Title: The Power of the Three
Author: Twlight
Email: child_of_a_goddess@hotmail.com (Just in case you'd rather email replies.
Status: WIP
Category: Action/Adventure, Romance
Pairings: Pre-Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione
Spoilers: Philosophers Stone through to Goblet of Fire. So kinda an AU, although it wasn't when I started!
Sequel/Series Info: First part in a series of 3 or 4.
Rating: G
Summary: "It takes three certain people to defeat the Heir Of Slytherin, only if those three work together can he be defeated for good." Harry and two other's find themselves admidst a destiny no-one asked for, and poor Ron feels a tad left out.
Disclaimer: No characters, places or objects that are recognisable belong to me, but instead to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scolastic, Warner Brothers and others. Any similarities to persons dead or alive is accidental.
Any further things will be disclaimed as they appear.
Author's Note: I started this Fiction a long time ago, about 8 months before OotP and then I decided to go back and re-write it. So here it is; The Power of the Three, Revised edition ;)
Please R 'n R either by clicking that little button or emailing me at the above email address.
Apologies for any spelling or gramma mistakes, I have no beta reader and am writing this on Wordpad which doesn't have a spell checker thanks to a thunder storm that blew out my computer and a new hard drive. Also apologies for the unformatted state of this chapter, Wordpad won't save anything as a html document!
Chapter one; I knew there was a reason I hated port-keys
"I call to order the first meeting of The Order of the Phoenix. Present; I, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva Mcgonagol, Rubeus Hagrid, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Mundungus Fletcher, Alistor Moody, Arthur Weasley and Molly Weasley. Absent are Arrabella Figg and Severus Snape."
Professor Dumbledore stood at the end of a long oak table in a hexagonal room somewhere deep in the Scottish castle. Eight others sat around the table each with looks of varying worry and intrigue on their faces. Three portraits were positioned on alternate walls of the room. The first was on the wall behind the head of the table; the frame was gold and the wizard was wearing robes of deep red. His dark hair was cropped close to his head and his blue eyes twinkled as he observed the occupants. The second picture was in a bronze frame. The witch wore a look of grave concern, her robes were deep blue and she was constantly smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. The third and final picture was set in a black wooden frame. The women had auburn hair and eyes that looked like they were usually full of laughter. She too was watching the table with great interest.
"When we last stood here on the 1st of November 1981, I had hoped that we would never again meet under these circumstances."
Dumbledore looked sadly at two empty seats to his right. The seats were upholstered with scarlet cushions and shining, gold plaques stood out against the polished oak.
One read-
'James Charles Potter
OoP
OoM'
The other-
'Lily Marie Potter
OoP'
"The fact remains that Voldemort has risen again." The members of The Order of the Phoenix all sat a little straighter and glanced around at each other nervously.
"The details are a little hazy but it seems he used an ancient spell; similar to the one that Lily used to save Harry. Voldemort used Harry's blood to evoke the spell thus diminishing the protection Lily gave him. Harry and Voldemort share the same blood.
The Minister refuses to believe that Voldemort has returned and is continuing as if nothing has happened. This leaves the Ministry very vulnerable at a dangerous time. Our first act must be to persuade as many ministry officials of Voldemorts return without raising suspicion. Arthur?"
Dumbledore indicated the balding red-headed man to speak. Arthur Weasley stood up as Dumbledore sat and began to speak.
"Mundungus and I are currently working upon several officials in several departments, although progress is slow. Fudge is very suspicious and I have a feeling he is keeping me off the more… important jobs. I had hoped that my son, Percy, would help us but he sides with Fudge. He thinks Harry is lying and refuses to believe without proof that…"
Moody growled an interruption,
"They'll get their proof when the muggle murdering begins"
Sirius Black stood up, his hair was shorter than it had been and he was now clean shaven. The haunted look in his dark eyes, gained from twelve years in Azkaban had created, had faded slightly.
"I'm worried about Harry. I recall you saying something about 'ancient magical protection' I was wondering if you'd explain how it works. Is there any way to…"
"Certainly Sirius," Dumbledore interrupted before Sirius had finished "There are a group of three spells where ancient magical protection is concerned. One is used with sacrificial love, evoked by a person who is willing to die for the protectee."
"The spell Lily used?" Sirius asked,
"Yes." He continued, "One uses friendship and or Romantic love and I have used the other kind. As long as Harry stays with someone who shares his family blood then he cannot be touched. As soon as he is without a member of his family he leaves this protection. However, I can alter the spell for someone who… cares deeply for him. But I will need a small amount of your blood to complete the spell." Sirius nodded enthusiastically.
"Molly, I believe you wanted Harry to come to The Burrow this summer?"
A plump red-headed woman nodded,
"Arthur and I would love Harry stay, he's practically one of the family. Ron's been begging me all summer, and he keeps getting himself worked up over Hermione and Viktor Krum."
Sirius chuckled,
"Ah, I see merciless teasing abound"
"At the end of last year I said that it was impossible. However if Sirius could stay with you then I believe Harry would be safe. I'm sure he'd have much more fun. Harry probably would too"
It was Dumbledore's turn to chuckle at his own joke and Sirius grinned and sat down once more.
"Now back to business." Dumbledore addressed the company again.
"I'm concerned that Fudge may wish to have a bigger say in what happens at Hogwarts. He may try to turn one of the teachers although it is highly unlikely he will succeed. If he does approach anyone you should inform me at once. A person who Fudge believes is on his side would be a valuable asset. However he still has a certain amount of respect for me, but he believes I'm too interfering in ministry business. I'm sure I won't be getting too many owls from him this year. I remember when he was at Hogwarts…"
Mcgonagol nudged the man beside her. He looked at her in surprise,
"Yes quite." Dumbledore looked slightly abashed then remembered what he was trying to say.
"Any business we conduct at Hogwarts must be done in absolute secrecy, the Minister must not find out. Also, Sirius you must be careful. The ministry will still be looking for you and although you look different your still likely to get recognised. Go everywhere in your dog form. I think a cover as Remus' pet would work well."
Remus Lupin snorted in what was obviously laughter, Sirius growled. It was amazing how much like a dog Sirius could sound even in his human form.
"Do we have any other business?"
*
Later that day, in a small house in Surry a young male was sitting on a worn sofa drinking a very suspicious cup of tea in a chipped enamel cup. It tasted a bit like the Hogwarts Matron infamous 'Pepper-up potion' (Worked wonders for the common cold but tasted disgusting and left you steaming. Literally) but it couldn't be. Mrs Figg was a muggle. The male's name was Harry Potter. Harry was a wizard and attended Hogwarts School of Witch Craft And Wizardry. During the summer Harry lived with his Muggle Aunt and Uncle, although famous in the wizarding world, in the muggle world Harry was a mere servant to his family. He was about as welcome in Privet drive as a match stick is welcome in a paper factory. Currently he had a list of chores a mile long,
'Tidy the shed.
