Harry Potter and the Joke that Killed: Chapter Two
By the by, these characters are Rowling's and the big copyright monster might come along and eat me if I don't say that. Now, onward towards great literature! READ:
* * * * *
The next morning the Weasley's decided it was high time they took a pleasure trip to Diagon Alley. There were so many shops and boutiques that they never got to check out when there was school shopping to do, and Mr. Weasley was going over there to pick up a few things for work anyway. They might as well make a weekend of it.
"I've already owled Hermione telling her to meet us at The Leaky Cauldron at two. Said for me to tell you she's bringing along 'someone who's been tied up for awhile.' What's that about?" Mrs. Weasley said. Harry eyes met Ron's, and they were both thinking the same thing: Rita Skeeter. Hermione had captured the eavesdropping Animagus beetle in a jar with an Unbreakable Charm on it, to teach the witch a thing or two about playing fair.
They traveled by Floo Powder to The Leaky Cauldron, a form of transportation that Harry was not at all fond of. He got soot in his mouth and broke his glasses, which Mr. Weasley repaired in a snap.
"Hermione and her parents should be here any second." Mr. Weasley said, handing Harry back his unscarred specs. The seven of them stood looking intently at the fireplace they just came from, waiting patiently.
"What's so interesting? Perrill the chimney sweeper boy get stuck again?" asked Hermione's voice right behind Harry's ear. The lot of them jumped ten feet into the air.
"Hermione, you scared the bejesus out of me!" Ron exclaimed, clapping his hand over his heart and rolling his eyes in exasperation.
"What were you doing?" she asked.
"Looking for you, of course!" Fred answered.
"In the chimney?" she said, not quite getting it.
"No. well, actually yes, but it's not as ridiculous as you think. We thought you were coming by Floo Powder. C'mon, this could take a while." Mr. Weasley replied, pumping Hermione for more fascinating information about chimney sweepers while she asked about Floo Powder. It certainly DID take a while.
Diagon Alley was even better when you were able to investigate every nook and cranny thoroughly. The first store that caught the group's eye was Bags by Hags, which sold any bag, sack, or bundle imaginable. Harry, still slightly new to the magical world, marveled at the purses that changed color to match your shoes and bags that spat up the item when you called it by name.
"Hey Harry, come look at this!" George said, beckoning him over to where he and Fred were drooling over something in a lighted case.
It looked like an ordinary wicker wallet to Harry. He looked down and read the plaque placed next to it: FENKER'S FABULOUS FOLDABLE FACILITY. This seemingly tiny wallet-sized marvel can fold out into the size of a corporate building. Stash your supplies, fold, and go! Perfect for the traveling entrepreneur.
"Harry, this is it! We've been looking for a way to sell Weasley's Wizard Wheezes at Hogwarts, and old Fenker here has the solution!" Fred buzzed excitedly. Harry didn't even qualify as a traveling entrepreneur and he wanted one. The thing was too cool. But the coolness suddenly wore off when he took a look at the price tag. 500 Galleons! Even for Harry, who had a small fortune, that was expensive. He hated to say it, but for the Weasley twins that amount of money would be nearly impossible.
After the trip to Bags by Hags, Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley wanted to stop by Wendy Witches Wardrobes, a store for trendy women's apparel. This obviously held no interest whatsoever with the boys, so Mr. Weasley let them go to Quality Quidditch Supplies while he got the things he needed for work.
"And no going anywhere else. Knockturn Alley is out of the question, boys." Mr. Weasley emphasized, looking at Fred and George.
"What is it that you could be implying, o father of mine?" George asked innocently, clasping his hands together angelically.
"Certainly it is to your knowledge that we'd never think of committing such a dastardly deed, Daddy!" Fred put in, batting his eyes and grinning cheesily at his father. Mr. Weasley didn't buy any of it though, and waggled his finger at the mischievous duo before walking off.
Harry couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts and start the Gryffindor Quidditch Season, last year the Quidditch Pitch stood empty all term because of the TriWizard Tournament. How much easier life would have been if the tournament had never taken place, and Harry would've only had to worry about beating Cedric Diggory in a game. Of course, that's just what everyone thought the TriWizard Tournament was. a game.
