She held her breath for a moment to listen carefully to see if she had woke him up; but the only noise to disturb the room were snores that came from the other side of the wall in the room belonging to her pathetic cousin, Dudley. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to fall asleep again if she tried, Clara rubbed her eyes awake before she just lay there staring at the ceiling. She watched the shadow of the curtains dancing in the moonlight play against the ceiling when she stretched out her leg, causing her blankets to go crashing to the floor which caused her cat at the foot of her bed to jump. Clara reached to grab her midnight dark cat, named Mittens, and held him tightly in her arms only to have him jump from her arms. Just her luck really…the cat…her blankets. She was surprised that the blankets hadn't fallen during the violent thrashing in the night. No, it only took a simple stretch to cause them to go falling. Clara groaned as she looked over the side of her bed and to the floor where her blankets had fallen.
Her blankets lay in a heap on the floor where Mittens lay kneading himself a new bed. The only problem was his new bed contained her brother's filthy socks, feathers that Hedwig had lost, rotten apple cores, Muggle and Wizarding candy wrappers, carelessly strewn spellbooks, dirty Gryffindor robes, and a summer's worth of Daily Prophet's. While she wasn't exactly the neatest person, she normally tried to keep this room clean to appease Aunt Petunia's ranting and raving; only this summer, she didn't have the heart to bother Harry about it. She knew her brother felt responsible for what had happened to Sirius after the debacle at the Ministry of Magic. Last year, Harry had had one of his dreams which had been manipulated by Voldemort and because of it, they had lost Sirius. Hell, she even felt partly responsible for his death. She should have tried to talk Harry out of the break-in at the Ministry; but she was too much a follower to do so and now because of it, they were both mourning one of the men they had considered to be somewhat of a father figure. A man who had been one of their godparents, not to mention that he was one of their final connections to their parents. Sirius seemed to know just what to say when she was having a moment that was depression related to her parents. She twirled the necklace that hung around her neck, which had once been her mother's. That had been a gift from Sirius and he had given it to her at a time, just when she had needed it the most.
Merlin, she missed Sirius so much too. Sometimes the pain overwhelmed her, but after she had finally come out of her depression last year, she refused to go back into one. Last year had been rough on both Harry and Clara. She had been dealing with the death of Cedric Diggory, a boy whom she had considered one of her closest friends, not to mention the first boy she ever fancied. Her pain was different from her brother's, who had been dealing with the smear campaign against him. She had been too caught up in her own grief to be there for him, so now was her chance to make it up to her brother. Although she was a good shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen, the follow through and actually doing something about it weren't her strong points. But for Harry, she would do anything. He was the family worth living for.
"Clara," her brother whispered from the bunk below.
"Bloody hell, Harry," Clara hissed, clearly startled out of her reverie.
"Sorry, but you were the one who was talking in her sleep and woke me up," Harry said, his voice easily telling that he wasn't fully awake.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Clara muttered, trying not to give incriminate herself. The last thing she needed was Harry worrying about her with everything else he had going on.
"You kept saying 'he's only a boy,'" Harry said pointedly.
"Quidditch," Clara lied.
"Liar," Harry scoffed.
A silence overcame the room as Dudley's snores and Mittens's meows began to grow louder. A sense of guilt loomed in Clara's stomach partly over waking her brother up from his beauty sleep; but more from the fact that she had to lie to him about why she woke him up. Like she said, if she could have made a change to the Ministry debacle, it would have been to talk her brother out of it. So, if her brother didn't know what was going on…the less likely he was to jump to rash conclusions that could get them and others killed. Besides, Harry had enough of his own nightmares, real life or not to deal with. Why just last night he had a nightmare about Sirius where he was practically crying that he was sorry in his sleep. No, this was for the best…
"You had a dream, didn't you?" Harry asked.
"We all have dreams, Harry. We just don't always remember them…" Clara said trying to maneuver her way out of the conversation.
"But I know you do," Harry persisted, clearly not understanding her attempts to squash the conversation. "I know that kind of dream…"
"Harry, how many times do we have to go over this?" Clara groaned. "I've told you time and time again that any dreams I have aren't the same type that yours are."
"You may think that now, until you have to face the consequences," Harry whispered.
"There aren't any consequences to dreams you can't remember," Clara lied. "And Harry, I've tried to skirt around your feelings as of late; but you need to stop blaming yourself for Sirius."
"But he's gone and you know it's my fault," Harry faltered.
