CHAPTER ONE - HOME UNSWEET HOME

The dark-haired bespectacled form of Harry Potter lay silently on his small bed in his tiny bedroom at Privet Drive. He gazed numbly out his window at the darkening sky. Hedwig was still asleep in her cage, but she was beginning to wake, ruffling her feathers restlessly. Harry reached over automatically and opened her cage and then listlessly sat at his desk. He knew he should stop, but he could not seem to help himself as he pulled the photo album towards him. The heavy pages were still slightly dog-eared because of the number of times Harry had flicked through them. His fingers easily found the page he wanted, and he found himself once again gazing into the smiling young face of his godfather.

Sirius had been young and relatively carefree in the days surrounding James and Lily Potter's wedding. Sirius' laughing face showed no signs of his near or more distant dark future. The Sirius in the wedding photograph had no idea that in a few short years he would be in Azkaban, convicted of a crime he never committed or that shortly before his godson's sixteenth birthday that he would die senselessly while Harry watched helplessly, unable to stop it. As Harry continued staring into his godfather's face night fell around him. Harry did not even glance up from the picture as Hedwig flew past him out his window and into the night. "Stop torturing yourself," Harry muttered to himself, "it won't bring him back."

It had been a fourteen long dreary days since Harry had arrived at King's Cross Station and reluctantly got into Uncle Vernon's car to go back home. "Home" was the word Dumbledore had used when they had been in his office together at the end of last year. "While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, Harry, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort."

Harry could not have cared less about Voldemort at the moment, though. Harry tried to swallow away the horrible lump rising in his throat, but it still would not go away. He felt hollow, empty. The Harry that had existed before Sirius had died was gone now, changed forever. Harry's feelings had sunk so low that he could not seem to remember what happiness felt like or even if he had ever really been happy at all. Intellectually Harry knew that that was not really true, but he still could not stop the horrible gnawing pain in his heart.

Harry's thoughts were rudely interrupted by Uncle Vernon's bellowing voice, "HARRY POTTER!" Harry jumped. He quickly slammed his photo album shut and started to get up as he heard someone thumping up the stairs towards him. Someone knocked loudly on his bedroom door. Harry opened it looking inquiringly at Uncle Vernon standing in the carpeted hallway outside of his room.

This really was an unusual occurrence. Before Mad-Eye Moody's chat with Uncle Vernon, Harry's uncle would have never hesitated to barge right in and had even locked Harry in this very room. Uncle Vernon's face looked blotchy, possibly from coming up the stairs as quickly as he did. "Boy, Mrs. Figg's at the door," Uncle Vernon said accusingly. "She wants to see you."

"All right," said Harry, slightly surprised. Harry had learned only last summer that the lady who had babysat him his entire childhood while the Dursley's went out enjoying themselves was a member of his own magical world. Unbeknownst to the Dursley's, their neighbor Mrs. Figg was a squib. Mrs. Figg had not made her time with Harry very enjoyable so that the Dursley's would not be suspicious of her. Uncle Vernon certainly looked suspicious now, however.

"You're a bit old to need a ruddy sitter, boy," Uncle Vernon said, sarcastically. Obviously Uncle Vernon wanted to know why Mrs. Figg would want to call on Harry, but then his blotchy face changed expression suddenly as though he was remembering something unpleasant. "Well, go ahead then, boy. I guess I can't stop you," Uncle Vernon said, his voice getting quieter but angrier as he went. Uncle Vernon always hated to give Harry his way on anything, but Moody's threat and horrible visage were still apparently quite fresh in his mind.

Harry shrugged and walked slowly past his uncle. The Dursley's didn't know about Sirius' death and Harry wasn't really able to tell them even if he wanted to. Harry tried to drag his mind away from his godfather as he got to the front door. Upon reaching it, Harry noticed that Mrs. Figg was standing there in her tartan house slippers looking very nervous and quite as batty as she always did. "Harry," Mrs. Figg cried without preamble, "Can you come with me?"

"Okay," Harry mumbled, before she grabbed his shoulder in one of her bony hands. Mrs. Figg marched Harry up the walk and stopped behind a nearby clump of bushes. As she did, she seemed to be looking everywhere as if expecting something terrible to happen. Harry now began to look around cautiously, as well. To Harry's surprise Remus Lupin appeared on the other side of the bushes, ducking carefully as if not wanting to be seen.

"Harry," Lupin whispered, as his young but wrinkled face looked at him sideways, "Are you doing okay?"

"I'm okay," Harry said, "What are you doing here?"

"Well, we're staying cautious with our communications and Dumbledore wanted one of us to check on you in person," Lupin whispered in a rush.

