Harry Potter and the Ties That Bind

A Harry Potter/Anita Blake Crossover

Summary: With the fall of Dumbledore, the rising of the Darkness, and knowledge of the Horcruxes, Harry is more desperate than ever to find a way to become the hero everyone expects him to be. Help can come from the most unexpected of places, as can new powers. SuperPowered!Harry. HP/AB crossover. AU, Post-HPB, Post Harlequin.

Disclaimer: It's the standard: I own nothing, HP is Rowlings, AB is Hamiltons. Nothing is profiting, except perhaps my own amusement.

Notes: While having read HP and AB books is not absolutely necessary, it will be extremely helpful. As one might expect, this story will span at least the summer after HPB, and maybe into the fall, focusing on HP in St. Louis, and the characters in AB, rather than others from HP; though they will make an appearance. HP is on an accelerated timeline so that he is almost 17 as Anita is 28.

A/N: The Dursleys are extremely OOC in this chapter. Fear not, all is not as it seems…

Chapter One: A Family Vacation

It was the third week of June as Harry Potter climbed into Uncle Vernon's brand new Mercedes. His belongings were safely stowed in the extra-large trunk space, and the "new car odor" was beginning to creep into his nostrils. Harry wrinkled his nose as he adjusted his glasses.

"Don't scratch the door." Vernon Dursley seemed strangely happy, considering he had been forced to pick up his least-favorite relative that afternoon. Harry watched him lovingly stroke the steering wheel, as he steered the car out of the train station, before turning around to face him, "I've just gotten a raise, Potter. Grunnings has finally realized what an asset I am to the company, and have rewarded me in a fitting manner…"

Vernon didn't seem to notice that Harry had tuned out by that point, and was currently staring out the window, watching the scenery roll by. He figured it would be his last opportunity, after all. Sighing, he looked down at the locket – the fake Horcrux – that he held in his hand. All of that work he and Professor Dumbledore had put into it. He cursed Voldemort and R.A.B., whoever he was, for his headmaster's death. Harry's brows furrowed, as he gripped the locket tightly. Uncle Vernon chose that moment to check to see that he was listening.

"So then we plan to- Are you even listening to me, Potter?!" Harry murmured in affirmation, and began paying attention. Vernon continued, "Like I was saying… As Grunnings has finally given me the raise I deserve, your Aunt Marge will be coming in two weeks. We plan to tour the United States, before we return in Mid-August. You will be staying at Number Four, and keep up with your chores while we are away. I've already spoken to Arabella Figg, and she says that she is willing and able to check in on you every once in a while.

Now, should there be a single thing wrong with the house upon our return, be it a dish placed back wrongly or a single chore neglected; there will be Hell to pay. Not to mention should any harm come to the house…" He trailed off as they pulled into the driveway.

Harry hurriedly exited the vehicle, and pulled his things out of the trunk. Like most sixteen – almost seventeen – year old boys, he had no desire to spend more time with his family than he needed to. Unlike most teenage boys, however, his reasons were entirely sound. He nodded at Uncle Vernon, and politely thanked him for the ride as he made his way toward the house.

While his relationship with his relatives was, at best, strained, Harry felt that this summer would pass far more easily than many others. With the Dursleys going away for what could well be several weeks, he would have the house to himself…and would be entirely alone, if one discounted his 'watchers'. Harry was sure of the fact that he would not be able to visit his friends and that they, likewise, would be unable to visit him.

He pondered the benefits of the increased 'security' on the part of the Order… From what he had seen so far, it was not a great help. Turning his thoughts to a different topic, he shook himself and entered the house.

Outwardly, he appeared to be fairly calm, if a little preoccupied. Harry glanced outside and around the yard, making note of the places he expected Order members to be camped out. He could not say that it was a comfort, per se, to have his constant watchers, especially considering their effectiveness two years ago. It was a small assurance, however. They were also guaranteed not to bother him; Harry would be able to plan in peace.

And planning was something Harry was hoping to do quite a bit of. With Professor Dumbledore's death, he had lost his mentor – his guide in the quest to defeat Voldemort. Without him, Harry was at a bit of a loss. He had always had someone to rely on, whether it was his headmaster, Ron, Hermione, or even Sirius, he had never been totally alone.

