Harry Potter
And The Shadow Of the Past
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry or his friends. They are their own people (and J K Rowling's). I promise I won't hurt them (to much).
Author's Notes: This story is written in the same context as a real Harry Potter book. It won't be as long, but it covers a whole year. This is part one.
It is my first fanfic, so please be gentle.
Chapter one, Tea at Figg's
Harry Potter didn't complain about his living conditions during the summer. He was too old now to care. Now 15, he realized that no matter how bad he was treated, soon enough he could leave this horrid place and go back to his real home; Hogwarts.
Harry attended school at Hogwarts. The teachers there taught magic to other witches and wizards Harry's age.
Hogwarts was a large castle in the mountains, and Harry loved it there. The people respected him, except perhaps Snape (who taught potions) and Draco Malfoy (his arch enemy). He had friends named Ron Weasley, a tall red headed boy, and Hermione Granger, a very smart wizard who had muggle parents. Harry even had Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, whom he idolized.
The students at Hogwarts went through seven years of excruciating training sessions in all areas of magic. Harry would be starting his fifth year, but right now, he was stuck with his annoying and uninformed relatives who wanted nothing to do with him.
Right now, Harry sat on the floor of his bedroom at number four Privet Drive. His untidy black hair hung in his face and his brilliant green eyes roved around his familiar bedroom.
When he had first been relocated from the cupboard under the stairs where he used to sleep, the room was dull, dusty and very cluttered. Now, however, he had cleaned up all broken toys and electronic equipment and did some of his own decorating.
Harry looked around though his round glasses. On a shelf by the door stood a very large silver cup that he had won at the Triwizard tournament last year at Hogwarts. The cup would be placed in the Trophy room at the school at the start of term, and Harry would be glad to be rid of it. On his desk was a large cage that, at the moment, held a very large snowy owl named Hedwig, who was snoozing quietly. Taped onto the wall was a piece of parchment on which was a very detailed map of Hogwarts. There was a large trunk at the foot of his bed, and a highly polished broomstick propped up against a wall in the corner.
None of the things in this particular room was what an ordinary person would consider normal. But that also included Harry.
Harry was a wizard, but not very normal even to wizard standards.
Harry just happened to be famous in the wizarding world. At the age of one, Harry had survived a very powerful and unblockable curse dealt to him by a very powerful wizard named Voldemort. The same curse had killed his parents.
Surviving wasn't what made Harry famous (though he was the only person on record to have ever survived that particular curse). He was famous because he had made Lord Voldemort soulless and bodiless when the curse backfired.
Lord Voldemort had stayed concealed and harmless for thirteen years. But he had returned to life just weeks ago and was now back in full power, leaving Harry as his next target.
*
"Hey, you! Are you in there?" It was Aunt Petunia. If Harry was famous in the wizarding world, he wasn't here. His aunt and uncle always treated him like a bug that had infested a prized garden, and don't even get started on Dudley.
Harry let out a long sigh, got up off the floor, stretched his skinny body and opened his door. He saw his Aunt's large bony face staring at him. "What do you want?" he said, exasperated.
His aunt ignored his tone. "Your uncle and I are going to London today. Dudley is coming with us. We are not leaving you alone in this house, so I want you to walk over to Mrs. Figg's place. She offered to take you in for the afternoon."
Great, Harry thought. Just what I wanted, to sit in a cabbage smelling house all day looking at an old woman. "Whatever," yawned Harry, "I'm on my way." He closed the door in Aunt Petunia's face and fed his owl. "See you later Hedwig." Checking to make sure his trunk was locked in case his Monster Book of Monsters decided to bite through the belt that held it shut and attack his room, he left number four and headed up the street to start what looked like a extremely dull afternoon.
*
Harry rang the doorbell of the house one block over and waited. A thin elderly lady opened the door. "Oh hello Harry, how are you? You have grown since the last time I saw you. Come in, come in." She had a very rasping voice as though she was speaking with a sore throat.
Harry stepped over the threshold and looked around. Mrs. Figg's home was a lot different since the last time he had been here. There was incense, and candles lining the hall. There was a large black drape on the railing going up the stairs and a large painting of a black cat just visible through a doorway leading to the living room. Harry couldn't be sure, but he thought the picture winked at him.
"How are you doing Mrs. Figg?" Said Harry still looking around.