"Has anything happened?" Harry asked quickly, wondering if Voldemort was up to something or if he was possibly being followed by one of the Order again without being told about it. Harry felt a bit paranoid. He had not really been paying attention to the outside world since June. Harry had not even gotten a subscription started again for the Daily Prophet; he had just been too distracted.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself over, Harry. I won't say more here," Lupin said, looking around carefully just as Mrs. Figg had. "You look a little pale, Harry, are you sure you're feeling well?" Lupin asked, looking directly at Harry for the first time.

Harry looked askew at Lupin with his hands in his pockets. He really did not want to tell Lupin that he had barely left his bedroom since arriving on Privet Drive two weeks ago. Harry had felt too isolated and disconnected from everything and everyone since Sirius had died. Also, Harry had not wanted to spend any more time than was necessary in the Dursley's presence, especially since he always felt so completely miserable these days.

Lupin looked at Harry's sad pale face when he did not answer. He seemed able to read Harry easily, even though Harry had tried to disguise how horrible he really felt. "I think you've been here long enough, Harry," Lupin concluded.

"Are you here to take me with you?" Harry asked quietly, afraid he would say no.

Lupin seemed to be making up his mind. "Yes, Harry," he replied, after a moment's consideration. "Can you get your things?"

Harry glanced anxiously past the bushes at the front of Number 4, Privet Drive. Even in his current state of mind Harry knew that he'd rather be anywhere but here. "Just give me a second, and I'll be right out."

Harry ran back upstairs past his bewildered relatives. He pocketed his wand, quickly threw books, robes, cauldron, and broomstick into his trunk, grabbed Hedwig's cage and made his way across Aunt Petunia's gleaming kitchen and stuffy living room to the front door again. All three Dursley's watched Harry nervously as he crossed in front of them and reached the door.

"Just where do you think you're going, then!" yelled Uncle Vernon, turning purple.

"Back," Harry said simply, vaguely wondering if Uncle Vernon was about to try to accost him.

"Well, go then," Uncle Vernon sneered viciously.

None of the Dursley's were making any moves to stop Harry's progress, though Uncle Vernon looked livid. The fact that Harry was going to be able to come and go as he pleased, even if it was with his apparently hateful ex-babysitter, seemed to enrage his uncle. Aunt Petunia and Dudley did not seem angry, however, they seemed petrified. Since Harry had had to fight dementors off of Dudley and himself last summer, Aunt Petunia and Dudley had given Harry a very wide berth. It was almost as if they had finally realized that Harry really was a wizard, and was not bound by the same limitations that they were. If Harry had appeared more pale and melancholy than usual upon his arrival they had decided that that was no concern of theirs. They had never worried about Harry's happiness, anyway.

Aunt Petunia in particular had scrupulously avoided her nephew since his return. It was almost as though she thought she might let something slip, as she had last year when she had almost unwittingly mentioned that she knew about dementors. Aunt Petunia had apparently known about the evil soul-sucking prison guards of Azkaban for years. Harry had been quite astounded to find out that little scrap of information, and he sometimes wondered what else his aunt was hiding beneath her snobby Muggle pretenses.

Harry had only left his bedroom this summer when absolutely necessary, so seeing Harry in their living room now with his arms full of obviously magical items seemed to be almost more than the Dursley's could bear. Aunt Petunia grabbed Dudley's massive shoulders as if trying to protect him from the sight of the magical objects Harry was carrying. Anxious to leave, Harry did not bother to look back at them as he struggled getting his school things out the door.

Back behind the bushes, Mrs. Figg nervously cried, "Dear me, follow me back to my house, dear boy."

She looked rather fondly at Harry, but Mrs. Figg still appeared very flighty and frightened all the same. Harry glanced inquiringly at Lupin, but Lupin just shook his head discouragingly at Harry as he reached to help him with his trunk. Both Lupin and Mrs. Figg were very watchful of Harry as they crossed the two streets that led to Mrs. Figg's home. Upon reaching their destination, Lupin urged Harry inside the house hastily. As they opened the door, her many cats ran everywhere.

Mrs. Figg led the way to the large stone fireplace in her living room as Lupin and Harry caught up to her. Mrs. Figg then grabbed the small pot of floo powder on the mantel and began to hand it to Harry when she paused, "Harry, please take care of yourself ...." she said anxiously, a rather strange expression on her wizened face. Harry waited for her to say something else, but she looked away, peering anxiously out the window. Harry then turned to thank her instead, but Mrs. Figg just appeared even more flustered and agitated as she pushed the pot of floo powder into his hand insistently. "No, no - you must get going now, while it's safe!"

Harry was confounded by her behavior; it gave him a feeling of slight foreboding in the pit of his stomach. Harry did not have time for further contemplation, though, as Lupin grabbed him and said, "Go to headquarters, Harry." Somewhat distractedly, Harry took a pinch of floo powder, threw it in the fireplace now producing green flames and said, "Number Twelve Grimmauld Place!"