Three Weeks of Owls
Darkness engulfed the hedge-lined streets and flowerbed encircled gardens of Privet Drive. A snowy owl flapped its wings as it took flight from the upper bedroom window of number four. Its pale feathers glowing in the moonlight cut a graceful arc through the blackened sky, glimmering like the stars that winked through the wisps of cloud that earlier that day had beguiled the homeowners below into hoping for the rain that their lawns so desperately needed. Those homeowners were all in bed by now, dreaming of that ill-promised precipitation. None of them saw the single drop of water that hit the windowsill from which the owl had begun its journey. There was only ever one drop.
Berating himself for the hundredth time for allowing a tear, Harry Potter hastily rubbed his eyes and steeled his nerves. By morning he'd have another letter from Ron or Hermione to occupy his mind. He focused his thoughts on trying to guess what they would say.
"We're so sorry, Harry…We know it has to be hard, Harry…Maybe we can convince them to come get you soon, Harry…It's dreadfully dull here without you, Harry…Don't let the muggles get to you, Harry…" It was no use. Nothing they could say would cheer him up. Yet, convinced as he was of that fact, he knew as soon as Hedwig returned he'd tear the letter open eagerly. Anything to get his mind off of that place, those events…that veil!
"Is that Hedwig again?" Mrs. Weasley asked over breakfast. "Wasn't she just here last night?"
"She's been here two or three times a day since we got home from Hogwarts, Mum," Fred responded absently.
"RON," Mrs. Weasley shouted up the stairs of the Burrow, "ANOTHER POST FROM HARRY FOR YOU, DEAR!"
"Coming Mum," Ron's muffled response emanated from the topmost room of the towering house.
"I'll take it up to him if you like, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione who had risen early to help make the breakfast.
"Oh, thank you, dear. That would be helpful." Hermione removed the letter from Hedwig's leg and turned it over to read the quickly scribbled inscription: Hermione, Ron, whoever.
She shook her head and muttered, "It's a good thing Hedwig is such a smart Owl or this could have been handed over to the first person who stopped her. Harry really needs to be more careful with his posts."
"What was that, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked as Hermione began the long trek up the winding staircase.
"Oh, nothing, Mrs. Weasley. Harry just needs to cheer up is all."
"Oh, that poor dear," Mrs. Weasley agreed. "If only Albus would let us have him here. I don't know how many times I've told him that it's just not healthy for a boy his age to be caged up like that, not to mention his constant subjection to those miserable relatives of his. If there were only some way…but no. Professor Dumbledore always knows best, I'm afraid. More people should learn to trust him and his decisions, I dare say."
Mrs. Weasley's voice trailed off until it was barely audible as Hermione climbed the staircase to Ron's room. She was just rounding the bend past the bathroom, her eyes focused on the letter in her hands when she ran smack into something warm and soft.
"Oof…Oh, sorry Ron, I was just bringing up Harry's letter," she explained a little too quickly. She tried to smile but found herself blushing furiously instead. She glanced quickly down at the letter and held it out to him to take.
"Shall we…um…go and um…read it, then? In my room, maybe?" Ron stammered nervously.
"Oh…uh…sure…yeah, that…that would be perfect," Hermione returned.
"Can I come?" Ginny asked from the bathroom doorway.
"No!" Ron shouted a little too loudly.
"Why not?" Ginny demanded, "Harry's my friend, too."
"You can read it later," Hermione tried to placate her friend, "at breakfast, perhaps. We just have some…some…homework to uh…"
"Oh come on, you two are the worst liars! You're never going to keep your little fling from Harry if you keep on like that at Hogwarts!"
"What? What are you talking about?" Ron played the innocent.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Ginny said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. The only people who don't know are Mum, Dad, and Harry, and the only reason they don't is because Mum and Dad are too busy to notice and Harry isn't here. But whatever, I'm going down for some bacon and eggs. Can't say as I'll save you any though."
"You better not eat it all," Ron shouted after his sister's retreating back.
"Oh Ron," Hermione teased him, "how could one little girl eat all of what your mum and I made? I swear, she must be expecting the whole Order over this morning."
"Really, do you think they'll all be here?" Ron asked looking eagerly toward the staircase now.
"If they're coming, no one's told me," Hermione said. "Come on, let's go read Harry's letter." She slipped her right hand into Ron's left and smiled invitingly.
"O.K.," Ron squeaked. He cleared his throat noisily and let her lead him toward his room.
One more hour and Harry was certain he would go insane, if he hadn't already. Three weeks of veritable solitude didn't offer a kid much of a chance to gauge his own sanity against someone else's. Sure, the Dursleys had not bothered him this summer. They hadn't spoken more than two words at a time to him since he'd gotten in the car with them at Kings Cross Station. It was always, "Boy, Room," or "Boy, Breakfast," or, "Boy, Out."
