I disagree." Lily's hands fell to her hips. "If that's all it takes for Dear Harry to be 'pushed away' than that's answer enough he isn't cut for the Order."

Beside him, he caught Neville nodding in his periphery.

"It's no glamorous life, I assure you." Lily appraised him, stopping when she noticed the crusted blood on the arm of his shirt, reminding Harry of the injuries he'd sustained.

His neck throbbed painfully where Bellatrix's curse grazed him. There'd been no time for healing after their mad dash to get away.

"Susan," his mother called, "see to his injuries. Then," her eyes snapped to Neville, "show him where he'll be sleeping." She glanced back at Harry. "You'll be bunking with Neville."

It went unsaid that Neville was to keep an eye on him. The threat was very clear. They'd accepted Harry's story for now, but they didn't fully trust him.

"What's happened to Sirius… to Draco and Pansy?" Harry's voice was wary with an edge of urgency.

He felt Remus step up behind him and place a comforting hand on his shoulder. "They're fine and you will see them eventually."

Lily snorted. "Black is a little worse for wear."

Harry frowned and his magic sizzled hotly. Lily merely smirked, seemingly proud of herself.

Remus gave him a light squeeze. "Sirius is… resilient. As for your friends—they've been attended to and taken to their barracks."

Harry wondered at the implication of Remus' words. It would seem Draco and Pansy had had a lot easier time of it than he himself had, or Sirius for that matter. But then of course that made sense—he was the evil one. He only just held back a disparaging laugh.

"Can I see her?" His eyes roamed from each captor or accomplice, he wasn't sure, beseechingly. "Hermione?"

"Soon enough," Remus finally answered.

He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Hermione was safe, and she was here somewhere in this massive fortress. She'd incredibly found her way here with no one to guide her. He wondered if she'd passed their test yet. Whomever couldn't see how pure of heart she was was blind.

Susan walked up to him and prodded him lightly on his side. "Come on." Her eyes held a degree of mistrust and curiosity. "Let's get you fixed up."

Harry nodded and followed dutifully behind. He couldn't resist throwing a backwards glance at Remus and Lily who stood watching them. "I won't disappoint you," he promised them.

"See that you don't," Lily warned.

Harry was herded into a large room he took to be the Order's Healing Center, if the cots were any indication. A wide range of potions lined the walls resting on crude, rock shelves. He marveled at how many there were—it was a treasure trove.

"More room shuffling?" Susan looked up to Neville, and Harry thought he saw longing in her eyes.

Neville didn't appear to notice, preoccupied with watching Harry. "We have to accommodate our unexpected guests."

Harry resented the implication that they were infringing. He wanted to tell them that they might be thanking him soon enough when he's given a chance to prove his worth on a mission, but chose to stay silent. Actions would prove louder than words, after all. Susan nudged him to take a seat and remove his bloodied shirt. He did so, not without grimacing, but barely paid any heed to the wounds he had incurred. She stilled at first, her eyes taking on a new sheen as she saw for herself the evidence of what he'd been through. Even Neville had seemed to drop his ever present frown and stare openly at him.

Feeling edgy, he took a deep breath and tried to center himself. He badly wanted to see Sirius, Draco, Pansy, and of course Hermione. His nerves would be in a frenzy until he saw for himself that they were okay, but there was nothing to be done about it now. It would take a mission or two to really gain trust, and until then he'd have to play by their rules.

Brought out of his thoughts by a particularly painful reaction between the skin of his neck and the potion Susan rubbed into it, he twisted his head around to see the damage for himself. The swelling had gone down, leaving an angry redness in its wake.

"Merlin, Susan," Harry couldn't help but to praise her, "you're a regular Madam Pomfrey with this healing business."

Susan paused in her task, eyes searching him for any kind of dishonesty. Harry wondered just what all his counterself had done to these people in school to make them hate him so. When she was satisfied he didn't seem to be having one over on her, she graced him with a small smile.

"I've always wanted to be a Healer," she confided, conjuring strips of gauze to lay on the reddened skin. "I used to shadow Pomfrey, third year on." She shifted her attention to the wounds on his arm. "You really did a number on yourself, didn't

you? How'd you get these?"

Harry answered readily, still likely under the influence over the Veritaserum he'd been dosed with. "A parting gift from Greyback."

Neville made a sound of surprise from his position guarding the doorway. "Can't imagine you wanting to get your hands dirty with a werewolf. I bet he did a number on you."

"It's alright," Harry said, smiling smugly as he recalled the skirmish. "Sirius gave him far worse."

Neville arched his brow and seemed to be debating whether or not to probe further. His curiosity won. "Did you really storm right into the Manor and pluck out those prisoners, just as bold as you please? How did you get past the wards?"

