Chapter 1

Harry Potter sat on his bed and stared around bleakly. He was bored. There was nothing to do. He had just finished writing his letter to The Order of the Phoenix, letting them know that everything was fine. But deep in his heart, he knew that it wasn't.

Harry had been extremely hopeful that this summer, things would be different. But they had been all too similar to last year.
True, things with the Dursleys had improved marginally. They had allowed him a free run of the house, to let Hedwig out of her cage, and even gone so far as to allow him to keep his school equipment with him at all times, though he suspected this was probably due to the fact that he had refrained from telling them that he was allowed to perform magic outside of school.
But this was not, compared to the major things happening outside of this small Muggle village, what Harry wanted. He did not want to be allowed things in the Muggle world - what use were they at the present time? What he truly wanted he couldn't have.
He wanted information.

They had, however, managed to communicate to him one important piece of information that the Daily Prophet had not reported - the Ministry of Magic was finally co-operating and working alongside the Order of the Phoenix.
We see members fairly often...can't really tell you what we've overheard...we'll see you on the last week of the holidays for definite, though, Dumbledore's confirmed it...
Harry had considered feeling rather put out that the headmaster of Hogwarts had continued to leave him to be the last to know of the plans, but last year's experience had taught him not to attempt to override them. The loss of Sirius had taught him that...
Harry swallowed. His godfather's death had haunted him so horribly of late; in his dreams, his thoughts, even in his waking visions he would picture the look of shock on his godfather's face as he fell through the archway...

Harry threw himself back down on his bed. He felt as though he had barely anything to look forward to. His birthday had come and gone, yet being sixteen wasn't really that different to being fifteen. He had barely used magic - there didn't seem much point - and to cap it all, Ron and Hermione had written to tell him that they weren't allowed to send packages from where they were. Harry was fairly certain that where they were was Grimmauld Place and although he tried to be understanding, it angered him.

Harry flopped down on his bed and lay still. On more than one occasion, he had been tempted not to write to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, to make them think he was being mistreated and to see them all again. But on each of those occasions he had reminded himself how selfish that was. They were busy with the Order and working with the Ministry; he, Harry, had to help them by staying put.
He sighed. Now he really understood how Sirius had felt...right at that moment, Harry would have raced to another's aid just like Sirius had...
Harry swallowed, fighting back the urge to put his head in his hands and sob.

Harry closed his eyes. A part of him just wanted to sleep and never wake up. There was hardly any point in living, not in a world where Sirius was dead and he was stuck in Privet Drive like this. Everything seemed completely pointless...
Suddenly there was a tapping at Harry's window. He didn't react for a moment. Then he sat up, rubbing his eyes, to receive a slight shock.
Hermes was tapping on his bedroom window.

"Hermes?" Harry asked aloud, astonished to see the owl. He stood still for a minute, dumbfounded, staring at the owl until Hermes gave an indignant hoot at not being let in. With a worried thought that Uncles Vernon may have heard, Harry opened the window and let the owl fly in.
"Wait while I read this, will you?" he said to Hermes, untying the scroll from his leg. "Hedwig's gone to London."
Hermes gave a low hoot to show he understood. He flew over to Hedwig's cage to drink some of her water, as Harry unrolled Percy's letter.

Harry held the letter in his hands for a moment without looking at it. He was actually quite nervous; last time he had read a letter from Percy, it was to tell Ron that he, Harry, was a mad, possibly violent delinquent who Ron should "sever ties" with immediately. He took a deep break and glanced at the letter.
He began to read...

Dear Harry

As you've probably gathered from the owl delivering this letter, this is Percy. I'm written to you to offer my apologies for my previous allegations.

Harry's heart soared. Percy finally believed him...this surely must mean that at last people at the Ministry of Magic were convinced...

I want, first and foremost, for you to understand why we at the Ministry came to the reach the conclusion to disbelieve you. You must surely understand that, to start with, none of us had any proof other than your word that He Who Must Not Be Named was among us once more. Since so many believed him dead prior to your statements, we found it difficult to come to terms with what you were saying. It made little sense to many, and I hope you can understand that.
We also, though it shames me to admit it, did not want to believe that the Dark Lord had returned. We were foolish, and we realise that now. As a partial repayment to your services to the Wizarding World, and as a full apology from me, I would like to tell you what we are doing to locate and stop the Dark Lo

The letter stopped. Harry stared in shock as he realised that the next part of it had been ripped off. Someone had read the other part of the letter!

Harry realised immediately he had to let someone know. He grabbed a piece of parchment from the pile on his desk and began to write. However, halfway through the first sentence, he stopped.
If owl communication was being watched...then how could he manage to send anyone a letter to let them know what had happened? Quite simply, he couldn't! But how could he let someone know? He couldn't wait three days for someone from the Order of Phoenix to turn up!
Suddenly, a thought struck Harry...

Harry stared at Hermes. If he kept Hermes here at Privet Drive, then maybe Percy would realise something was wrong, and raise the alarm!
Suddenly a thought struck Harry. If the Ministry was working peacefully with the Order and Dumbledore, if all of the Death Eaters had been put in Azkaban, then who could have taken that letter and read it? He was getting the Daily Prophet every day, and although it didn't report any work against Voldemort in depth, it surely would have reported another breakout?

Harry threw himself down on his bed and thought as hard as he possibly could. He couldn't see who else would want to take that letter. Now could he see how they could have taken the letter. But quite obviously, they had...
Harry didn't know what to do. He could not write for advice, he had no friends beside him. He could only think of keeping Hermes, to raise some sort of alarm.
He stood up and walked over to Hermes' cage.
"You're going to have to stay here, Hermes," he said.
The owl looked at him with a indignant expression. Harry was reminded very much of Percy's face as he looked at the owl.
"I - I'm sorry," he apologised nervously. "But it's the only way I can think of raising an alarm to let everyone know that something's happening..."

Harry shut Hermes in Hedwig's cage. Hermes glared at him reproachfully, his eyes following Harry's every movement.
Harry tried to ignore it. He walked over to his door, shut it, and then shut the window. He glanced at his clock and was amazed to see the time. It was nearly one o'clock in the morning!
"Where did all the time go?" Harry muttered to himself. Switching off the light, he felt himself become drowsy and he lay down on his bed. Closing his eyes, he began to drift off to sleep...

Harry stirred in his bed. He felt...
A presence moved over him...he felt it. Something stirred; something long forgotten; something inhabiting ancient lands...
Something...
He felt himself being pulled down. He could not move; he was being swallowed, enveloped in blackness, pulled through time itself. He did not attempt to struggle; he knew somewhere in his subconscious, it would be useless.
Suddenly, something stirred in his mind. A need to listen. There...there was a voice echoing through the darkness...a knowledgeable, truthful voice that filled Harry's mind in a way that his words were left there even after his departure.
His words...
When you see the sun lower opposite you, look to the sky. Behold, you will find answers...