This morning had been no exception. Upon entering the kitchen he found breakfast underway without him. Most of the food had been eaten already. He really didn't care at all. Nor did it bother him when Uncle Vernon grunted, "Boy, Dishes," as he heaved his enormous self off his dining room chair and went to read his morning paper in the drawing room. It was his Aunt that had irritated him, most of all.
"Not one drop," she said in a disgruntled tone as she peered out the kitchen window at the wispy clouds. "The weatherman promised there would be rain today. And still, not a descent rain bearing cloud in the sky. My pansies and petunias are all shriveled up, not a single bloom on them. I doubt if they'll ever recover."
Perhaps it was something about the words shriveled and recover. Perhaps it was the fact that they so nonchalantly chatted about the weather every morning when there was a megalomaniac wizard on the loose. He wasn't sure. The next thing he knew he was stomping out of the house, ignoring his uncle's repeated shout of, "Boy, Dishes!" He slammed the door as he stepped onto the porch, his mind a blur of not-quite conscious thoughts. They would never be his family, those people, blood or no blood. Someday, when he was a fully trained, able bodied wizard, he'd come back here and show them. He'd show them good. They'd never mess with a wizard or witch again!
Harry glowered maliciously at his feet as he walked quickly down to the park on Wisteria Walk. No one ever played there anymore, not since Dudley and his gang had claimed it as their "Club Headquarters." But they wouldn't be there now. At fifteen minutes to nine-o-clock, husbands were just stepping out of their front doors and kissing their wives goodbye. The elderly couple two doors down were sitting in their wicker chairs, their feet up on the matching wicker coffee table, sipping their morning tea. A few children could be seen behind living room windows, staring at mind numbing cartoons, still dressed in their pajamas. But Dudley's gang was always still asleep at this hour, having been up late terrorizing the neighborhood with their antics. How they managed to keep from getting caught, Harry could only imagine. They certainly couldn't run away, as most of them were as large and lazy as Dudley. And they didn't have the ability to apparate. Most likely, whenever the damage they did around town was discovered by an adult, they would claim to have found it that way and suggest that maybe that Potter boy had done it. After all, everyone in Little Whinging knew about the Potter boy.
Harry scuffed his shoe on the cement as his foot connected with a loose pebble and hurled it into the street, straight into the path of Mr. Whiting's Mercedes Benz, the neighbor at number 18.
"You watch where you're kickin' those rocks, mister!" Mr. Whiting shouted out his passenger window as he made a sharper left turn that he should have.
"Mr. Whiting, look out," Harry cried, but too late. The front of Mr. Whiting's bumper crunched into the fire hydrant on the corner.
"Darn kid," Mr. Whiting yelled as he stepped out of his vehicle. "This is all your fault. Kicking stones into the road, forcing me to swerve, and now look! The paint job on the hood alone is going to cost a fortune! I'm going to speak to your Uncle about this, Potter, you mark my words!"
Harry didn't need to hear another word. The day had barely begun and already it was shaping up to be one of the worst he'd had all summer. Still, nothing compared to the events last June at the Ministry of Magic in London. He turned his back on Mr. Whiting and the bent up Mercedes and took off running. He kept going until he'd found himself quite alone near the abandoned warehouse on Thornberry Way. Thinking that this would be a good place to hide out until Uncle Vernon and Mr. Whiting had had it out over that bumper, Harry ascended the rickety steps and pulled on the loose door handle. The door swung open with a loud creak, and the floor boards were no less noisy when he stepped into the dark, empty room.
"If only I could cast a silencing charm," Harry muttered to himself. He strode over to some dust covered crates and sat on one of them. It was going to be a long wait.
"Here Ginny, you can read it now if you want," Ron said as he held Harry's latest letter out for his sister to take.
"Oh, thank you, Ron," Ginny returned sarcastically. "I've just been waiting on pins and needles all morning!"
"I'm sure you have," Ron grinned wickedly. "He mentions you in there, you know. I really think he may be quite fond of you. That's the third time this week he's said something about you in a letter."
"He did? It is? I mean…whatever, just let me read the darn letter, would you?"
Ron chuckled softly and pulled the letter out of her reach. "Of course, just as soon as you swear not to mention anything about me and Hermione to Mum, Dad, or Harry. That's our business, I'm sure you understand."
"Oh all right," Ginny sighed. "I swear I won't say anything to Mum or Dad."
"Or Harry?" Ron insisted.
"Or Harry," Ginny growled angrily. "Just give me the letter already!"
"Good enough," Ron smiled and tossed the letter at his sister. He stepped lightly out of the room and grinned conspiratorially at Hermione as he sat down at the kitchen table. "Any eggs left?" he asked his mum.
"The eggs were cold two hours ago," Mrs. Weasley scolded him. "But there are some egg salad sandwiches in the fridge you two can eat. Lunch will be on at noon. Do you think you can manage on that for an hour?"