Harry shrugged. "The wards fell while I was duelling Bellatrix—we exchanged some nasty spells. And we didn't sneak through unnoticed, we were caught and taken to the dungeons ourselves. We did manage to sneak out."

Susan's eyes widened. "How?"

"A house elf and an Invisibility Cloak."

"Remarkable story." Neville twirled his wand absently. "Seems you were rather lucky."

Harry had to agree. "Yeah, luck was definitely on our side."

Susan cleaned and rubbed a paste on the wounds inflicted by Greyback's claws, before sealing them up with her wand and wrapping his arm in more clean bandages.

"Did the Ministry really show up? Percy Weasley and the twins with them?" Susan wanted to know.

"I noticed the twins," Harry paused to consider, "I'm not sure who was all there with them, but we didn't stay long. When Riddle came and Sirius and I conjured this sort of explosion then hightailed it out of there. It didn't last long."

Neville started. "You fought Riddle?"

"Not really," Harry tried to explain. "We just sort of reacted. The spell bought us some time and then we ran for it. If they'd closed in on us we wouldn't be here, that's for sure."

"Luna was hurt when she got here," Susan said, tying the last of the knots. "Told us all you and your godfather saved them." She pulled back and pursed her lips. "I admit—it was hard for any of us to believe. You were so different in school."

"Harry Potter would never stick his neck out for anyone," Neville added.

Harry swallowed against the guilt that welled in his throat. "I was a prat—I know it. For what it's worth—I am sorry."

They said nothing, and they didn't need to. He would put his Galleons where his mouth was soon enough.

A scuffle could be heard in the hall, and then shouting. Harry's head snapped to the doorway, fingers itching for his wand. Neville was already on high alert, straightening and dropping in a defensive stance. He peered out the door, and then visibly relaxed.

Neville shook his head. "Granger."

Harry's heart seized in his chest and he sat up taller, craning his neck to see around the corner.

"You're not supposed to be here." Neville looked indecisive for a moment, like he might block the doorway, but he stepped aside at the last moment.

"Just try stopping her," a voice that sounded a lot like Cho's called from the hall. "She's one headstrong witch."

The footsteps sounded closer and then Hermione herself rounded the corner, coming to an abrupt halt as soon as her eyes landed on him.

Harry couldn't find his breath.

His eyes drank her in greedily, assessing her for any signs of distress or injury.

"Hermione," he breathed, wanting nothing more than to go to her and sweep her up in his embrace.

The wariness he saw in her eyes coupled with their unwelcome audience stopped him.

She opened her mouth, closed it, and swallowed hard. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the honey brown eyes that haunted his dreams as well as his every waking moment.

"You're hurt," she finally said, eyes dropping to the gauze covering his neck and arm.

Gooseflesh spread across his chest and he was reminded he was shirtless. She glanced away, and made to step further into the room, but Neville stopped her, reaching out an arm to grab hold of her wrist.

Harry's eyes blazed with barely suppressed fury.

"We don't know if we can trust him," he told her in a low voice. "He isn't one of us."

She furrowed her brows and wrenched her arm away. "Let go of me," she demanded. "Harry won't hurt anyone here." She brought her gaze back to him. "Will you, Harry?"

His voice came out hoarse. "No." He shook his head, never taking his eyes off of her. "What do I need to do to become one of you?" The question was directed at Neville, even though he didn't look his way. He couldn't, not when he'd been deprived of her presence for so long it hurt. "I'll do it. Whatever I need to."

Harry hadn't been able to get a read on her, but now her expression was faintly hopeful.

"That so?"

Harry didn't recognize the voice. His eyes snapped up to see Terry Boot, flanking Cho in the doorway.

His fellow schoolmate lifted his brow challengingly. "Will you take our Mark, then?"

Harry frowned, the word Mark causing fear to flash through his mind as he remembered other marks people had taken to prove their loyalty. His eyes scanned first Susan, then Neville, then Cho and Terry's arms—but they were all wearing long sleeves. Feeling panicked, his gaze settled on Hermione and he noted the way she was cradling her own arm. She wore green cargo pants that were much too big for her, and a grey shirt with several snags and holes revealing a white shirt underneath it. The grey shirt was rolled to her elbows. She slowly dropped her arm and a flash of cerulean blue caught his eye.

Frozen in shock, he could do nothing but gape at the Mark emblazoned on her once-smooth flesh. It was a blue phoenix—the symbol of the Order—and it shifted and twisted under his attention, taking up a large expanse of her forearm.

"Potter can't just take our Mark," Neville's voice only barely broke through the fog and confusion of Harry's mind. "He has to earn it."

~oOo*oOo~