Harry woke to the thundering of Uncle Vernon's voice from downstairs.
'Up! Get up! Now!'
Harry groaned and pushed aside the covers of his bed. His feet hit the floor and he stretched his arms into the air, trying to shake off his tiredness. It had been very late when he had finally fell asleep last night and he was hoping the Dursleys would forget about waking him today of all days, but Harry had no such luck.
Harry had been back in Privet Drive only a few weeks but felt like he couldn't be back in Hogwarts quick enough. Even after what had happened last year, even after Cedric... Harry needed to be somewhere he felt normal. Somewhere people understood what had happened, what would happen! He doubted whether his aunt and uncle had even heard of Voldemort, or understood what it meant that he had risen again. They wouldn't even care about the fact that Harry was in so much danger.
Harry shook his head; he had promised himself that he wouldn't worry about what would happen, there was nothing he could do about it. Dumbledore said he would be safe here and Harry believed him, but there was still a part of Harry that ached to be at The Burrow with Ron. Mrs Weasley had wanted him there and maybe, just maybe he would make it before the start of September.
Rubbing the sleep out of his emerald eyes he stood up and padded over to the small wooden wardrobe which held a meagre selection of over-sized clothes. Harry sighed, even though he had a few pieces of clothing he had bought himself in Diagon Alley these had been locked away with most other thing his aunt and uncle thought were 'too' magical. Harry picked out a pair of worn brown corduroys; he had to wrap the belt twice around his waist before it fit. Unfortunately as Harry had grown so had Dudley, but in different directions. The trousers were about an inch too short for Harry's legs and under them he could see his uncle's discarded purple and green socks. 'Only three more years,' he told himself in a strained voice. Then he could live where he wanted, maybe sooner if Sirius was cleared. Harry almost didn't allow himself to wish.
This summer had been the worst by far. They were supposed to be sitting their O.W.L.S at the end of their fifth year and most of the teachers had given them assignments to do over the summer, but unlike the other students at Hogwarts, Harry had been forbidden by his aunt and uncle to even mention anything to do with 'That School!' so he had been forced to do his assignments late at night under his covers, with only a torch for company. He knew this meant his writing would be messy and probably difficult to read but there was no other way. He had tried to argue with his aunt and uncle but they couldn't care less about how well Harry did in school. As far as they were concerned, it was burden enough to have him there for the summer.
It annoyed Harry. He was nearly fifteen and had fought against worse things in his life then his aunt and uncle, but they always managed to make him feel so unimportant, so useless. He would probably have gone mad if it hadn't been for almost daily owls from Ron, Hermione or Hagrid. He was also able to let Hedwig out at night because he had learned a silencing charm from Hermione so that even if Hedwig was making noise the Dursleys wouldn't hear her.
His face frowned at the thought of his owl. Harry wondered if Hedwig had found his godfather. He hadn't heard from Sirius since after the Triwizard Tournament, when Dumbledore had sent him to contact the old crowd, and he was starting to get worried. It was hard to continue to threaten the Dursleys with dangerous retaliation from his 'murderer' godfather when he didn't even know where Sirius was. What if something had happened to him! He could be back in Azkaban, or worse.
Harry shuddered as he thought about the Dementors. 'No,' he told himself, 'Hedwig will find him and he'll be fine.' Hermione had been keeping him up to date on news from the Daily Prophet and she hadn't said anything. And Ron had assured him that he'd pass on any Ministry news his dad happened to mention, there was no reason for Harry to feel so nervous but as he looked into the mirror and tried to make his hair look 'normal', the frown on his face only deepened.
***
When Harry went down for breakfast he was surprised to see Dudley sitting at the table, the diet Dudley had been put on by the doctor was long forgotten. His cousin had gotten into the habit of staying in bed as long as possible this summer and Harry had often seen Aunt Petunia carrying a tray laden with food upstairs to serve breakfast in bed to 'her Duddikins'.
A quick look into the living room explained everything. The room was packed with birthday presents for the hefty fifteen year old, half of which had already been ripped open and thrown aside, some of the presents Harry could make out were a laptop computer, a radio controlled car, a tent-sized number seven football jersey (a sort of Muggle game played with a round ball) and various of the latest computer games and CDs.
Harry sat down at the kitchen table and started buttering a piece of toast.
"Bout time you were up!" Uncle Vernon said sternly "We've got a busy day today, isn't that right Petunia." Vernon grinned at Petunia who nodded back. "And we won't have you making us late."