"The sandwiches will be lovely, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said extra sweetly. "And we're sorry we didn't come down right away. We wanted to reply to Harry's post first."
"Oh, well that's fine, dear," Mrs. Weasley smiled at her. "Harry could certainly do with a letter from his best friends to cheer him up these days. I do wish Albus would let me bring him here to be with his real family!" Ron and Hermione smiled at each other and tucked into the sandwiches that Ron had brought from the fridge while Hermione and his mum were talking.
"Do you think she suspects?" Ron muttered to Hermione after his mum had gone to the drawing room to check on her latest knitting project.
"Possibly, but I think we've dodged any yelling for the time being. You know we'll have to tell her sooner or later, don't you? Harry too. There'll be no keeping it from Harry once we're at Hogwarts."
"Let's just cross that bridge when we come to it," Ron said undecidedly. "You want to go to the shop today? Fred and George said they've got some new products to show us."
"Oh, sure, as long as we're not the guinea pigs again, that would be lovely. Last time they turned my hair green and I couldn't make it right again for a week!"
"Ah, don't worry. You look lovely in green!" Ron couldn't quite keep the laughter out of his voice.
"I didn't see you laughing when they made your fingernails grow long and turn every color of the rainbow!" Hermione reminded him teasingly.
"Perhaps Diagon Alley's not such a terrific place to be today after all," Ron said faintly, remembering the hours his mum had struggled to make his fingers look normal again, only to have Fred pop in after she'd given up to offer him the antidote, a pill which managed to turn Ron's teeth as green as Hermione's hair.
"What did you write in that letter to Harry anyway?" he asked her.
"Only that we wished he could spend the summer with us instead of his nasty relatives and that we missed him dreadfully. There really wasn't much else to tell."
"Unless of course we were to tell him about us," Ron suggested half heartedly.
"Whenever you're ready, Ron. The sooner the better, if you're asking me."
"It just seems like the kind of thing we should tell him in person, don't you think?"
"Yes, perhaps you're right."
"Dear Harry," Ginny scratched onto the parchment before her. "No, no, that won't do at all," she muttered as she wadded up the parchment and tossed it into the bin in the corner. She certainly didn't want him making any inferences from the very first words in her letter. She had worked hard all through her fourth year to convince Harry she was over him so that he would at least be her friend. She didn't need him making any assumptions now. She placed a new sheet of parchment on the drawing room desk and chewed on the feather end of her quill as she considered her response once again.
"Harry," she addressed it. Yes, that would do nicely. There was nothing odd about calling him by his proper name. "Thank you for your most recent post. We are always happy to hear from you."
"Too formal," she muttered as she wadded up another parchment. The bin was beginning to get rather full now.
"Ginny dear, is there something bothering you?" asked Mrs. Weasley as she came in from the kitchen.
"Oh, no Mum, I'm fine. I'm just trying to find something decent to write about, you know, to cheer Harry up," Ginny replied absently.
"I'm sure any kind of post from you will be just the thing, dear," Mrs. Weasley comforted her.
"Why would you say that?" Ginny asked, shocked that her mother would think Harry would care so to get a letter from her.
"When a person is as down as Harry is, dear, any kind word from a friend is appreciated. I'm certain whatever you write will do nicely. But if you wouldn't mind, I'd rather you finished soon." Mrs. Weasley eyed the overflowing waste bin in the corner.
"Oh, sure Mum," Ginny replied hastily. She pulled out another sheet of parchment and set her quill to it. She wrote for a good ten minutes, scanned the parchment with a frown, and rolled it up. "Is Hedwig still here, Mum?"
"I think Ron and Hermione sent her back with their reply already, dear. But I'm sure Ron will let you use Pig."
Ginny raced off to find her brother and his girlfriend, hoping she wasn't about to walk into anything unseemly.
"Hedwig, at last, I was really hoping you'd come soon. Did they send anything?"
Hedwig stuck out her left leg for Harry to remove the letter that was tied there. He hastily pulled the string and ripped open the letter, ignoring the snowy owl's hoots of displeasure at his less than gracious treatment of her.
"Dear Harry,
We're terribly sorry that you're stuck there. We wish we could bring you here and spend the summer with you. We miss you dreadfully and hope you are well. Hang in there, mate, we'll be back to Hogwarts in no time if we can't see each other before then.
Love,
Ron and Hermione"
"Just what I thought they'd say," Harry muttered to Hedwig. "I'm sorry I don't have an owl treat on me right now, girl, or I'd give you one. Did you see anything interesting during your flight?"
Hedwig hooted a sad response, and Harry guessed it meant she had nothing interesting to report.
"That's all right, girl. Maybe the next trip will be better. Did you at least catch a good dinner?"
The owl hooted brightly this time and showed Harry the remnants of a dead rat clutched in her right claw.
