CHAPTER ONE
Shattered. Completely empty. Hollow. Those were the only words that 15-year- old Harry Potter could think of as he drove with his aunt and uncle back towards Kings Cross. He hated the knowledge that the school he would return to was still in shock from the events of last term. Even more, he hated the fact that he was partially responsible for those events. But there was nothing he could do about it now. He hated his aunt and uncle with a passion, and Hogwarts was, after all, his home. He perked up at the thought of seeing his two best friends, Ron and Hermione, when he boarded the Hogwarts Express. He hadn't been permitted to go visit the Burrow this past summer, and because of that he was feeling quite lonely. He also hadn't been allowed to go to Diagon Alley so he was going to have to take a secret trip to Hogsmeade to replenish his supplies. On second thought, perhaps he would just ask Dumbledore for permission. He didn't really fancy being killed by Voldemort while he was buying potions ingredients.
Voldemort. Harry's face tightened, and he rubbed the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. He was the reason that everything was so horrid. He was the reason Harry had spent ten years of his life in a place where no one could stand him. He was the reason Cedric Diggory had died. Harry had to keep telling himself that. For if it wasn't Voldemort's fault, then it was Harry's, and he couldn't stand that much blood on his name. The car stopped. Harry unloaded his things himself, gave his aunt a clipped goodbye, and then pushed his trolley toward the barrier. He would see Ron and Hermione soon. Maybe if he concentrated on them, he wouldn't be so apprehensive about going back.
"Harry! Over here!" Harry turned to see his two best friends closer to the train. He looked at them, and did a double take. He could not be seeing what he thought he was seeing. Rubbing his glasses, he put them on again. He was. Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, his best friends, were holding hands.
Perhaps the very first real smile since the summer started graced his face, and he pushed his trolley over to them.
"It seems you two have been making better use of this summer then I thought. Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, pleased to see the red creeping up Ron's ears. Hermione giggled, in an embarrassed sort of way.
"Well, he didn't ask me until I saw him this morning at breakfast," she said lightly, turning as red as Ron.
"Well, at least some of us had a good summer," Harry commented wryly. Then, mood lightening, he demanded his friends help in carrying his stuff up to the train. They climbed aboard, Ginny right behind them, and the train chugged off.
"Was it that horrible, Harry, this summer?" The question came from Ginny, and Harry was glad for the distraction. He had gotten up to find the loo, and he came back to discover Ron and Hermione snogging. It was funny, but he also had the distinct feeling of being a third wheel. They had quit very quickly when they heard him come in, but the uncomfortable feeling remained.
"Nah, not them really, I just hated the fact that I couldn't go anywhere. I discovered something interesting, though. Do you remember me telling you about old Mrs. Figg, whom the Dursleys's would always leave me with?"
"Yes. Why?" Ginny responded.
"It turns out that she's a squib by the name of Arabella Figg."
"No! Why didn't she tell you who you were?" Ginny asked.
"Direct orders from Dumbledore. He didn't want to make me any more of a target."
"Neat!" Ginny said before a devilish look crossed her face. "So, did my dearest older brother over there bother to tell you about the many times I caught him snogging Hermione this summer?"
"Must have forgotten. Do tell."
Harry and Ginny were so wrapped up in their conversation they didn't notice the dagger looks being aimed at them. Not like they would have cared, anyway. They were having far to good of time together.
The four of them caught a carriage together up to the castle. Ron and Hermione had become quite distant to Harry and Ginny, so they continued the conversation of various summer exploits right up to the main entrance. Professor McGonagall walked up to them, and they all noticed that there was an odd light in her eye, something almost like triumph.
"Potter, You will follow me, please. Move along, the rest of you. I will return him to you soon." Ron, Hermione and Ginny wordlessly obeyed. None of them wanted to challenge McGonagall, especially as they'd never seen that look on her face before.
She brought Harry to Dumbledore's office and up the flight of stairs into his waiting room. There were two other people in that waiting room, but they were very still and covered with cloaks. Hoods covering their faces prevented Harry from being able to tell who they were. Puffing, two others soon arrived. Harry gave a delighted shout as his godfather, Sirius, and Professor Lupin entered the room.
"Is it true, Harry? Is it really true?" Sirius asked him.
McGonagall stepped in. "Harry has not been told why he has been brought here. I wanted you two here first." Harry became more confused. Obviously, it was important, and just as obviously, it concerned something Sirius really cared about. Understanding started to dawn.
"Professor, is this about my parents?" he asked, almost scared of the answer. Dumbledore came out of his inner office, and his blue eyes were sparkling more merrily then Harry had ever seen.
"Minerva, if you would remove the cloaks, please, we can answer both questions at once." He looked like an overgrown schoolboy, except for the wrinkles that time and stress had worn into his face.
She lifted the cloaks, and there, in perfect health, stood Lily and James Potter. Harry just stood there, and drank in the sight of his parents. Sirius and Lupin were not so restrained, however. With a whoop, they collapsed on the floor. Neither of them was sure that they could believe the miracle in front of them.
"Enervate." Dumbledore whispered, and Harry's parents rushed towards him. Enveloped in a tight embrace, he allowed himself to break down.