Harry smiled weakly. He knew his Uncle had not included him as part of that day but Harry didn't mind so much. Ever since he had found out that Mrs Figg was a witch he had been looking forward to seeing her again. He thought that maybe she would be able to tell him more about his parents or at least have news from the wizarding world. Harry was sure that, on orders of Dumbledore, Sirius had been to see her as well and he hoped she would be able to tell him how the 'old dog' was doing.
Harry silently laughed at his own joke and Petunia gave him a look that seemed to say 'strange boy' before turning her best syrupy smile to her only child.
"Did you like your presents, Duddy?" Petunia asked her bear of a son.
Dudley grunted while shovelling another forkful of bacon into his mouth. Harry suddenly got an image of Dudley, aged eleven, squealing loudly, while his hands groped at the pig's tail protruding from his rear end, complements of Hagrid. Harry had to bite down quickly on his toast to stop himself from laughing out loud.
"Well Mummy and Daddy have one more for you."
Dudley looked up from his breakfast, a piece of rasher hanging from his mouth. Harry nearly choked as he was swallowing his toast and started coughing; he managed to take a mouthful of water just as Petunia was giving him an irritated look.
From her apron pocket Petunia pulled out a white envelope and put it on the table in front of Dudley. He looked at it blankly for a moment before reluctantly putting down his knife and fork to pick it up.
"It's for doing so well in your exams." Petunia gushed.
Harry scoffed. He wasn't exactly the best student but at least he had passed all his subjects. Dudley had barely managed to get pass marks in half of his, failing at least three if not more. Petunia alleged that it was because her Duddy was so sensitive, while Vernon grumbled about Smelting teaching standards falling since his days.
Dudley ripped the top of the envelope off and shook it until a small embossed card dropped out. He picked it up and looked at it, unimpressed, slowly reading what it said. As he started to understand his eyes grew wide and excited. He looked up from the card to his mother's proud face.
"Oh thank you, Mummy!" Dudley threw his immense arms around his mother's neck almost knocking her off her chair. Vernon looked on proudly at his son and heir half smothered his wife.
Harry frowned at Dudley. The only time he ever showed any kind of thanks or gratitude to his parents was when they had given him something unusually extravagant.
Harry craned his neck to see what was written on the card. He could only make out a few words but that was more then enough. He felt unmatched panic grip his heart as the word helicopter was quickly followed by the word lessons. The thought of Dudley at the controls of a machine that large was too much to imagine. Harry remembered that it had only taken Dudley a week to destroy the mountain bike he had gotten the year before Harry started at Hogwarts. Harry now had the image of a screaming Dudley at the helm as the machine careered into houses, shops and schools.
Dudley noticed Harry eyeing the card and snapped it up quickly from the table.
"What do you think of that, Potter?" Dudley smirked. "Jealous?" asking Harry the question and brandishing his one-way ticket to the emergency room in his face.
"Not really," Harry answered calmly "I've been flying my broom for four years. It's not that difficult!"
Harry watched as Dudley elephant weight fell back into his chair, terror sweeping on his face. Petunia gasped, clasping her hand to her mouth and Vernon shot quickly to his feet, his face was scarlet with rage.
"I told you not to mention THAT SCHOOL!" Vernon hissed.
Harry was about to argue that he hadn't, in fact, mentioned Hogwarts when he felt the back of his shirt being jerked as Vernon pulled him to his feet and marched him towards the front door.
***
Outside on Privet Drive, the neighbourhood children played in the road while their parents cut the lawn or washed the family car, taken full advantage of the summer sun and giving them a chance to have a friendly gossip.
When the door of number four flew open with a bang, many heads turned to see nice, respectable Mr Dursley pulling his unhinged and dangerous nephew out onto the street and dragging him across the road. No doubt the little hooligan had smashed the television, or tried to steal the car. Wasn't it only last year that the boy had completely destroyed their living room before being taken back to school for extra rehabilitation. They had the decorators in for weeks putting it all back together. Some thought how charitable it had been for the Dursleys to take the boy in after his irresponsible parents had killed themselves in that car crash, and this was how the brat repaid them.
Harry caught glimpses of their disgusted faces and turned to see Dudley and Petunia standing in the doorway nodding politely to them. Petunia was probably already thinking up some story to explain this to the neighbours, while at the same time putting all the blame on her nephew, thought Harry just as Vernon pulled him around the corner. His Uncle was talking under his breath, Harry strained to hear what he said.
"Bad enough to have to put up with him all summer, bad enough that his barmy old coot of a teacher said we had to, but speaking that filth in MY house!"
Harry could feel Vernon's anger. Even though he was fifteen and growing quickly his uncle could still shake him around like a rag doll.