"Well, good for you. The more rats you eat the better. One of these days, maybe you'll even catch that no good scoundrel Pettigrew!"
Hedwig cawed loudly as if to say she wouldn't eat that rat if it were the last one on earth.
"That's O.K., girl. You wouldn't have to eat him. Just kill him for me. Then I'd feed you all the owl treats you could possibly want!" Hedwig responded with a happy, will-do hoot, and Harry laughed. At least his owl could understand him, even if his best friends didn't have a clue what to say to him. He glanced one more time at the letter they had sent him and frowned.
"Three whole weeks I've been stuck here," Harry reminded Hedwig. "Do you think Dumbledore will ever let me leave? Or am I going to be stuck here until September this time?"
Hedwig responded with a sad, melancholy type of song. "And what about after Hogwarts? I only have two years left you know. Will I have to live on Privet Drive until Voldemort is dead, or I am…?"
Hedwig took a couple of wobbly steps toward Harry and nuzzled his hand. She offered him her rat in an effort to cheer him up.
"No thank you, Hedwig, although that is probably the nicest thing anyone has done for me all day. But you keep it. I'll eat some of the cakes Mrs. Weasley sent last week when I get back to my room." Hedwig nodded sadly and began to tear at the rat's flesh. Harry turned away discreetly, not wanting to offend her, but having no desire to watch her eat the thing.
"Do you think Uncle Vernon will ever let me back into the house after Mr. Whiting gets through telling him about his car?" Harry asked.
Hedwig hooted in a questioning manner. "Oh, that's true, you were at the Burrow when that happened. Well, sit back and I'll tell you a funny story while you eat your breakfast there." He nodded at the half eaten rat in Hedwig's claw.
"If you don't let me use Pig, I'll tell Mother what you two have been up to up here!" Ginny screeched at her brother.
"Pig's too little for that book you've written," Ron replied sharply. "Go ask Mum for Errol."
"Errol couldn't find his way to Harry's if he had Pig to lead him there! That darn old owl is as blind as a bat, and you know it. Mum told me to ask you for Pig."
"Well, you can't have him," Ron said, and he stuck his tongue out at his sister and closed the door.
"MUM!" Ginny shouted, "RON WON'T LET ME USE PIG AND HE AND HERMIONE…"
"Here!" Ron shoved a disgruntled tiny owl out his bedroom door and slammed it again.
"Oh, honestly, Ronald," Ginny heard Hermione say through the closed door. "One minute you're the sweet young man I'm in love with and the next you're like a spoiled little boy!"
"I am not spoiled," Ron shot back angrily. Smiling to herself that she'd gotten those two into another of their famous rows, Ginny skipped down the stairs to the drawing room to send her letter to Harry.
As she opened the front window and peered out, the sunlight nearly blinded her. "Wow, what a lovely day," she said to the owl in her hand. "It should be nice flying weather for you, don't you think so, Pig?"
The owl hooted merrily and jumped out of Ginny's hand. He made a few circles around her head before he shot like a bullet out of the open window and off toward Surrey and Little Whinging. Ginny sighed as she watched him go, wishing, as she always did, that she could go with the little owl to wherever Harry was. If only she could be sure he'd be happy to see her once she arrived. In that lay the problem that plagued her day and night. She thought guiltily of Dean Thomas's untouched letter on her night stand. It wasn't that she didn't like Dean. She just wasn't in love with him. Could she help it if he didn't know that? Hadn't it always been quite obvious to everyone who her first and only love was? Well, it was obvious to Ron and Hermione, anyway. And they had a nasty habit of using that information to blackmail her. She sighed and turned away from the window and stared instead at the pattern the light that shined through it was making on the wooden floor. She watched the miniscule specks of dust float in and out of the shaft of light, disappearing and reappearing like tiny little wizards apparating about the room. She wished with all her heart that she could apparate to Harry's side and be just as small as one of those specks of dust. Then she could be with him, and he would never know. She sighed again as she stood and walked to the kitchen. It was time to help Mother with lunch.
"Well, that's what happened, in a nutshell, Hedwig. So what do you think? Should I risk going back to number four or just stay here until September?"
Hedwig hooted disapprovingly.
"You're right. There wouldn't be anyone to take me to Kings Cross Station if not for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Dumbledore isn't likely to come and get me anytime soon, after all. Well, let's go and get it over with then, shall we girl? If he locks me in my room for a week, it could only be the best week I've had all summer, anyway." Harry stood up and made to move toward the rickety door.
Hedwig stood back indignantly and flapped her wings.