But now, it was starting to sink in: It would come down to Harry and Voldemort, no one else. No one would be able to cast the final spells for him. No one would hold his hand as he went off to his quite possible death. No one would be able to give him a power boost, insuring his victory.

Sure, all of his friends – Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville in particular – would try to be right there with him, and aid him wherever possible. But Harry had the nagging feeling that even after the events at the Department of Mysteries and the Death Eater attack on Hogwarts, none of them knew just what fighting the war would entail. Things were about to become a whole lot more ugly, as well as bloody, fast.

Professor Dumbledore's death… The fall of the mighty Headmaster of Hogwarts, the leader of the light. It was a major blow to the light forces, and everyone knew it. Harry sighed, as he began to put away his belongings. Without their 'leader', the light side would soon be in disarray, as the Death Eaters and Voldemort would be running rampant in the streets. Figuratively speaking, he hoped. Harry feared that that was exactly what Voldemort had in mind. By knocking out the top piece in the game, they had – quite effectively – brought about cause for the light forces to run around like headless chickens.

Which, Harry supposed, was not so different for the ministry, as they had been operating with a 'headless chicken' style of action for quite some time. But for the Order… the change was far more drastic. The late headmaster had been venerated by all; the Order members followed him with blind devotion. Professor Dumbledore's second in command, Minerva McGonagall, was revered with only a fraction of that. Harry wondered where Professor McGonagall's priorities would lie – First and foremost; she was now Headmistress of Hogwarts; only second came her Order duties. But the war had picked up speed, and things were now rolling down a steep hill. And there was only one way to bring the downslide to a halt.

Harry had to defeat Voldemort. But to do so, he had to find the remaining five horcruxes. And then stand up to him in a battle to the death. There was no simple or pretty way to put it. One of them would die, and Harry had the nagging feeling that it would be highly unlikely for him to come out… unscathed. Not to mention all of his friends. While Harry was confident that several Order members would be able to handle themselves, he worried about those untrained in defensive fighting. And his friends… While they were all alive after the Department of Mysteries battle, Harry held no illusions. If the Death Eaters they had encountered really wished for their deaths, a few killing curses would have been flung around.

The killing curse. Avada Kedavra. How simple those two words were. How harmless they are apart, separate. But how much pain they can cause when together… Not for the recipient, of course; they would be dead. Those who knew them, however… Were left with a deeper pain than the Cruciatus could cause. That was something that had to end. But those left in the wake of the killing curse would remember their losses forever, and mourn them. Each death added to the weight on Harry that pressed upon him like an ocean presses upon an island. Each death caused the water to rise and threaten to overwhelm him.

"Harry! Could you come down here, please? Your uncle and I wish to speak to you," Harry's morbid musings were broken by his aunt's shrill voice. The fact that she was seemingly…polite surprised him more than the actual call. He got up, schooled his features, and walked down the stairs to the perfectly pristine living room. He raised his eyebrows: The Dursleys had moved their furniture.

Now, there was a single chair directly across from the rest of the furnishings. It did look as though they had tried to make it comfortable; the single armchair was easily the coziest in the room, and had two end tables next to it, one adorned with a vase filled with flowers, and the other with a glass of water. Seeing his relatives all sitting on the couch, he went over to the plush armchair, and sat down across from them, trying not to feel as though he was on trial. They were all wearing somewhat forced smiles.

"Now, I know we've had some rough times in the past…Harry," Vernon began, "I know that we may not have been everything you would have looked for in terms of loving relatives, but we have kept you safe and alive. In turn, we know that you haven't been the most cooperative of houseguests…"

"This is the last summer you'll have to put up with me, then. I turn seventeen at the end of July. The blood protections will be wearing off then, and I'll be out of the house. Come to think of it, I suggest you are too," Harry interrupted. The Dursleys paled at that. He continued, "I'm sure that at least someone within the Death Eater ranks, or who is sympathetic to them knows just who lives at Number Four, Privet Drive,"

Vernon cleared his throat and changed the subject, "Ah, well… We'll look into that… As I told you before, I've been given a raise…"

"'Much deserved', I know, I know," Harry muttered to himself, looking away. Vernon looked at him sharply, before continuing, "Which I have rightfully earned. As such, we and your Aunt Marge will be going on holiday, in America, in two weeks. This is a very expensive vacation, mind you, but," Vernon puffed up in pride, no doubt about to mention… "With my promotion, it's no trouble. We plan on staying in the finest hotels, visiting all the sites… We're going to go to the Grand Canyon, see the Statue of Liberty… The works, you know-"

Petunia elbowed her husband, and glared at him, "Get to the point, Vernon," she hissed out of the corner of her mouth, before smiling back at Harry.

