Touch the Flame

Summary: Harry learns about his potions professor's past while spending his summer at the Burrow.

A/N: This is something I wrote a while ago. I figure I should post it now, because when the new book comes out (woo!) there is no chance it will work anymore. Please read and review! I love getting feedback : )

Chapter One: Out in the Rain

The Summer Before Harry's Sixth Year

The sound of thunder rumbled in the distance, catching Harry's attention. The air was dry, but the dark clouds sweeping in on the horizon promised rain. Harry stood up slowly from hard ground, brushing blades of grass and bits of dirt and leaves from his worn jeans. He looked about the park, noting that it was deserted. The swings were dancing alone in the growing wind, the sight suddenly making Harry ache for company. This had become Harry's favorite place to hide away from the Dursley's, partly because it was close to where he had seen Sirius for the first time, but also for a less melancholy reason.

He knew he was safe here, at least as safe as he could be outside of the Dursley's large square house. When he couldn't stand to be around them for another moment his dusty sneakers brought him here, almost as if they had a mind of their own. He knew he was being watched by the order members. He was positive he had seen Lupin and Tonks standing on the corner of Privet Drive together, but when he had turned again to get a better look they had gone. He suspected they wanted to give him at least an illusion of privacy, and it did work for the most part. Lying on the rough lawnin the park he could stare up at thelight blue skyand forget that he was always being watched, that Sirius was dead, that he was going to have to either kill Voldemort or die...

Harry kicked an empty glass bottle down the street, his hands shoved in his pockets. Some days he didn't care if Voldemort found him. At least if he was dead he could see Sirius again, and he could stop worrying about the day that was swiftly coming when he would have to stand up to Voldemort and either kill or be killed. Other days he felt agitated and restless, like he could fight a hundred battles and still beready for more. He liked those days the best, because he didn't think about Sirius so much then. He was so consumed with thoughts of revenge that he nearly forgot his misery.

His grief would come again of course, hanging over him like a dark cloud. He would think of Sirius at the oddest times, like when he was eating his breakfast cereal. He could becasually spooning food into his mouth when suddenly it would hit him like a lightening bolt. Sirius was dead, he wasn't coming back, and it was probably his fault. It always felt like his heart was exploding in his chest, pain cascading over him until he could take it no longer. Harry always tried not to cry, especially around the Dursleys. Sometimes he could barely hold back his tears until he reached his bedroom. Even in his room with the door shut, he felt embarrassed crying. He strongly suspected he should be over this by now, everyone else seemed to be.

"Where have you been?" His Aunt Petunia asked the minute he stepped in the front door.

She was sitting stiffly on the chintz sofa, her hands pressed tightly together on her lap. Her thin lips were pressed together into a thin line, and her face had gone so pale the blush she always wore now looked garish on her cheeks.

"At the park." Harry said, deciding he was too tired for an argument.

He felt like he was too tired for most things now. When he wasn't hiding at the park he was sleeping, or lying curled up on his bed trying to force sleep to come.

"That has been here all afternoon!" Petunia yelled, her voice disintegrating into a high-pitched squeal.

She pointed a manicured finger into the kitchen, were a familiar owl was sitting on the table, nibbling at the cake that his aunt must have been eating when it arrived.

"I had to let it in the house." Petunia said, her voice thick with indignation. "What would the neighbors think?"

"They would think you had an owl in your yard." Harry snapped, entirely sick of his aunt.

She recoiled, but didn't say anything else. She wrapped her white sweater more tightly around her shoulders, and turned the television on.

As the sound of aobnoxious laugh track filled the house, Harry walked into the kitchen. His heart was thumping, but for some reason he didn't feel that eager.

"Hi Pig." Harry said soothingly, reaching out and patting Ron's owl on its small feathered head.

Pig hooted, and then lightly nicked Harry on the hand with her beak.

"I know, I know." Harry said. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting. Look for me in the park next time."

Pig titled her head, and then went back to picking at the cake. Hedwig would never touch that sort of junk, it would just figure that Ron's owl would be a glutton for it. While she was occupied Harry untied two letters from her leg. He shoved them into his pocket, and then opened the window above the sink.

"Here you go." Harry said, picking Pig up and placing her on the window sill.

She pecked at him again, and looked back longingly at the cake. Harry laughed, for what felt like the first time in ages.

"No, you have to go." He said firmly, giving Pig a little shove.

She opened her wings, and swooped down close to lawn before flapping her wings and disappearing up into the sky. Harry watched until she had gone, and then laughed when a loud crack of thunder rattled the house, and his aunt gave a sharp cry of alarm.

"Thunder." He said flatly, as he passed through the living room.

His aunt had both hands thrown up over her chest, and a ridiculous expression of fright on her face. She scowled at him a little, but did not make any move to relax.

-and you too could be a winner! -

The blaring television announced, as Harry ran up the stairs. He slammed his door for good measure, hoping his aunt would scream again, and threw himself down on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling for a while, before wrestling the letters from his pocket. He unfolded the smallest bit of parchment first, guessing it must be from Ron. He usually managed to get his point across in only a few lines.

Dear Harry,

You should write to Hermione. She's becoming a real nutcase about you. There isn't any reason for her to worry, right? She asked me to send this on to you. I told her she should have gotten an owl instead of that dumb cat. Fred and George moved out this morning. I didn't think they were actually going to do it. Mum wasn't too happy about it. I'm glad at least. My room still smells like smoke. We'll visit them at their flat when you come. I've almost convinced everyone that you should be here instead of with those stupid muggles. My mum especially.

