Author's note: You'll recognize the letters quoted below from Chapter 2: A Peck of Owls, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by JK Rowling.
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Fear scrabbled at Harry's insides, but he shoved it away. Finally, Padfoot was tugging him to turn left and beneath his trainers he felt the familiar garden pathway to the front door.
"I'll leave you to it, then," Mrs. Figg said as she disentangled herself from under Dudley's arm, her grocery sack of tin cans clanged discordantly against the garden gate.
"What? Wait. Where are you going?"
"I have to notify Dumbledore!" Her footsteps were already crunching on the pavement.
"What's Dumbledore got to do with this?" Harry's voice cracked as he called after her.
"The Order, boy! He needs to know." Her voice trailed away as she scurried down the street.
"Oh, the Order," Harry muttered under his breath as he tried to steer Dudley toward the door.
Harry didn't bother with knocking, he just touched his wand to the door and murmured, "Alohomora," then nudged the door open with his foot and the three of them tumbled into the entryway.
"What's going on?" Uncle Vernon shouted from the kitchen and Aunt Petunia's footsteps clattered down the hallway toward them as she cried, "Dudders? Harry? Padfoot? Are you all right?"
She tugged Dudley out of Harry's arm and led him toward the sitting room where he settled heavily on the sofa. Harry and Padfoot trailed behind them, buffeted out of the way by Uncle Vernon's bulk as he hurried past them, thrusting a wet rag into Harry's hands.
He really did help with the dishes! Harry thought as he stuffed his wand into his mokeskin pouch.
"What happened to Dudley? Why is he so pale?"
"Dementors… there were Dementors at the park," Harry said, wiping the sweat from his brow with the wet dish towel. Beside him, Padfoot shook his harness, pulling it out of Harry's hand and then he heard the familiar pop as he transformed into Sirius. Both Petunia and Vernon shrieked. Sirius fumbled in his leather jacket for his wand and cast a silencing charm on them.
"Sirius, you can't just go around doing that!"
"Listen, Harry. This is bad. Someone knew you'd be at the park… this is just what Dumbledore has been afraid of… why he has the Order trailing you… even when I'm with you!"
"I know!" Harry shouted as Aunt Petunia's hands held onto his forearm in a near death grip. "But still, let them talk. This is their son. They are worried about him and now you've gone and transformed in front of them again!"
"Oh, right. Sorry." Sirius did sound abashed as he canceled the silencing charm and then took a moment to explain to them about who he was and why he was there.
"But what's happened to Dudley? Did you do this?"
"He needs chocolate!" Harry remembered suddenly and pivoted and careened down the hall to the kitchen, where he threw the dish towel on the counter, yanked open the cupboard door, and rummaged around until he found rectangular foil-wrapped packages. He tore one open and smelled it.
Bitter! Baking chocolate… it will have to do, he thought as he raced back to the sitting room.
Aunt Petunia caught his arm and helped him find the seat by Dudley.
"Here, Dudley. Eat this. This will help."
"How's chocolate going to bloody help?" Uncle Vernon demanded. Sirius tried to explain, but both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were pelting him with questions faster than he could answer. Harry wished they'd help him get Dudley to eat the chocolate, but the three of them were more invested in the shouting match.
Dudley seemed completely unresponsive next to him. Dudley's labored breathing rumbled against Harry as he was slumped against him in a clammy boneless mass.
Harry fumbled around trying to find Dudley's hand and tried to get him to hold the chocolate, but Dudley's hand was limp and damp and flopped back into his lap.
Harry broke off a piece of the chocolate and ran his fingers up Dudley's arm, across his shoulder, and then guessed on the location of Dudley's mouth. He was off by a bit and he pressed the piece of chocolate into Dudley's cheek. He tried again, his fingers grazing across Dudley's rough stubble on his chin until he found his mouth and pressed the chocolate against his lips.
Huh, I didn't know that Dudley was shaving already, Harry thought as Dudley's mouth opened and he accepted the bit of chocolate. Harry broke off another piece and fed it to Dudley who numbly accepted it, chewing and swallowing.
After a little bit, Dudley sputtered, "What was that!?" He spat and gagged, sick splattering on the carpet.
"Diddy! You're okay!" Aunt Petunia's elation changed to dismay. "Oh no! That's going to stain the carpet!"
She ran out of the room.
