First Place - Angst

He didn't know why, but one of the books that Ron had sent Harry was the Slytherin book written in Parseltongue. After he got all of his homework out of the way Harry worked on the translation in small spurts. He noticed one potion in particular that he thought Voldemort must have used to create the Dark Mark and wondered if brewing it might help find a way to get rid of the Mark. He wanted to find more information first, especially as the potion was blood magic, and just marked it for later investigation.

Harry had never been to a funeral before. It was strange, as so many people he knew had died. He assumed that his parents had a funeral, but his aunt and uncle almost certainly did not take him. Cedric would have had a funeral, but no one ever mentioned it to him and Dumbledore would not have let him go anyway. Sirius hadn't been given a funeral as far as Harry knew.

The group of wizards stood outside the muggle church in the early November chill before the funeral for Harry's cousin. For the first time Harry saw a group of wizards dressed impeccably by muggle standards. They even appeared to be better off than any other... guests? mourners? Harry wasn't quite sure how to classify them. Arabella Figg was there and she gave Harry a vague greeting and ignored the others, who made no sign they knew who she was.

"Did my parents have a funeral?" Harry asked everyone and no one in particular.

He was fully aware that every head swiveled in his direction. Davey Gudgeon, who Harry met for the first time that morning and insisted that Harry call him by his Marauder nickname 'Cyclops' answered his question, "I attended their memorial Harry. It was beautiful. I can pensieve it for you sometime."

"Would you?" Harry hadn't expected that much and was touched.

Davey mussed his hair, "Of course I will."

"Before you ask," Yvonne Diggory said sadly, "Cedric had a memorial as well. The family understands why you couldn't be there. Albus came and said something on your behalf."

At least the Diggorys with him were not Cedric's parents. Harry heard they had joined the Order, but he didn't think he could handle seeing them. He had no idea how they had reacted to all those articles about him.

Harry nodded and felt tears prickle his eyes. If he appeared to be the dutiful cousin it was perfectly fine with him. He could be thinking about his parents, and Cedric, and Sirius, and not about Dudley and how he didn't miss his cousin. He wished Dudley hadn't died the way he did, but he couldn't feel it was any real loss to humanity.

"We can have a memorial for Black now," Harry's father said with sympathy. Harry knew that Snape still despised Sirius, but he did not insult him around Harry out of respect for their relationship. "Once everything is official, though it may take some time, I will help you plan."

"Thank you," Harry said solemnly.

"Time to head in," Tonks came out of the church, dressed in a tasteful gray dress and thankfully low heeled shoes with a long black coat. Tonks in high heels was a disaster waiting to happen. Her hair, in a long braid down her back that day, was even a normal color... or almost. Harry didn't think that particular shade of deep red ever appeared naturally.

Someone was touching Harry the entire time, whether it was his father with a hand on his shoulder as he had grown accustomed to or Charlie with a hand on his back or arm, or a Weasley twin with an arm around his shoulders there was always someone grounding him. It was a good thing too. None of the people with him were mourning for his cousin and they gave him a focus in case his empathy was overwhelmed.

The service was dreadfully boring, even worse than History class with Binns, though it had been over a year since Harry had suffered through that form of torture. Harry was amazed that anyone could be more boring than a man who made people fall asleep while describing goblin rebellions and other events that should be exciting to learn about. The minister conducting the service droned on and on about the kingdom of heaven and how children were assured a place at God's side.

Harry was convinced the man had never met Dudley.

The Dursleys had gone to church every Sunday but Harry suspected it was only because it was the normal thing to do. They only paid lip service to whatever religion it was they chose. One of the few things they did that Harry was actually thankful for was never dragging him to church with them. Mrs. Figg had watched him every Sunday morning.

Fred and George actually behaved themselves. Despite the sea of Smeltings uniforms in nauseating orange and maroon, what were the founders of that school thinking, not one practical joke came out. Harry made a mental note to thank them profusely.

The church itself was beautiful but Harry didn't let his eyes stray too much. He did assess the magic of everyone in the building during the service and discovered a few squibs in the crowd. All the pure muggles had a mild colorless glow but no flow of magic and they were almost so dull as to escape notice. The building itself had no glow. He made a mental note to discuss it with Ollivander.