"No, I won't let them keep you in your cage the whole time. Don't you worry about that," Harry told her. She calmed down some but eyed Harry suspiciously. "I wouldn't have to do magic, silly," he placated her. "I'd just have to remind them that I have to send an owl to the Order every third day or those nasty wizardy people will show up on their door step!" This time Hedwig hooted happily and Harry laughed merrily along with her. At least Moody had done him that one favor before he was sentenced to another long summer at Privet Drive. Harry pushed open the door of the abandoned warehouse and cautiously stepped out onto the sidewalk. As he made his way back toward Privet Drive, he looked up into the setting sun and was surprised how much time he had spent hiding out in that musty place. He shook his head and continued onward, not noticing the speck that was rising out of the horizon and zooming toward his head until it had practically thrown itself down his throat.
"Aaack!" Harry cried and jumped back, startled by this new arrival. "Pig, don't scare me like that!" he hissed at the little thing now nervously twitching its tailfeathers as it perched on his shoulder. "Well, can I have the letter then?"
Pig proudly shot his left leg forward and waited anxiously for Harry to remove the over-large letter from it. "Goodness," Harry commented, "Who's this from?"
He turned the letter over in his hands and looked at the place where his name was written in curvy letters. He didn't immediately recognize the handwriting, but knowing it had to have come from the Burrow and obviously wasn't from Ron or Hermione, he assumed it was probably from Ginny or Mrs. Weasley. But why would either of them write to him? Unless…
He tore open the letter hoping against hope that it was an invitation from Mrs. Weasley to come to the Burrow and enjoy the rest of his summer there. Perhaps Dumbledore had conjured some spell for their safety? Perhaps Voldemort had died mysteriously in his sleep? Perhaps…but no, it was just from Ginny.
Harry sighed and began reading the letter out loud for Hedwig's benefit.
"Harry,
We're all so sorry you have to stay where you are. It's really not fair. Mum says every day, every time we get a post from you, that you should be here with your "real" family. She considers you the son who just happened to be born with black hair instead of red. I think she would honestly adopt you if Dumbledore would allow it. I don't understand why Dumbledore makes you stay there. I know you said it has to do with your mother's sacrifice and blood relations and all, but I really just don't get it. Still, like Mother always says, more people should learn to listen to Dumbledore and do what he says.
I hope this letter finds you fairly well, or as well as you can be, under the circumstances. Thanks for asking about me in your letter this morning. And don't worry about taking my position on the quidditch team. I always did want to be a chaser anyway. Seeking is great, but everyone knows you're the best seeker Hogwarts has seen since your Dad was here. I'd gladly give that position back to you for the good of the team!
Anyway, I really hope you're O.K. Mum's been so worried about you these last few weeks. We all are. I know you've had a hard time since that day in the Department of Mysteries, but you need to remember that it was not your fault. You're not the first wizard Voldemort used that way, and sadly, you won't be the last. This is all Voldemort's doing. He's the one to blame for all the hurts you've endured in your life. Well, him and Cho Chang I suppose. I didn't think it was very nice of her to go off and start dating Michael like that without even talking to you about it first. But anyway, I suppose I've done enough damage bringing up these negative topics this way. I'm awfully sorry. I just want you to know that if you ever need someone to talk to about things, I'm willing to listen. I won't tell you to go read about it like Hermione or expound on the virtues of talking to Dumbledore about things. Dumbledore never tells anyone anything until they absolutely have to know, or they find out on their own. So what good does it do to ask, I wonder? I can't tell you the answers to all your questions or solve your problems for you. But I can read, and I can listen, and I can understand what it feels like to find out that people I care about have been hurt badly and might have been killed because of something that Voldemort made me do. I was just lucky that no one died when he did it to me. But they very easily could have, like Myrtle. So if you want to talk, just send Pig with a note, or Hedwig, or whatever. But make sure you address it to me, or Ron will automatically think it's for him and Hermione.
Take care of yourself, Harry. And don't let your muggle relatives get to you. They're just human, after all, just like us, and scared of the things in life that they cannot understand. A lot of wizards are just like them, Malfoy for example. They hide their fear behind their anger and spite and blame all the world's ills on those who represent their fears. But each of us is responsible for our own choices in this life. So I pity them. I'm not sure the after life is going to be such a nice place for them if they never get over that way of thinking. Do you believe in an afterlife, Harry? I certainly do. I don't know much about it, but I really think that we'll see our loved ones who've passed on again someday. I really hope so. My mum sure pines for my Uncles who died before I was born. And I would really like to meet your Mum and Dad someday. From everything I've heard about them, they seem like really nice people. And I'd sure love to hear Sirius singing those Christmas Carols again. Luna always tells me that she's planning on giving her mother a big hug when she gets to heaven.
Well, try to be happy today, Harry. After all, you've still got Hogwarts, and us, and we all love you very, very much.
Hoping to see you soon,
Ginny"
"Well," Harry said as he finished reading. "That was interesting, wasn't it." He blinked as he stared at the parchment and Ginny's curvy handwriting.