"No, it's You—Vol—Voldemort's," Clara stumbled. "He's the one who manipulated you."
"But I should have known better," Harry argued.
"Because obviously you could have foreseen everything that happened that night," Clara said.
"You know that's not what I meant," Harry muttered.
"Maybe he's in a better place," Clara sighed attempting to turn the conversation a bit more positive. "I mean, he wasn't living much of a life as a wanted fugitive. At least now he's with Dad and I'm sure those two are pranking the hell out of whatever kind of afterlife there is, and probably driving Mum insane."
"Maybe," Harry said noncommittally.
"And if there's one thing you and I both know about Sirius, he never would have blamed you for any of it. Sirius loved you and wasn't he just minutes before telling you how proud of you he was? He wouldn't want you living like this," Clara continued.
Harry didn't respond to that. Probably because he knew it was true. Harry had seen Sirius' countless attempts to draw Clara out of her depression last year and he knew that their godfather wanted them to live their lives to the fullest, knowing full well the horrors of a life without joy. Both of their godfathers knew those kinds of lives. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were both named godparents to Harry and Clara Potter; but Harry seemed to have a better connection with Sirius and Clara had a better one with Remus. Granted, the Potter twins had known their fair share of disappointments over the year living with the Dursleys. They had been stuck here since they were only babies because neither Sirius nor Remus had been able to care for them. Sirius had been locked up for a crime he didn't commit and Remus didn't trust himself to take care of two children with his condition. While they had missed out on so much together, Clara was still grateful for the past couple years she did get to spend with both of them; giving her the opportunity to learn more about her parents. The subject of her parents seemed to fascinate her. It was a subject she never seemed to know enough of or ever grow tired of. There were so many unanswered questions about her parents that sometimes, she didn't even know where to being to ask questions. Suddenly, Clara felt something plop heavily onto her stomach.
"Bloody hell," Clara muttered.
Using the moonlight to see, she spotted Mittens's outline on her stomach before he began to crawl his way closer to her neck. Clara turned her head to see Harry standing beside their bunk bed looking up at her. Without even saying a word, Harry threw Clara's strewn blankets back onto her bed. She thanked her brother, who didn't mutter a word; but instead, he pulled himself onto his tiptoes so that he could better see Clara and her face in the moonlight, causing her emerald eyes to shine profusely which matched his.
"You'd tell me, right?" Harry asked.
"Tell you what?" Clara questioned.
"Tell me if your dreams were like mine?" Harry furthered.
Clara looked away from her brother for a moment before biting her lip. What kind of answer was she supposed to give him? She couldn't tell him the truth that she was purposely keeping this from him; but she would also feel guilty about lying to him once more. Why couldn't things just be black and white? Why did there always have to be that grey area that made things more complicated?
"Clara," Harry groaned.
"I don't have a connection to Voldemort like you do," Clara responded, telling the truth but avoiding her predicament.
"Maybe you just don't know about it yet," Harry argued.
"I think I would bloody well know if I was connected to him," Clara scoffed.
"I'm just looking out for you," Harry sighed. "I'm just trying to keep my little sister safe."
"You don't always have to play the hero where I'm concerned," Clara said, trying to show that she was more confident than she actually was. In all honesty, even if there were consequences, she was rather thankful to have Harry undertaking that job where she was concerned. "I'm only younger than you by twenty three minutes, hardly a significant amount of time."
"Significant enough for me to be older," Harry smirked.
"Something you'll never let me forget," Clara groaned.
"Because it was a job forced upon me," Harry teased with a chuckle.
"Because my job as "The Chosen One's" sister is any easier," Clara teased right back.
"I see you read the article then," Harry sighed.
"I only glanced at the title," Clara said. "But I couldn't exactly miss it with it lying on top of my trunk."
"It's not something we can hide from; we both know it's true," Harry said keeping them on topic.
"Maybe the prophecy is wrong," Clara argued, knowing that it wasn't very likely.
"Dumbledore trusts this one to be real and so do I," Harry said with a faltering bravado. She knew there was a weakness to her brother, one he only sometimes revealed to her; but only for a fleeting moment.
"Dumbledore isn't infallible," Clara said. She knew the Hogwarts headmaster to be wise beyond her own years; but she was still hopeful that even he could be mistaken. "Besides, it's too much to expect of one person."
"I promise to get as much help from you, Ron, and Hermione as I possibly can…" Harry began.
"You know that there's no way in hell that the three of us are letting you do this by yourself," Clara groaned. "Sometimes, I swear you're really thick."