"Not bad, but I guess we could all be better. I see you are noticing my new decorations Harry."
Harry looked at the old woman standing beside him. She certainly was strange, but then again he wasn't one to talk.
"Um, yes they certainly are different. Is that a new cat?" Said Harry mildly, pointing at the picture.
"Oh heavens no, I gave up on cats a while ago, about four years, as a matter of fact. But enough chit chat, do you want some tea?"
Harry nodded and was led into the living room. The house still hadn't lost its cabbage smell. The eyes of the cat on the wall seemed to be piercing him, so Harry looked down at his feet.
A few minutes later, Mrs. Figg came in with a small pot of steaming tea. She poured Harry a cup and eased her way down into the chair opposite him.
"How are you holding up Harry? The Dursleys treating you well?"
Harry really wanted to say no, but he didn't want to be rude. "Um, well yeah, I guess."
"Has your scar hurt lately?" Harry looked up quickly and suddenly at the unexpected question. Mrs. Figg was pointing at his lighting shaped scar on his forehead that was poking out from under his messy black hair. The scar was a gift Lord Voldemort had given him so many years ago.
"Pardon me?" Harry was having trouble letting what Mrs. Figg had just said sink in.
"I just wanted to know dear. Voldemort is not very happy at the moment."
Harry looked at the elderly with a look of complete shock. She all of a sudden seemed to change from an old woman to a figure of great wisdom. "You-you're a witch?"
Mrs. Figg just smiled at Harry. "Yes, I was an Auror back in the day. I believe you know what that is."
Harry just stared at her. "Why didn't you tell me? I have been to your house hundreds of times, and you never told me?"
"Professor Dumbledore's orders Harry. A person like you needs a certain amount of protection. I moved here the same year that you were left on your Uncle's doorstep. I was assigned to keep and eye out for you."
Harry shifted his glance to the painting of the cat. It was now pacing around in the confines of the frame. Photos in the wizarding world always moved. The doubts in him left.
"So, what is the news on Voldemort?" asked a still very bewildered Harry.
Mrs. Figg's face turned very grim. She let out a sigh and looked out the window. "I just don't know Harry. The Minister of Magic has still refused to take action, even after the Ministry was raided by Death Eaters.'
All of the old Aurors have been called back, with the exception of Alastor Moody and myself. My job is to keep a close eye on you.
Harry let out a short grunt of disgust. Why do people always have to be so protective of me? He was however, shocked that the Ministry of Magic had been raided. How could Cornelius Fudge not clue in? Was he that daft?
Mrs. Figg seemed to know what Harry was thinking. "I know you want us to think you can take care of yourself Harry, and you are braver then most wizards, but even you can't survive Voldemort every time you come in contact with him. Sooner or later he will get you Harry, and right now, you are his main target. You are already buying borrowed time. We are just trying to make sure you are careful, so you don't get hurt."
Harry gave an involuntary shudder. He didn't think he liked the way Mrs. Figg talked. But he new she was right. Voldemort wanted him dead and someday he could succeed. He looked around the room as if expecting Voldemort to jump out and kill him. Voldemort wasn't there, but someone had been watching them.
"Come now Mrs. Figg, the boy is only 15. I don't think he needs you reminding him that he has a mortal enemy just yet."
Harry turned around and in walked a young man with graying brown hair. He was thin and his robes were torn and patched. It was Remus Lupin, a former teacher at Hogwarts.
Harry got up and walked over to his old Professor and smiled. "Hi, Pro…Mr. Lupin." He was so used to addressing him as a teacher, that it took him a minute to realize the title wasn't appropriate anymore.
Lupin just smiled. "Call me Moony, Harry."
Harry was relieved that he could address him comfortably now. Moony was Lupin's old school nickname. "Moony, I'm glad to see you. How long have you been here?"
Lupin looked down at Harry. "Me? I just apparated here a few minutes ago. I was with Sirius. He said he misses you."
Sirius Black was Harry's godfather. A convicted murderer who had turned out to be innocent. He could change into a dog at will.
"Harry, could you answer Mrs. Figg's question please. Has your scar been hurting at all?" said Lupin.
The scar on Harry's forehead burned with pain whenever Voldemort was nearby or if he feeling particularly murderous.
Harry sighed. "Of course it hurts. Ever since the incident in June it has hurt. Though it has never been a searing pain, just dull and itchy."
