Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any claim of ownership. All rights belong to the copyright holders and J.K. Rowling.
A/N
Here we are, at chapter twelve! Today (December 5th), the story hit 85 Followers (!), 50 Reviews, and 30 Favourites, and 6,500 Views! I'm blown away by all of your support, and can't express my gratitude enough. Thank you, all of you!
Enjoy, ladies and gentlemen, enjoy.
- JudgeKnox
Harry spent his second day at the Leaky Cauldron going shopping in muggle London. He'd needed new clothing for years, and now that he had the freedom and the time to do so, he figured he'd get himself an entirely new wardrobe. He kept his head down as he worked his way through numerous department stores, doing his best to both carefully watch his surroundings, and be invisible to the other shoppers. He'd even considered using the Cloak to stay completely out of sight, but a small voice had warned him – if he bumped into someone, or the Cloak slipped just a little and he was seen, he'd have a much more serious problem on his hands than a nosy muggle or two.
The day passed uneventfully, although Harry did begin to enjoy spending money on himself, even going so far as to drop into a restaurant for lunch, and buying a large – and quite delicious – pizza. By the early evening, he was finished with his shopping, and decided to make his way back to the Leaky Cauldron, carrying what felt like several tonnes in shopping bags.
It was when he returned to the pub, however, that he received quite the surprise. Just as he entered from the street entrance, and nodded to Tom, who was polishing glasses behind the bar, a voice called out.
"Ah, Harry, there you are!"
Harry turned, spotting the source of the voice sat at one of the corner tables and nearly dropping his shopping in surprise.
Wearing a smart suit – sans his trademark green bowler hat – and holding a small cup of tea in his hand, was none other than Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic. Harry was about to respond, when he realised – he'd never actually officially met the Minister before – although he'd seen the man when he and Ron were hiding in Hagrid's Hut during their second year, himself and the Minister had never been introduced. So instead, Harry settled on a more neutral option as he walked over.
"Sorry, sir – I don't think we've met before."
Fudge's eyes widened slightly in surprise – evidently he'd at least expected Harry to know who he was, and the fact that the Boy-Who-Lived didn't even know the Minister for Magic seemed to shake his pride slightly, Harry noted, smiling inwardly at the bureaucrat's discomfort. The Minister took a quick sip of tea, before continuing, his voice a little more hesitant than before.
"Ah, well, er- but of course, where are my manners? Harry, I'm Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic." He rallied himself well, and his introduction was soon laced with confidence. He gestured with the teacup to Harry's bags. "Been out and about, Harry?" He asked nonchalantly.
Harry nodded, not missing a sudden flash of what looked like fear run across Fudge's expression. "Yes, sir," he replied innocently, "I've been out in muggle London for the day-"
"The whole day?" Fudge exclaimed, cutting him off – he was looking very nervous now.
"Yes, sir." Harry continued, "I've been needing new clothes for a long time, and I decided that whilst I had a day to spare, I might as well get all of this done." He gently put the shopping bags down, shaking his arms slightly to loosen them up.
"Well, yes, it's very good that you're back, Harry." Fudge said, trying to master his surprise. He motioned for Harry to sit down, the teenager dropping himself into the seat across from the Minister. "You caused a little bit of bother, Harry, when you disappeared from your guardians' house." He stated, although his tone was more amused than anything else.
Harry put on a small show of looking guilty, not meeting the Minister's eyes a little as he replied quietly. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know what to do, so I came here as soon as I left."
Looking up, he saw the Minister look more than a little relieved at Harry's statement. "That's alright, m'boy," Fudge said, trying to sound friendly. "It's very good that you came straight here – why, if the Prophet had found out about your disappearance before the Ministry did, I daresay you'd be all over the evening paper – what with Sirius Black running amok."
"I saw a bulletin about him on the muggle news, sir. Is he dangerous?" He asked innocently.
Fudge nodded, taking another sip of tea. "Yes, m'boy. Black was one of… You-Know-Who's most fanatical supporters. When you disappeared, we were worried that he'd managed to find you." The Minister answered.
Harry saw an opportunity to make the man squirm, and took it. "I'm sorry, sir, but for a moment there it sounded like you think Black's after me." Fudge's eyebrows narrowed, clearly realising his mistake. "I'd never even heard of Black before a week or so ago, so why would he be after me, sir?"
Fudge looked uneasy, shifting in his seat before he replied, his tone slightly authoritative – evidently, he didn't want to go further into this topic. "Well, with your status as the Boy-Who-Lived, it's practically assured that any Death Eater fanatic might want to target you, Harry." He drained his teacup, setting it down on his saucer with a small clink before changing the subject quickly. "As it is, you're here, safe and sound, so there's no harm done, eh?