"I just want to keep you all safe," Harry argued.
"And we're trying to do the same thing for you," Clara said.
"I think we'll just have to agree to disagree this time," Harry commented.
Harry reached his hand up to ruffle Clara's long ginger hair, which caused to her swat at his hand only to cause his hand to get stuck in her long locks. She wanted to scream; but she knew that if she woke up Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, there could be a chance that they wouldn't let them return to Hogwarts. She would never put it passed them, especially after what had happened the summer between first and second year. Harry withdrew his fingers from her snarly hair before he gently pushed his sister. Oh the joys of being the little sister, Clara thought. There were its advantages; but being picked on was definitely not one of her strong points. Thankfully, she was able to dish it out just as well as she got it…at least verbally. With a grin plastered on his face, Harry crawled back onto the bottom bunk. It was only minutes before Harry's gentle snores joined Dudley's rumbles, Hedwig pecking at her cage, and Mittens scratching and the bed. She shook her head knowing that it was only a matter of time before she wouldn't have to put up with this symphony of sounds anymore. Clara stifled a yawn as she felt her eyes beginning to grown heavy once more. While this wasn't a normal occurrence once she woke up, she too was soon back asleep.
Clara was awoken the next morning by a sharp rap on their bedroom door. She slowly opened her eyes to find the sunlight streaming into the bedroom and the curtains still rustling. Harry's soft snores still came from beneath her, clearly unphased by Aunt Petunia's wake-up call. She liked to avoid conflict with her Muggle relatives at all costs; but she also knew Harry could use a little more rest. So, she decided that she would wake him after she had finished using the bathroom. Clara walked down the hall and much to her chagrin, found the bathroom door already shut and in use. She rolled her eyes knowing full-well the culprit: Dudley. Honestly, it was very impractical having three teenagers using one bathroom. But knowing the Dursleys, the fact that she and her freaky brother were even allowed to use the same facilities as them was probably purely out of the goodness of their hearts. How many times had she heard Uncle Vernon mutter a line similar to that? Probably too many times to count. As she waited for Dudley to emerge from the bathroom, she found herself sliding against the wall and to the floor. To pass the time, she decided to count the forty seven pictures of Dudley in the hall. Honestly, who needs that many pictures of one person? And that was just in a hall that hardly anyone saw. Downstairs was worse. While Dudley's face was plastered over number four Privet Drive, not a single picture of Clara or her twin graced any wall in the house. After waiting twenty minutes, she could no longer stand waiting; so, she plucked-up the courage and knocked firmly on the bathroom door.
"What do you want, Potter?" Dudley called.
"The bathroom would be nice," Clara said sarcastically.
"Can't you see I'm using it?" Dudley scoffed.
"Then I'll just go use your room," Clara threatened. Dudley was probably one of the only people she actually followed through on her threats to. Well him, Harry, and that annoying prat Draco Malfoy. Otherwise, her bark was far worse than her bite.
"Don't you dare!" Dudley gasped.
Almost instantaneously, Dudley opened the bathroom door causing steam to pour out after him. Clara was knocked back a step from the hot moist air which reeked of cologne. Dudley avoided eye contact with his cousin as he scurried past her. Then again, Dudley never really made eye contact with her or her brother since the dementor attack last year. That wasn't one of her finer moments. Moments before she had been snogging a random Muggle boy to try and drown her sorrows. Harry had yanked her by the arm to run with them only to have her realize that she hadn't even grabbed her wand. Stupid, careless mistakes…especially considering since she knew that Voldemort was running about the countryside. But that was a story for another time.
Clara quickly showered and dressed for the day in a green plaid shirt and jeans. She then walked back to her room to find Harry still sleeping, curled up with his pillow and her cat Mittens snuggled up by his neck. She had one of the strangest cats; but she loved him anyway. Picking up her cat, she pressed kisses against his nose before she gently threw him onto her own bed. He meowed at her as she reached for her own pillow. Knowing that he wouldn't understand the gesture, she still put a finger over her mouth signaling for the cat to be quiet before she whacked her brother in the face. Harry groaned.
"Don't make me do that again," Clara threatened. When Harry didn't move, she whacked him with her pillow once more.
"Knock it off, Clara," Harry groaned causing her to hit him again.
"Clara!" Harry hissed as he sat up in bed with his eyes practically glaring daggers at his sister. She stood there with a contented look on her face.