"Ah, well. Right then… We are going to have a pleasant summer. Our vacation will be a most excellent one, for what we've paid, and it just wouldn't do to start off the summer on the wrong foot now, would it? We've decided to overlook your past behavior; we are going to get along for these next two weeks. Understood?"

Harry looked from his Aunt, to his Uncle, then back again. He had no idea what brought about this change of heart. It slowly began to dawn upon him, as Aunt Petunia stared at him (in what she surely thought to be a caring and compassionate manner) and asked gently, "Is there anything you'd like to share with us about your school year?"

The smile on Vernon's face became visibly strained. He hated all mention of magic, especially regarding 'That school for freakishness'. Harry looked suspiciously at his Aunt.

"Er… Not particularly…Nothing major, really,"

"Did something happen to your Headmaster?" He looked at all of them piercingly. While Vernon and Dudley's heartily sympathetic expressions were laughably false, Aunt Petunia sported an expression that could be likened, with enough imagination, to concern. Harry felt a pang of regret and sorrow deep within his chest.

"Well, Professor Dumbledore died. That's been…ah, difficult to say the least," Harry was marginally surprised to see that this news did not seem to be much of a surprise to his relatives, "But, you knew that, didn't you? Is that why you've been so nice to me? Merlin, I knew that there had to be a reason. You'd never just be nice to me, just to be nice, would you? So, what's in it for you?" Harry scowled. Petunia Dursley cringed. Vernon started to swell up, then seemed to deflate.

"Your headmaster sent us a letter. Seems as though he knew that he would be dying. Reminded us of our 'responsibilities' to you, and that there's only about a month left that we're stuck with you," At this, Petunia jabbed her husband with her elbow, "Er, I mean, a month that we've got to cherish with you!" he and Dudley laughed heartily- Petunia's expression became pinched- "And, since it's really only two weeks, we figured we ought to make the most of it,"

Harry remained suspicious of their motives, certain that there was more to their reasons than simply not wanting to deny a dying man his last wishes. Or, at least those voiced to the Dursleys. Nevertheless, he was not about to pass up an opportunity to have a more peaceful summer.

"Alright," He held out his hand toward the Dursley family, "Truce?"

His hand was engulfed by Vernon's meaty one. They shook hands. "Yes. Truce." The first sincere, non-malicious, smile Harry had seen all night broke across his face. Dudley's chubby features spread out in a grin, and Petunia sighed in relief. Harry wondered if she had thought he was going to turn down their 'offer'. His returning smile was genuine, if a little uncertain.

"Well I think that this calls for some celebration! How about some wine, Harry?" Harry murmured his assent. He was now confused about his uncle's jovial attitude. Was their truce really that much of a big deal?

Petunia moved across the room to the cabinet and began to pull out glasses, smiling to herself all the while. She took them to her husband before returning back to her seat.

Vernon moved off towards his liquor cabinet. He snuck a furtive glance back at his spouse, hands hesitating over the whiskey, before passing over it to reach for the wine. But not before he picked the bottle up, and tipped some into his own glass.

Dudley motioned Harry closer to him.

"So… um, Harry… I guess I just wanted to say thanks for not laughing in our faces. That would kind of have sucked…" He chuckled nervously, "I, uh… also wanted to say that I'm sorry for beating you up when we were younger. It was… not very nice of me?" Dudley glanced at his mother, who gave a small jerk of her head. Dudley looked like he was having some difficulties, but tried to press forward anyway, "I know we may not…"

A smile ghosted across Harry's face before his expression returned to its calm mask as he interrupted his cousin, "It's okay, Dudley. I understand. I can't say that I totally forgive you, or even that I do forgive you… But I can understand the importance of putting the past behind," His expression darkened, "All that we can do is move ahead, yeah?" Dudley nodded vigorously.