"What did you give him? Why is he speaking Welsh?"
"It was just chocolate!" Harry shouted, cringing as he braced for a blow from Uncle Vernon. He straightened up slowly when he realized that one wasn't coming.
Aunt Petunia came back in with a bucket sloshing water that gave off a highly chemical stench and began scrubbing the carpet by Dudley's feet.
Harry went back to the kitchen to fetch Dudley a glass of water and escape the fumes. As he was filling a glass at the sink, he heard the unmistakable hoot of an owl as it swept through the kitchen window; it's wings batted against his forehead and claws scritched on the kitchen table as it skidded across.
Harry turned slowly toward the bird, forgetting the running water behind him. Still clutching the glass in his hand, he walked toward the growling owl, finding the table with his knuckles. He set down the glass and reached toward the owl, who hopped closer to him.
Harry found the scroll attached to his leg and unfurled it. He ran his fingers over the surface, skeptical that he'd find braille; he was not disappointed. His fingertips only encountered the swollen marks of parchment imbued with ink. It was tacky… as if the drying charm had not been allowed enough time to fully dry it.
Harry pulled out his wand and performed the translation charm on the parchment. He waited for the little pop of magic that let him know it had worked, but didn't hear it. He felt the parchment. No braille. He tried again and still it didn't work.
"What's that?" Sirius asked from the doorway.
Harry tossed the scroll onto the tabletop while the owl took flight through the window. He walked back to the sink to turn off the water.
"No idea. It's got some sort of block on it. My translation charm doesn't work."
Sirius crossed to the table and unrolled the scroll, then let out a string of curses fit for a sailor or an Azkaban prisoner.
"Oi! What is it?" Harry's throat started closing as the expletives grew more creative.
"The cack-handed Ministry of bloody fecking Magic has expelled you from Hogwarts and summoned you to a disciplinary hearing! Trolls' bloody bollocks! This is bad. They are on their way to snap your wand!"
"What!?" Harry shouted. "What do you mean? You're joking, right? This can't be happening!"
He strode to Sirius's side, found his elbows, followed his arm to his hands to snatch the parchment from Sirius, then spread it flat on the table running his fingers over it. His frustration at not being able to read it for himself boiling over.
"Read it to me," he seethed.
"I just told you," Sirius was pacing back and forth across the kitchen.
"Read it to me! Please. I have to hear it. I need to know exactly what it says."
"What's going on? Why all the shouting?" Uncle Vernon burst into the kitchen.
"Oi! Come on, Sirius. Tell. Me. What. It. Says."
"Harry's received a notice from the Ministry of Magic," Sirius said, though his words were distorted as if he were holding his hands over his mouth.
Uncle Vernon thundered over to Harry and pulled the parchment from under his hands.
"'Dear Mr. Potter, We've received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm'… What the bloody heck is a Patronus charm?" Uncle Vernon demanded.
"It's the magic I used to drive off the Dementors."
"Well, that's a good thing, right? You saved Dudley."
"Go on. Keep reading it," Sirius said from across the room.
"… 'at twenty-three minutes past eight this evening'… They have spies?! What kind of surveillance equipment are they using? How could they know this? This is illegal! What right do they have?"
"This is the Ministry of Magic we're talking about… they can do whatever they like," Sirius grumbled.
"What else does it say?"
"… 'in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle'… what's a bloody muggle?"
"Muggles are non-magical people… Dudley, you, Aunt Petunia… so why didn't they start sending letters when Sirius… er…" Harry trailed off, realizing what he was about to say.
"What? When Sirius what?" Uncle Vernon asked.
"Er, when he … er… transformed?" Harry winced as he said it, expecting Uncle Vernon to lash out.
"Well, it says here that… 'The severity of this breach of the Decree of the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.' So that means it is because you're underage, right?"
"How do they know it was me?"
"I don't think they can know that… just that you're in the area. I mean, children of witches and wizards are constantly casting spells at their homes and they don't get messages. I should know. That's the way it was when I was growing up. Merlin's beard, my parents were teaching us spells and telling us to use them against each other when we were still in nappies!"
"What else does it say?" Harry urged.
"'Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand.' Well, not if I bloody well say that they can't come in here! You saved Dudley's life! As well as your own and your dog!"
"Hey!" Sirius protested.