But the smell of broomstick handle polish always put Harry in a good mood, and after a few minutes George, Fred, and him were planning out some new Gryffindor team plays. Ron even joined in a bit; he was hoping to nail a position as Chaser when Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson graduated next year. Harry picked up a couple of books on Quidditch to read during the school year, they helped him relax and he was definitely going to need some relaxation that year.
That night, as everyone was getting ready for bed, Harry, Ron, and Hermione finally got a chance to be alone. "She's been quite the little pest lately." Hermione said ironically, taking out the little jar containing the former journalist Rita Skeeter and placing her on the table before Harry and Ron.
"So you've really just been keeping her in there like that?" Ron asked. "Don't you think that's bordering on cruelty, Hermione?"
Hermione shot him a look. "Well, all those things she wrote about Harry and I were cruel, so this is just payback. I'm teaching her a life- lesson here, Ronald, and frankly I think that constitutes a bit of necessary cruelty here and there." Ron knew to back off when she used his full name.
"Teach me to contradict the great Hermione Granger." Ron muttered under his breath in Harry's direction when she wasn't looking. Harry snorted, and had to turn his head and cough to avoid a beating from Hermione.
Rita Skeeter didn't look like a happy camper. The little beetle crawled back and forth on a twig, munching on a raspberry and occasionally stopping to glare at her spectators. "When're you gonna let her out?" Ron asked in a whimper.
"When I go to visit Viktor next week. I figure a vacation in Bulgaria might do her some good." She replied. At the mention of his former opponent, Harry's gaze was jerked from the jar.
"How is Krum? He sent me an early birthday present a couple days ago." Harry asked.
"He's coping all right, still has some side affects every now and then from being under the Imperius Curse, but the doctor says he's getting better," Hermione related. Harry shuddered, remembering the horrible sight of Viktor Krum uttering the word CRUCIO, and Cedric Diggory screaming from the curse of pure pain. But Viktor hadn't been acting under his own influences, which Harry later found out to his great relief, but had been ordered to do so by the Imperius Curse. "You said he sent you a present for your birthday, Harry?" Hermione asked, jerking Harry from his memory.
"Oh, yeah. A book of Quidditch plays and moves. He dog-eared the 'Wrongski Feint' for me." Harry told the two. Ron still looked a bit red around the ears whenever Krum's name was mentioned; the Bulgarian's love affair with Hermione nearly drove him over the edge. However, Harry had seen Viktor's autograph hanging in on the wall in Ron's room. He had the sneaking suspicion that Ron might have been jealous of Krum. nah. Ron and Hermione were just friends.
"You hear that, Rita ol' girl? Just one more week until you're free!" Harry stated, addressing the jar. The beetle just paced up and down on it's twig, as if to say "Well, what's wrong with right now?"
The weekend was fabulous. So many stores awaited the group that they had barely investigated a whole block before it was dinnertime again. Watching Hermione's parents, Harry noticed that they were adjusting to the wizarding world quite well. Her father carried around a pouch full of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts, and seemed to understand their value well enough. Her mother even bought a small handbag from Bags by Hags, that never filled no matter how much stuff you put into it.
"We've found out that my Great-Aunt Enid is a halfie, so that must be where I get it. My father even got tested by the ministry to see if he was lucky enough to get a bit of magical blood, and he was! Just a drop or two, mind you, but he was ecstatic all the same. kept humming showtunes to himself until Mum threw a hairbrush at him." Hermione elaborated when Harry asked her about it.
They were just walking out of Eeylops Owl Emporium when Harry saw a black dog sitting in an alleyway, wagging it's tail furiously with an old copy of The Daily Prophet in it's mouth. Could it be. ?
"Snuffles?" Harry called to the dog, and it barked (muffled by the newspaper) and Harry broke away from the group, running over to greet his Godfather. After many wet doggie kisses, the Animagus nudged the newspaper towards Harry. Unfolding it, Harry could see "Midnight, in the Parlor Room." scrawled in Sirius's unmistakable handwriting in the corner of the front page.
"I'll be there." Harry whispered as he bent down to scratch the dog behind his ears. With one last wag of his tail, the dog disappeared down the crowded streets.