Paint the shed,
Clear the Rose bush,
Fix Dudley's Smeltings stick.' (He broke it by hitting the fridge when it didn't have any of his favourite foods. Dudley was still on a diet.)
His relatives were having dinner at an expensive restaurant, an expensive, healthy restaurant Petunia was quick to explain, somewhere. Harry had been banned from coming in case he blew up the restaurant, not that he wanted to go anyway. Usually Harry complained about the amount of chores or mentioned the fact that his Godfather was a convicted murderer (Harry had forgotten to say that Sirius was innocent) but he was grateful for the distraction. He had been dwelling on what had happened at the end of his fourth year. Every time he closed his eyes the dead look in Cedric's eyes haunted him. He saw his parent's ghosts and Wormtail sobbing on the floor holding his bleeding stump of arm. And most terrifyingly he saw Voldemort, Voldemort returned at full strength. Harry knew it wasn't his fault but that didn't stop the guilt which writhed constantly in his stomach. It didn't stop Harry waking up in a cold sweat every night. It also didn't stop him scouring the Daily Prophet everyday for information, he'd been getting it delivered. He'd see several articles on Hogwarts, mostly saying Dumbledore was an old fool and that Hogwarts had been going down hill lately. All of which was complete dragon's dung obviously, the Ministry were just trying to destabilise Dumbledore's reputation to stop him spreading rumours about Voldemort. Harry knew it wasn't about to work, when the Ministry has run an article saying that Hagrid was a danger dozens of people had written in to complain and the Prophet had been forced to run a retraction. Who believed who would come down to human nature and personality; those willing to believe the unbelievable and those who, like Fudge, just want to bury they're heads in the sand. Hermione had been sending him a copy of another Wizarding newspaper, a lesser known one owned by a private company and not by the Ministry of Magic, called The Broom Handle. They'd figured if there was any news on Voldemort or anything suspicious that could give clues to what he was doing then it was more likely to be written about in a privately owned paper. However Harry had read his weekly copies of both cover to cover, over and over and had found nothing. No attacks, mysterious disappearances, no Dark Marks or prison breaks. Harry almost wished something would happen just so he knew something, being in the dark made him nervous. He'd even taken to reading muggle newspapers, scanning the front page of all of the papers in the local newsagents just in case something odd caught his eye.
Mrs Figg came in from the kitchen pulling Harry out of his thoughts, she was wearing a blue pleated skirt and a blue long sleeved top, with her short grey-black hair the mono colour made her look like a pencil. Harry couldn't help noticing that her usually wild, seemingly made eyes, were more focussed and intent then usual. Harry kept getting the feeling that she wanted to say something, she would keep openening her mouth then closing it again.
Suddenly two owls fluttered through the open window to the left of Mrs Figg. One he recognised as his snowy owl Hedwig. Harry glanced up at Mrs Figg and opened his mouth to come up with an excuse. Mrs Figg smiled at the owls and scratched Hedwig's head.
"Drink up Harry; it'll make you feel better" Her voice clearer than usual, and was in the tone of someone who was perfectly normal not the expected 'mad-cat-lady' voice he was used to. The one that blabbed on and on about her cats and fed him funny tea and stale chocolate cake. Harry looked confused at Mrs Figg's seeming indifference to the owls, she was looking at Hedwig with an almost wistful expression.
"Drink up?"
"The tea Harry"
"It's… errrr. It's gone cold"
"Don't be silly Harry." Mrs Figg scolded. "Drink up. It'll make the world of difference."
Harry raised the cup to his mouth and let the warm mixtue touch his tongue without actually drinking any. This kind of trick had worked with her before, once he'd even managed to pour the tea back into the tea pot a few years ago, last year he'd managed to pour it into the flower pot she had since moved. Mrs Figg was still staring at him,
"I said drink it Harry dear, not paint your lips with it."
Harry ran out of excuses not to drink the disgusting mixture.
"No offence Mrs Figg, but it tastes kind of funny" To his great surprise Mrs Figg let out a laugh, a short croaky one as if she wasn't used to laughing.
"Well of course it does Dear, it's got a potion in it. I'm not exactly sure what it actually does but it's supposed to be very good. My sister sewars by it when she's feeling a little out of sorts."
Harry, who had been pretending to drink, choked into his tea and sent it spraying all over the table.
"Ah, sorry it's just I… Must have misheard. Where's that cloth gone…?" Harry began to rummage about on the tray that held the tea cups and tea pot. He really must be missing the Wizarding world if he thought Mrs Figg had said 'Potion'. Although what muggle word sounded like 'potion' and fitted into the context of what she was saying Harry didn't know.
"No need Harry Love," Mrs Figg pulled out a wand from her sleeve. "Brand new you know? 11 ½ inch, willow with a tail of a unicorn. Bloody expensive though. Assicare"
She accompanied her last word with a slight left flick of her wand and the tea droplets evaporated off of the coffee table, carpet and sofa.
"Wha…"
Mrs Figg laughed again, a bit longer and a bit more freely.
"I think the owls are getting impatient Harry" Harry stared at her, his mouth open in an uncanny impression of a gold fish.
"The owls Harry… Harry?"
"Oh… Yeah. Right"
Harry held up his arm and Hedwig flew onto his arm followed by a smaller Tawny Owl that Harry didn't recognise. It looked very young but was remarkably well trained. Harry untied their letters and Mrs Figg fed Owl Treats that she pulled out of a small draw under the coffee table. Harry tore his eyes away from Mrs Figg and opened the letter Hedwig brought him, it was from Hermione. Since his return to the Dursleys he'd been reading his letter with increased vigour hoping that one of his friends will have spotted something he hadn't in the papers, or that maybe Mr Weasley had said something to Ron.
Hello Harry.
I hope you're ok and are not dwelling too much on last year. I know I say that in every letter but I figure if I say it enough times you might start to believe me.
And actually Harry, for your information, I'm not going to Bulgaria I'm going to Ron's house instead. Mum wouldn't let me go, but Victor and I are just friends anyway. I mean he's very nice but he's not really my type and he's 18. All he ever talks about it Quidditch which frankly, no offence Harry, is boring. I only go to games to make sure you don't kill yourself! Viktor and I never were anything more that friends, well not even that, we were more acquaintances, despite what Ron said.