"Good morning, sunshine," Clara said sarcastically.
Harry raised an eyebrow at her as Aunt Petunia called for them to come downstairs for breakfast. Clara slowly walked toward the door as Harry scrambled to put on some normal clothes. Surprisingly, by the time she was at the stairs, Harry was right at her heels. With his longer stride, Harry overpassed her on the stairs as they walked toward the kitchen. When they got to the kitchen, they found cold, leftover porridge on the table. Clara could tell that Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had already eaten because there was nowhere near enough porridge for two people left. After rolling her eyes, Clara looked over to the calendar to see that it was an even day meaning that it was Harry's day to eat the bigger portion. They had established this routine when they were younger to make sure that at least one of them got somewhat of a decent meal every other day. She was just thankful that they would be heading to the Burrow soon where they could eat as much as they wanted whether it was an odd or even day. As she sat at the table, she could see Aunt Petunia glaring at her from the sink.
"Good morning, Aunt Petunia," Clara said sweetly, trying to appease her aunt; but the woman only mustered a scowl. More of a reaction than usual, she though with a shrug.
"Sometimes I wonder why you even bother," Harry muttered from the seat beside her, shoveling tiny bites of porridge into his mouth.
"Because whether we like to admit it or not, they're still family," Clara whispered.
"Family who wishes we never existed," Harry argued in a low voice.
"It can't hurt to try," Clara shrugged. "I mean, what's the worst that can happen? We don't get to come back until next summer. How awful. Besides, sometimes I get the feeling that at least Aunt Petunia cares more then she lets on."
"Doubt it," Harry said.
Clara shrugged her shoulders again as she took a bite of the cold and overcooked porridge. This stuff was bloody awful. The sooner they got to the Burrow, the better. After the twins had finished eating their breakfast, Clara offered to wash their dishes; but Aunt Petunia quickly pushed Clara out of her kitchen. With a sigh of defeat, Clara headed back upstairs to find Harry seated at the lone desk in their room. He looked deep in thought as she climbed onto her top bunk.
"I've been thinking about your dream," Harry began.
"Because that's not creepy at all," Clara muttered.
"I think we should talk about it," Harry stated.
"I already told you that I don't remember much," Clara lied.
"But you remember something. What is it?" Harry furthered.
"I—I," Clara faltered. She needed to tell him something to get him off her back; but she didn't want to get him involved out of fear of the progression things escalated to last time. "Most of it was really dark and fuzzy and…a Dark Mark," she finished with a mutter.
"A Dark Mark? You know that's for the most loyal followers of Voldemort. I think he could be using you," Harry rushed.
"He isn't. I know he isn't," Clara argued.
"How do you know?" Harry countered.
"Because—because I actually mastered Occlumency," Clara said with a wince because she didn't want to rub that in to Harry's guilt; but it was the truth.
"I still don't like this," Harry muttered. "I think you should tell Dumbledore."
"Dumbledore isn't the solution to everything, Harry," Clara retorted.
"He'd want to know," Harry continued.
"Fine. Say he wants to know, he's a very busy man; especially now that he has all the Order business to attend to on top of Hogwarts affairs," Clara furthered.
"He's not too busy for us," Harry said almost childishly.
"Harry, it's not important enough to bother him over," Clara sighed.
"Either you tell him or I will," Harry said giving his sister an ultimatum.
"I'm not bothering him with a silly dream and neither should you. But if it makes you feel better, I'll tell him if I have another one. Deal?" Clara said trying to find the compromise.
Clara couldn't hear what Harry muttered; but she took his silence that he was going to take the compromise. As she settled back onto her bed, she called for her brother to had her yesterday's Daily Prophet. Harry bent over to the stack of old newspapers and carelessly tossed yesterday's paper up to her only to have it scatter all over her bed causing Mittens to pounce on top of it attempting to attack it.
"Prat," Clara muttered.
She then gently tossed her cat to the other end of her bed as she tried to put the paper back in order. As she opened the paper, one picture stood out to her: the picture of Draco Malfoy and his mother with the headline Fallen From Grace, Malfoy's Son and Wife Leave Trial. Draco looked quite sullen in the picture, especially compared to how he looked when annoyed her. She almost felt bad for Draco…almost. In all honesty, she thought Draco Malfoy to be nothing more than a pompous, arrogant toerag. He had been nothing more than a prat since she had met him on her first day to Hogwarts. Apparently, Harry had an earlier meeting with him in Diagon Alley; but she had been in a different part of the shop and had thankfully missed an encounter with him that day. Being a prat was nothing new for Draco Malfoy; but he was a different sort of prat to her. From the day she had met him, he had tried to befriend her; but seeing how he treated her brother, she had refused him. The only problem with that was he had refused to leave her alone. The bloke followed her around like some lost lovesick puppy since day one of Hogwarts, no matter how many times she tried to push him away. It only seemed to make him come crawling back for more. Remus had once compared Draco's attention seeking to that of how her father pursed her mother; but that was clearly the farthest thing from the truth…or at least she hoped it was.
