DISCLAIMER: Not one single solitary thing to do with Harry Potter is mine! (Except the memories... *Sigh*) It all belongs to J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing's, Random House Publishing's (?), and Warner Bros. Entertainment. Please do not attempt to sue me or I will hex you! Well,... I'll yell at you! Ha!


Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to Mop Head and her Daemon, Lady Snape and Tin Heart, whose writings inspire me.

Chapter Two
The Second Protector

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Harry sat in the horror of his realization. How could he have forgotten? Harry closed his eyes but, no matter how much he strained, could not see what he had forgotten. What seemed impossible to forget, though, was the feeling he had gotten from the dream. It didn't vanish with the memory, it lingered almost as a last laugh. Harry put his hands over his face in shame of what he let happen.
There was something in that dream, thought Harry, I know it. Something so important, and yet... Harry shook his head and yawned again, the room was getting lighter now, and Aunt Petunia could be heard shuffling around downstairs making breakfast. Harry was brought back to reality, it was morning and he should go down to breakfast. But for a few minutes he just sat there, straining, thinking.
I remember, thought Harry wincing as a physical manifestation of his inner struggle, there was something ... beautiful. Not like a girl, like a light ... or a cloud? Harry shook his head and stood from his chair. He felt the whole exercise was futile, he couldn't remember anything.

Harry made his way down the stairs and to the breakfast table, the coarse he had taken for four summers now seemed as new and confusing as a track in the woods. When he got to the table he was the only one there, so he seated himself and took to gazing around the room. He had sat at that table, in that kitchen for fourteen years and nothing about it (save the tulips in the middle of the table) had changed. But he looked at it all like some history museum, it all seemed so different and far away from him.

But nothing was different or new, he simply was looking at it all through new eyes. Eyes that had seen terror, eyes that had seen death. Eyes that gaze upon the face of the most psychotic wizard who ever walk the face of the Earth. The one image from that night that stayed with him, was that of his parents. Harry had seen them in the Mirror of Erised but never talked to them, never met them. But now he saw them in every shadow, every time he closed his eyes. This wasn't a good thing though, for now that he knew what his father, mother and Lord Voldemort looked like, he now had a pretty good visual of what happened that night fourteen years ago.
Harry shivered trying to shake himself away from that image. At that moment Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen.

"What's the matter boy? Got the plague?" Uncle Vernon asked, and then preceded to laugh at his own joke.

The sound of Uncle Vernon's voice annoyed Harry. It had all Harry could do, all summer, to keep himself from strangling him and scream "Don't you know what's happening?!" But Harry took a deep breath and reminded himself that the Dursleys didn't know what was going on. And that it wouldn't be a good idea to tell them that a psychopathic evil Wizarding overlord bent on taking over the world could at any moment burst through the door and kill Harry and anybody that stood in his way.
Not that the Dursleys would stand in his way, they would happily hand over Harry and a fruit basket should the moment come. As Harry stared at his milk glass a thought occurred to him. Voldemort said he couldn't touch Harry while he was in "his relations care", did that mean as long as he was with the Dursleys he couldn't kill Harry?

Harry and the Dursleys ate in silence, they didn't know what had happened but perhaps Harrys emotions were contagious because they seemed in a state of mourning. That is, more so than usual. Harry finished breakfast and went back to his room. He paced around the room turning over what he had read in his mind.
Fudge still denies it all, thought Harry, so Dumbledore hasn't been able to sway him yet. But he knows in his heart what happened last term. He can't deny forever.
Questions filled Harrys mind. What measures had Dumbledore already taken? Had he been successful in telling anyone "who could be persuaded of the truth"? How many of his kind still believed Fudge? What was Voldemort's next move going to be?
Harry sighed and sat on his bed. For the past month he had dreamt of Voldemort planing things such as the massacre at Godric's Hollow, but he had not been shown when they would happen, or where. It was very confusing to Harry, who didn't even fully understand the connection he shared with Voldemort. Harry let himself fall on to his back in his bed, searching his mind for anything that could bring him clarity. He found nothing. Not a thing that could show him how to deal with everything that was happening around him. A familiar sense of futility filled him, he didn't want to move, he didn't want to breathe. But he did, he had to if for no other reason then to maintain the connection. Harry left his room and the house for a walk, finding it impossible to think in all the nerve-wrecking silence.