"Now, although you've been out and about in muggle London today, Harry, I'm afraid that you're going to have to stay in Diagon Alley for the next few weeks, for your own safety. Black is a very dangerous man, and we need you not to go running off again." Checking his golden pocket watch, the Minister rose from his seat, Harry mirroring the action.
"Well, I'd best be off – with everything that's happened I've been working overtime!" Fudge chortled, before shaking Harry's hand in a firm grip. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Harry. I hope this won't be the last time we can work together. Stay safe, and good luck for your new year at Hogwarts!" Fudge said, before walking over to the large fireplace in the main room of the pub. Drawing some Floo Powder from a small snuffbox in his pocket, he climbed in, and called out.
"Ministry of Magic, Atrium!" Throwing the powder at the charcoal beneath him, Fudge disappeared in a whirl of green flames.
Picking up his shopping bags, Harry walked tiredly up the stairs towards the inn's rooms. Reaching his own, he set his shopping down by the bed and stripped off, heading to the bathroom for a shower. As he soaked under the water, he considered what he could get done before Ron and Hermione arrived – particularly since he couldn't leave the Alley. As it was, the only things that Harry could realistically achieve were to buy his school things and do all of his summer homework (that he knew his past self would have been putting off). Swearing quietly at his lack of options, he thought back to his earlier meeting with the Minister.
No doubt someone told Dumbledore, and he told Fudge. I bet the Ministry wasn't even concerned about where I was until the old man told Fudge I was missing. Bloody bureaucrat. Still, it was fun to see him on the back foot for a change.
Harry smiled to himself, chuckling at how easily he'd knocked Fudge's confidence down a few pegs.
If only the idiot could blunder his way out of office, at least then we might end up with someone competent.
Finishing his shower, he headed down to pub and ate his dinner, managing to beg a half-pint of ale from Tom, who grinned at the teenager's tenacity.
The next fortnight passed uneventfully for Harry in a blur of reading, writing and research. He'd purchased all his school supplies the day after Fudge's visit, and was now fully prepared for his next year at Hogwarts. Resolving to put some of his years of training and experience to use, he set about writing the many essays that the professors wanted done over the summer, and was impressed by how easily his school knowledge was coming back to him.
Otherwise, he spent many hours in Flourish & Blotts, reading through old issues of the Prophet, looking for information on Sirius. Although he already knew everything about the events of his parents' murders and Sirius' arrest, he needed to be able to explain his knowledge, particularly to Hermione, who'd surely ask him where he'd found out once it came up in conversation. Harry planned to start talking to his friends about Sirius as soon as he could, and try and open their minds to the innocence early on – it may be useful later.
Whilst in Diagon Alley, he saw a few people that he recognised. The Gryffindor muggle-born Dean Thomas, one of Harry's friends and year-mates, came over and said hello after spotting him eating ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, and the two had a short conversation about their respective summer holidays, and what they expected for third year.
It was about ten days into Harry's stay at Diagon Alley when, as he was eating lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, a rather stern, black-robed witch that Harry would've recognised anywhere stepped out of the fireplace in a flash of green flames.
"Hello, Professor McGonagall." Harry said, waving when his head-of-house looked around, her normally severe expression softening into a smile when she saw the teenager.
"Hello, Mr. Potter," she said as she walked over. "I hear you've had a rather… eventful summer?" Although her words were tinged with amusement, her smile was kind.
Harry nodded in response. "Yeah, it's been a little bit too crazy for my liking." Professor McGonagall chuckled as he asked, "I hope you're well?"
"I am indeed, thank you for asking." She replied. "I trust that you've not been neglecting your homework, despite all of the excitement?" She asked, pulling a wry smile.
"For you, Professor? Of course," Harry answered, drawing a laugh from the Transfiguration teacher before she walked off towards the Alley entrance, shaking her head and muttering about "teenagers and their cheek".
As the day of Ron and Hermione's arrival drew closer, Harry started to get nervous. Although he'd been able to sound exactly as thirteen-year-old Harry Potter should in his letters, he'd had time to vet his words, and get them onto the page just right. How was he going to cope in a full conversation? How was he going to be able to keep it that way for the next year? The questions reverberated in his mind as the days passed, and the night before their arrival, Harry found himself sitting on the bed, thinking about the last time he'd seen them.
Harry ducked under the hex Ron had thrown at him, the spell ripping a small hole in the wall of the tent. Bringing his wand up, he was about to retaliate when a shimmering wall of magic formed between the two.
"Both of you, calm down!" Hermione screeched over Harry and Ron's yelling, forcing more magic into the shield as it began to crackle and pulse. Both men ignored her, keeping their wands trained on each other. Ron snarled and loosed another curse, the spell letting off a brilliant flash of red light when it crashed into the shield with a bang.
