Truths, Secrets, and Lies
Disclaimer:
Aside from the plot (and future characters), everything belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.
Summary:
Throughout his fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry discovers a paradox that could quite possibly upturn his life.
A/N:
This story was formerly called 'Harry Potter and the Lost Year,' however, an alteration in storyline called for a new (better) name. 'Truths, Secrets, and Lies,' however, is going to be extremely different from the 'Lost Year,' especially in later chapters.
Chapter 1
On the sleepy street of Privet Drive, just inside house Number Four, a boy awoke suddenly from a nightmare he could almost remember, and, for the thousandth time in his young life, wished he could just be normal.
The boy, called Harry Potter, was about as abnormal as could be possible. For one thing, Harry happened to be a wizard. However, Harry couldn't be considered normal, even by wizarding standards. Harry happened to be considered abnormal because when he was just one year old, he survived the killing curse, Avada Kedavra, which had been used against him by the Dark Lord Voldemort. By surviving the curse, Harry somehow caused the curse to rebound on its originator, ultimately leading to Voldemort's downfall. For this reason, Harry would always be known as Harry Potter, 'The Boy Who Lived.'
Since Harry had been an active in the wizarding world, he had had three different encounters with Lord Voldemort, but the most recent meeting was the most vivid in his mind.
Turning restlessly in his bed, Harry thought about the encounter. Bitterly, Harry remembered the day of the third task for the Triwizard Tournament when he had seen Lord Voldemort order Wormtail to kill Cedric Diggory while Harry watched, terrified. Throughout the summer, Harry had desperately tried to forget the sordid details of that night, but this had become increasingly difficult as the summer progressed. Harry's relatives, the Dursleys, who despised anything connected with magic—including Harry—, still allowed very little communication between Harry and his friends (the exception being Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, whom the Dursleys still thought was an escaped murderer). Even his faithful owl, Hedwig, had been absent for days. This, by far, had been Harry's most miserable summer holiday ever as he was forced to fill the long, sultry days reliving both Cedric's death, and Voldemort's rebirth.
After deciding he really should do something rather than brood about his unhappy fifth year, Harry resolved to eat breakfast, or, rather, lunch, he thought, as he looked at the clock currently reading 12:32 p.m. He cast an unhappy glance at his faithful owl, Hedwig's, empty cage before departing his room.
Harry walked slowly into the kitchen, and could see his elephantine cousin, Dudley, was staring, transfixed, at the television as he was greedily emptying the contents of a bag of potato chips into his mouth. Rolling his eyes, Harry began scavenging through the refrigerator for something Dudley hadn't eaten. Within seconds, Harry was interrupted as Uncle Vernon burst into the kitchen, followed closely by Aunt Petunia. Taken by surprise, Harry dropped the bottle of milk he had been holding, causing it to shatter. Aunt Petunia winced as her spotless floor was marred, and opened her mouth to admonish Harry for his blunder, but was interrupted by Uncle Vernon, who, intending to intimidate Harry, came within a hands breadth of his nephew.
"Old Mrs. Figg is here to see you, boy," Uncle Vernon spat. "I don't know why she'd want to speak to you, but she does. Don't let me hear that you disrespect that woman, or I'll have your head!"
Being used to his uncle's threats, Harry rolled his eyes inwardly as he began to trudge to the front door.
"Hello, Mrs. Figg—" Harry began, but was abruptly cut off by the frail-looking woman standing before him.
"Harry, there is no time for niceties. You are to come to my house immediately. Bring your school things. I'll be waiting for you there."
Dumbstruck, Harry stood motionless for a moment before comprehension dawned on him. "Wait a minute," he whispered. "How does she know about my 'school things'?" He pondered this as he watched the retreating woman's back.
Quickly, however, Harry was jerked back to reality. "Do hurry, now, Harry!"
Deciding to follow her command, Harry raced up the stairs to hurriedly gather his Hogwarts necessities. Shortly after Harry had reached his room, Uncle Vernon once again made his presence known.
"May I ask what could be so important that you are shirking your duties? I believe you shattered a milk bottle in the kitchen moments ago," he said mockingly.
Harry vaguely waved the question away and continued shuffling rolls of parchment into a small bag.