"So Cho Chang is Voldemort's equal, the Weasleys consider me family, and Ginny believes in an after life?! What do you think she means when she says they all love me?" A small pang of hope spread through his ribcage and opened the door to thoughts he'd not had since Cho had been the object of his affections. But he was not thinking about Cho just now.
"You don't think…" Harry looked at his Owl with wide eyes. She hooted at him indistinctly and he shrugged.
"Naw, it couldn't be. She was over me all last year. She's dating Dean now. She just means exactly what she says. But she's right about one thing. Maybe she can understand how I feel, just a little. Do you think I should send her a reply Pig?"
The tiny owl hooted excitedly and jumped into the air. He circled Harry's head a few times until Harry thought he'd be dizzy, and then settle himself back onto Harry's shoulder to preen his feathers.
"You're right, Pig, I do need a bath. But what's the point when no one is going to see me, at least no one who matters, until September?"
Hedwig eyed Harry piercingly. She hooted her strong disapproval and pecked at his hair.
"Ok, Ok, I'll wash my hair at least. Will that make you happy, Hedwig?" Harry could have sworn she nodded her head slightly. He laughed, but stopped abruptly as he realized he was standing in front of his Uncle's house now. "Well, let's get the shouting over with and then I can go wash my hair. You two had better fly up to my window. I doubt Uncle Vernon will be any nicer if he sees you come in with me." The two owls leapt into the air and circle around to the back of the house where Harry had left his window open earlier.
Harry sighed again and placed his hand on the door knob. The house was oddly quiet. He opened the door slowly and peered in, expecting Uncle Vernon to pop out of the kitchen or thunder down the stairs at any moment. When nothing happened as he entered the house, Harry began to worry a little. Had the Death Eaters come and killed the Dursleys? Were they waiting for him in the kitchen now? He nervously and silently placed one foot in front of the other until he had reached the kitchen door. He pushed it open carefully, his wand held tightly in his hand, but again, nothing happened. The streetlamp outside the kitchen window flickered on as dusk settled on the streets of Little Whinging once more. The soft yellow light streamed into the kitchen and seemed to illuminate a note that was hanging on the refrigerator. Harry walked in and took the note down. He smiled as he read it.
"Harry,
Get your things together. Your Aunt and Uncle and Cousin have been lured away for a "free" vacation in Paris. Mr. Whiting's car has been repaired along with his memory. Please be ready by 10pm. We'll see you then.
Remus Lupin"
"Ten?" Harry repeated. "Wow! That's only forty five minutes away. Just time for a quick shower and…well, maybe Tonks will help me pack again." He dashed up the stairs eagerly.
"Hedwig, guess what! I'm going! I'm outta here!" The owl hooted and flew to Harry's shoulder. She pecked at his head a few times. "Yes, yes, I know. Shower first, then I'll pack."
"Why do we have to go back to that nasty old house again, anyway? Why can't the Order just meet here," Ginny whined. "Half the Order lives here anyway!"
"Bill and Charlie don't live here, Gin, they just visit now and then," Ron reminded her. "And Fred and George are always at their shop. Besides, it was Sirius' last wish that the Order continue to use his house for their headquarters."
"Yeah, but Harry's gonna hate it," Ginny murmured under her breath.
"True enough," Hermione agreed. "But he'll be safer there. We all will. At least we get to see him finally. What do you suppose made Dumbledore change his mind all of a sudden?"
"It was probably that letter Ginny sent. It was so long that while Harry was reading it he forgot he was supposed to send the Order an owl today, so they came to get him," Ron teased.
"It wasn't that long. Besides, he didn't get it until this evening, most likely. He had plenty of time before then to send Hedwig to the Order if he'd needed to."
Ron ignored his sister's rant and chuckled under his breath, as did Hermione. They both knew the real reason Ginny was nervous about going to Grimmauld Place had nothing to do with the house and everything to do with the person they were most anxious to see there.
"Don't worry, Gin, I'm sure Harry will remember you. Who knows," Ron teased, "maybe he'll even hug you!" Ginny smacked her brother's arm and stomped off to walk beside her mother to the front yard where her father had a portkey ready to take them all to 12 Grimmauld Place.
Harry stepped out of the shower, whistling happily and toweling his hair. There was no point in combing it, but he ran the comb through just the same. He spied Uncle Vernon's cologne in the medicine cabinet as he was putting the comb away. He picked it up and uncorked it. He doubted if Uncle Vernon had ever bothered to use it as it really smelled quite nice, unlike its pungent owner. Harry spritzed himself with it twice and recapped it, hoping he hadn't used too much. The he returned to his bedroom to dress and pack.
"Nine forty-three?" he asked Hedwig when he noticed the time. "Why didn't you hoot or something?" He ignored her angry retort and scrambled into his clothes and began to throw his belongings into his trunk pell mell. He stuffed his feet into his trainers and looked around his room. He put a hand on his waistband and smiled as his fingers closed around his wand. Releasing the precious length of holly wood, he scanned his room for anything he might have missed. There didn't seem to be anything left that was his, so he closed his trunk and descended the stairs of number four just in time to hear the doorbell ring.
