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Hidden Treasures Chapter 1: Wandering Wonder of the Attic
Everything was old; it even smelled old. The more recently spun, silver flecked cobwebs were probably older than he was.
A boy of moderate height, sixteen years old, looked curiously around a vast, wood paneled wall attic. He took off his broken, circular glasses and failed to clean them of their dust, wiping them off on his vibrant green shirt.
His name was Harry James Potter, and he was absently glancing at a strange at a strange watch adorning his wrist. It had gears, secret compartments, mysterious unmarked buttons and on the back was etched in gold, "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes." The watch's alarm suddenly went off, and Harry's dismay shook the floor around him and a thin layer of dirt. Somewhere downstairs a woman was calling him for lunch. It was Mrs. Weasley, his best friend, Ron's mother.
Harry made his way down the steep and winding attic stairs and re-sealed the door magically; he would have to continue exploring with out distractions of meals. He made a mental note of doing so after everyone else was in bed.
The table was set for four people. While Harry was the owner of 12 Grimauld place, Mrs. Weasley still felt it was her job to do the better part of the cooking and cleaning. Harry tried to be a good host and cook, but the outcome was disastrous. He sealed his lips and took a seat in between Ron and Hermione Granger, his other best friend.
Lunch would have been silent if not for the munching of apple slices, the bustling of Mrs. Weasley around the kitchen, and the animate chatter of Ron's younger sister, Ginny. Harry had been quite taken with her the previous year, but now his mind could focus on nothing but the future. His future with Voldemort.
"That is why," Harry thought to himself, "That is why I need to explore the attic; I need to keep my mind away from what happened with Dumbledore."
His stomach dropped to his knees at the thought. He rose from the table, looking at his worn sneakers and mumbled,
"I think I'll go rest. Do you need help cleaning up after lunch Mrs. Weasley?"
"No dear, you go on up to your bed and rest before the Fred, George and Arthur arrive from the Ministry. You look like dead on your feet," Molly Weasely said, while magically conjuring dish soap.
Harry's thoughts took over once more,
"Funny she should say that. 'Dead on my feet.' I can think of so many people whose greatest desire is for me to be 'dead on my feet.' "
This day marked the first official week that he owned 12 Grimauld Place. He had gotten legal advice from a Muggle lawyer that found a loophole stating that since he was Sirius' godson, he was his legal heir. He inherited everything even if Bellatrix was living. Soon she would attend a court hearing of her own in the next month.
Harry lay there on his bed, watching Hedwig clean between her toes when Ron walked in and sat in the nearest chair.
" Hey Harry, we should do something. You know, to keep us busy. I don't like sitting here waiting for something bad to happen. Want a game of Exploding Snap? Or maybe Chess? I just want to pass time."
It was all Harry's emotional strength to lift his head and shake it at Ron.
"No, go one without me. I'm tired, go talk to Hermione or Ginny. I'll play later; I promise."
It felt as if a grim veil had been thrown over the house and over Harry's vision as he slowly drifted off to sleep.
"At least I can explore that weird attic later."
His last thought before snuggling down into his pillow and closing his weary eyes.