Constantly interested in current events, Hermione took the newspaper from Harry's hand and began to read. Thankfully she didn't notice the note in the corner of the page.
"Quidditch World Cup to be held in Iceland this year, too bad, Bulgaria lost in the semi-finals. muggle led astray by mischievous hinkypunk, close call. oh, look!" Hermione was reading the headlines aloud but suddenly stopped abruptly in her tracks. Harry and Ron peered over her shoulder to see what the fuss was about.
Her thumb was on an article entitled 'Respected Family Caught in Dark Artifact Scandal.' "Last week the Ministry searched the Malfoy residence for Dark items, seemingly to no avail. But after a tip off from a trusty informant, officials searched beneath the Drawing Room floor and found a trapdoor leading to a small cellar. There they found relics long since thought destroyed or lost, one such example being the Palette of Wryne." Ron and Hermione gasped at the mention of this item, which of course sounded totally foreign to Harry.
"Why? What's the Palette of Wryne?" He asked, gazing at their horrorstruck faces.
"Perhaps the worst enchanted muggle artifact in the world." Ron answered.
"It's a special palette of paints, and when used to paint a portrait, whether it be person or object, magic or no, whatever was painted in the portrait will vanish from the face of the earth." Hermione said, no doubt quoting some huge book she's read somewhere.
"If I remember correctly, a mad wizard painter created it to rid some obscure country of it's ruler. He walked into the palace, saying that he was going to paint a portrait of the queen, and then he walks out of the palace five hours later with a beautiful painting under his arm, and the queen was never seen again. The painting was found some hundred years later though, and is sitting in the Abuse of Muggle Artifacts office somewhere waiting until someone discovers a counter-curse." Ron put in. Harry and Hermione stared at him, shocked looks on their faces. Ron never paid attention in History, never read any sort of book not involving quidditch, and all of a sudden whips this account of the past from under his hat! "My dad told me." He said, in an answer to the pair's silent question. They nodded, that explained it.
"So, the Malfoy's finally got busted. Ha! I'd love to see the look on Draco's face now, all that nonsense about purebloods and flawless superiority. THAT doesn't fit the definition of 'pure,' if you ask me." Hermione commented, looking into the sky trying to picture it. Draco had ridiculed her nonstop about being muggle-born, so this was good news to hear.
Harry and Ron grinned at each other, having been called "trusty informants." They were the ones who tipped Mr. Weasley off about what was hiding beneath the Malfoy's drawing room floor, heard it straight from Draco's mouth when they used the Polyjuice Potion and transformed into Crabbe and Goyle.
"But Lucius denied it all, calling them 'priceless relics' and such. Though only a half-wit would believe that after looking at his record." Hermione said, finishing the section. Skimming the remainder of the newspaper, she only found one more thing that caught her attention.
"Sounds like you're involved in another article, Harry. Says here that a journalist for Witch Weekly has gone missing, but they're not too worried about it since she was costing them a fortune in libel suits anyhow." Hermione read from the very back page, where all the unimportant stories were stashed. They all had a good laugh about that.
After a filling dinner, everyone had to pack up and get ready to leave in the morning. "You'll be back soon enough, in a couple of months." Mr. Weasley comforted. But at least the packing kept everyone busy upstairs, leaving the Leaky Cauldron's parlor room empty for Harry's midnight meeting.
At ten minutes till twelve Harry stole downstairs and sat in the corner of the parlor, next to the fireplace. Sure enough, at midnight on the dot, a whooshing sound followed by a soft PLOP sounded in the chimney and Sirius Black stepped into the room.
Harry immediately ran up and gave his Godfather a hug. It had been too long since he'd last seen him. "How are you, Harry?" he asked. Sirius's voice was filled with weariness, but love and joy seemed to work their way in there as well.
"I'm doing all right. And no, my scar hasn't hurt me yet and I haven't had any visions," Harry answered, reading the next question on Sirius' tongue. "How are things with you?"