"Come on, then!" Harry roared, his heart thumping in his ears as he shook with rage. "You think you can take me on? Let's go!"
"I know I can, Harry!" Ron retorted angrily. "I've trained just as much as you have!" His face was contorted with fury, his eyes blazing as he continued. "You're always so focused on your bloody mission," Ron spat out, in a voice laced with spite, "it's like you don't even care what happens to the resistance!"
Harry paused, stunned at his friend's words. "How dare you," he hissed. "You think I don't care what happens to them? You think I don't care what happens to Sirius, to Ginny? I spend every day worrying that they'll die!" Spittle was flying out of his mouth as he shouted through the magical shield. "The only way anyone lives through this is if we find the Horcruxes and destroy them! You know that, Ron!"
Ron sneered, his expression uncharacteristically cold. "Yeah, because everyone is going to live through this, aren't they, Harry?" He sucked in a shuddering breath, his wand hand shaking with anger. "My Dad's dead, Harry! So are Percy, and Fred and George! How many more of my family are going to die around you, Harry, while you're too busy trying to save the world!?"
Hermione gasped in shock. "Ron, you don't mean that!" She cried out.
"Of course he does," Harry spat venomously. "You've never realised what's at stake here, have you, Ron?" He asked sarcastically. "This isn't about you or me. It's about the future! Do you honestly think that if you'd all kept your heads down, you'd still be alive?! Malfoy would've killed you all for sport! Or are you just that cowardly that you won't fight for what's right?"
Ron's face turned brick red at Harry's insult, before he bellowed back. "Coward? Coward!? I've fought against You-Know-Who-"
"His name is Voldemort!" Harry shouted, and stopped, his expression rising in shock when he realised his mistake.
The tell-tale crack of Apparition was heard outside the tent, and Harry whirled about, his anger forgotten as he yelled over his shoulder to Hermione.
"We've got to get out of here!"
Suddenly, a spell sliced through the wall of the tent, and even as Harry twisted to dodge out of its path, the bolt of energy hit his shoulder, sending him flying. He crashed into the hard wooden stairs of the tent's raised sleeping area, crying out in pain. He tried to cast a shield spell, and when nothing happened, he looked down at his hand.
It wasn't there.
Harry just stared down at his shoulder in shock, the blood pooling across his jacket as Hermione screamed, running over to him.
"Oh, no- oh, God- Harry, stay with me!" She cried out as she looked behind her, casting a powerful shield across the wall of the tent, the spell looking oddly bright and colourful to Harry. He felt something press into his left hand, a stick of wood. His wand.
Looking over, he saw Ron staring back at him, his expression grim. Harry started to feel faint, the words Ron shouted to Hermione sounding muffled and far away. He saw Hermione reach into her beaded bag, pulling out something shiny, before pressing it into Harry's palm, forcibly closing his fingers around his wand. She was turning around when Harry heard a shout and saw a flash of green light, darkness already tugging at the edges of his vision.
He didn't react when he saw Ron Weasley die, Hermione's blurry form rushing over to the body of his friend, screaming in despair. Even as he felt a familiar tug around his navel, another bolt of green light lanced over to Hermione, and he saw her slump over Ron's body as he disappeared in a blur of motion.
Harry grimaced to himself at the memory, quickly pinching his right hand in his left, the pain snapping him back to the present.
He looked out of the window at the darkened street outside, breathing deeply until his heart rate calmed.
That hasn't happened yet, Harry. A voice in the back of his mind said. And we won't let it.
Harry lay back down on the bed, and soon fell asleep, his dreams awash with the cracking of spell-fire, and blasts of bright, green light.
Harry decided to get up early, heading down to the bar for breakfast while he awaited the arrival of his friends. He was on his second cup of tea when the street entrance of the pub opened and he heard someone shout his name. Standing up, he saw a blur of movement before he was engulfed in a tight hug, Hermione Granger's bushy brown hair nearly ending up in his mouth as she embraced him.
"Hi there, Hermione." Harry said as he squeezed her tightly.
Stepping back, she grabbed her trunk (which she'd left standing a few feet away), brought it over and then immediately threw herself down in the chair opposite Harry's, a large smile on her face.
"Oh, Harry, it's so good to see you!" She said happily, before immediately firing off a mass of questions about Harry's fight with Uncle Vernon, and whether he'd found somewhere to live, and if he'd done his homework or not. She barely seemed to take a breath and Harry laughed, holding up his hands in mock-surrender.
"Whoa, whoa, Hermione!" He said, chortling. "One question at a time, please."
"Oh…" Hermione's cheeks reddened with embarrassment, before she asked again. "So, Harry, what happened with your uncle? Are you alright?"