"This place gives me the creeps," Ginny said as they stood at the door to number 12. "Well, what are we waiting for, then?"
"For Lupin to open the door without alerting Mrs. Black," her mother reminded her. "Not a word once the door opens, you lot. We don't need the whole neighborhood alerted to our presence."
Hermione looked around at the dilapidated houses and unkempt lawns of Grimmauld Place and said, "I doubt if anyone in this particular neighborhood would pay any mind to a bit of shouting. I imagine it's a regular occurrence around here."
"Be that as it may, there's no sense in taking any chances, is there?" Arthur Weasley warned.
"And no hurry about getting in this place either," Ron muttered.
Just then, the door creaked open and Remus Lupin's face appeared behind it. "Well, well, so glad you all could make it here safely," Lupin said in hushed tones as he held the door open for them.
"Who is it, Remus?" Tonks called from the staircase. Immediately, the drapes that hid Mrs. Black's portrait flew open and she began shrieking at the top of her lungs. "Sorry, sorry, I forgot," Tonks said as she ran down the steps to help Lupin close the drapes again. "Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. So glad you could come. You kids come with me, I'll show you to your rooms."
Ron, Hermione and Ginny followed Tonks up the steps, heaving their trunks as they went as none of them was willing to allow Tonks to levitate them.
"I wonder how long it will take them to get Harry here," Ron wondered aloud.
"I hope they use a portkey for him this time. Last time he had to fly the whole way, and he looked so cold and sad when he got here," Hermione remembered.
"And angry," Ginny added.
"Yes, very," Hermione agreed.
"Do you think it'll be as bad this year?" Ron asked.
"I dunno," Hermione said, "but at least this time he knows why he has to stay there for a little while every summer. You know, maybe three and a half weeks is all he needs now to make the place safe for him, do you think?"
"Or maybe they've found a better way to keep him safe," Ginny offered.
"That would be nice," Ron agreed. "He hates being cooped up with his relatives. They don't even like him at all. They've never been nice to him."
"And he'd be so much happier anywhere but there," Hermione nodded.
"Except maybe here," Ginny cut in. "How do you think he'll take it, being back at Sirius' place?"
"I doubt he'll like it much at all, but at least he'll be with us again," Ron said. "Hey, let's see what we can do to make it nice again this year. I know it wasn't much fun the last time, but it's bound to be loads easier now. I mean, they've had a whole year to get rid of the really nasty stuff, haven't they?"
"I'm sorry to say we haven't done much to clean up around here since…well…" Tonks said, a tear trickling from her eye. Ron, Hermione and Ginny glanced up at her with startled faces. They had all but forgotten she was there, and that she was Sirius' cousin.
"I'm sorry Tonks, we weren't thinking," Hermione spoke for the three of them.
"No, no, it's all right," Tonks said, wiping away the stray moisture on her cheeks. "He was my favorite cousin, you know. He was practically the only one who would acknowledge me at all, being a half-blood and all. I just miss him sometimes. But he's with James now. That should be nice for him, don't you think?" She sniffed and turned away to head back down the stairs. "I think I'll just go get started on some dinner," she called back to them. "No need for your mother to do all the work when she's just arrived."
They all watched her walk away and then looked at each other warily. "I hope she's gotten some practice at cooking since last year…" Ron mumbled. Hermione smacked his arm, but Ginny giggled.
"Please, Professor, I'll go anywhere but there. I can't stand it. That was Sirius' house. Can't we put some spells on the Burrow and meet there instead?" Harry pleaded with the Headmaster.
"I was concerned you would react this way, Harry, but there simply isn't time to prepare another place sufficiently. Voldemort's forces are gathering and we have received intelligence that they have found this place and plan to attack here. We can only hope that they will think they've found the wrong place when they find it empty. More than likely, your Aunt and Uncle will have to find a new residence when they return from their vacation."
"I see," was all Harry could say. He had a thousand questions in his head, but he wasn't sure he dared to ask any of them. Asking questions had never been much of a help to him. So he steeled his nerves and said, "Let's go then. It's about time we got this over with."
"That's the spirit, Harry," said Bill Weasley as he picked up Harry's trunk and walked to the center of the living room. "Shall we then, Professor? I think I'm late for my French lesson with Fleur as it is." Harry thought he saw an odd twinkle in Bill's eye as he said that.
"Certainly," Dumbledore replied with a smile. "Everyone take an end of this rope here, please."
The three Order members, Moody, Bill, and Kingsley grabbed hold first. Harry reached forward slowly and only placed his finger firmly on the piece of rope when Dumbledore had begun to count down. One thing was certain, he didn't want to be left here. He grabbed on tight when he felt the familiar tugging sensation in his naval and closed his eyes against the whirling, sickening feeling he got when the portkey was activated. He could hardly wait until he had his apparation license.