Black sighed. "I'm finally done rounding up the 'old crowd.' Nelson Lecht, Beorson Mitchell, Heather O'Rourke. basically all of the Gryffindor's from my class. And now we're off to hunt basically all of the Slytherin's from my class. It's horrible. Last week some aurors caught a bunch of Death Eaters that were in my DEFENSE Against the Dark Arts class. saw 'em shipped off to Azkaban myself. It's strange, Harry, to think that all these innocent young faces I saw in school, naïve and eager to learn, twenty years later are guilty and evil." His speech brought one face in particular to Harry's mind: Draco Malfoy's. Of course, Harry had never seen him innocent or particularly eager to learn.
"So, how is it that you found my hiding place, Sirius?" Harry asked brightly, changing the subject.
"Ah Harry, Snuffles snuffled you out this time. Actually, I got an owl from Dumbledore saying you escaped from the Dursley's and the Weasley's took you in." Sirius explained.
Harry sputtered. "Dumbledore knows where I am? But how?"
"Harry Potter, you've always got somebody watching you. Now, especially, Dumbledore wanted you protected." Sirius told Harry. It was really creepy to know that wherever you went, there would be eyes taking in every move you made. Of course, friendly eyes were much better than eyes belonging to Voldemort. Harry felt a little safer, and just a little weirded out.
After relaying the whole adventure of dodging out of Camp Beatum & Zreem, and what Fred and George had been up to recently, it had been nearly an hour and Harry's eyelids began to droop. "You should go to bed now, it's not safe to travel by Floo Powder if you're mind is clouded with sleep. Goodnight Harry, and write me if anything happens. Anything at all." His godfather ordered, and lightly kissed Harry on the forehead. Throwing a fine dust on the fire, Sirius Black leapt in and was gone.
* * * * *
A/N: Okay, so I lied. Maybe the action won't pick up yet, but I swear Harry will get to Hogwarts in Chapter Three and all will be well and interesting. Of course, I hope things already are!
And a gigantic thank you to Rose Rovente for being the first (and only) to review! I agree, why *ISN'T * anyone reading this? ... tell your friends! And random strangers passing by on the street!
READ MY STORY MORE PLEASE!!
Love from, Saranimal HaloGal5@aol.com
By the by, these characters are Rowling's and the big copyright monster might come along and eat me if I don't say that. Now, onward towards great literature! READ:
* * * * *
The next morning the Weasley's decided it was high time they took a pleasure trip to Diagon Alley. There were so many shops and boutiques that they never got to check out when there was school shopping to do, and Mr. Weasley was going over there to pick up a few things for work anyway. They might as well make a weekend of it.
"I've already owled Hermione telling her to meet us at The Leaky Cauldron at two. Said for me to tell you she's bringing along 'someone who's been tied up for awhile.' What's that about?" Mrs. Weasley said. Harry eyes met Ron's, and they were both thinking the same thing: Rita Skeeter. Hermione had captured the eavesdropping Animagus beetle in a jar with an Unbreakable Charm on it, to teach the witch a thing or two about playing fair.
They traveled by Floo Powder to The Leaky Cauldron, a form of transportation that Harry was not at all fond of. He got soot in his mouth and broke his glasses, which Mr. Weasley repaired in a snap.
"Hermione and her parents should be here any second." Mr. Weasley said, handing Harry back his unscarred specs. The seven of them stood looking intently at the fireplace they just came from, waiting patiently.
"What's so interesting? Perrill the chimney sweeper boy get stuck again?" asked Hermione's voice right behind Harry's ear. The lot of them jumped ten feet into the air.
"Hermione, you scared the bejesus out of me!" Ron exclaimed, clapping his hand over his heart and rolling his eyes in exasperation.
"What were you doing?" she asked.
"Looking for you, of course!" Fred answered.
"In the chimney?" she said, not quite getting it.
"No. well, actually yes, but it's not as ridiculous as you think. We thought you were coming by Floo Powder. C'mon, this could take a while." Mr. Weasley replied, pumping Hermione for more fascinating information about chimney sweepers while she asked about Floo Powder. It certainly DID take a while.
Diagon Alley was even better when you were able to investigate every nook and cranny thoroughly. The first store that caught the group's eye was Bags by Hags, which sold any bag, sack, or bundle imaginable. Harry, still slightly new to the magical world, marveled at the purses that changed color to match your shoes and bags that spat up the item when you called it by name.