I don't know why he had such a problem with it. I mean you didn't, did you? Or if you did you hid it well.. He was being such an ass last year I don't suppose you know why? I think he thinks I 'like' you like that as well! No offence Harry but you're… well you're Harry. And he's Ron. That's odd, I've never noticed that before. You and Ron are different, and before you give me an odd look I don't mean I thought you were exactly the same because that would be ridiculous. I mean you're Harry and he's Ron, but it's different.
Ok so I just read that back it doesn't make any sense but never mind, I know what I mean. Actually I don't but anyway.
Anyway, are you going to Ron's for the summer? If you are, I'll see you there. If not then I'll send you your birthday present and see you on the train on September 1st.
Love Hermione
Harry smiled as he realised that the whole letter was about Ron. It was obvious that they both liked each other as something more than friends but both refused to admit it. Harry wasn't getting involved, getting in between one of their fights was like standing in the middle of a storm; sooner or later you'd get hit on the head by flying debris i.e. a bottle of ink. Not that they always argued, both could be quite sweet and were the best friends anyone could wish for. Harry knew he would certainly be dead right now if it hadn't have been for his friends.
He put down Hermione's neat letter and looked at the other letter. He instantly recognised Ron's scruffy writing on the yellow parchment.
Harry,
I have some good news! Dad and Mum just got back from a meeting and Dumbledore said that you can come to our house for the rest of the summer! There were some conditions but I don't understand them. Mum and Dad are always going off to have meetings with Dumbledore, I keep hearing something about a 'phoenix', no idea what it is or means though. Mum and Dad got really jumpy when I asked about it so it has to be something important, right? I've asked Hermione if she knows what it means, if she can take precious time out from her boyfriend that is.
Anyway we have two surprises for you when you get here. We're picking you up by Port-key tomorrow at 11:00am so make sure you're ready.
Hermione is coming to The Burrow today. I bet she's filled with stories on the great 'Vicky'. Harry, I know I've already asked you this, but is there something between you and Hermione? You'd tell me if there was wouldn't you, 'cause we're best friends, right? I don't know what she sees in that duck-footed foreigner anyway. I could understand if she liked him for his Quidditch skills but she doesn't! Wonky faint indeed…
See you tomorrow,
Ron,
P.S. The owl is Ginny's, she's called Elra. Pig is ill, choked on an owl treat, he's supposed to be resting and there was no way I was using Errol.
Harry folded up his letter feeling a lot better than he had in a long time. He looked up at the woman opposite him and his smile faltered slightly.
"I really am sorry Harry; I know you think I should have told you a long time ago. And I know I must have seemed really horrid to you but it was the only way to gain the Dursleys trust. If they thought I was nice they would never have let me near you and I wouldn't have been able to keep an eye on you." Mrs Figg seemed to realise she was rambling because she stopped abruptly. Harry was torn between annoyance and amusement; annoyance that for the years after he found out he was a wizard he'd always felt alone, cut off from the magical world, when he was at the Dursleys and now he'd found out that all that time there was a witch across the road. He wondered briefly why she hadn't cursed Dudley when he ran her over on his Race Bike. He found amusement in the fact that she'd succeeded in fooling the Dursleys and while they thought he was staying with a daft old women he was really staying with a witch. He could barely contain his smile at the looks on the Dursleys faces if they ever found out.
"It's ok Mrs Figg, really."
*
Harry rested against his spade in the evening light. Beads of sweat glistened in the red light thrown from the setting sun, his back was aching and he had the beginnings of blisters on his hands where'd he'd been gripping the handle. He took a deep breath and dug the blade into the ground and went back to the task of heaving the huge stone out of Aunt Petunia's rose bed. He still hadn't told them about his leaving tomorrow. He also hadn't worked up enough courage to tell his Aunt and Uncle about the rise of the Dark lord.
"Harry! Haven't you finished yet?!" His Aunt's shrill voice came from the kitchen. Harry glanced at the unmovable rock and kicked some of the soil over it.
"Coming Aunt Petunia"
Harry put the spade in the tidy, freshly painted garden shed and made his way up to the kitchen door trying to rally his courage.
"Eat" she ordered pointing to a, slightly stale, plate of pasta salad. Dudley was still dieting, although Harry couldn't see any visible affect. It was getting to the point where Harry was even thinking of suggesting that Dudley actually exercise as well, and by exercising he didn't mean walking to the end of the street and sitting on the wall for half an hour
"Aunt Petunia, um, I have something to tell you and Uncle Vernon." His Aunt eyed him suspiciously before turning and yelling,
"Vernon could you come in here sweet pea!"
Harry tired to repress a shudder. Vernon was a large man with an overly large moustache. It was so big that he could make a meal last an entire night by eating bits that got stuck in it. What ever nick names this man should answer to, Sweet pea was definitely not one of them.
"The boy has something to tell us"
"Spit it out then" snarled his Uncle, "A question of sport' is about to start"
Harry took a deep breath, he was staring at his hands that were clasped around his plate of pasta.
"You know my parents were murdered by a dark wizard" His Uncle re-coiled at this word and shushed him. Harry continued anyway,
"Well… My Mum performed a spell before she died; she died to save me. Voldemort performed a killing curse on me after my parents died; it rebounded and stripped him of his power. He remained as a kind of spirit, his soul survived I guess you could say.
A couple of months ago he kidnapped me from school during a, um, competition and killed the person I was with. He used my blood to return to his human form again. He tried to kill me again but I escaped, just about. Lord Voldemort is the most powerful, evil wizard for a century. No-one in the Wizarding world will even speak his name they're so frightened of him, even though most don't believe he has returned. His life time ambition, it seems, is to kill me although I have no idea why. Maybe I'm his only failure; 'the only person to survive after Voldemort has wanted them dead' apparently. The Weasley family have offered to take me in for the rest of the summer"
Harry stopped speaking and looked down at his clenched fists. He hardly realises that he'd been squeezing them so tightly that one of his nails had sliced into the palm of his right hand, a small drop of blood dropped onto the table cloth and Harry's depression was suddenly replaced with a feeling of guilt. He looked up at his Aunt though lidded eyes and was surprised to see they had a slightly glassy quality to them. She didn't look like she was about to cry but the seeming indifference he was used to definitely wasn't there. His Uncle sneered but his voice was slightly uneven.
"And why should I let you go?" Harry shrugged.
"Lord Voldemort wouldn't have any reservations in killing you to get to me."
Harry shrugged and Petunia found herself wondering at the nonchalant way he talked about death.
His Uncle opened his mouth to protest but she found herself putting a hand on his arm.
"What time are they picking you up?" she said in a not entirely unkind voice.
*
Ron,
It's ok the muggles say I can come. My Aunt was sticking up for me it was bizarre, I think I should call the men in white coats.