It was no secret that Draco hated her brother. He was actually quite vocal about that fact; but he would also constantly strive for Clara's attention, which usually annoyed her even more in the process. She wasn't sure when it happened; but according to Pansy Parkinson's strong hatred and Daphne Greengrass's confirmation, Draco fancied her. She tried everything in her power to push him toward any other girl and hate her; but her attempts always proved to be futile. She suppose it didn't help matters that she was often forced into spending time with him, which he without a doubt took to his advantage. The only joy she received out of his company was being able to push him toward pug-faced Parkinson, whom he always looked reluctant to spend any time with, especially after he had just been with Clara. Draco Malfoy was probably the one person who could easily drive her crazy, especially with the way he followed her…or at least the way he did.
Truth was, things had changed since the Ministry break-in last year. She had been part of the group of Dumbledore's Army that had his father outed as a Death Eater and imprisoned. Draco had directed all his anger toward Harry, even going as far as threatening him last year; but to Clara, he was completely silent. It was actually quite strange to not have him following her around; but with the end of the school year madness, she hadn't taken too much time to dwell on it. Part of her wanted to say that he deserved what happened to his family, especially after the way he acted…being a slimy git and all; but she knew that she couldn't do that, despite how much she wanted to. She couldn't because she could empathize with him; knowing that feeling what it was like to not have your family together. Probably one of the worst feelings in the world; one which she couldn't never even wish on her worst enemy in the world.
"What are you reading about?" Harry asked.
"The Malfoys," Clara said nonchalantly.
"Got off easy if you ask me," Harry scoffed.
"Because Azkaban is clearly a five star hotel," Clara said sarcastically. "Only with dementors."
"Dementors which are easily swayed to doing Voldemort's bidding," Harry argued.
"Someone's been studying his History of Magic," Clara smirked.
"It's common knowledge, Clara," Harry retorted.
Clara raised her eyebrows at her brother before she returned her glance to the picture of Draco Malfoy once more. The boy stood rather tall beside his mother dressed all in black in only the finest that the Wizarding world had to offer. The boy who was spoiled with only the best from his Slytherin serpent tie clip to the Hogwarts ring on his hand. Clara shook her head and closed the paper and looked to her brother who was feeding Hedwig a treat through her cage.
"Are you all packed?" Clara asked her brother only to receive a noncommittal shrug. "Well, you'd better be. Dumbledore's going to be here at eleven."
"I know," Harry responded. "I read the note."
"Well, can I see it again then?" Clara asked.
"Erm—I may have lost it," Harry said rather sheepishly.
"Doesn't surprise me with this room," Clara retorted.
"Come off it, the Dursleys don't care. Just as long as our freaky belongings don't leave the room," Harry argued.
"That very well may be; but you're forgetting you have a roommate who does care about the state of her room," Clara said.
"You're just saying that because you can't find your mess under my mess," Harry said.
"So, my mess is more important," Clara teased.
"I'll clean it if you like," Harry offered.
"No, we might as well leave it for the Dursleys to clean. If the smell starts penetrating the outside people might not think they're normal anymore," Clara smirked.
Harry chuckled in response before he returned to playing with Hedwig. The Potter twins isolated themselves to their room for the day. While some people may not like isolation, in the Dursley household it was better than the alternative: spending time with the Muggles who hated them. Clara rummaged through her packed trunk and managed to find one of the few books that she owned that she hadn't read yet: Lockhart's Magical Me. With a sigh of defeat she picked it up. Only out of pure boredom did she decide to read the book. Beside, maybe there would be a chance of a decent laugh at her former Defence professor. Well, if you could call him that. The man was currently a patient at St. Mungo's and didn't even know who he was. Clara tried to force herself through the first chapter; but found the fraud's work to be rather dull. So instead, she opted for a nap cuddled up with Mittens rather than be bored to death.