Harry smiled at his friend's concern. "I'm okay, Hermione. Well, what happened is…" he launched into a more detailed explanation of what happened, but still kept to his cover story about his and Vernon's argument – he'd decided that they'd argued after Harry had accidentally let Marge see Hedwig that evening, and that Vernon had flown into a rage and kicked Harry out. By the time he'd finished, Hermione looked shocked.
"Oh Harry, that's awful!" She said, Harry half-expecting she'd get out of her chair and give him another bone-crushing hug.
"As for my homework, I've finished it all up – I haven't had much to do here for the last few weeks." Harry said, this time being wholly honest.
Hermione looked at him in surprise for a moment. "Really? Do you mind if I take a look at it sometime?" She asked.
Harry nodded. "Of course! I'm sure you'll be able to find something that I've done wrong." He replied with a cheeky grin, earning him a pout from Hermione. "Anyway, how was your summer? Did you enjoy France?" He asked.
Hermione smiled, and immediately began a very in-depth retelling of her holiday, talking almost continuously for the next half an hour or so. She'd just finished up telling Harry about her trip to the Louvre when several redheaded wizards all stumbled out of the fireplace, one after the other. Any doubt as to who they might be was driven from Harry's mind when the shortest of the boys swore loudly as he tripped over, still dizzy from the Floo network.
"Bloody hell!" Ron Weasley said loudly, before getting to his feet and looking around the pub. Spotting Harry, he quickly walked over, a large smile on his face. "Harry, mate! Good to see you!" Harry stood, grinning, and engulfed Ron in a strong hug, before Ron turned to Hermione and did the same. He was about to sit down when a voice called out from the group.
"Ron, dear, you need to take your trunk up to yours and Percy's room." Molly Weasley said, Ron turning and grumbling under his breath as he snatched up his trunk, following his older brother up the stairs to the rooms.
The rest of the Weasley children soon followed, with Fred and George greeting Harry simultaneously as they took their luggage upstairs. When Mrs. Weasley came over, she quickly embraced the teenager in a protective – and alarmingly strong – hug.
"Harry, dear, I heard about what happened at your guardians' house. I'm glad you're alright." She said as she continued to crush the life out of him. Letting go and seeming satisfied at his quick nod of confirmation, she turned and called over her shoulder.
"Come on, Ginny, this way."
Harry did his best to look calm as a small girl with fiery red hair carried her own trunk up the stairs after Molly, shooting Harry a shy smile as she walked past.
Harry stared after her for a moment, lost in thought.
He knew she was alive. He'd known that since he'd returned. But to see her, real, in front of him, and not as some kind of awful hallucination left him slightly rattled. He snapped quickly out of it however when he saw Arthur approach, looking cheerful. Shaking the Weasley patriarch's hand strongly, Harry and Arthur sat down at the table.
"Harry," he nodded to the teenager, "Hemione. It's good to see you both – I hope the summer's been kind to you?" He asked, giving Harry a significant glance that confirmed he knew about Privet Drive. Hermione gave a short description of her holiday, and Arthur was very impressed with the tales about the plane journey there and back, and asked Hermione more than a few questions about muggle technology. After a little while though, he shot Harry an important look before turning to Hermione.
"Hermione, I'm sorry about this, but would it be alright if I could have a few words with Harry alone?" He asked, the witch reddening slightly and nodding, stating that she needed to take her own things upstairs anyway. After she left, Arthur turned back to Harry and sighed slightly.
"Sorry for breaking up our conversation like that – but I needed to talk to you, Harry." He said, his tone serious.
"That's alright, Mr. Weasley," Harry replied, "what did you want to talk about?"
"I heard about what happened at Privet Drive, Harry." Arthur stated, before noticing the guilty expression on Harry's face. "It's alright, I'm sure that you didn't do anything wrong." He said, trying to reassure the teenager – not that Harry needed any reassurance.
"I wanted to talk to you about Sirius Black," he continued. "I heard that the Minister came to visit you a week or so ago? I assume he's given you the rough story on Black." Harry nodded his assent. "Good, good. Now, Harry – I know that I'm not your parent, but I must ask you to be extra careful this year at Hogwarts, and not to take any unnecessary risks.
"Black is a very dangerous man, Harry, and you mustn't put yourself in harm's way. Your life is in danger already with him on the loose, and I want you to swear that whatever you might hear, that you won't go looking for Black."
Harry nodded, but did his best to look confused. "If Black wants me dead, Mr. Weasley, why would I go looking for him?"
Arthur just continued to look at Harry expectantly, not answering his question. Harry sighed before responding.
"Alright, I swear I won't go looking for Black."
"Good lad." Arthur smiled and clapped Harry on the shoulder, before standing up and heading upstairs, leaving a bemused – and slightly irritated – Harry sitting alone at the table.