Ron, how many times do I have to say, Hermione and I are friends and no more. She thinks of me as a brother, a very cool brother but a brother all the same. Of course we're best friends Ron, we can tell each other anything. Speaking of anything… Ron you do fancy Hermione, right? (by the way the answer is YES) if so tell me. Then sort it out! Watching you two dance circles around each other all year is not my idea of fun.
Anyway see you tomorrow,
Harry.
P.S. Ginny's owl is very well behaved, think Ginny would notice if you swapped Elra for Pig?
Hermione,
I think I have a description for the 'feelings' between us lot. How about Harry-the-brother and Ron-the- erm… well, I think you really need to talk. Don't play dumb and ask me what you need to talk about. Ron may have missed the point at the Yule ball but I got it loud and clear, I liked being on talking terms with Ron too much to point it out. He probably would have looked at me like I had two heads or something anyway. So talk to him, watching you two dance circles around each other all year is not what I need right now.
Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow,
Harry
*
Harry looked around a darkened mountain side. Snow glistened in the moonlight and in an opening of a cave, a figure stood tall.
"I've traced the blood lines master" A figure robed in long black robes with a white mask bowed low in front of the tall man who's eyes glowed red and its slit nostrils flared.
"Fool" It hissed in a cold voice which seemed to come from all around and echoed backwards into the cave.
"They are not the Heirs. You know I will not tolerate insolence" The figure pulled out a wand form the depths of his robes and pointed it at the Death Eater.
"Crucio"
The Death Eater screamed as he writhed on the snow white floor until a red trickle stained the white snow and the figure writhed no more.
Harry shot up in his bed breathing hard, one of his hands clasped to his scar. The pain was diminishing but he knew what it meant. Voldemort was active, Harry desperately tried to remember the dream but the images ran around his head always a step ahead. He sat up and reached across for his 'Flying with the Canons' book. Harry really needed a new copy of this Quidditch book; it was starting to get much worn. After an hour or so he had fallen asleep with his glasses still on and the book open across his chest.
*
Harry woke at 9:00 the next morning to find his glasses back on the bedside table and the book closed neatly next to it. Harry glanced around his room checking that no-one was in here with him. Figuring he must have woken again during the night he dismissed it and got changed. Taking his time on picking his clothes he wrenched open the loose floorboards and pulled out a bag of ever-lasting popcorn and began to munch his unusual breakfast. Finally settling on a pair of jeans, much worn but not too big, and a nearly new rugby style top. Dudley had got it into his head that he wanted to play rugby and made his Mother buy him all the gear. Then when he realised that playing rugby involved running around and not just beating everyone up he gave up.
A few minuets before the Weasleys were due to pick him up Harry checked his room for anything he might have forgotten to pack. He set Hedwig's cage on top of his trunk and made his way down the stairs, figuring he'd wait for which ever Weasley, or Weasleys, came by Port Key to help him. He didn't fancy breaking his neck trying to get the trunk down stairs alone.
Petunia and Vernon were sitting in silence in a polythene covered lounge. The last time a group of wizards arrived at Privet Drive the fireplace had gotten blown up. It'd taken Harry days to re-paint the lounge. (They'd waited all year for Harry to return from school to do it which seemed to Harry to be entirely ridiculous.) It looked like Aunt Petunia wasn't taking any chances this time. Dudley was no where to be seen, Harry suspected he was out 'exercising' meaning he was sitting on the all down the road.
Harry watched the second hand on the clock face tick slowly to 11:00 and glanced around, Port Keys were always on time. A blur of colour landed on the covered rug and someone fell in a heap on the floor.
A slightly muffled and feminine voice came from the heap.
"I knew there was a reason I hated Port-keys"
Harry recognised that voice,
"Ginny?" He asked.
"Hi Harry" Said the heap.
The red head stood up, brushed off her muggle jeans and striped top and glanced around the polythene covered lounge. Ginny gave Harry a quizzical look and cocked her eyebrow. A noise sounded behind her and she turned to see Petunia and Vernon attempting to edge away. Ginny smiled brightly,
"Hello Mr Dursley, Mrs Dursley" She said politely.
Petunia fell to the floor in a dead faint. Harry stared at his Aunt for a few seconds, before saying slowly,
"Maybe we should get my stuff and go" Ginny nodded fervently.
They made their way up the stairs Ginny asked,
"What was wrong with your Aunt?"
"I have no idea. The only thing I can think of is that she hasn't seen a witch before. Besides my mum obviously."
There was silence for a few seconds then Harry added
"It's not that I'm not that I'm not happy to see you Ginny, but where's Ron?" Ginny giggled.
"Hermione couldn't come yesterday so he's gone with mum to pick her up."
Harry snorted,
"So chivalry isn't dead?"
"It's not in the Weasley household anyway. My brothers; the protectors of virtue"
There was another small silence.
"My rooms just here" Harry said pointing at his door, he'd only just realised that this was the longest conversation he'd ever had with the youngest Weasley and he suddenly felt very awkward. She'd always been rather taken with Harry and tended to blush when ever he addressed her directly.
Together they lugged Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage to the lounge. As they reached the bottom step Ginny accidently let go and the trunk fell on Harry's foot and he swore loudly.
"Nice imagery Harry, especially the bit about the cauldron. Assuming you could get it that high."
Harry snorted and Ginny blushed,
"Alright shut it; let's just get this thing to the Port-key"
As they got through the door they saw Vernon dragging Petunia out of the room by her arms. Apparently she hadn't regained consciousness.
Ginny picked an object off the rug which Harry assumed was the post-key. It looked like a small shiny ball.
"Why isn't it disguised?" Harry asked curiously. He had thought all Port-keys were disguised as muggle objects to avoid raising suspicions.
"Port-keys are only disguised if they're to be left somewhere. Muggle shouldn't be coming into contact with this, besides your Aunt and Uncle but they're considered to be of Magical Knowledge, so it needn't be disguised"
Harry's eyebrows lifted slightly.
"I helped Percy study for his ministry entry exams. Port-keys were one of the topics."
Harry made sure he had a hand on his trunk and then touched the ball. He felt the familiar pull behind his navel as his feet left the ground. An image of him and Cedric touching the Tri-wizard cup flashed through his mind but he tried to block it out.
They whirled through the air and within no time landed in the kitchen at The Burrow. Harry stumbled to the floor and knocked Ginny over with him. Both hit the floor and Harry lost his glasses. He felt the stone floor for them mumbling
"Remind me to never travel like this again"
The kitchen swam into focus as he put his glasses on and saw Hermione and Ron standing in the doorway looking amused. Harry turned to look at Ginny, her red hair was all over her face again and she had her arms folded. As Harry watched as she blew the hair in front of her face up with a breath.