"Hey Harry, come look at this!" George said, beckoning him over to where he and Fred were drooling over something in a lighted case.
It looked like an ordinary wicker wallet to Harry. He looked down and read the plaque placed next to it: FENKER'S FABULOUS FOLDABLE FACILITY. This seemingly tiny wallet-sized marvel can fold out into the size of a corporate building. Stash your supplies, fold, and go! Perfect for the traveling entrepreneur.
"Harry, this is it! We've been looking for a way to sell Weasley's Wizard Wheezes at Hogwarts, and old Fenker here has the solution!" Fred buzzed excitedly. Harry didn't even qualify as a traveling entrepreneur and he wanted one. The thing was too cool. But the coolness suddenly wore off when he took a look at the price tag. 500 Galleons! Even for Harry, who had a small fortune, that was expensive. He hated to say it, but for the Weasley twins that amount of money would be nearly impossible.
After the trip to Bags by Hags, Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley wanted to stop by Wendy Witches Wardrobes, a store for trendy women's apparel. This obviously held no interest whatsoever with the boys, so Mr. Weasley let them go to Quality Quidditch Supplies while he got the things he needed for work.
"And no going anywhere else. Knockturn Alley is out of the question, boys." Mr. Weasley emphasized, looking at Fred and George.
"What is it that you could be implying, o father of mine?" George asked innocently, clasping his hands together angelically.
"Certainly it is to your knowledge that we'd never think of committing such a dastardly deed, Daddy!" Fred put in, batting his eyes and grinning cheesily at his father. Mr. Weasley didn't buy any of it though, and waggled his finger at the mischievous duo before walking off.
Harry couldn't wait to get back to Hogwarts and start the Gryffindor Quidditch Season, last year the Quidditch Pitch stood empty all term because of the TriWizard Tournament. How much easier life would have been if the tournament had never taken place, and Harry would've only had to worry about beating Cedric Diggory in a game. Of course, that's just what everyone thought the TriWizard Tournament was. a game.
But the smell of broomstick handle polish always put Harry in a good mood, and after a few minutes George, Fred, and him were planning out some new Gryffindor team plays. Ron even joined in a bit; he was hoping to nail a position as Chaser when Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson graduated next year. Harry picked up a couple of books on Quidditch to read during the school year, they helped him relax and he was definitely going to need some relaxation that year.
That night, as everyone was getting ready for bed, Harry, Ron, and Hermione finally got a chance to be alone. "She's been quite the little pest lately." Hermione said ironically, taking out the little jar containing the former journalist Rita Skeeter and placing her on the table before Harry and Ron.
"So you've really just been keeping her in there like that?" Ron asked. "Don't you think that's bordering on cruelty, Hermione?"
Hermione shot him a look. "Well, all those things she wrote about Harry and I were cruel, so this is just payback. I'm teaching her a life- lesson here, Ronald, and frankly I think that constitutes a bit of necessary cruelty here and there." Ron knew to back off when she used his full name.
"Teach me to contradict the great Hermione Granger." Ron muttered under his breath in Harry's direction when she wasn't looking. Harry snorted, and had to turn his head and cough to avoid a beating from Hermione.
Rita Skeeter didn't look like a happy camper. The little beetle crawled back and forth on a twig, munching on a raspberry and occasionally stopping to glare at her spectators. "When're you gonna let her out?" Ron asked in a whimper.
"When I go to visit Viktor next week. I figure a vacation in Bulgaria might do her some good." She replied. At the mention of his former opponent, Harry's gaze was jerked from the jar.
"How is Krum? He sent me an early birthday present a couple days ago." Harry asked.
"He's coping all right, still has some side affects every now and then from being under the Imperius Curse, but the doctor says he's getting better," Hermione related. Harry shuddered, remembering the horrible sight of Viktor Krum uttering the word CRUCIO, and Cedric Diggory screaming from the curse of pure pain. But Viktor hadn't been acting under his own influences, which Harry later found out to his great relief, but had been ordered to do so by the Imperius Curse. "You said he sent you a present for your birthday, Harry?" Hermione asked, jerking Harry from his memory.