"Er, pardon me, Mr. Black. I didn't mean to offend you."
Harry couldn't help it. He burst into laughter. The whole thing was beyond ridiculous and now Uncle Vernon, of all people, was apologizing to Sirius. He doubled over and tears squeezed out of his eyes as his laughter wracked his body.
It was the shock of feeling Uncle Vernon's pudgy hand on his shoulder that brought him back. Harry flinched as his natural instinct was to move out his Uncle's path. It was the first time Uncle Vernon had ever touched him gently.
"Son, you okay?"
Harry sucked in a sudden breath as the thought registered: Did Uncle Vernon just call me son?
He rubbed the tears off his face and took in a shaking breath.
"Yeah. I'm okay. Is there more? More to the letter?"
Uncle Vernon shook the parchment and read the last bit: "As you've already received an official warning for a previous offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 a.m. on August 12th. I hope you are well. Yours sincerely, Mafalda Hopkirk, Improper Use of Magic Office, Ministry of Magic."
"What's this about a previous offense?" Sirius asked.
"That was when Dobby (the house elf) dropped Aunt Petunia's pudding in the kitchen. It was a few summers ago."
"There was a house-elf here? What's a sodding house-elf?" Uncle Vernon sat down heavily on a chair.
"Never mind that. What does it mean that Ministry Officials are going to destroy my wand? They can't do that, can they?" Harry demanded.
"What, condemn you without a trial?" Sirius's sardonic reply hung heavily in the air, despite the gentle summer breeze wafting in the open window.
"Then, let's go!" Harry said, standing up straight.
Just then another owl swept into the kitchen, crashing onto the table, and making Uncle Vernon squawk in surprise.
Sirius jumped over and was unfurling the scroll. Arthur Weasley's voice spoke aloud to the room:
"Harry, Dumbledore's arrived at the Ministry and he's trying to sort it all out. Do not leave your Aunt and Uncle's house. Do not do any more magic. Do not surrender your wand!"
Harry found a chair at the table and sank into it. He slumped back and breathed out a large sigh. He tucked his wand back into his mokeskin, knowing that only he could remove it if the ministry officials arrived.
Sirius squeezed his shoulder.
"Who was that?" Aunt Petunia had entered the kitchen. "I thought I heard a strange man's voice. Er, why is there an owl on the kitchen table?"
"It brought a ruddy speaking letter," Uncle Vernon explained.
"Oh, why?"
"Some business with the… what's it? Ministry of …?"
"Magic," Harry said, bracing for both of them to protest. But they didn't.
Dudley's heavy steps echoed in the hall.
"Did someone come over?"
"Just a talking letter, dear," Aunt Petunia explained. "Can someone do something about the owl? It's shedding feathers all over the table cloth."
"Sure, do you have a quill? I want to write back to Arthur," Sirius asked.
"A quill?"
"A pen or pencil will do," Harry explained and went over to the drawer by the telephone to root around until he found a pencil and held it out to Sirius.
"Ah, yes. Lily used to use these," Sirius said as he scratched a note and fastened the scroll back on the owl's leg. He walked it over to the window and there was a great flapping of wings as it took off.
"What did the Ministry want then?" Aunt Petunia asked.
"They are expelling Harry from that school and sending someone to break his wand!" Uncle Vernon explained.
"What? They can't do that, can they?" Aunt Petunia exclaimed.
"Why would they do that?" Dudley sounded confused.
"'Cause I did magic in front of you."
"But I'd be dead if you hadn't. Those things… they were… sucking my life… " Aunt Petunia was fussing over Dudley, making small cooing noises and rubbing his back.
"They were after your soul, not your life."
Dudley clamped his hands over his mouth with a moan.
"Professor Dumbledore is trying to sort it out. It'll be okay."
Another owl flew into the room through the window.
"Someone shut that bloody window before we're overrun with the bloody birds!" Uncle Vernon exclaimed, sounding more like himself than he had for a week.
"What does this one say?" Harry asked as his heart kept rattling against his adam's apple.
"It says that they aren't going to destroy your wand, and the decision about expelling you will be made after the August 12th disiciplinary hearing… but for now you're suspended from the school. I guess Dumbledore was able to persuade them to see some reason," Sirius said.
"August 12th… that's only a couple days away," Harry said.