"He really does hate you Harry, you know that. No matter how much he longs for immortal life, he would die if he could take you with him."
Harry looked around the room once more. Why did this happen to him? Why did Voldemort have to come back? It was then that Harry realized that this year at Hogwarts was not going to be the same as the previous ones. This time, everyone was in danger.
Lupin read the look of anxiety on his face. "Harry, I know you are worried about what could happen. Voldemort is powerful, and he always will be. But he is scared of you. You have escaped his grasp three times. No other wizard has ever done that. Have you never wondered why that is? You have a power over him, and I think that someday he will fall again, and you will be there to watch. Hogwarts will not be taken. Dumbledore is there, and will remain there to watch and wait. This is a hard time for us wizards, but we got through it once, we can do it again."
Harry smiled and looked at a clock hanging on the wall. It was 5:00, his stomach growled.
Mrs. Figg looked at Harry and said, "Hungry? Come on, I will make you some dinner."
Chapter two, Muggle Murders
Harry Potter returned to Privet Drive that evening. He stood in front of the Dursley's blooming flowerbed, reflecting on all of the day's happenings.
The weather was perfect. The sunset turned the painted structure of the house a brilliant shade of orange. He never took the time to watch a sunset anymore, especially during the long summer.
He opened the door and entered the house. His cousin was waiting for him.
"Oh looks like Harry got to eat with that old witch." He had meant he statement as an insult, he didn't know the truth. "We had a lot of fun in London, to bad you've never been."
Harry just sighed. He had been to London many times, just a different part of it. He pushed past Dudley who took up most of the hall with his enormous girth and strode off to his bedroom.
It looked as if Hedwig had gone for a hunt, but there was another owl in her place. A very tiny, grey and excited owl. Harry recognized it at once.
"Hullo Pig, do you have a letter from Ron for me?"
Pig hooted madly and flung out a tiny leg with a letter attached. He relieved to owl of it's burden and sat down on his bed to read. The letter wasn't from Ron; it was Mrs. Weasley's script.
Dear Harry,
How is your summer so far?
I have been talking to Professor Dumbledore, and he feels that it is unsafe for you to visit us this summer, yet unwise for you to stay at your Uncle's.
As you might have heard, Death Eaters have stormed the Ministry. Arthur's colleague, Perkins was killed and Arthur was wounded.
Harry gasped. Mr. Weasley had always been so kind to him. If anything happened he didn't know what he'd do.
Anyway, Dumbledore feels the Burrow will not be a suitable place, and Ron is devastated. However, we talked to Mr. and Mrs. Granger and they would be delighted to take you in. They live closer to you anyway. I believe you have never visited them. Dumbledore will mail you further information.
Nice to talk to you dear. Sorry about everything,
Mrs. Weasley.
PS. Harry, I can't believe Dumbledore wouldn't let you stay!
I hope you don't worry about my Dad, cause he is fine.
Errol finally decided to die! Took him long enough!
Harry wondered when the Weasley's ancient owl would bite the dust. He had trouble with deliveries, always being mistaken for a feather duster.
Anyway, see you at Hogwarts (I hope).
Don't let You-Know-Who get you down.
Send this back with Pig; I need to write to Hermione.
Bye, Ron.
Harry closed the letter and let out a long sigh. I guess it would be OK if he stayed at Hermione's house; after all, she was one of his best friends two. Besides he had never been there before. He knew it would be a lot different from the Weasley's home, with their ghoul in the attic and talking mirror. Hermione's parents were dentists and she was to only one who had anything to do with magic.
Harry took a piece of parchment off his desk and began his answering message.
Dear Ron and Mrs. Weasley,
I'm very sorry about Mr. Weasley and the Ministry. I do hope he will be all right, and send him best wishes from me.
I feel that Professor Dumbledore has made a good decision. It would be unsafe for me to live with any wizarding family. He is after me and if my location were found out it would out your family in danger, along with myself. I don't want to risk your safety and well-being. You have had a close call already.
Hey, Ron, I don't know if I ever mentioned her, but the Mrs. Figg that sometimes looks after me while the Dursley's are away turned out to be a witch! She told me today at teatime. Pro-whoops ex-Professor Lupin was there too. He said hi, and said that he might stop by at your house sometime. He needs to talk with your mom and dad anyway. Nice to see him again.