"Oh, yeah. A book of Quidditch plays and moves. He dog-eared the 'Wrongski Feint' for me." Harry told the two. Ron still looked a bit red around the ears whenever Krum's name was mentioned; the Bulgarian's love affair with Hermione nearly drove him over the edge. However, Harry had seen Viktor's autograph hanging in on the wall in Ron's room. He had the sneaking suspicion that Ron might have been jealous of Krum. nah. Ron and Hermione were just friends.
"You hear that, Rita ol' girl? Just one more week until you're free!" Harry stated, addressing the jar. The beetle just paced up and down on it's twig, as if to say "Well, what's wrong with right now?"
The weekend was fabulous. So many stores awaited the group that they had barely investigated a whole block before it was dinnertime again. Watching Hermione's parents, Harry noticed that they were adjusting to the wizarding world quite well. Her father carried around a pouch full of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts, and seemed to understand their value well enough. Her mother even bought a small handbag from Bags by Hags, that never filled no matter how much stuff you put into it.
"We've found out that my Great-Aunt Enid is a halfie, so that must be where I get it. My father even got tested by the ministry to see if he was lucky enough to get a bit of magical blood, and he was! Just a drop or two, mind you, but he was ecstatic all the same. kept humming showtunes to himself until Mum threw a hairbrush at him." Hermione elaborated when Harry asked her about it.
They were just walking out of Eeylops Owl Emporium when Harry saw a black dog sitting in an alleyway, wagging it's tail furiously with an old copy of The Daily Prophet in it's mouth. Could it be. ?
"Snuffles?" Harry called to the dog, and it barked (muffled by the newspaper) and Harry broke away from the group, running over to greet his Godfather. After many wet doggie kisses, the Animagus nudged the newspaper towards Harry. Unfolding it, Harry could see "Midnight, in the Parlor Room." scrawled in Sirius's unmistakable handwriting in the corner of the front page.
"I'll be there." Harry whispered as he bent down to scratch the dog behind his ears. With one last wag of his tail, the dog disappeared down the crowded streets.
Constantly interested in current events, Hermione took the newspaper from Harry's hand and began to read. Thankfully she didn't notice the note in the corner of the page.
"Quidditch World Cup to be held in Iceland this year, too bad, Bulgaria lost in the semi-finals. muggle led astray by mischievous hinkypunk, close call. oh, look!" Hermione was reading the headlines aloud but suddenly stopped abruptly in her tracks. Harry and Ron peered over her shoulder to see what the fuss was about.
Her thumb was on an article entitled 'Respected Family Caught in Dark Artifact Scandal.' "Last week the Ministry searched the Malfoy residence for Dark items, seemingly to no avail. But after a tip off from a trusty informant, officials searched beneath the Drawing Room floor and found a trapdoor leading to a small cellar. There they found relics long since thought destroyed or lost, one such example being the Palette of Wryne." Ron and Hermione gasped at the mention of this item, which of course sounded totally foreign to Harry.
"Why? What's the Palette of Wryne?" He asked, gazing at their horrorstruck faces.
"Perhaps the worst enchanted muggle artifact in the world." Ron answered.
"It's a special palette of paints, and when used to paint a portrait, whether it be person or object, magic or no, whatever was painted in the portrait will vanish from the face of the earth." Hermione said, no doubt quoting some huge book she's read somewhere.
"If I remember correctly, a mad wizard painter created it to rid some obscure country of it's ruler. He walked into the palace, saying that he was going to paint a portrait of the queen, and then he walks out of the palace five hours later with a beautiful painting under his arm, and the queen was never seen again. The painting was found some hundred years later though, and is sitting in the Abuse of Muggle Artifacts office somewhere waiting until someone discovers a counter-curse." Ron put in. Harry and Hermione stared at him, shocked looks on their faces. Ron never paid attention in History, never read any sort of book not involving quidditch, and all of a sudden whips this account of the past from under his hat! "My dad told me." He said, in an answer to the pair's silent question. They nodded, that explained it.