For some reason none of the muggles noticed Mad-Eye's magical eye. Harry inspected his magic closely and discovered a charm masking the retired auror. It was an interesting discovery and Harry wondered what other changes to people he would be able to see. He might be able to detect the use of Polyjuice. Appearance altering charms were a given.

They were sitting somewhere near the middle of the church, a buffer of muggles on every side. Harry knew by now that the wizards with him were only the overt showing of protection, though if something happened he could probably hold his own better than any of them. There were most likely a dozen Aurors outside under Disillusionment Charms watching for black robes and white masks and keeping the press at bay.

When the service ended Harry and his entourage filed outside with the muggles to the graveyard. He was not looking forward to what he had do once the muggles were all gone, and knew that no one had told his aunt and uncle... to spare them the imagery.

Harry just watched his Aunt Petunia as the minister droned on again. She had woken her second day at St. Mungo's but was different. She seemed to be just going through the motions of living. Harry scanned her and recognized how she felt at once... empty and numb. He felt a surge of fear for his aunt.

Aunt Marge and Uncle Vernon threw flowers on the coffin. Uncle Vernon nudged Aunt Petunia and she did the same.

Slowly the muggles began to leave. The only people who lingered were Harry, his friends, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Aunt Marge. Harry was disgusted to notice Ripper in Aunt Marge's arms. She actually brought her dog to her nephew's funeral.

Harry stepped up to the grave and felt his father and Charlie behind him. The others hung back, scanning the area for potential threats now that the crowd had mostly dispersed.

"I am shocked that you dared to show your face here," Aunt Marge shot at Harry from across the grave. Ripper growled.

Harry took a deep breath, "I am paying my respects to the deceased Marge."

"Respect," the woman snarled. She looked over Harry and the people with him, "No doubt the terrorists that attacked them were connected somehow to you. I hear your father was connected to some underground group. Have you taken up with his old friends?"

Harry was furious. He felt Charlie trying to calm him but it did no good, "Yes Marge, I have. They are kinder to me than your brother ever was."

"Ingrate," Marge narrowed her eyes at him. "Stay away from my brother. You should have been drowned when they dropped you on his doorstep. You'll come to the same end as your parents someday, dead from your own drunken laziness."

Harry felt his own rage steaming, but his father's was stronger. Snape had seen his memories of Marjorie Dursley. Harry put out a hand and stopped his father from advancing on the woman. There was tension rippling from every witch and wizard with him at the insult to the Potters. They were all poised and ready to attack.

Uncle Vernon must have noticed, as he said something quietly to Aunt Marge and she waddled off towards her car with a final parting glare at Harry. Aunt Petunia just stared at the spot where the headstone would be placed.

"What are you still doing here?" Uncle Vernon hissed. "Can't you at least give us time to say goodbye to our Dudley?"

Harry sighed, "I can't leave yet Uncle Vernon. I did not want to tell you, but we have to ward the grave to prevent anyone from exhuming his remains for ritual purposes."

Aunt Petunia didn't react but Uncle Vernon paled, "They... they'd use my Dudley... what for?"

Harry looked away and his father answered for him, "There are a number of dark rituals, potions, and spells that require the remains of a blood relative. The wards we intend will guard Dudley's remains from vandalism of any kind and protect Harry."

Uncle Vernon gripped Aunt Petunia, "Just do what you have to do and get out of my sight. I never want to see you or hear from you ever again."

Harry nodded and the group with him stepped forward. Harry stood at the head of the grave, Snape at the foot. Alastor Moody stood on one side and Tonks on the other. The others formed a ring around them. Harry took a deep breath, bowed his head, and began the incantation.

They had researched the ritual long ago, he discovered. The Order had been prepared for the death of a Dursley since the beginning of Harry's fifth year. Harry had learned the ritual on Saturday and Sunday. He had been scanning the magic around him all day, Ollivander urged him to use the talent to get used to it, and so he almost wasn't aware of the flowing magic over the earth. He was aware though, when his magic pulled at it and power rushed through him.