Author: Twlight
Email: child_of_a_goddess@hotmail.com (Just in case you'd rather email replies.
Status: WIP
Category: Action/Adventure, Romance
Pairings: Pre-Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione
Spoilers: Philosophers Stone through to Goblet of Fire. So kinda an AU, although it wasn't when I started!
Sequel/Series Info: First part in a series of 3 or 4.
Rating: G
Summary: "It takes three certain people to defeat the Heir Of Slytherin, only if those three work together can he be defeated for good." Harry and two other's find themselves admidst a destiny no-one asked for, and poor Ron feels a tad left out.
Disclaimer: No characters, places or objects that are recognisable belong to me, but instead to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scolastic, Warner Brothers and others. Any similarities to persons dead or alive is accidental.
Any further things will be disclaimed as they appear.
Author's Note: I started this Fiction a long time ago, about 8 months before OotP and then I decided to go back and re-write it. So here it is; The Power of the Three, Revised edition ;)
Please R 'n R either by clicking that little button or emailing me at the above email address.
Apologies for any spelling or gramma mistakes, I have no beta reader and am writing this on Wordpad which doesn't have a spell checker thanks to a thunder storm that blew out my computer and a new hard drive. Also apologies for the unformatted state of this chapter, Wordpad won't save anything as a html document!
Chapter one; I knew there was a reason I hated port-keys
"I call to order the first meeting of The Order of the Phoenix. Present; I, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva Mcgonagol, Rubeus Hagrid, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Mundungus Fletcher, Alistor Moody, Arthur Weasley and Molly Weasley. Absent are Arrabella Figg and Severus Snape."
Professor Dumbledore stood at the end of a long oak table in a hexagonal room somewhere deep in the Scottish castle. Eight others sat around the table each with looks of varying worry and intrigue on their faces. Three portraits were positioned on alternate walls of the room. The first was on the wall behind the head of the table; the frame was gold and the wizard was wearing robes of deep red. His dark hair was cropped close to his head and his blue eyes twinkled as he observed the occupants. The second picture was in a bronze frame. The witch wore a look of grave concern, her robes were deep blue and she was constantly smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. The third and final picture was set in a black wooden frame. The women had auburn hair and eyes that looked like they were usually full of laughter. She too was watching the table with great interest.
"When we last stood here on the 1st of November 1981, I had hoped that we would never again meet under these circumstances."
Dumbledore looked sadly at two empty seats to his right. The seats were upholstered with scarlet cushions and shining, gold plaques stood out against the polished oak.
One read-
'James Charles Potter
OoP
OoM'
The other-
'Lily Marie Potter
OoP'
"The fact remains that Voldemort has risen again." The members of The Order of the Phoenix all sat a little straighter and glanced around at each other nervously.
"The details are a little hazy but it seems he used an ancient spell; similar to the one that Lily used to save Harry. Voldemort used Harry's blood to evoke the spell thus diminishing the protection Lily gave him. Harry and Voldemort share the same blood.
The Minister refuses to believe that Voldemort has returned and is continuing as if nothing has happened. This leaves the Ministry very vulnerable at a dangerous time. Our first act must be to persuade as many ministry officials of Voldemorts return without raising suspicion. Arthur?"
Dumbledore indicated the balding red-headed man to speak. Arthur Weasley stood up as Dumbledore sat and began to speak.
"Mundungus and I are currently working upon several officials in several departments, although progress is slow. Fudge is very suspicious and I have a feeling he is keeping me off the more… important jobs. I had hoped that my son, Percy, would help us but he sides with Fudge. He thinks Harry is lying and refuses to believe without proof that…"
Moody growled an interruption,
"They'll get their proof when the muggle murdering begins"
Sirius Black stood up, his hair was shorter than it had been and he was now clean shaven. The haunted look in his dark eyes, gained from twelve years in Azkaban had created, had faded slightly.
"I'm worried about Harry. I recall you saying something about 'ancient magical protection' I was wondering if you'd explain how it works. Is there any way to…"
"Certainly Sirius," Dumbledore interrupted before Sirius had finished "There are a group of three spells where ancient magical protection is concerned. One is used with sacrificial love, evoked by a person who is willing to die for the protectee."
"The spell Lily used?" Sirius asked,
"Yes." He continued, "One uses friendship and or Romantic love and I have used the other kind. As long as Harry stays with someone who shares his family blood then he cannot be touched. As soon as he is without a member of his family he leaves this protection. However, I can alter the spell for someone who… cares deeply for him. But I will need a small amount of your blood to complete the spell." Sirius nodded enthusiastically.
"Molly, I believe you wanted Harry to come to The Burrow this summer?"
A plump red-headed woman nodded,
"Arthur and I would love Harry stay, he's practically one of the family. Ron's been begging me all summer, and he keeps getting himself worked up over Hermione and Viktor Krum."
Sirius chuckled,
"Ah, I see merciless teasing abound"
"At the end of last year I said that it was impossible. However if Sirius could stay with you then I believe Harry would be safe. I'm sure he'd have much more fun. Harry probably would too"
It was Dumbledore's turn to chuckle at his own joke and Sirius grinned and sat down once more.
"Now back to business." Dumbledore addressed the company again.
"I'm concerned that Fudge may wish to have a bigger say in what happens at Hogwarts. He may try to turn one of the teachers although it is highly unlikely he will succeed. If he does approach anyone you should inform me at once. A person who Fudge believes is on his side would be a valuable asset. However he still has a certain amount of respect for me, but he believes I'm too interfering in ministry business. I'm sure I won't be getting too many owls from him this year. I remember when he was at Hogwarts…"
Mcgonagol nudged the man beside her. He looked at her in surprise,
"Yes quite." Dumbledore looked slightly abashed then remembered what he was trying to say.
"Any business we conduct at Hogwarts must be done in absolute secrecy, the Minister must not find out. Also, Sirius you must be careful. The ministry will still be looking for you and although you look different your still likely to get recognised. Go everywhere in your dog form. I think a cover as Remus' pet would work well."
Remus Lupin snorted in what was obviously laughter, Sirius growled. It was amazing how much like a dog Sirius could sound even in his human form.
"Do we have any other business?"
*
Later that day, in a small house in Surry a young male was sitting on a worn sofa drinking a very suspicious cup of tea in a chipped enamel cup. It tasted a bit like the Hogwarts Matron infamous 'Pepper-up potion' (Worked wonders for the common cold but tasted disgusting and left you steaming. Literally) but it couldn't be. Mrs Figg was a muggle. The male's name was Harry Potter. Harry was a wizard and attended Hogwarts School of Witch Craft And Wizardry. During the summer Harry lived with his Muggle Aunt and Uncle, although famous in the wizarding world, in the muggle world Harry was a mere servant to his family. He was about as welcome in Privet drive as a match stick is welcome in a paper factory. Currently he had a list of chores a mile long,
'Tidy the shed.