I've never met Hermione's parents except for that time at Diagon Alley, but I think your dad's fighting scared them a little. It was worth it though, him beating up Malfoy's dad!
See you at Hogwarts (I hope)
Gotta go,
Harry.
Harry wondered if he ever would see Hogwarts again. Sometimes, late at night, he had strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that he might not live until then. Suddenly there came a crash from downstairs. It sounded as though his Uncle Vernon had tripped over the coffee table again. He heard his Aunt gasp and his name being called. What could they possibly want him for at this hour?
Not wanting to upset his uncle any further, he ran down the stairs, and into a brightly lit living room. The 10:00 news was on the TV and one look at the broadcast told him something was horribly wrong.
There was a woman staring blankly skyward. She was lying on her back, in an odd position. She was very pale, and Harry new she was a victim of the avada kedavra curse. The deadly curse that illegal to use, for good reason.
His uncle's voice broke his chain of thought. "That there boy, is the latest in a series of five murders that have occurred today in this area. All the victims died in the same way. Witnesses say they saw people in masks and cloaks. Either these sickos don't have normal dressing habits or they aren't used to wearing anything else. Cloaks aren't normal, and I'm betting these murderers are of your lot. I am not putting Dudley or you aunt in any danger, and I want you to tell me how to protect them if these freaks come a calling."
Harry eyed his uncle suspiciously. He had never in his life had asked him for advice. The beefy man in front of him was breathing loudly, his bushy mustache quivering with a mixture of anger and fear. Harry sighed. It was time he had a talk with his relatives.
"Uncle Vernon, nice to see you have finally come to your senses. But you still don't understand do you? Yes, those murders were caused by wizards, a very powerful curse caused them. And I can tell you that they only are killing these people because they are looking for me."
Uncle Vernon grunted. "Why you?"
"Because they hate me. And they won't stop until I am dead. So I am going to leave you very shortly. I have to keep moving until I go back to school. My protection can't stand up to thirty Death Eaters."
"You aren't making any sense boy! What protection? Death Eaters?"
Harry sighed. "Mrs. Figg is a witch."
He turned his back on them and walked slowly out of the room. He strode up the stairs slumping his shoulders. He made his way to his bedroom and look in the mirror in his wardrobe. He fingered the lightning bolt scar. Five innocent people had died today, and he knew more deaths were on their way. He would give up Hogwarts and all that implies if Voldemort would just go away. Just leave the world alone; leave him alone.
Harry, feeling a little depressed and angry at the world, gave a long sigh and flopped onto his bed, not caring that he was still in his clothing.
Chapter Three: The Death Threat
Rain was pounding hard on the window when Harry woke up the next morning. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed while he put on his glasses and changed out of his rumpled and dirty clothes and into some fresh ones.
He decided that today would be a good day to look through his potions textbook and try to memorize properties of some of the complicated concoctions he would be brewing in the coming term. Snape wasn't going to catch him off guard this year…
However the book 1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi was as boring as it had ever been, and soon Harry found that his mind was wandering.
He wondered who the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would be this year. He had had four new ones already, Professor Lupin during his third year being his favourite. Alastor Moody had been pretty good, until it turned out that it wasn't the real Alastor Moody, but a Death Eater in disguise. Gilderoy Lockhart had been a completely different story. He had been conceited, self-absorbed and totally unqualified for the job, and took credit for other people's triumphs. Harry's Professor during his first year was Professor Quirrel, a young man that was too nervous to look in a mirror. But he too had been working hard to bring Voldemort back to power.
Harry went over the list again, and suddenly realized the irony of having two teachers that had supposedly been teaching defense against the dark forces, and turning out to be faithful servants to the king of black magic.
But it didn't matter. Defense Against the Dark Arts had always been Harry's favourite subject, and he knew he was very good at it. So good, he almost exceeded Hermione. And that was saying something.
He hoped the teacher, who ever it was, wasn't about to try and kill him any time during the year. He also hoped that it wasn't going to be Professor Snape. Everyone knew he desperately wanted the job, though no one knew why.
Harry suddenly snapped out of his revere when his stomach gave a loud growl. He hadn't eaten since dinner at Mrs. Figg's yesterday.