Shattered. Completely empty. Hollow. Those were the only words that 15-year- old Harry Potter could think of as he drove with his aunt and uncle back towards Kings Cross. He hated the knowledge that the school he would return to was still in shock from the events of last term. Even more, he hated the fact that he was partially responsible for those events. But there was nothing he could do about it now. He hated his aunt and uncle with a passion, and Hogwarts was, after all, his home. He perked up at the thought of seeing his two best friends, Ron and Hermione, when he boarded the Hogwarts Express. He hadn't been permitted to go visit the Burrow this past summer, and because of that he was feeling quite lonely. He also hadn't been allowed to go to Diagon Alley so he was going to have to take a secret trip to Hogsmeade to replenish his supplies. On second thought, perhaps he would just ask Dumbledore for permission. He didn't really fancy being killed by Voldemort while he was buying potions ingredients.
Voldemort. Harry's face tightened, and he rubbed the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. He was the reason that everything was so horrid. He was the reason Harry had spent ten years of his life in a place where no one could stand him. He was the reason Cedric Diggory had died. Harry had to keep telling himself that. For if it wasn't Voldemort's fault, then it was Harry's, and he couldn't stand that much blood on his name. The car stopped. Harry unloaded his things himself, gave his aunt a clipped goodbye, and then pushed his trolley toward the barrier. He would see Ron and Hermione soon. Maybe if he concentrated on them, he wouldn't be so apprehensive about going back.
"Harry! Over here!" Harry turned to see his two best friends closer to the train. He looked at them, and did a double take. He could not be seeing what he thought he was seeing. Rubbing his glasses, he put them on again. He was. Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, his best friends, were holding hands.
Perhaps the very first real smile since the summer started graced his face, and he pushed his trolley over to them.
"It seems you two have been making better use of this summer then I thought. Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, pleased to see the red creeping up Ron's ears. Hermione giggled, in an embarrassed sort of way.
"Well, he didn't ask me until I saw him this morning at breakfast," she said lightly, turning as red as Ron.
"Well, at least some of us had a good summer," Harry commented wryly. Then, mood lightening, he demanded his friends help in carrying his stuff up to the train. They climbed aboard, Ginny right behind them, and the train chugged off.
"Was it that horrible, Harry, this summer?" The question came from Ginny, and Harry was glad for the distraction. He had gotten up to find the loo, and he came back to discover Ron and Hermione snogging. It was funny, but he also had the distinct feeling of being a third wheel. They had quit very quickly when they heard him come in, but the uncomfortable feeling remained.
"Nah, not them really, I just hated the fact that I couldn't go anywhere. I discovered something interesting, though. Do you remember me telling you about old Mrs. Figg, whom the Dursleys's would always leave me with?"
"Yes. Why?" Ginny responded.
"It turns out that she's a squib by the name of Arabella Figg."
"No! Why didn't she tell you who you were?" Ginny asked.
"Direct orders from Dumbledore. He didn't want to make me any more of a target."
"Neat!" Ginny said before a devilish look crossed her face. "So, did my dearest older brother over there bother to tell you about the many times I caught him snogging Hermione this summer?"
"Must have forgotten. Do tell."
Harry and Ginny were so wrapped up in their conversation they didn't notice the dagger looks being aimed at them. Not like they would have cared, anyway. They were having far to good of time together.
The four of them caught a carriage together up to the castle. Ron and Hermione had become quite distant to Harry and Ginny, so they continued the conversation of various summer exploits right up to the main entrance. Professor McGonagall walked up to them, and they all noticed that there was an odd light in her eye, something almost like triumph.
"Potter, You will follow me, please. Move along, the rest of you. I will return him to you soon." Ron, Hermione and Ginny wordlessly obeyed. None of them wanted to challenge McGonagall, especially as they'd never seen that look on her face before.
She brought Harry to Dumbledore's office and up the flight of stairs into his waiting room. There were two other people in that waiting room, but they were very still and covered with cloaks. Hoods covering their faces prevented Harry from being able to tell who they were. Puffing, two others soon arrived. Harry gave a delighted shout as his godfather, Sirius, and Professor Lupin entered the room.
"Is it true, Harry? Is it really true?" Sirius asked him.
McGonagall stepped in. "Harry has not been told why he has been brought here. I wanted you two here first." Harry became more confused. Obviously, it was important, and just as obviously, it concerned something Sirius really cared about. Understanding started to dawn.
"Professor, is this about my parents?" he asked, almost scared of the answer. Dumbledore came out of his inner office, and his blue eyes were sparkling more merrily then Harry had ever seen.
"Minerva, if you would remove the cloaks, please, we can answer both questions at once." He looked like an overgrown schoolboy, except for the wrinkles that time and stress had worn into his face.
She lifted the cloaks, and there, in perfect health, stood Lily and James Potter. Harry just stood there, and drank in the sight of his parents. Sirius and Lupin were not so restrained, however. With a whoop, they collapsed on the floor. Neither of them was sure that they could believe the miracle in front of them.
"Enervate." Dumbledore whispered, and Harry's parents rushed towards him. Enveloped in a tight embrace, he allowed himself to break down.