Paint the shed,
Clear the Rose bush,
Fix Dudley's Smeltings stick.' (He broke it by hitting the fridge when it didn't have any of his favourite foods. Dudley was still on a diet.)
His relatives were having dinner at an expensive restaurant, an expensive, healthy restaurant Petunia was quick to explain, somewhere. Harry had been banned from coming in case he blew up the restaurant, not that he wanted to go anyway. Usually Harry complained about the amount of chores or mentioned the fact that his Godfather was a convicted murderer (Harry had forgotten to say that Sirius was innocent) but he was grateful for the distraction. He had been dwelling on what had happened at the end of his fourth year. Every time he closed his eyes the dead look in Cedric's eyes haunted him. He saw his parent's ghosts and Wormtail sobbing on the floor holding his bleeding stump of arm. And most terrifyingly he saw Voldemort, Voldemort returned at full strength. Harry knew it wasn't his fault but that didn't stop the guilt which writhed constantly in his stomach. It didn't stop Harry waking up in a cold sweat every night. It also didn't stop him scouring the Daily Prophet everyday for information, he'd been getting it delivered. He'd see several articles on Hogwarts, mostly saying Dumbledore was an old fool and that Hogwarts had been going down hill lately. All of which was complete dragon's dung obviously, the Ministry were just trying to destabilise Dumbledore's reputation to stop him spreading rumours about Voldemort. Harry knew it wasn't about to work, when the Ministry has run an article saying that Hagrid was a danger dozens of people had written in to complain and the Prophet had been forced to run a retraction. Who believed who would come down to human nature and personality; those willing to believe the unbelievable and those who, like Fudge, just want to bury they're heads in the sand. Hermione had been sending him a copy of another Wizarding newspaper, a lesser known one owned by a private company and not by the Ministry of Magic, called The Broom Handle. They'd figured if there was any news on Voldemort or anything suspicious that could give clues to what he was doing then it was more likely to be written about in a privately owned paper. However Harry had read his weekly copies of both cover to cover, over and over and had found nothing. No attacks, mysterious disappearances, no Dark Marks or prison breaks. Harry almost wished something would happen just so he knew something, being in the dark made him nervous. He'd even taken to reading muggle newspapers, scanning the front page of all of the papers in the local newsagents just in case something odd caught his eye.
Mrs Figg came in from the kitchen pulling Harry out of his thoughts, she was wearing a blue pleated skirt and a blue long sleeved top, with her short grey-black hair the mono colour made her look like a pencil. Harry couldn't help noticing that her usually wild, seemingly made eyes, were more focussed and intent then usual. Harry kept getting the feeling that she wanted to say something, she would keep openening her mouth then closing it again.
Suddenly two owls fluttered through the open window to the left of Mrs Figg. One he recognised as his snowy owl Hedwig. Harry glanced up at Mrs Figg and opened his mouth to come up with an excuse. Mrs Figg smiled at the owls and scratched Hedwig's head.
"Drink up Harry; it'll make you feel better" Her voice clearer than usual, and was in the tone of someone who was perfectly normal not the expected 'mad-cat-lady' voice he was used to. The one that blabbed on and on about her cats and fed him funny tea and stale chocolate cake. Harry looked confused at Mrs Figg's seeming indifference to the owls, she was looking at Hedwig with an almost wistful expression.
"Drink up?"
"The tea Harry"
"It's… errrr. It's gone cold"
"Don't be silly Harry." Mrs Figg scolded. "Drink up. It'll make the world of difference."
Harry raised the cup to his mouth and let the warm mixtue touch his tongue without actually drinking any. This kind of trick had worked with her before, once he'd even managed to pour the tea back into the tea pot a few years ago, last year he'd managed to pour it into the flower pot she had since moved. Mrs Figg was still staring at him,
"I said drink it Harry dear, not paint your lips with it."
Harry ran out of excuses not to drink the disgusting mixture.
"No offence Mrs Figg, but it tastes kind of funny" To his great surprise Mrs Figg let out a laugh, a short croaky one as if she wasn't used to laughing.
"Well of course it does Dear, it's got a potion in it. I'm not exactly sure what it actually does but it's supposed to be very good. My sister sewars by it when she's feeling a little out of sorts."
Harry, who had been pretending to drink, choked into his tea and sent it spraying all over the table.
"Ah, sorry it's just I… Must have misheard. Where's that cloth gone…?" Harry began to rummage about on the tray that held the tea cups and tea pot. He really must be missing the Wizarding world if he thought Mrs Figg had said 'Potion'. Although what muggle word sounded like 'potion' and fitted into the context of what she was saying Harry didn't know.
"No need Harry Love," Mrs Figg pulled out a wand from her sleeve. "Brand new you know? 11 ½ inch, willow with a tail of a unicorn. Bloody expensive though. Assicare"
She accompanied her last word with a slight left flick of her wand and the tea droplets evaporated off of the coffee table, carpet and sofa.
"Wha…"
Mrs Figg laughed again, a bit longer and a bit more freely.
"I think the owls are getting impatient Harry" Harry stared at her, his mouth open in an uncanny impression of a gold fish.
"The owls Harry… Harry?"
"Oh… Yeah. Right"
Harry held up his arm and Hedwig flew onto his arm followed by a smaller Tawny Owl that Harry didn't recognise. It looked very young but was remarkably well trained. Harry untied their letters and Mrs Figg fed Owl Treats that she pulled out of a small draw under the coffee table. Harry tore his eyes away from Mrs Figg and opened the letter Hedwig brought him, it was from Hermione. Since his return to the Dursleys he'd been reading his letter with increased vigour hoping that one of his friends will have spotted something he hadn't in the papers, or that maybe Mr Weasley had said something to Ron.
Hello Harry.
I hope you're ok and are not dwelling too much on last year. I know I say that in every letter but I figure if I say it enough times you might start to believe me.
And actually Harry, for your information, I'm not going to Bulgaria I'm going to Ron's house instead. Mum wouldn't let me go, but Victor and I are just friends anyway. I mean he's very nice but he's not really my type and he's 18. All he ever talks about it Quidditch which frankly, no offence Harry, is boring. I only go to games to make sure you don't kill yourself! Viktor and I never were anything more that friends, well not even that, we were more acquaintances, despite what Ron said.