"Though, I would like to know about this sudden change of heart…it seems so uncharacteristic of Uncle Vernon, and, well, the rest of you too…"

Dudley looked at him seriously, "Well, y'know, dad's been in a very celebratory mood since he got that promotion. I think it makes him open to some suggestions that he wouldn't normally like. I still don't think he really likes them, but since he's in such a good mood, doesn't mind so much.

And, well… we've all been considering things since two years ago. I know that over this past year, mum and your headmaster were corresponding. Your headmaster seemed to think that he ought to be checking in on you, and us. He sent her lots of letters, which she had both dad and I read, and some books,"

Harry felt his stomach flip. He had the horrible feeling he knew just what sort of books Professor Dumbledore would have sent the Dursleys, especially if he was aiming for them to be sympathetic towards him.

"The books were about you. Not entirely, but gave some back story. It was really weird. Like something out of a fairy tale. A lot to take in, y'know?" Dudley leaned towards Harry conspiratorially, "Did you really stab a 100 meter long snake with a flaming sword that jumped out of a hat that appeared suddenly on your head?"

Harry frowned. He had thought that his former headmaster would give them books that contained… More accurate versions of the story. He smiled at Dudley, "Not quite. It was more like 30 meters, and the sword wasn't flaming… It did come out of a magical hat, though, brought to me by the headmaster's phoenix. Which is a magical bird, that I suppose does burst into flame…"

Dudley shook his head in awe, before getting back to his tale, "But, you know dad, he fears all sorts of your freakish-" Petunia fixed her most stern expression on him, "er, wizardly ways. Your headmaster explained to us that he was dying… His final request to us before the letters stopped was that we 'show you some small kindness', before you go on to complete your final task. What is it you're supposed to do, Harry?"

Harry's heart sank. What reason did Professor Dumbledore have to be telling the Dursleys these sorts of things? He didn't really want to answer his cousin, but didn't want to lie to him and ruin their newfound truce, either.

He sighed, and answered his cousin, "I can't really tell you, Dudley… It's very complicated, but basically, there's this very bad wizard – I'm the only person who can kill him, and he's practically unkillable-" Harry stopped speaking as his uncle returned with the drinks and handed them out.

"To a wonderful summer holiday!" Vernon proclaimed loudly (he was already getting a bit red in the face), and they all toasted to that sentiment. Harry had to smile at that; how many of his summers had really been 'wonderful'? He doubted that this one would be much different, even if his relatives were actively trying to be kind.

They spent a little while longer trying to make conversation, but it was hard to find a 'safe' topic that they could all participate in. It was just after 8 o'clock when Harry excused himself to turn in for the night.

Harry tossed himself onto his bed, and stared at the ceiling, trying to keep his thoughts from straying to the war, or his deceased Headmaster. He turned his mind toward Ron and Hermione. He wondered what the pair was up to at that moment. Hermione was probably revising for her NEWTs. Ron was probably avoiding doing so. Harry was not looking forward to the year ahead. Hermione would be constantly nagging him and Ron… That is, if they returned to Hogwarts.

Harry knew that his beloved school might not reopen in the fall and that even if it did, he would not be likely to attend. The hunt for the horcruxes would likely take him a long while, and it was probably that he would not be near Hogwarts for most of the journey. Ron and Hermione had promised to accompany him.

Harry knew he needed help, but hated to pull them into what he felt was 'his' war. Especially Hermione – Harry thought that it would practically kill her to miss her last year of schooling. And Ron was not what Harry would deem 'ready to go on the adventure of a lifetime'. It was almost unfair to his friends to strive to protect them from a war that was coming to them, but he could not help but try.

But Harry had been given a mission, and intended to see it completed, even if it killed him.

It was with these heavy thoughts filling his mind that Harry finally fell into a fitful and uneven sleep.

It was Saturday, the fifth of July – The day the Dursleys were due to leave for America – that the Dursleys received a phone call. It was what would later be known as "The Phone Call that Changed Everything" to Harry.