Growing angered, Uncle Vernon bellowed, "I ORDER you to tell me what's going on!"
In the blink of an eye, Harry had pulled his wand out and aimed it at Uncle Vernon. "I don't believe you have the right to order me to do anything," Harry said in an utterly calm, but threatening voice. "I was told to go as quickly as possible to Mrs. Figg's house, and that's what I will be doing. I don't know what the circumstances are, but I do know that you won't be shouting orders at me when I obviously have more important matters to attend to," Harry finished, leaving Uncle Vernon to stand in the hallway mouthing wordlessly at Harry, who had continued to pack his trunk.
Several minutes later, Harry was attempting, with great difficulty, to pull his trunk down the stairs without it causing him to topple down the stairs. Soon enough, Harry was standing in the entry hall with all of his belongings, feeling anxiety course through his veins as he tried to imagine what exactly Mrs. Figg could know about Harry's school.
Deciding that the Ministry would surely forgive him just this once, Harry cast Windardium Leviosa on his trunk, and, having decided it would prove extremely difficult to explain a large, floating trunk, Harry draped his invisibility cloak over the trunk. Harry then proceeded to walk the short distance to Mrs. Figg's house, while carefully maneuvering his trunk in front of him.
Harry's knocks upon Mrs. Figg's door sounded dull and foreboding, but, despite the growing fear welling in the pit of his stomach, Harry fought the urge to hide from the world.
After several minutes of waiting, the door quickly swung open, revealing, much to Harry's surprise, an attractive woman with graying brown hair, about the same age as his godfather, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin.
"Er—sorry…" Harry began as he began to try to create an excuse for knocking on the door of the wrong house.
"Harry, dear, it's me," the woman said simply, in what was, unmistakably, Mrs. Figg's voice. "Why don't you come inside? I was sure I told you to bring your school things…" her voice trailed off as her brown eyes scanned the porch.
"Oh… it's right here," Harry said as he pulled off the invisibility cloak.
Mrs. Figg's face broke into a joyful smile as she exclaimed, "James' cloak! The extent of the havoc he and his friends wreaked beneath that cloak, the world will never know," she reminisced, losing her train of thought. Blinking the memories away, she ushered Harry inside her house.
Harry absorbed his surroundings. Mrs. Figg's house looked just as he remembered—well-loved furniture, pictures of cats, and doilies everywhere.
"First of all, Harry," Mrs. Figg began, "I think there are a few things that you need to understand. First of all, I am a witch—though you had probably figured that out yourself. Second, I, Arabella Figg, called best friend for nearly a decade of my life, Lily Evans-Potter." She paused a moment to allow Harry to process that information.
When Harry didn't say anything, she continued; "Since the moment of your parents' deaths, you have been under more protection than you could ever imagine."
Apparently, Harry's face betrayed his thoughts, for Mrs. Figg continued, "It has nothing to do with weakness, Harry. We have very important reasons for creating such an intricate net of safety for you.
"It was with your safety in mind that I decided to betray my disguise as an elderly Muggle, and call you to my house."
As if on cue, the front door emitted a squeak as it was pushed opened. Standing in the doorway, in full wizard's garb, stood non-other than Albus Dumbledore.
"Good afternoon, Harry," the professor said, smiling behind his long, silver beard.
"Hello," Harry said uncertainly as he tried to imagine all of the possible reasons Albus Dumbledore would be in the home of Arabella Figg. However, the only reason Harry could deduce was concerning Voldemort. Harry shuddered as he imagined the news he would hear… Indeed, it seemed that the number of terrible possibilities to be endless.
Standing, Mrs. Figg cheerfully asked, "Shall I make us some tea?" Without waiting for the answer, she bustled out of the parlor, and headed to the kitchen, where the clanking of pots could be heard.
"I see you've met the true Arabella Figg," Dumbledore said, the familiar twinkle radiating from his eyes. "She's quite the talented witch—right up there with James, Sirius, and Lily. Did you know she used to teach Charms before she became appointed your guardian?"
Harry shook his head silently.