"Yeah. Now that Dumbledore's had a word with the Ministry, I think we can go back to Grimmauld Place and prepare for the hearing there… but we'd better go in the morning… take the train, not use magic to travel. I'm going to send Remus and O'Carolan a note. Let them know what is happening," Sirius said as he sped out of the room and his footsteps thundered up the stairs.
"You'll let us know what happens at the hearing, though," Aunt Petunia said. She walked over to Harry and pulled him into a bony hug. "Thank you. Thank you for what you did for Dudley."
Again, Harry flinched and had to resist the urge to jump away from his Aunt.
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Harry lay curled on his side in his nest of covers listening to the early morning noises of Number 12 Grimmauld place. He pressed the button on his talking alarm again. 3:33 am. Three minutes had passed since he'd last checked. Still too early to get up and start getting ready.
He shivered and nestled down further into the down coverlet and pillow as his mind threaded through the coaching Sirius and Professor O'Carolan had been taking him through the last couple of days in preparation for today's hearing. Remus was recovering from his moon time. Sirius chafed at Dumbledore's insistence that he couldn't accompany Harry as a witness because the tide of favor that he'd once enjoyed seemed to be turning against him and Dumbledore thought they'd risk too much if the once convicted (though pardoned) murderer was seen with Harry. All of Dumbledore's advice had come to Harry second hand… he was apparently too busy to talk directly to Harry. Harry squirmed in discomfort at the memory, trying to get away from it.
At long last, he threw off his covers, shivering as Grimmauld Place's draughts penetrated his pajamas. He padded out into the hallway, knuckles trailing on the wall until he encountered the framed doorway to the loo. The icy tile under his feet shocked the haze of sleep from his system and he realized that he wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep. He decided to just give in and start getting ready for the day, even though he felt nauseous from lack of sleep and anxiety about the proceedings.
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Running his fingers through his damp hair, Harry paced along the bench in the kitchen in stocking feet waiting for the rest of the house to wake up. As he sat down, his hand grazed against the cold cup of tea he had made nearly an hour ago, practically upending it and making it rattle in the saucer. Kreacher growled in protest from his nest in the corner of the kitchen.
Above his head, the floorboards creaked. Sirius was finally up. Harry sighed and rocked back on the bench. It felt like the slowest day of his existence… and really, the day hadn't even begun yet.
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Now, after an eternity of waiting, Harry was trotting alongside Arthur Weasley whose ragged breath betrayed his anxiety. The metal badge the telephone had dispensed rattled on his chest. It announced that he, Harry Potter, was at the Ministry for a Disciplinary Hearing. The words were carved into the metal surface, so even Harry could trace the letters and almost make out the words. He wanted to press his hand against it (or more like, tear it off) to keep it from chattering at him, but it was all he could do to hang onto Mr. Weasley's arm with one hand and his cane with the other. His pocket felt oddly empty without his wand which he'd had to leave in the reception area with some dodgy Ministry official with oniony breath and sweaty hands.
His heart had not stopped its ungainly gallop since Mr. Weasley's frantic greeting when he arrived at the Ministry. He had arrived thinking that he had plenty of time before the hearing started.
But no, the hearing time had been changed to 8 am. It had already started. And not only that it was before the entire Wizengamot in Courtroom ten.
Whatever that means! Harry thought. But Arthur had delivered the news as if he was telling Harry a close friend had died.
They had scurried down a musty corridor and then squeezed through a doorway that led to a hollow sounding and narrow staircase. Harry slipped down the steep steps behind Mr. Weasley as he tried to keep from tumbling down them all together. His cane was slippery in his grip and he didn't have a free hand to wipe the sweat dripping into his eyes and down his neck.
Harry stumbled when the stairs ended abruptly under his feet, expecting another stair but finding solid stone instead and Mr. Weasley wrenched open a door muttering apologies and pulling Harry through to another cold and dusty corridor where their footsteps bounced off the walls.
Panting, Mr. Weasley stopped, turned and pulled open a door through which muttering voices spilled out but were suddenly eclipsed as the door opened wide enough for Mr. Weasley to push Harry through.
"Wait, aren't you coming with me?" Harry turned his face to Mr. Weasley, whispering frantically.
"I'm not allowed. Just tell the truth. You'll be fine."
Mr. Weasley gave him a pat on the back that turned to a gentle shove and the door closed behind Harry with a reverberating clang.