-Ron

Harry frowned a little. In his first letters to Harry after they had gotten home he had promised to try and get him to the Burrow. The order was no longer using Grimmauld Place as their headquarters. He knew it was because Kretcher might have given away too much information about what they were doing and they had no where else to keep him, but he suspected it was for his benefit as well. He couldn't bare to face Grimmauld Place knowing that Sirius would not be there. Ron had said they wouldn't say exactly where headquarters was now, thought it might as well have been the Burrow order members were there so often.

He didn't want to be ungrateful, but to Harry it seemed that Ron was not doing enough to get him to the Burrow. Harry could only say so much in a letter, but Ron was there in person. Surely there was something else he could do...

Too tired to really get angry, Harry tossed Ron's letter aside and then opened Hermione's.

Dear Harry,

How are you? I really hope that you are alright. You have been remembering to write to the order, haven't you? Mrs. Weasley is really worried about you. Ron has her nearly convinced that something bad is going to happen to you at the Dursley's. I know it's hard Harry, but you are safer at your aunt and uncle's house then you would be anywhere else. Please remember that. Make sure you go to bed early and take care of yourself. It isn't good to spend all day in bed. Go outside and get some air. Are you eating? I think Mrs. Wealsey is sending you a care package. I wish that I could be there with you, I really do, but my parents have been very worried after what happened in the Department of Mysteries. They were even talking about taking me out of Hogwarts, but I know they'd never do that. I haven't exactly been very fair to them. They were crushed that I didn't spend Christmas with them, and I was barely home at all last summer. We have family coming to spend a few weeks with us. Maybe after that I'll be able to come to the Burrow. Surely you'll be there by then. Please write me back Harry, I'm starting to worry.

-Hermione

Harry stared down letter, crumpling it a little in his hand. He knew Hermione had a good reason to be worried about him, but he wasn't in the mood to be nagged. In fact, he wasn't in the mood for much of anything right now.

The storm clouds had reached Privet Drive, blocking all the light from the sun. Harry kicked off his shoes and settled down onto the bed, feeling very alone in his darkened bedroom. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to around people or not, for his thoughts seemed to linger on Sirius regardless.

Rain began to patter on the window, softly at first and then harder. Lightening flashed across the sky, making ghostly shadows appear on his walls. A crack of thunder followed, and then an eerie silence. Harry sat up on his elbows, alarmed. It took him a moment to realize that the powermust have gone out.

He could hear his aunt shuffling around downstairs, pulling drawers open in a search for candles and matches. The storm would pass enough, but by then it would be dark outside anyway. Soon Uncle Vernon would be home, and he bewould in a foul mood if he couldn't watch his game shows tonight. Harry knew he should revel in his uncle's misery, but couldn't manage even a faint glimmer of satisfaction. Dudley wouldn't be home until well after his parents lame attempt at a curfew, mostly because he was still skittish around Harry. Although he could act tough enough, Harry knew that Dudley was nearly terrified of him now.

Harry groaned when he heard Petunia run up the stairs, and then throw open his bedroom door without knocking. Truthfully, he had not expected it would take this long.

"This hasn't anything to do with your...type...does it?" She demanded, clutching a flash light in one shaking hand.

"The storm or the power going out?" Harry yawned into the back of his hand, and stared at her in a such way to make it clear that he thought she was an idiot.

"Don't be smart with me!" Petunia feebly demanded, sticking her chin in the chair.

Harry could see her eyes were glittering with moisture, and he rolled his eyes. It was not unusual for his aunt to get hysterical over such stupid things.

"I'm so sick of this!" She shouted, her voice getting louder and higher-pitched with every word. "Never knowing if...always being afraid..."

Harry sat up, glaring at her. He was numb to her outburst of emotion, but he wasn't immune from it.

"It isn't my fault." He scoffed, scowling.

"Oh of course, it never is!" She shouted, tears freely flowing down her cheeks. "You would put all of us in danger...you are just as reckless as your mother."

"Don't talk about my mother!" Harry shouted, jumping to his feet.

A small cry escaped his aunt's lips, but she made noattempt to back away. Instead she puffed out her chest, and stepped even closer. Her eyes were narrowed into tiny slits shining with tears, and her entire body was shaking.

"Get out my house!" Petunia shouted, wildly. "I don't care if you do die! I'm sick of you!"

"Fine!" Harry shouted, his face stinging as if he had been slapped.

Why should he care whether she wanted him alive or dead. She was nothing but a cold-hearted snake anyway. Harry watched dispassionately as Petunia dragged his trunk out from under the bed, and began throwing his belongings in it. She avoided stepping too close to him, and he was careful to move out of her way.

"I have to get Hedwig too." He said, once his aunt had pushed his trunk into the hall.

She didn't respond, and instead began dragging his trunk down the stairs. It made a fantastic banging sound as it hit each step, and Harry found himself fantasizing it was his aunt's head bouncing down the stairs.

He took out his wand, and then grabbed Hedwig's cage. His aunt was waiting for him at the bottom on the stairs, his trunk was already out in the rain. He pointed his wand menacingly at her as he passed, just for good measure. She screamed, throwing her hands over her head. He grabbed this trunk, and then dragged it down the front walk and into the street. He wasn't sure where he was going, but as he heard the door slam behind him he knew it definitely wasn't back into that house.