"Yes… she was always talented in charms. Though, as I recall, her first love was Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Wondering where this was heading, Harry prompted, "Professor, I still don't know for certain why I'm here…"
"Ah, yes," Professor Dumbledore said, his features darkening. "It is with dire news I come to speak with you—I notified Arabella as soon as I could, but I felt it would be best for me to tell you in person."
"Here's the tea!" Mrs. Figg returned a scant amount of time after leaving to make the tea. "How I love being a witch—making tea couldn't possibly be easier," she said, winking at Harry.
"Arabella, I was just about to tell Harry about the break-in."
With that one statement, Professor Dumbledore succeeded in causing Mrs. Figg to lower her eyes miserably—clearly knowing what the professor was about to divulge.
"As I was saying, Harry," Dumbledore continued reverently, seeming to be struggling to find the correct words. "I have a very important matter to discuss with you. As you are all too well aware, Voldemort has returned to his body, and has yet again surrounded himself with supporters. The Ministry didn't want to believe this to be true, and refused to take immediate action. Yesterday, Voldemort reclaimed the dementors as his dark servants. The dementors left their posts at Azkaban, leaving the prisoners unattended. Though some prisoners were not coherent enough to realize their freedom, many prisoners—many Death Eaters—escaped. Of course, within hours of the dementors' departure, trained Ministry wizards arrived Azkaban, but it was not soon enough. They estimated that at least three-quarters of the prisoners escaped, but they don't know how they escaped. A thorough search of the water surrounding the island was made, but not one person was found," he stopped speaking, and gazed intently at Harry, as if he had been worried Harry wouldn't be able to bear hearing the news.
Indeed, it had been difficult news for Harry to hear. "So—so they're free?" Harry heard himself utter.
"Yes, Harry; the prisoners may be roaming through Britain."
"And the dementors?" Harry asked.
"Yes. It is currently unknown where the escapees and dementors are—let alone what evil deeds they could be performing. This is why I felt is necessary to notify you of your protection—and protector," he added, smiling a sad sort of smile at Arabella.
Harry nodded to show he understood, but was still trying to fathom the seriousness of the situation. He knew, because of his experience the previous school year, that Voldemort had many servants who had escaped Azkaban by denouncing their involvement with Voldemort… but add to these numbers his most faithful minions? Shuddering, Harry pushed the idea from his head.
"After serious consideration, I have decided that you shall be sent to stay with the Weasley's as quickly as possible. Preferably, I would have chosen for you to be under Bella's care, but the circumstance has changed. I had considered the possibility of an event to this magnitude, but I had not taken into consideration Arabella's potential role in such a crisis."
Arabella looked determinedly into Dumbledore's pleading eyes, and nodded her head. The professor heaved a sigh of relief. Harry was oblivious, however, to what she may have accepted.
"Now," Dumbledore said lightly, interrupting Harry's thoughts, "Let's talk about some less serious matter. I have decided that, until the situation becomes threatening at Hogwarts, Quidditch shall be played once again this year."
This statement was enough to lift Harry's spirit considerably. Smiling, he said, "That's great, Professor!" Then, a little more seriously, he added, "Quidditch is one of the few activities that has been able to take my mind off—things."
Professor Dumbledore nodded knowingly. "I seem to remember James saying that very same thing once or twice."
Harry smiled as he always did at the mention of his parents.
At the sudden ringing of bells, Albus Dumbledore leapt to his feet. He pulled out his pocket watch, and looked grimly at its face.
"I'm afraid I must be on my way," he said. To Harry, he said, "Harry, you will be staying with Arabella until the Weasleys arrive." And to Mrs. Figg, he said, "Arthur and Molly will be arriving in one week by means of Ministry cars. However, Harry I am strongly suggesting you stay with Arabella before the Weasleys come to take you to the Burrow."
Mrs. Figg and Harry nodded, and Mrs. Figg and Professor Dumbledore exchanged their goodbyes.
"Goodbye, I'll be seeing you shortly!" the professor said ambiguously.
"Bye," Mrs. Figg and Harry chorused.
Harry watched the white-haired professor walk slowly across the lawn, and realized with a jolt how much older Professor Dumbledore had come to act. He didn't look any different, but he seemed more tired—exhausted, really—and wasn't radiating the sense of vitality he had shown in Harry's past years at Hogwarts. From the looks on their faces, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were thinking the same thing.