After sleeping for a few hours, she snuck outside to stretch her legs for a few minutes in the fresh air; but she made sure that she stayed in the back yard. The Dursleys obviously wouldn't want anyone to see her parading herself around the neighborhood. She lay on the grass in the backyard watching the clouds, something she had often done with one of her dear friends before his untimely death; but that brought a pang of sadness to her heart so she went back inside. Upon returning to her room, she found her brother was no longer inside so she snooped through his stack of Daily Prophet's until she came to the one with the article about Harry being "The Chosen One." Seeing it made her rather content that they spent their summers outside of the Wizarding world. Sure, rumors had a summer to fester; but at least they got to be removed from the festering. There seemed to be no being proactive when it came to the rumors…they could only be reactive.
After hours and the Dursleys finally went to bed, Clara found herself cleaning up the bedroom only out of pure boredom. Looking at all the trash piled on the floor made her cringe on the inside. She wanted to yell at Harry who had perched himself at the desk again; but when she walked over to him, she found him with his head against the window pane and drool running down his face onto it. Careful not to touch it too much, she bent down and threw one of his dirty socks at him, which stuck to the drool on his face. This time she cringed outwardly as she criticized her brother.
"Harry, you're bloody disgusting."
Clara pulled her trunk out of the corner and opened it once more to make sure that she had everything. It really wasn't a hard task to do since she practically lived out of her trunk over the summers…unlike her brother who liked to take over the entire room. She crossed things off her mental checklist and when she was about halfway through her trunk, Harry suddenly popped out of the chair. He must have noticed the sock stuck to his face because he peeled it off and stared at it with a puzzled expression for a moment before he tossed it under the bunk bed. Harry then looked to his baby sister with a look of excitement on his face.
"He's here," Harry said.
"Let's go then," Clara said.
Harry then looked at the floor sheepishly before he quickly scrambled to reach for strewn spellbooks, robes, and other school materials that lay on the floor that had been covered by the newspapers. For a moment, Clara was amused by the flying stack of newspapers until Mittens started to hiss. She reached for her cat before trying to coax him into his cage, knowing that Dumbledore expected them to be ready for his arrival.
"I thought I told you to pack," Clara groaned.
"Actually, you asked if I was packed," Harry said though the chaos of flying newspapers. "You never told me to do it."
"Harry James Potter!" Clara said shaking her head in her hands.
"I just need a minute," Harry said.
"I'll meet you downstairs then," Clara said.
With that, Clara closed her trunk before she locked it. She slung her bookbag over her shoulders, shoved her wand in the back pocket of her jeans, and reached for Mittens's cage. It probably was true that girls packed too much; but honestly, she was taking everything that belonged to her name with her. If only everything that belonged to her name didn't have to be so heavy. With one last look back to her brother, she found Harry digging under the bed for something. He tossed an apple core over his shoulder missing Clara by only a few inches. Not wanting to be the target for the next thing he threw, she rolled her eyes and started dragging her belongings down the hall.
Clara could hear the conversation reverberating up the stairway to where she stood. Apparently, Dumbledore's arrival had woken up the Dursleys. That in itself was enough to make a person cringe; but what was worse was hearing the actual conversation. It didn't sound like Uncle Vernon was none too happy having Dumbledore in his home. Then again, Clara had never known Uncle Vernon to be happy to have anyone of their freaky variety in his house. But this almost seemed worse than "normal." At that moment, it clicked. She realized that Harry had forgotten to tell their guardians that Dumbledore was coming to take them away tonight. If they had known, they probably would have had a party read for after they left. Instead, there was quite a bit of hostility in the air. Clara set her belongings down in the hall before she walked back to their bedroom door.
"Harry, did you forget to tell the Dursleys anything?" Clara asked sweetly.
"Can't you tell that I'm busy?" Harry grunted.
"Can't you tell that you forgot to tell the Dursleys that Dumbledore was coming?" Clara retorted.
Harry listened for a moment as Uncle Vernon's shouts echoed into the bedroom. Harry groaned as he finished shoving his belongings into his trunk.
"You could have said something too you know," Harry muttered.
"Yes, I could have; but you're older and your responsibility. Besides, the letter was addressed to you," Clara said placing her hands on her hips.
"You're usually the more responsible of the two of us," Harry argued.
"Fine, I'll just go do the responsible thing and take care of your bloody mess," Clara muttered.
"I'll do it," Harry groaned. "Just sit on my trunk quick."
