Into the Night

It was a dark evening in Privet Drive as the Dursley Family finished their dinner. They talked of trivial things, like the weather, or what was on the television. Mr. Dursley bores them all with his story of what had happened at work that day, ("Mr. Rensuckle never gets the orders right! I say, 25 drills, he only orders 5. I need to fire him."). While Mrs. Dursley fills them all in on the latest news of the neighborhood, ("Did you see the Jones's new car? You'd think that with Mr. Jones being a lawyer they could afford something better than a minivan. Honestly!") As he tries to adjust his chair to he can see the television, their son Dudley whips down his 3rd piece of pie. All seem content, that is, except for the skinny boy at the end of the table.

Usually Harry Potter would be content with the Dursleys ignoring him. But not many things contented him anymore. Perhaps it was the fact that he hadn't spoken to anyone of his friends all summer, even though they promised they would write. Possibly it was that he hadn't received his O.W.L.'s scores yet, and the mounting fear that he wouldn't get the grades he needed to become an auror was incredibly high. Or maybe it was the fact he had to save the world.

Harry readjusted his glasses. He had not told anyone about the Prophecy, partly because telling someone would make it real, official, and partly because he didn't know what to say. What could he? He imagined writing to his best friend Ron Weasley:

Dear Ron, he thought.

How are you? How's your summer been? Hey, you know that prophecy that we thought was smashed? Well, it turns out that Trellawney was the one who predicted it, and Dumbledore was the one who heard it, so he showed me it in his pensieve and it turns out I have to kill Voldemort or Voldemort has to kill me in order the end the war. Hope you're well!

Harry.

He snorted. If only it were that easy. He thought of writing to his other best friend Hermione Granger:

Dear Hermione,

How have you been? Did you get your O.W.L results yet? I was just wondering whether or not you had a book on how to kill extremely powerful wizards. See, the sphere in the Department of Mysteries wasn't the only record of that prophecy. Dumbledore was the one it was told to. Basically I have to kill Voldemort, to save the world, so if you have a book I could borrow that would be great. Thanks, see you at school!

Harry.

Harry downright laughed. The thought of telling his friends in a letter was so absurd it was quite funny. But the laughter died down as he realized he was going to have to tell them... in person. Ignoring his Aunt Petunia's protests about not clearing the table, Harry left the kitchen and climbed the stairs to his room. He flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling.

"All this would be easier if Sirius was here," he thought, a small lump rising in his throat. "No," said another voice in his head. "Don't do that. He's not here and you'll just have to get used to it." Guilt bubbled in his throat and mixed with the terror in his stomach.

"How am I going to do this?" He asked the ceiling. "How am I possibly going to manage this?"

"With a little help of course."

Harry gave a shout and fell off the bed. His forehead made contact with something hard, and, realizing it was a shoe, Harry looked up. Standing over him, was Professor Lupin.

"Hi Harry," said Lupin, smiling. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, taking the hand Lupin offered him. "I think, wait- what- is there reason-why are you here?" he asked, suddenly realizing that members of the Order of the Phoenix didn't show up in his bedroom everyday. "Is everyone ok? Has there been an attack?"

"Oh no, nothing so extreme." Said Lupin. When Harry's worried expression didn't change, he gave a sigh. "Have a seat, Harry."

As they both sat on the bed, Lupin turned to Harry. "First off, happy birthday."

Harry glanced at the clock. 12:01 AM. Harry knew it was late, but he didn't realize he could stare at a ceiling for 3 hours. But then again, he got lost in thought quite a bit now...

"Harry? Hello?" Lupin was waving a hand in front of his face.

"What? Oh, sorry," Harry said sheepishly. "So, does the order have any idea what Voldemort's plans are? Any clue, at all?" He asked, giving a voice to his growing concern that had developed over the last few months.

Lupin gave another sigh and stared out at the wall. "Well Harry, it seems Voldemort is laying low... for now. And of course that's got everyone in the wizarding world in frenzy. Think were with-holding information from them. Look, I'll tell you more later but we really have to get going." Harry stared blankly. "Going?"

A slow, brilliant smile crept upon Lupin's face. "Time to go home, Harry."