The past two weeks had passed almost pleasantly, Harry reflected, as he bent down on his knees to weed the garden. While the time spent with his relatives had passed in civility (they had mostly tried to avoid each other; Petunia on the other hand, continued to try interacting with him), it was hardly as if the Dursleys allowed him to go without any chores… They were just less haphazard, and fewer menial tasks showed up on his work list than before.

Harry didn't mind puttering about in the garden, he supposed. There was a calming affect as he dug about in the soft soil, pulling out weeds and caring for Aunt Petunia's roses and peonies. He supposed they were more his flowers than hers, as he had been doing all the work to tend them. The Dursleys had definitely noticed his interest in gardening, and played upon it to the fullest.

Petunia Dursley had been standing inside, just out of view, as she watched her nephew in the garden. She was not a kind woman, often much the opposite, but she regretted the fact that she had not done something to make Harry's life easier. He was just such a nice boy, and she and her family had never done anything to show their support.

After reading about him and his many exploits, she could admit to herself that she was now a bit in awe of her unwanted relative. More of what she felt was pity, though, than anything else. The fact that she had played a part in making his life Hell for the better part of eleven years was no consolation.

But she allowed herself to feel no remorse. As Harry had said, they were moving on, now…

Petunia's observation of Harry was cut short, by the shrill ring of the telephone.

"Hello, Dursley residence. How may I help you?"

"Petunia?" A voice wheezed into Petunia's ear, "Put my brother on the phone. I need to speak with him. It appears as though I've come down with a bug," Even ill, Marge managed to retain an air of bossiness, and contempt for her sister-in-law.

"VERNON!" Petunia called, "Your sister is on the phone! She does not sound well…"

Her husband heaved himself off the living room couch, and made his way into the kitchen. He took the receiver, shooing Petunia away, and answered his sister with some trepidation.

"Marge? Where have you been? You were supposed to get here twenty minutes ago! We've got to leave here in two hours! Is everything alright?"

"What do you think, you great oaf?!" Vernon was taken aback. His sister rarely called him names. She continued grumpily, "I seem to have become ill – they say it looks like a bad case of the flu – and I won't be better for another two weeks, yet. I'm terribly sorry, but it looks as though I'll have to cancel on you. Perhaps another time…"

Vernon was at a loss as he put the phone back in its cradle. He had already made arrangements for four people; it was far too late to simply cancel, and bring it down to three. He thought of the money he had already spent, and what a waste it would be

Calling Petunia back in, he dreaded what he knew needed to be done.

"Marge is terribly ill, dear. She won't be able to accompany us on our tour of America," he trailed off looking at his wife's face.

Petunia pursed her lips and looked out the window to the backyard. Looked out to where her nephew was up to his elbows in dirt and flowers. "You know there's only one thing that we can really do, Vernon," She stated matter-of-factly.

Vernon Dursley sighed. He had known what was coming, and still did not like it, "Are you sure, darling? I'm sure that there is someone else who would take the ticket. Maybe one of Dudley's friends?"

"It's too short notice."

"Maybe one of my co-workers?"

"Are you trying to rub your promotion in their faces? Or suck up to your superiors?"

"Are you absolutely sure there's no one else?" Vernon Dursley was not normally one to whine, but just couldn't seem to help himself. While the entire family had gotten along fairly well for the most part, Vernon was still not prepared to accept Harry as a member of his family.

"Vernon. You listen to me, and listen closely: That boy is a hero in his world. He may not be our favorite person, but I can guarantee you that he is the reason we are alive today. Corresponding with his headmaster, I found out that there are blood protections on this house that ensure his safety. Those go both ways. Even if he was not here, the dark wizards would know who his relatives are.

Now, I know you don't like to think of it. I hardly enjoy it either, but we do owe him something. It's the least we can do to give him a bit of a vacation before he walks out of our lives," Petunia looked at him sharply, her features pinched in an expression of sternness, "I'll leave it up to you to, ah, invite him along. Get to it, now!"

Vernon watched his wife turn away and head back upstairs to finish packing her bags. He reluctantly waddled out the back door, and waved to get his nephew's attention. Harry looked up at him, wondering what could be the matter.