Clara sat on her brother's trunk as he locked it shut before he rushed out the door. She could hear her brother's footsteps pounding down the stairs. When they stopped, that's when the shouting began to intensify. It probably wasn't fair to let Harry take the brunt of all of it, so she headed back down the hall to pick up her belongings. They were still heavy. If only she could legally use magic, this process would be far easier. When she finally reached the bottom of the stairs with her things, she found Harry talking with Dumbledore. The old man nodded in her direction which she returned. Maybe her eyes were deceiving her; but the man Harry so often glorified looked like he had aged a hundred years over the summer. It wasn't that she didn't like Dumbledore; because she did…but she just always felt like he was hiding something. And after finding out that he had hidden Harry's Prophecy from them all these years…part of her couldn't help but wonder what else the old man had been hiding from them.
"Aren't—aren't we leaving, sir?" Harry asked, interrupting Clara's thoughts.
"Yes, all in good time, Harry; but I'm afraid I have a matter I need to discuss with your aunt and uncle first," Dumbledore responded. "So, we'll only intrude a little longer."
"You think so, do you?" Uncle Vernon hissed as he narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore. "You have no right…"
"Either we do it now or I can find a time to bring a few Order members with me," Dumbledore said rather sternly.
"Now is fine," Uncle Vernon muttered losing his bravado.
"This should go well," Clara muttered sarcastically.
Dumbledore ushered them into the sitting room. Clara took a seat beside Harry on the loveseat as Dumbledore walked around the room, looking at the countless pictures of Dudley that covered the place. Clara wondered if she was surprised by the lack of anything related to her and her brother; but she doubted it. He was a wise man, even a fool would know that. Dumbledore turned around to look straight at the Dursleys.
"As you no doubt are aware, Harry and Clara will come of age in a year's time…" the old man began.
"No," Aunt Petunia interrupted.
"Pardon me?" Dumbledore asked politely.
"No, they won't be of age for another two years. They're a month younger than Dudley and Dudders doesn't turn eighteen until the year after next," Aunt Petunia explained.
"I'm sorry, I assumed that you were aware that in the Wizarding world one comes of age at seventeen," Dumbledore explained.
"Preposterous!" Uncle Vernon muttered. "That's absolutely preposterous. Bonkers if you ask me."
"I didn't ask you," Dumbledore continued. "I'm merely stating a fact. Another fact remains and that is that the dark wizard Lord Voldemort has returned to this country. The Wizarding world is already in a state of war, which undoubtedly has reached the Muggle line. Harry and Clara, whom Lord Voldemort has already attempted to kill are in even greater danger than the day I left them on your doorstep fifteen years ago. I recall leaving you a letter about the murder of James and Lily, family to you, and I expressed a hope that you would be able to care for them as they were your own…like family..."
By this point, Dumbledore was somewhat shaking and the slightest hint of anger was evident in his eyes. Clara was surprised to see Dumbledore like this. The man almost always held his temper in check, so she couldn't help but look to her brother. Harry too had a slight look of shock on his face. Not only did they never see Dumbledore like this; but they had never seen anyone put the Dursleys in their place quite like this, especially not Clara or Harry. If they had ever talked like this to them, they probably would have ended up back in the cupboard without food for a week faster than one could say magic.
"You did not do as I asked. You have not treated them like family…the family they deserved after the travesty of losing their parents. Instead, all they have known is neglect and cruelty…" Dumbledore began again.
"You're off your rocker!" Uncle Vernon shouted. "I don't know where you think you come off…" but Professor Dumbledore stood tall over the wide man, causing him to instantly shut up.
"The magic I evoked over this house fifteen years ago means that Harry, Clara, and you have powerful protection while they can still call this house a home; something you've hardly provided. No matter how miserable they've been here, how unwelcome, how poorly treated, you have at least provided them a room purely out of the goodness of your hearts, rather grudgingly…making it a poor excuse for a home. Now, this magic will cease to exist the moment that your niece and nephew turn seventeen; in other words, when they come of age in the Wizarding world. Now, for the final favor I ask of you…I only ask that you allow them both to return to this house once more before their seventeenth birthday. This will ensure that the protection will continue until that time."
All eyes were on the Dursleys. Dumbledore looked at them rather accusingly, while Harry and Clara weren't really sure what expression they should be wearing. For a few moments, there seemed to be a staring contest between the two sides. Clara watched as Dudley sat there with a confused look on his face, Aunt Petunia looked flushed, and Uncle Vernon looked like he had something stuck in his throat…even to the point that his face was beginning to turn purple.