I don't know why he had such a problem with it. I mean you didn't, did you? Or if you did you hid it well.. He was being such an ass last year I don't suppose you know why? I think he thinks I 'like' you like that as well! No offence Harry but you're… well you're Harry. And he's Ron. That's odd, I've never noticed that before. You and Ron are different, and before you give me an odd look I don't mean I thought you were exactly the same because that would be ridiculous. I mean you're Harry and he's Ron, but it's different.
Ok so I just read that back it doesn't make any sense but never mind, I know what I mean. Actually I don't but anyway.
Anyway, are you going to Ron's for the summer? If you are, I'll see you there. If not then I'll send you your birthday present and see you on the train on September 1st.
Love Hermione
Harry smiled as he realised that the whole letter was about Ron. It was obvious that they both liked each other as something more than friends but both refused to admit it. Harry wasn't getting involved, getting in between one of their fights was like standing in the middle of a storm; sooner or later you'd get hit on the head by flying debris i.e. a bottle of ink. Not that they always argued, both could be quite sweet and were the best friends anyone could wish for. Harry knew he would certainly be dead right now if it hadn't have been for his friends.
He put down Hermione's neat letter and looked at the other letter. He instantly recognised Ron's scruffy writing on the yellow parchment.
Harry,
I have some good news! Dad and Mum just got back from a meeting and Dumbledore said that you can come to our house for the rest of the summer! There were some conditions but I don't understand them. Mum and Dad are always going off to have meetings with Dumbledore, I keep hearing something about a 'phoenix', no idea what it is or means though. Mum and Dad got really jumpy when I asked about it so it has to be something important, right? I've asked Hermione if she knows what it means, if she can take precious time out from her boyfriend that is.
Anyway we have two surprises for you when you get here. We're picking you up by Port-key tomorrow at 11:00am so make sure you're ready.
Hermione is coming to The Burrow today. I bet she's filled with stories on the great 'Vicky'. Harry, I know I've already asked you this, but is there something between you and Hermione? You'd tell me if there was wouldn't you, 'cause we're best friends, right? I don't know what she sees in that duck-footed foreigner anyway. I could understand if she liked him for his Quidditch skills but she doesn't! Wonky faint indeed…
See you tomorrow,
Ron,
P.S. The owl is Ginny's, she's called Elra. Pig is ill, choked on an owl treat, he's supposed to be resting and there was no way I was using Errol.
Harry folded up his letter feeling a lot better than he had in a long time. He looked up at the woman opposite him and his smile faltered slightly.
"I really am sorry Harry; I know you think I should have told you a long time ago. And I know I must have seemed really horrid to you but it was the only way to gain the Dursleys trust. If they thought I was nice they would never have let me near you and I wouldn't have been able to keep an eye on you." Mrs Figg seemed to realise she was rambling because she stopped abruptly. Harry was torn between annoyance and amusement; annoyance that for the years after he found out he was a wizard he'd always felt alone, cut off from the magical world, when he was at the Dursleys and now he'd found out that all that time there was a witch across the road. He wondered briefly why she hadn't cursed Dudley when he ran her over on his Race Bike. He found amusement in the fact that she'd succeeded in fooling the Dursleys and while they thought he was staying with a daft old women he was really staying with a witch. He could barely contain his smile at the looks on the Dursleys faces if they ever found out.
"It's ok Mrs Figg, really."
*
Harry rested against his spade in the evening light. Beads of sweat glistened in the red light thrown from the setting sun, his back was aching and he had the beginnings of blisters on his hands where'd he'd been gripping the handle. He took a deep breath and dug the blade into the ground and went back to the task of heaving the huge stone out of Aunt Petunia's rose bed. He still hadn't told them about his leaving tomorrow. He also hadn't worked up enough courage to tell his Aunt and Uncle about the rise of the Dark lord.
"Harry! Haven't you finished yet?!" His Aunt's shrill voice came from the kitchen. Harry glanced at the unmovable rock and kicked some of the soil over it.
"Coming Aunt Petunia"
Harry put the spade in the tidy, freshly painted garden shed and made his way up to the kitchen door trying to rally his courage.
"Eat" she ordered pointing to a, slightly stale, plate of pasta salad. Dudley was still dieting, although Harry couldn't see any visible affect. It was getting to the point where Harry was even thinking of suggesting that Dudley actually exercise as well, and by exercising he didn't mean walking to the end of the street and sitting on the wall for half an hour
"Aunt Petunia, um, I have something to tell you and Uncle Vernon." His Aunt eyed him suspiciously before turning and yelling,
"Vernon could you come in here sweet pea!"
Harry tired to repress a shudder. Vernon was a large man with an overly large moustache. It was so big that he could make a meal last an entire night by eating bits that got stuck in it. What ever nick names this man should answer to, Sweet pea was definitely not one of them.
"The boy has something to tell us"
"Spit it out then" snarled his Uncle, "A question of sport' is about to start"
Harry took a deep breath, he was staring at his hands that were clasped around his plate of pasta.
"You know my parents were murdered by a dark wizard" His Uncle re-coiled at this word and shushed him. Harry continued anyway,
"Well… My Mum performed a spell before she died; she died to save me. Voldemort performed a killing curse on me after my parents died; it rebounded and stripped him of his power. He remained as a kind of spirit, his soul survived I guess you could say.
A couple of months ago he kidnapped me from school during a, um, competition and killed the person I was with. He used my blood to return to his human form again. He tried to kill me again but I escaped, just about. Lord Voldemort is the most powerful, evil wizard for a century. No-one in the Wizarding world will even speak his name they're so frightened of him, even though most don't believe he has returned. His life time ambition, it seems, is to kill me although I have no idea why. Maybe I'm his only failure; 'the only person to survive after Voldemort has wanted them dead' apparently. The Weasley family have offered to take me in for the rest of the summer"
Harry stopped speaking and looked down at his clenched fists. He hardly realises that he'd been squeezing them so tightly that one of his nails had sliced into the palm of his right hand, a small drop of blood dropped onto the table cloth and Harry's depression was suddenly replaced with a feeling of guilt. He looked up at his Aunt though lidded eyes and was surprised to see they had a slightly glassy quality to them. She didn't look like she was about to cry but the seeming indifference he was used to definitely wasn't there. His Uncle sneered but his voice was slightly uneven.
"And why should I let you go?" Harry shrugged.
"Lord Voldemort wouldn't have any reservations in killing you to get to me."
Harry shrugged and Petunia found herself wondering at the nonchalant way he talked about death.
His Uncle opened his mouth to protest but she found herself putting a hand on his arm.
"What time are they picking you up?" she said in a not entirely unkind voice.
*
Ron,
It's ok the muggles say I can come. My Aunt was sticking up for me it was bizarre, I think I should call the men in white coats.