Harry walked for a while, wandering around as though looking for something. He didn't know what it was though. Every face he saw seemed leering, every smile seemed insincere. He looked at the people he say wondering, has Voldemort gotten to them yet? Do they even know what is to come?

As Harry walked he found himself in a nearby park, it was the same park that Dudley had learned to ride a bicycle in. Again that strange feeling of familiarity but distantness. Harry walked for what seemed like an hour before he realized he was being watched. By whom, he didn't know, but he knew he was. He could feel watchful eyes burning into the back of his head. Harry thought to himself, should he look about? Or would that just make the watcher paranoid? Within a few minutes Harry had devised a plan. He was going to circle left and walk down an alley in-between a grocery store and a paint supplies store. There if someone wanted to watch him they would have to make themselves more visible.

Harry walked into the alley, an all to familiar tingle in his chest, that feeling that he was about to face danger. Harry was about to turn around when he was tackled from behind! He squirmed around to see who had tackled him ... it was Sirius! Sirius was looking over his shoulder to see if anyone had seen him transform, it was, after all, a huge risk. Seeing no-one his eyes turned back to Harry, a stern look on his face.

"Harry! Are you crazy, going into an alley like this! I could have been a dark wizard, you could be dead right now!"

"Actually I went into this alley to try and trap whoever was following me I guess that was you." Harry said gruffly as Sirius helped him to his feet.

Sirius' stern face broke into a smile and he shook his head.
"Dumbledore sent me to watch over you, his first protection has fallen through."

Harry looked at Sirius confused.
"First protec-?"

"Arrabella Figg, she is a witch that Dumbledore put in place to watch over you while you grew up. She died last week in the Godric's Hollow Massacre."

Harry ran this through his mind. Yes, that would be right. He had overheard Uncle Vernon tell his wife a week ago that Mrs. Figg has passed away while visiting relatives abroad. Once the shock of the realization that Mrs. Figg was a witch passed Harry felt sad. Harry looked up into Sirius' eyes, the had a strange look in them, one that Harry couldn't read. Sirius noticed Harry's gaze and said by ways of an explanation.

"Godric's Hollow is where Remus lives, and where I was staying. I wasn't there when it happened but Remus says it was ... it was a terror." Sirius glanced away for a few moments,
Harry noticed that his eyes were very blood shot, then he looked back at Harry.

"Remus wasn't hurt!" He said quickly, accurately reading Harry facial expression. "The Dark Lord didn't come near his house, but, it was a close thing..." he paused for a moment. The pause of someone considering many things in their mind. Then he said something unexpected.
"There isn't anywhere safe is there? Harry, do you know the History of Godric's Hollow?"

Harry shook his head, though he didn't know what this had to do with anything.

"Godric Gryffindor was, obviously, the founder of Godric's Hollow. He created it as a sort of sanctuary for muggle-born wizards. You see the love of his life, Rowena Ravenclaw, was killed because she was a muggle-born, and he wanted to ensure that no muggle-born would have to die because of how they were born. He put all sorts of spells on that Hollow, but through the years they faded. There was a prophecy.. well never mind, there's are more important issues at hand right now. Do you know of a night we can meet here in the park? As it stands I still can't be seen in human form, the muggle police are still looking for me."

Harry thought for a minute.

"Wensday, two days from now. At nine o'clock?"

Sirius nodded in agreement.
"I'll see you then, be careful Harry and keep in touch. Hedwig will know where to find me. Let me know if you have anymore dreams."

And with that Sirius turned into the great black dog that was Padfoot and, with one last look back at Harry, ran away towards the park. Harrys eyes never left him, but soon the dog did disapear from sight.

As Harry walked back to the Dursleys house he was still in low spirits but felt them somehow rising. Suddenly something small hit him on the side of the head, he immediately looked around to see who had thrown it, but no-one was there. He bent over to see that it was a crumpled up piece of paper. It had seven words on it that made Harry's blood rise.

"Go back to the muggles now. Run."