"I'll take your silences as your commitment," Dumbledore said.
Dumbledore then motioned for the Potter twins to stand, which they immediately did before walking out into the hall once more. Clara walked over to Mittens's cage and gently stroked behind his ear through the bars.
"Now you both have your trunks packed?" Dumbledore asked.
"It's all right here," Clara answered.
"Erm—" Harry said as he began to rub his head.
"Doubtful I would turn up?" Dumbledore suggested.
"I'll just go—and—erm—finish it off," Harry said quickly before running upstairs.
Clara watched as her brother ran up the stairs before she looked to Dumbledore. She wasn't sure what to say to the man. She knew that Harry would want her to tell him about her dream…but there was part of her that felt that she couldn't trust him. She knew that Harry trusted the man without fail; but there was something in her that couldn't fully commit to that. The only person she probably fully trusted was her brother anyway. She had a terrible time trusting people. She knew that people hated her reservations toward them; but she always felt the need to protect her heart from being hurt because people always seemed to leave. So, Clara pulled Mittens out of his cage and sat on the stairs to hold him in her lap as Dumbledore perused more pictures of Dudley and the Dursleys remained silent in the sitting room. After ten minutes, Harry finally came bounding down the stairs practically out of breath. He panted for air for a few seconds before Clara led them back into the sitting room to say goodbye to the Muggles.
"Bye, see you next summer then," Clara said.
"Erm—bye," Harry said.
The Dursleys simply blinked at them. Probably one of their better goodbyes. The twins walked back into the hall and Clara placed Mittens in his cage once more. Dumbledore opened the front door and walked outside, expecting the Potter twins to follow behind. As Dumbledore started a brisk pace down the front walkway, Harry and Clara struggled behind with their trunks and other belongings. Dumbledore must have noticed, because when the twins reached them, he waved his wand and their things were gone.
"Sir, why aren't we going with our things?" Clara questioned.
"You will in good time," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eyes. "But first, I'm afraid I'm in need of your help at the moment. We have a bit of a tight schedule to keep."
"Where are we going sir?" Harry asked.
"Some consider curiosity a sin. Frankly, I think it's a necessary part of learning; but right now, I'm afraid you'll have to wait a bit to have your curious appetites satisfied," Dumbledore said.
Clara looked to Dumbledore with an odd expression. The old man was always saying weird things that didn't make sense…at least not at first. Clara took in the surroundings of Privet Drive one last time until next summer. There weren't too many pleasant memories concerning the place, which didn't cause her any pain of parting the place. No, she was ready to be rid of the place. Only she and Harry had to come back once more. One more time for their protection. Dumbledore gently tapped her shoulder causing Clara to twirl around to face him.
"Miss Potter," Dumbledore said softly.
"Sorry, what was that?" Clara asked.
"Take my arm, please," Dumbledore commanded offering her his arm with a gloved hand. Clara looked at it curiously.
"Sir, your hand…" Clara began.
"It's a rather thrilling tale if I do say so myself; but we have other matters to attend to. Please, take my arm," Dumbledore said with authority in her voice.
Clara looked to her brother who nodded his head toward Dumbledore, motioning her to take his arm. She gently clutched his arm, just above his elbow when an unnatural sensation started to overtake her. She felt like she was being forced through a tiny rubber tube which made her feel dizzy and caused her ears to throb in pain; pain which she hadn't felt since the years of her constant childhood ear infections. When they finally landed, she was so unstable that she crashed to the ground, cupping her ears in an attempt to soothe the pain. With her eyes closed tightly shut, Clara could feel a hand reach for her arm to help her up. Harry helped her to her feet.
"Clara, Harry, are you okay?" Dumbledore asked.
"Gimme a second," Clara muttered.
"I'm fine," Harry immediately responded. "We just apparated didn't we?"
"Quite successfully too, I might add. Most people vomit the first time," Dumbledore smiled.
"Can't imagine why," Clara muttered.
Clara suddenly reached for her stomach as the vomit lurched up her throat. It projected onto the cobbled pathway in front of her. So much for beating the odds and keeping her dinner. She could hear Harry and Dumbledore chuckling behind her as she groaned. She really could go for a glass of water right now; but she supposed she was just going to have to make do with the taste of vomit in her mouth because Dumbledore began to walk away. Harry yanked on his sister's arm as they both tried to catch up to Dumbledore, to help him out with whatever it was that required their assistance.