He hit the ground hard, bum first, and looked up at the empty plot of land before him. Even as his eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness of the street, the dingy house shimmered and appeared before his view. Light streamed onto the sidewalk from the windows, and Harry's heart sank into his stomach. He pulled himself up off the sidewalk and managed to climb the steps to the door, though his feet seemed to be protesting loudly. The two owls were coming by their own means of transportation, but at this moment, Harry wished Hedwig was right here with him, his only friend and confidant since he'd left Hogwarts in June. He sighed heavily, a habit he had begun to develop lately, and forced his feet to take the last two steps to the front door.
In the hallway of Grimmauld Place, memories of Sirius' last Christmas suddenly leapt into his mind, and another stray tear managed to find its way onto Harry's cheek before he could stop its descent. He angrily wiped it away and told himself to stay calm. He reviewed Ginny's letter in his mind, "It was all Voldemort's doing…" and sighed heavily again.
Two doors opened and closed somewhere above Harry's head, and three pairs of feet pounded down the staircase to Harry's right. Two girls shrieked as they came into sight, and both ran to him and threw their arms around him at the same time. Ron stood back laughing and offered his hand when the girls had sheepishly backed away from him, Ginny with her face bright red.
"Come on up, mate," Ron said to Harry. "We've been waiting for you. We've got the same room as before, but so far that annoying painting hasn't said anything to me. You O.K, mate?" Ron had just noticed Harry was not looking at him, but at his sister. In fact, Harry and Ginny seemed to be locked in some kind of trance with one another.
"Oh, um…I'm just fine," Harry said, tearing his eyes away from Ginny's and blushing. Yeah, let's go on up and talk."
"Right," Ron said, eyeing Harry quizzically. He shrugged and led the way up the stairs. Hermione followed first, and then Harry began his slow ascent. He sighed heavily again as more memories of Sirius came flooding back to him.
"All Voldemort's doing…" he thought to himself. "I back with my 'real' family now…" He glanced back over his shoulder at Ginny who was still standing in the entrance hall, watching the three friends leave.
"Are you coming, Ginny?" he asked her, his heart begging for an affirmative response.
"What? Oh, it's OK then? I thought you'd just want to be with your friends for the moment," she responded while twirling a piece of her hair around her finger.
"Well, you're one of my friends too, aren't you?" Harry said with a grin.
"Yeah," Ginny's smile extended from ear to ear. "Yeah, I am." She hurried to catch up with him and they made their way up the stairs and into the room that Ron and Harry would be sharing. Harry blushed when Ron and Hermione gave him a searching, what's-up-with-that kind of look, but generally ignored them as he held the door open for Ginny to go in first. She sat on the bed that had been Harry's last summer, and Harry sat beside her, though not too close. He raised his eyebrows a bit when Ron and Hermione sat down together at the same time on Ron's bed and Ron went to pick up Hermione's hand.
Ron dropped Hermione's hand promptly when he noticed the look on Harry's face. "Um…" he began. "There's something…we…I mean…Hermione and me…have been meaning to…um…tell you."
Harry looked from Ron to Hermione and back to Ron again, who was blushing as red as his hair. He locked eyes with Ron, who seemed to be silently pleading for some sort of approval from Harry. Harry gave him half a smile and looked to Hermione for further explanation.
"We wanted to tell you right away, of course, but after the Ministry, it just didn't seem like the time, and then putting it in a letter seemed too casual, so…"
"What?" Harry exclaimed impatiently. Ron grimaced slightly, mistaking Harry's impatience for disapproval. "You guys are going out now? Did you think that was some kind of big news, then? I've been waiting for you to figure it out since the Yule Ball! Really, it's about time!"
Ron and Hermione looked at each other and smiled shyly. "So now, you're telling me though, that it's been since before we left Hogwarts that…that you two have…been…"
"Well, you know, we had a lot of time to talk when we were in hospital together. It kind of…helped," Hermione explained. "But you were so sad then, we didn't think…"
"No, it's all right, really," Harry said, not really understanding the pang of jealousy he was feeling now. He'd known for a long time now that he didn't have those kinds of feelings for Hermione, and that Ron did. He really just wished there were someone who had those kinds of feelings for him. He glanced at Ginny and smiled wanly. She grinned brightly and suddenly lights seemed to flicker all around her head. It was as though the garden fairies had suddenly decided to decorate the wall directly behind Ginny. Harry's smile grew into a huge grin and he blinked and looked back at Ron and Hermione.
"Actually, I think it's brilliant. You two are perfect for each other. Just try not to fight so much anymore. I don't want to be constantly in the middle of your lovers quarrels now!" Everyone laughed heartily, and Harry thought he had never seen Ginny look so pretty as she did when she laughed like that.