Leaving his textbook on the floor, he got up and made his way downstairs. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were in the kitchen deeply engaged in conversation. Harry ignored them, and made his way to the fridge. He gave a disgusted sigh when he saw that there was no actual food in there, just fat free yogurt and skim milk. "I might as well starve," muttered Harry so quietly his relatives couldn't hear him. He opened the crisper and pulled out a celery stick and began gnawing on it. He sat down at the table and looked at the comics, which his uncle had discarded from the newspaper.
He had just begun a really humorous strip about a wizard trying to pull a rabbit out of a hat, when he heard a tap on the window. He didn't look up until the rapping became louder. He saw a very large owl, sitting on the sill. It's yellow eyes piercing through the murky darkness of the storm. He looked around the room, making sure his relatives weren't watching, and let the bird in.
It was unlike any owl Harry had ever seen. It was completely black, and looked underfed. Its wings, which were now folded behind his back, had been almost like bat wings. All in all, it looked evil and Harry knew it wasn't carrying a letter from Hogwarts.
With a shaking hand, he untied a note from the owl's leg and it swooped silently back out the window. It had gone unnoticed by the terribly hygienic Aunt Petunia.
The note was very small, but when Harry slowly opened it, his scar burst with such a searing pain, that he was temporarily blinded. The burning sensation traveled through his limbs and his eyes rolled back in his head. He let out a short scream and his legs seized beneath him and he fell to the ground.
The message had fallen out of his hand and fluttered to the floor. It only read two words: avada kedavra.
*
Aunt Petunia had shot a sharp look at Harry when he had entered the room, and she had also seen him let the owl in, but she wasn't about to try and stop him, and the owl soon left. However, seeing a nephew in such pain would make even Aunt Petunia jump to her feet. When she saw Harry fall to the ground she hopped to his side. She had enough heart to at least try and help. But when she caught a glimpse of the note, she backed away. Was this what Harry had been babbling on about last night? Was he dead?
She glanced at the unconscious boy again and saw that he was indeed breathing. But why had he just suddenly collapsed? What could she do to help?
"Vernon! Something's wrong!" she called, when Harry's uncle hadn't noticed.
Vernon came striding from across the kitchen where he had been trying to warm up his coffee in the microwave. He saw Harry lying on the floor immediately. "Has the boy gone and died on us? Took him long enough."
"Vernon! We have to help! I don't like him either, but he is our responsibility! Should we call 911?"
The beefy man's face turned grim. His mustache quivered. He glared at his wife as though she had just said something idiotic. "No, we shouldn't. If the paramedics come, they will ask questions.
"I have an idea. Pick up the boy and lay him on the couch in the living room."
Aunt Petunia did what she was told. She watched her husband give the boy a murderous look, as though he had collapsed on purpose. He walked over to the phone and dialed a number.
"Damn!" yelled Mr. Dursley. "Figures she had to be on the phone now! Well she can take her time for all I care." He thought for a moment and looked at the ceiling. "Dudley!"
The fat boy came waddling into the room from upstairs. He shot one look at his cousin and he turned pail. Mrs. Dursley explained what had happened, and his father whispered something in his son's ear, than started yelling when the boy tried to protest. "You heard me, Dudley! Walk over there right now and bring her back. Harry said she was protecting him, so she had better do some protecting!"
Dudley looked fearful and shocked, but ran as fast as his fat legs could carry him out the door of number four Privet Drive.
A few minutes later, Dudley returned, soaking wet from the rain. With him were two very worried people, an old lady and young man. They immediately ran to Harry's side.
Mrs. Figg and Remus Lupin had arrived to help.
Chapter four: At the Granger's
Lord Voldemort was pacing a dark and dusty room, black cloak flowing almost fluidly behind him. There was no light in the room except for sun particles coming in from a slit in the curtains of the window.
His crimson red eyes were in narrow slits, and his breathing very haphazardly. He was very angry at something. He turned sharply to face an object in the far corner of the room. It was trembling and whimpering. "Stop your blubbering Wormtail, or I shall have to cut off your other hand."
"Yes master. Shall I fetch Nagini for your Lordship?" The man in the corner spoke in a cowardly voice, but he was no longer whimpering.
"Not now, Wormtail, I need your assistance with something." Said the dark lord in an almost sly tone.
The small man moved slowly towards his master. Voldemort grabbed his servant's wrist and pulled up the sleeve of his robe. A scar in the shape of a scull with a tongue like a serpent was just visible on Wormtail's inner arm.
Voldemort pressed one of his long gnarled fingers to the scar, which immediately glowed red. Suddenly, thirty people in masks appeared in the room beside Voldemort.