"Boy, pack your bags. Your Aunt Marge has come down with the flu. You've got twenty minutes to pack your bags and settle things with the rest of your people. If you're not in the car in the next hour, we'll reconsider bringing you,"

Harry stared at him in shock for a moment, then jumped up and began tossing the garden tools away. He could not believe his luck! He, Harry Potter, was going to America!

Harry ran up the stairs, and after rushing through a two minute shower, he began throwing his belongings into his trunk. Stopping for a moment to think, he added all of his textbooks, and his treasures hidden under the loose floorboard. All of his few possessions packed, Harry put on his best muggle clothes, and sat down to write his letters.

To Whom It May Concern:

I am going to be going on a much needed vacation with my relatives for the duration of this summer. We will be out of the country, so I (hope that I) will be hard to find. Please do not try to contact me. I'd like to have some time to think about the events of the past year, and plan for the next.

While it may be difficult, I hope, and expect, even, that you can respect my wishes- at least in this. I'd remind you all that I am legally an adult this July, and that you have no hold over me once that happens.

I wish you all the best. Do not worry about me, and I shall contact you as I am able.

Harry J. Potter

Dear Ron and Hermione-

How's your summer going? Mine is going strangely well, actually…Guess what? The Dursleys are taking me on vacation with them to America! We're going to go on a tour of the place… Uncle Vernon says it's very expensive.

Funny thing, really… You wouldn't think the Dursleys would be taking me with them, right? Well, Marge got sick (yes, Ron, this is the woman I inflated), so I get to go! And the Dursleys have been half-decent, this summer. It's quite strange, their change of attitude. I was almost wondering if someone had cursed them, or something- since I would have thought that being nice to me would be pure torture! What a silly idea; I'm not complaining, though.

Hermione, don't worry about me, as I know you are. I'm doing well, and I'm looking forward to seeing you guys when I return. And yes, I am keeping up with my studies. I'll be bringing my summer work with me to America.

I'm also afraid that I won't be able to make it to Bill and Fleur's wedding. I won't be able to get back in time from the trip, and if I do come, you know that there would be no way that the Order would let me walk away from that unguarded… Speaking of the Order, I'm kind of hoping that they won't be able to track me down; really looking forward to some time without my watchers.

Give my best to Bill and Fleur, I'll see you in a few weeks,

Harry

P.S. Herm- Have you looked into the initials, yet?

Harry sealed up his letters, and gave them to Hedwig.

"These go to the Burrow, and this one to Order Headquarters. Or maybe to Professor McGonagall… Now, I'm going to be in America. Probably for the rest of the summer-Will you be able to find me there?" She hooted affectionately, and nipped his finger in response. Harry laughed, "Of course you will! Now, hurry off and take these; I'll see you in the United States of America!"

He surveyed his room with one last long look. This would be the last time he set foot within its cramped walls. Harry smirked to himself: Maybe he would even find a hint to the secrets of the horcruxes in America. But then he laughed: Not likely.

By then, almost an hour had passed. Harry pulled his trunk downstairs with alacrity, still wary of the underage magic restrictions, and shoved it into the trunk. He even helped his aunt and cousin put their suitcases in as well, before hopping into the car. All of the Dursleys were practically bouncing with excitement; Harry was still a bit wary of their attitude. Besides, he could not bring himself to burst their bubble of jubilation, especially as he was feeling the same way- He just hid it better, still surprised by his luck.

"Everyone ready?" Vernon asked, as he started the car. Dudley and Petunia cheered. Vernon turned to look at Harry, "Well, Harry… Aren't you going to cheer with us?"

Harry looked at him strangely, "Cheer? Why do I need to cheer? I… uh, don't think so…"

"But we should all cheer like a happy family going on vacation!" Petunia added in helpfully. Harry sighed, resigned to his fate with the 'new and improved' Dursleys. "Okay".

"Alright, then," Vernon asked again, "Everyone ready?" Two voices again answered him with an enthusiastic cheer. After a pointed look from the other family members, Harry chimed in with a less-than-excited "Yay."

As the car pulled out of the driveway and began to drive towards the airport, a shrill voice could be heard saying, "C'mon Harry! Let's sing!"