Ron, how many times do I have to say, Hermione and I are friends and no more. She thinks of me as a brother, a very cool brother but a brother all the same. Of course we're best friends Ron, we can tell each other anything. Speaking of anything… Ron you do fancy Hermione, right? (by the way the answer is YES) if so tell me. Then sort it out! Watching you two dance circles around each other all year is not my idea of fun.
Anyway see you tomorrow,
Harry.
P.S. Ginny's owl is very well behaved, think Ginny would notice if you swapped Elra for Pig?
Hermione,
I think I have a description for the 'feelings' between us lot. How about Harry-the-brother and Ron-the- erm… well, I think you really need to talk. Don't play dumb and ask me what you need to talk about. Ron may have missed the point at the Yule ball but I got it loud and clear, I liked being on talking terms with Ron too much to point it out. He probably would have looked at me like I had two heads or something anyway. So talk to him, watching you two dance circles around each other all year is not what I need right now.
Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow,
Harry
*
Harry looked around a darkened mountain side. Snow glistened in the moonlight and in an opening of a cave, a figure stood tall.
"I've traced the blood lines master" A figure robed in long black robes with a white mask bowed low in front of the tall man who's eyes glowed red and its slit nostrils flared.
"Fool" It hissed in a cold voice which seemed to come from all around and echoed backwards into the cave.
"They are not the Heirs. You know I will not tolerate insolence" The figure pulled out a wand form the depths of his robes and pointed it at the Death Eater.
"Crucio"
The Death Eater screamed as he writhed on the snow white floor until a red trickle stained the white snow and the figure writhed no more.
Harry shot up in his bed breathing hard, one of his hands clasped to his scar. The pain was diminishing but he knew what it meant. Voldemort was active, Harry desperately tried to remember the dream but the images ran around his head always a step ahead. He sat up and reached across for his 'Flying with the Canons' book. Harry really needed a new copy of this Quidditch book; it was starting to get much worn. After an hour or so he had fallen asleep with his glasses still on and the book open across his chest.
*
Harry woke at 9:00 the next morning to find his glasses back on the bedside table and the book closed neatly next to it. Harry glanced around his room checking that no-one was in here with him. Figuring he must have woken again during the night he dismissed it and got changed. Taking his time on picking his clothes he wrenched open the loose floorboards and pulled out a bag of ever-lasting popcorn and began to munch his unusual breakfast. Finally settling on a pair of jeans, much worn but not too big, and a nearly new rugby style top. Dudley had got it into his head that he wanted to play rugby and made his Mother buy him all the gear. Then when he realised that playing rugby involved running around and not just beating everyone up he gave up.
A few minuets before the Weasleys were due to pick him up Harry checked his room for anything he might have forgotten to pack. He set Hedwig's cage on top of his trunk and made his way down the stairs, figuring he'd wait for which ever Weasley, or Weasleys, came by Port Key to help him. He didn't fancy breaking his neck trying to get the trunk down stairs alone.
Petunia and Vernon were sitting in silence in a polythene covered lounge. The last time a group of wizards arrived at Privet Drive the fireplace had gotten blown up. It'd taken Harry days to re-paint the lounge. (They'd waited all year for Harry to return from school to do it which seemed to Harry to be entirely ridiculous.) It looked like Aunt Petunia wasn't taking any chances this time. Dudley was no where to be seen, Harry suspected he was out 'exercising' meaning he was sitting on the all down the road.
Harry watched the second hand on the clock face tick slowly to 11:00 and glanced around, Port Keys were always on time. A blur of colour landed on the covered rug and someone fell in a heap on the floor.
A slightly muffled and feminine voice came from the heap.
"I knew there was a reason I hated Port-keys"
Harry recognised that voice,
"Ginny?" He asked.
"Hi Harry" Said the heap.
The red head stood up, brushed off her muggle jeans and striped top and glanced around the polythene covered lounge. Ginny gave Harry a quizzical look and cocked her eyebrow. A noise sounded behind her and she turned to see Petunia and Vernon attempting to edge away. Ginny smiled brightly,
"Hello Mr Dursley, Mrs Dursley" She said politely.
Petunia fell to the floor in a dead faint. Harry stared at his Aunt for a few seconds, before saying slowly,
"Maybe we should get my stuff and go" Ginny nodded fervently.
They made their way up the stairs Ginny asked,
"What was wrong with your Aunt?"
"I have no idea. The only thing I can think of is that she hasn't seen a witch before. Besides my mum obviously."
There was silence for a few seconds then Harry added
"It's not that I'm not that I'm not happy to see you Ginny, but where's Ron?" Ginny giggled.
"Hermione couldn't come yesterday so he's gone with mum to pick her up."
Harry snorted,
"So chivalry isn't dead?"
"It's not in the Weasley household anyway. My brothers; the protectors of virtue"
There was another small silence.
"My rooms just here" Harry said pointing at his door, he'd only just realised that this was the longest conversation he'd ever had with the youngest Weasley and he suddenly felt very awkward. She'd always been rather taken with Harry and tended to blush when ever he addressed her directly.
Together they lugged Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage to the lounge. As they reached the bottom step Ginny accidently let go and the trunk fell on Harry's foot and he swore loudly.
"Nice imagery Harry, especially the bit about the cauldron. Assuming you could get it that high."
Harry snorted and Ginny blushed,
"Alright shut it; let's just get this thing to the Port-key"
As they got through the door they saw Vernon dragging Petunia out of the room by her arms. Apparently she hadn't regained consciousness.
Ginny picked an object off the rug which Harry assumed was the post-key. It looked like a small shiny ball.
"Why isn't it disguised?" Harry asked curiously. He had thought all Port-keys were disguised as muggle objects to avoid raising suspicions.
"Port-keys are only disguised if they're to be left somewhere. Muggle shouldn't be coming into contact with this, besides your Aunt and Uncle but they're considered to be of Magical Knowledge, so it needn't be disguised"
Harry's eyebrows lifted slightly.
"I helped Percy study for his ministry entry exams. Port-keys were one of the topics."
Harry made sure he had a hand on his trunk and then touched the ball. He felt the familiar pull behind his navel as his feet left the ground. An image of him and Cedric touching the Tri-wizard cup flashed through his mind but he tried to block it out.
They whirled through the air and within no time landed in the kitchen at The Burrow. Harry stumbled to the floor and knocked Ginny over with him. Both hit the floor and Harry lost his glasses. He felt the stone floor for them mumbling
"Remind me to never travel like this again"
The kitchen swam into focus as he put his glasses on and saw Hermione and Ron standing in the doorway looking amused. Harry turned to look at Ginny, her red hair was all over her face again and she had her arms folded. As Harry watched as she blew the hair in front of her face up with a breath.