Voldemort spoke to one of them that appeared to be the leader. "So Lucius, you have failed me again?"
Lucius Malfoy shook beneath his mask. "Yes master, we have failed you again, we beg your forgiveness."
"Stop your groveling Malfoy!" snapped the Dark Lord. "I send all thirty of my Death Eaters right into the Ministry of Magic, and you fail to kill me that fool of a Minister! I will not tolerate another failure! If you weren't so loyal, I would have done away with you scum last June."
Another Death Eater stepped forward toward his Lord. "We apologize master. We did manage to do away with some Muggles in our search for…"
"I don't want muggles! I want Potter! I want him before he goes back to that muggle-loving fool, Dumbledore. When he is back at Hogwarts, he will be out of my grasp again!"
Yet another Death Eater strode forward. "The Potter boy's location was found out today, your owl found him in Surrey…"
Voldemort pinched the bridge of his nose. "Goyle, you are as stupid as you are big. Harry will not stay in one place for long…"
*
Harry opened his eyes slowly. His vision was blurry, but it improved a bit when he replaced his glasses. He saw that he was lying in his own bed, Hedwig sitting on the beside table. He saw two figures in the room with him.
"Welcome back Harry," said Mrs. Figg.
"How long have I been out?" mumbled Harry. It didn't take the genius of Professor Dumbledore to figure out that his scar had been hurting him again.
"Only a couple of hours, Harry. You have definitely had worse injuries in your life." The speaker was Remus Lupin.
Harry looked at his fellow wizards, than realized something. "The Dursley's actually let you in here? After I told them you were a witch?" He pointed in Mrs. Figg's direction.
The old woman smiled at Harry. "You don't give your relatives much credit Harry. But then again, they only did it because they didn't want to be blamed for the death of their nephew. It was lucky chance you had told them I was a witch Harry, because a simple Tylenol wouldn't take away the pain you just experienced. We told your relatives you will be leaving today."
Harry looked at his neighbor. "Why so soon? I was just starting to get attached to them," he said sarcastically.
"That owl was being tracked Harry. Voldemort knows your location now, so you have to leave. I'm taking you over to the Granger's as soon as you pack," said Lupin.
Harry nodded and sat up, shaking at little. "You know, it would be a lot easier, not to mention less risky if I just went to Hogwarts early."
Mrs. Figg shook her head. "Sorry Harry, no can do. Dumbledores' out at the Ministry helping clear up that little incident. You can't be there without him."
So, with a little help for Lupin and Figg, Harry stood up and started packing his trunk. He stuffed the map of Hogwarts, his broom and potions book into it, and then checked to make sure he wasn't forgetting something. "Whoops, don't want to forget that," he said pointing at the Triwizard cup. He picked it up as though he was scared of it (he was, considering it almost killed him last year) and stuffed it into his trunk as well.
Lupin carried it out of the room, while Hedwig perched on Harry's shoulder. Mrs. Figg carried her cage. The trio went downstairs and while Lupin and Figg waited at the front door, Harry went to thank his aunt and uncle who were in the living room watching a game show.
"Hey, thanks for trying to help me, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. I appreciate it. Sorry to cause trouble. I'll see you next summer."
His uncle grunted and Harry left Privet Drive yet again.
A Ministry car was waiting for them on the curb. A surly driver waved hello as Harry popped his trunk into the boot and hopped into the backseat with Lupin. Mrs. Figg was going to be returning home. "Have a great year at Hogwarts Harry. Watch out for Voldemort, and um; tell someone if your scar hurts unexpectedly. You might have a link to him you know. Your visions just might reveal to us his hiding spot." She waved good-bye and returned home.
The ride was a short one to the Granger's house. Hermione lived closer to Harry then he had ever thought possible. She lived just into the next county, which came as a surprise to Harry. I guess that he never really cared where she lived as she was always with him at Hogwarts.
Hermione was waiting for him on the walkway to a large home; even bigger then Number four. But he guessed it should be suspected, Dentists made a lot of money.
She was waving and smiling at Harry. She had a tan and her bushy brown hair was pulled backed into a large ponytail.
The house behind her was large and old fashioned. There were magnificent gardens in the front yard, and Harry could just see a forest behind it. There was a red convertible car in their drive.