"So, the Malfoy's finally got busted. Ha! I'd love to see the look on Draco's face now, all that nonsense about purebloods and flawless superiority. THAT doesn't fit the definition of 'pure,' if you ask me." Hermione commented, looking into the sky trying to picture it. Draco had ridiculed her nonstop about being muggle-born, so this was good news to hear.
Harry and Ron grinned at each other, having been called "trusty informants." They were the ones who tipped Mr. Weasley off about what was hiding beneath the Malfoy's drawing room floor, heard it straight from Draco's mouth when they used the Polyjuice Potion and transformed into Crabbe and Goyle.
"But Lucius denied it all, calling them 'priceless relics' and such. Though only a half-wit would believe that after looking at his record." Hermione said, finishing the section. Skimming the remainder of the newspaper, she only found one more thing that caught her attention.
"Sounds like you're involved in another article, Harry. Says here that a journalist for Witch Weekly has gone missing, but they're not too worried about it since she was costing them a fortune in libel suits anyhow." Hermione read from the very back page, where all the unimportant stories were stashed. They all had a good laugh about that.
After a filling dinner, everyone had to pack up and get ready to leave in the morning. "You'll be back soon enough, in a couple of months." Mr. Weasley comforted. But at least the packing kept everyone busy upstairs, leaving the Leaky Cauldron's parlor room empty for Harry's midnight meeting.
At ten minutes till twelve Harry stole downstairs and sat in the corner of the parlor, next to the fireplace. Sure enough, at midnight on the dot, a whooshing sound followed by a soft PLOP sounded in the chimney and Sirius Black stepped into the room.
Harry immediately ran up and gave his Godfather a hug. It had been too long since he'd last seen him. "How are you, Harry?" he asked. Sirius's voice was filled with weariness, but love and joy seemed to work their way in there as well.
"I'm doing all right. And no, my scar hasn't hurt me yet and I haven't had any visions," Harry answered, reading the next question on Sirius' tongue. "How are things with you?"
Black sighed. "I'm finally done rounding up the 'old crowd.' Nelson Lecht, Beorson Mitchell, Heather O'Rourke. basically all of the Gryffindor's from my class. And now we're off to hunt basically all of the Slytherin's from my class. It's horrible. Last week some aurors caught a bunch of Death Eaters that were in my DEFENSE Against the Dark Arts class. saw 'em shipped off to Azkaban myself. It's strange, Harry, to think that all these innocent young faces I saw in school, naïve and eager to learn, twenty years later are guilty and evil." His speech brought one face in particular to Harry's mind: Draco Malfoy's. Of course, Harry had never seen him innocent or particularly eager to learn.
"So, how is it that you found my hiding place, Sirius?" Harry asked brightly, changing the subject.
"Ah Harry, Snuffles snuffled you out this time. Actually, I got an owl from Dumbledore saying you escaped from the Dursley's and the Weasley's took you in." Sirius explained.
Harry sputtered. "Dumbledore knows where I am? But how?"
"Harry Potter, you've always got somebody watching you. Now, especially, Dumbledore wanted you protected." Sirius told Harry. It was really creepy to know that wherever you went, there would be eyes taking in every move you made. Of course, friendly eyes were much better than eyes belonging to Voldemort. Harry felt a little safer, and just a little weirded out.
After relaying the whole adventure of dodging out of Camp Beatum & Zreem, and what Fred and George had been up to recently, it had been nearly an hour and Harry's eyelids began to droop. "You should go to bed now, it's not safe to travel by Floo Powder if you're mind is clouded with sleep. Goodnight Harry, and write me if anything happens. Anything at all." His godfather ordered, and lightly kissed Harry on the forehead. Throwing a fine dust on the fire, Sirius Black leapt in and was gone.
* * * * *
A/N: Okay, so I lied. Maybe the action won't pick up yet, but I swear Harry will get to Hogwarts in Chapter Three and all will be well and interesting. Of course, I hope things already are!
And a gigantic thank you to Rose Rovente for being the first (and only) to review! I agree, why *ISN'T * anyone reading this? ... tell your friends! And random strangers passing by on the street!
READ MY STORY MORE PLEASE!!
Love from, Saranimal HaloGal5@aol.com