There were little twinges of discomfort and unease from the other casters, but Harry sent out soothing waves. He wasn't quite sure what he was doing, but it felt right. Harry watched the coffin glow bright blue as threads of magic laced over it and tied complex knots. A net of fine blue strands was woven in the earth that would surround the coffin. The ritual was complete.

Harry looked up at his aunt and uncle. Uncle Vernon was beyond uncomfortable, witnessing such a display. As she had been for the past few days, Aunt Petunia did not react at all.

"No one will ever disturb him," Harry said quietly, looking to soothe his relatives despite his loathing for them.

Harry turned and took a step away from the grave, but he stumbled. Charlie stepped forward quickly and caught him. He helped Harry stand and wrapped a supporting arm around his waist. Harry leaned on his shoulder and breathed deeply. The world was tilting.

"What did you do this time?" Snape asked roughly as he stalked over to them. Harry could feel that his father was worried, not mad.

Harry felt all tingly. It wasn't like the giddiness from when his magic was unblocked and uncontrolled. It was more raw and disorienting. He felt connected to the ground he stood on, the trees and the grass and even the sky. There was magic rippling over everything he could see... except for Uncle Vernon. Davey Gudgeon was talking to him and Harry wondered why for a moment.

Harry closed his eyes and slowly brought his focus in. He blocked off the ground and the trees, then the wizards around him, and began to feel stable again.

"Sorry," Harry murmured, "lost control for a minute, too much magic."

Snape nodded and turned to Alastor, "I think it's time to go back to Headquarters."

"You fit to apparate?" Charlie asked Harry softly. Harry just nodded, "On three then, one... two..."

"That was by far the most depressing, morbid thing I have ever seen," George summoned a few bottles of wine out of the pantry and set them pouring for everyone as Mrs. Weasley got dinner going with Yvonne Diggory's help.

"It was a funeral George," Harry stressed.

"Wizard memorials celebrate the life of whoever has passed Harry," Davey said as he took a goblet of wine and leaned on the table. "Muggles mourn their loss."

Harry snorted, "It's just as well. There was nothing Dudley ever did that could be celebrated. He was the muggle equivalent of Crabbe and Goyle, dull and violent."

Fred wiggled his eyebrows, "Wizards put the fun in funeral. Ow!" Bill had cuffed the back of his head. "Bill!"

Bill gave his younger brother a stern look, "That was tasteless Fred."

Conversation lightened up as the twins described some of their latest joke products, all in honor of the Marauders. They had Prongs Pretzels, which gave the consumer antlers. Moony Munchies were a chocolate with peanuts and marshmallow that were energizing and made whoever ate them howl. Padfoot Poppers made the victim grow black hair on their whole body, and then shed a minute later. Their own hair grew back within an hour or so.

"Nothing for Wormtail?" Harry questioned with distaste.

Fred and George both grinned and George answered, "We saved the best for last. Gummy Wormtails... gives you a rat tail, rat nose, and leaves a foul taste in your mouth for at least eight hours."

Snape, Davey, and Harry all nodded approvingly and Harry smiled at the twins, "I will make sure never to try that one."

Yvonne was putting the food on the table, which Bill and Robin had set, while the twins explained Marauder Mix, "It's a bag with a little bit of everything, so you could end up with black fur and antlers, or some other combination."

"You need to add Cyclops Cyder, causing temporary blindness in one eye," Harry suggested.

Davey shook his head, "I was twelve! Who told you about that anyway?"

"Remus left his part out, but Jackie was more than willing to fill in the details," Harry grinned at the Junior Marauder.

Davey shook his head and the group began eating, "That girl's mission in life is to turn all my hair gray."

"What were you talking to Uncle Vernon about?" Harry asked after swallowing a mouthful of peas.

Davey sighed, "I don't know if it will do any good, but my older sister is a muggle, and a psychologist. She knows about the wizarding world because of me and Uncle Joseph, so she might be able to help your aunt."

Harry nodded, "Thank you."

They were all still in their muggle dress clothes when people began leaving for the night and going about their own business in number twelve Grimmauld Place. Snape returned to Hogwarts, having missed only a day of classes. Harry would go back in the morning.