"Hey Harry. Hello Moony," called Hermione. She had obviously been talking to him before Harry had arrived. "An owl just arrived with your school list Harry! I got mine too! Guess what?"
Harry looked at Hermione. She seemed happy about something, and Harry had a pretty good feeling what it was. "Um-you're a prefect?"
She gave him a wry smile. "Good guess."
Harry had expected that. Hermione was a model student. "Congratulations! Is there anything interesting in the lists that I need to know about?"
Hermione's smile faded. "Come in and read it."
Inside the house was superbly decorated. Hermione led him to an upstairs bedroom. There were spell books lined neatly on the bookshelves. A desk in the corner was organized, so that it was completely clear of parchment and quills (unlike Harry's desk at the Dursley's). A ginger cat with a squashed face was sleeping quietly on the bed.
"Here." Hermione had passed Harry an envelope with the Hogwarts coat-of-arms on it. Harry opened it and read the first slip of parchment.
Dear Mr. Potter,
The following is a list of equipment that fifth year students will require:
Standard Book of Spells Grade Five, by Miranda Goshawk
The Rise and Fall of The Dark Arts, by Nin Canpoop
The Companion to The Sky, by Celeste Ial
Birds and Beasts, by Lio Ness
1 Cauldron. Steel, size four
1 pack of Tarot Cards (if taking Divination)
Sincerely,
Professor M, McGonagall
He picked up the next piece of parchment and read.
Dear Mr. H. Potter,
As I'm sure you are well aware, all students above Third year are allowed to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends.
This year however, those trips will cease as an added precaution to keep students safe.
In the event Voldemort is caught, then Hogsmeade weekends will be reinstated.
Sorry for the Inconvenience,
Professor A. Dumbledore,
Headmaster.
"Is that it Hermione? All Hogsmeade visits are cancelled? I don't care. I never really had much fun there. That place has caused me a lot more trouble then I can handle right now. And besides, I thought you wouldn't mind having the extra weekends to study for your O.W.L.'s."
"Well Harry, I just thought it would be good to have a weekend of fun every now and then. It also gets me thinking on how much danger we are all in right now. Doesn't it scare you sometimes, that you are always the main target of someone who wants to kill you?"
Harry thought about what Hermione had to say. Of course he was scared, he couldn't help it. He may have skipped death a few times, but he wasn't immortal. "Hermione, if I die, I die and believe me, it'll be nice not having to risk my life every year."
Hermione gasped. "Harry, you actually aren't giving in to it are you? There's more to you then that!"
Harry just smiled. "Had you there Hermione! Like I was going to let Voldemort win after the torture he's put me through! Besides, Dumbledore will save us if no one else will."
Hermione looked at Harry as though she thought he was mental, but then she noticed a third piece of parchment.
"Harry, there's another sheet of parchment! Maybe you're a prefect too!"
Harry opened the last slip. Unlike the other messages, it was addressed to him by first name.
Dear Harry,
You have been chosen as the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team for the your remaining years at Hogwarts.
Your skills have been recognized and it is your responsibility to pick the house teams from anybody above first year and to arrange team practices.
If there are any questions concerning your rank, please contact me on September the first.
Congratulations and good luck in the coming year!
Sincerely,
Madam Hooch,
Sports and Recreation
Harry looked up from the paper and smiled. He handed the paper to Hermione and started laughing. "Well, there you go Hermione. I have some thing to keep my mind off things. What do you say? Want to try out for Quidditch?"
Hermione finished the letter and handed it to Harry. "You know very well Harry, that as a prefect, I will have other responsibilities. Besides, the only position open is Keeper, unless you feel the need to kick out Fred and George?"
There was absolutely no way that he was going to deprive the Weasley twins of their positions of Beaters. Hermione was right yet again, but here was no way he would tell her that. "Hermione, the only responsibility prefects have is making sure their bathroom is clean, and it's not unheard of to take two positions; Cedric managed it ok, and don't you want to impress Viktor?"
That was the first time he was able to even mention Cedric Diggory because he still felt responsible for the death of his fellow student. But Hermione seemed to have noticed the name Viktor instead. Krum was a famous Quidditch player that seemed to take a certain liking to Hermione.
Hermione blushed. "Come on Harry, I'll show you your room."
As they walked down the hall to one of the spare bedrooms, Harry wondered whether Hermione had gone to Bulgaria earlier in the summer, as Krum had invited.