"You clean up good," Charlie took Harry in a warm embrace the instant their door closed. Harry tucked his head in Charlie's shoulder and breathed in his scent.

Harry shut his eyes and sighed, "You too." He soaked up the warmth and comfort for a few moments, "Should I be sad?"

"Your cousin tormented you for fun... like the Death Eaters do with muggles... but in a way worse because you are his blood, his family," Charlie spoke quietly and with surety. Harry knew he had been thinking about this, preparing for this very discussion. The emotions coming from Charlie were strong, mostly anger at the Dursleys for causing more pain Harry when they thought it was over, and then concern and caring for Harry. "You feel guilty because he was attacked. If he had died in an accident or of natural causes you would not have this guilt making you think you had to mourn your abuser."

Harry tensed at the word. He hated thinking of himself as 'abused' even though he knew objectively it was true, "I want to forget them Charlie."

He lifted his head and made eye contact, but only for a second, not willing to risk connecting again. He knew he had more control over that particular talent, which was really a combination of strong empathy, magic sensing, and training in Legilimency, but he felt vulnerable around Charlie, disarmed.

Their mouths met in a slow, sensual kiss and Charlie's hands moved up to his shoulders. They brushed his jacket off his shoulders and Harry stretched his arms behind him to let the jacket slip off. Fingers unbuttoned each button of his shirt carefully, moving with deliberate slowness.

Harry began to return the favor, smoothing the fabric of Charlie's clothes before removing them with care. He took in textures, silky and smooth, rough and coarse, and drew on his magic to send the clothing to the wardrobe once it was off the body. He had discovered recently that spells were not always necessary.

Charlie knelt and lifted the leg of Harry's trousers to remove his boots, stroking leg and foot tenderly as the casing was discarded. He pressed his face against the front of Harry's trousers and smoothed his hands over the back before opening the fastenings and letting them fall in a puddle around Harry's ankles.

He looked down and Charlie smiled up at him, a secretive, knowing smile, one that made Harry's heart thump in his chest and caused twitching in his boxers. Harry put both hands on Charlie's face and brushed his fingers into the thick red hair. His palms stayed pressed to Charlie's cheeks as the fingers traced down the sides of his head, skirting over his ears and coming to rest at the base of his neck.

Rather than pulling Charlie up for a kiss Harry sank to his knees and leaned in, his tongue making contact before his lips. He kissed Charlie hard, tracing the palate of his mouth with his tongue, and the boundaries created by his perfectly even teeth.

Arms wrapped around Harry's waist and pulled him closer, pulled their bodies together. Harry was almost achingly hard, nearly ready to beg for release. Charlie's palm pressed against the ache and Harry unbuttoned Charlie's trousers. He pushed Charlie back on the floor and pulled at the ankles of the trousers to remove them.

Charlie tugged at Harry's arms and Harry placed his hands on either side of Charlie's hips. He took the waistband of the boxers in his mouth and eased it over the twitching erection. His face brushed it as he pulled down the boxers and Charlie let out a sharp breath.

In a swift motion Harry found himself pressed into the floor with Charlie above him. He smiled and parted his lips as Charlie's descended onto them. They kissed while Charlie's hands eased off Harry's boxers. Harry pulled up his knees between them and the boxers were off. He straightened his legs and their bodies became perfectly aligned once more.

It was close, so close, and Harry pushed his hips up in short thrusts, beautiful friction, "I'm almost there."

He felt Charlie's mouth stretch into a smile against his lips. They rolled again and Charlie directed Harry to impale him. Harry clenched his eyes shut and bit his lower lip. He could hold out a little longer... and then Charlie pushed his hips up and Harry lost control. His head has bowed and his eyes opened. He thrust hard and fast and saw Charlie flush underneath him, all of his skin gaining a rosier tint than before. Charlie's tongue darted out to lick his lips and his back arched.

"Harry."

He never knew his name could be a prayer, a beg, a cry, or even that it could be said with such warmth and passion. He never thought that hearing his name said in that way would send him over the edge into mindless pleasure, wave upon wave of ecstasy.

The bed was ignored for the night, and they parted ways in the morning again.

Finding the Key - Chapter 31

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