Vernon turned again and walked through a pair of black garden gates into a slightly overgrown garden. 'Aunt Petunia would never approve of that,' thought Harry wryly as he looked at the unkempt lawn. Vernon crossed to the door in a few steps and banged his fist sharply against it. A moment later an old woman opened the door and looked at shaken Harry and enraged Vernon.
Vernon flung Harry through the doorway, turned and walked away.
Harry watched as the gate clattered loudly and Vernon disappeared behind the hedge which surrounded the garden. He sighed and turned to the aged women next to him.
"Sorry 'bout that, I accidentally slipped the words flying and broom into the same sentence," Harry explained.
"Well, at least it was an interesting start to my morning, Harry." She grinned as she closed the door and turned back to the young wizard.
"How about some Butterbeer?" she said, a spark of mischief in her eyes.
A huge smile spread across Harry's face.
***
Harry beamed from ear to ear as he was handed his second hot Butterbeer. Even though it was summer and not at all cold, the drink warmed his stomach in a way nothing else could. It was a reminder that he was a wizard; that there was more to life then the Dursleys and Privet Drive and stupid Dudley. It took him back to The Three Broomsticks and Madam Rosmerta and all that had happened to him in the last four years.
From his legs he heard a plaintiff 'Miaow' and felt the familiar rubbing of feline against his leg.
"Oh leave Harry alone, Tufty."
"I don't mind," Harry said, the cat's grumpy expression reminded him of Crookshanks. He scooped her up with his free hand and lazily stroked her back.
"Changed your mind a bit, haven't you!" she said with a grin. "Foolish Mrs Figg not such a mad old bat anymore, is she?"
Harry blushed, he didn't think this would happen.
"I never, I mean... I'm sorry Mrs Figg," Harry apologised honestly.
"Oh tosh, I'm only teasing you," she brushed his apology aside with her hand "and call me Arabella. Mrs Figg makes me feel like an old lady." She smiled knowing that to him she probably was.
"Now since I can't make you look through my photographs what would you like to do?" she asked Harry bringing her own glass to her lips. Harry noticed that the liquid inside was an acid green colour and wondered what it was she was drinking. She caught his eye. He had been ten the last time they saw each other and a lot had changed since then. He suddenly remembered what he had been thinking about that morning. He looked at Mrs Figg who was waiting for his answer.
"Umm I was wondering... Professor Dumbledore said he should see you and I wondered if you'd... If you've talked to Sirius Black?" Harry looked up hopefully.
"Of course dear, he came to see me a while ago, must be nearly two month ago," she became sombre. "Now you mustn't ask what we talked about but I suppose you can guess."
"Oh, it's just that he hasn't been in touch and I was getting a bit worried."
"He hasn't!" Mrs Figg startled at this news. "That's very strange, he hardly stopped talking about you, but then he was already pretty worn out when I seen him. I tried to convince him to stay the night but he insisted he had more people to visit. Did you try owling him?"
"I sent Hedwig out last night, but..." Harry looked depressed.
"Oh don't worry child, if anything bad happened I'm sure it would be in The Prophet, Fudge wouldn't let an opportunity like that go by!" Harry shivered, not sure how much better this actually made him feel.
"I guess," Harry finally managed to say.
"That's a good lad, now tell me how is your schoolwork going? You're studying hard for your exams I hope?" she asked, sounding like an interested relative.
"Yeah, I mean it's taking me longer to do because I can only study at night. Uncle Vernon won't let me do it during the day but..."
"WHAT!" Mrs Figg shot up like she had been poked in the back. "That's outrageous; doesn't he care how well you do?"
"No... not really!" Harry explained.
"Right, we're going over there right now and getting your books. You can do your work here if that stupid prune won't let you work at home."
"We can't do that!" startled Harry. "You already seen the way he treated me this morning. I don't want that all summer."
"Ok," Mrs Figg said calming herself. "Well how about a little magic? We'll be able to get you your books. I'll tell Vernon that I need some odd jobs done. That way you can come over whenever you want and do you work without them getting suspicious. Ok?" Mrs Figg looked at Harry for approval.
Harry nodded his head in an unsure yes and Mrs Figg smiled mischievously again. Harry couldn't help but get the feeling that she was very much like the Weasley twins when she was younger and had never really grown out of it.
***
Mrs Figg led Harry to a room packed with pieces of parchment, huge leather bound books, and jars with an assortment of herbs, roots, and small creatures inside. Harry mouth dropped. Outside of Hogwarts and The Burrow he had never seen a proper wizarding house and this was pretty impressive. He recognised powdered horn of a Bicorn and Boomslang Skin – Hermione had used in the Polyjuice potion – as well as Aconite, Wormwood and a handful of Bezoars. On the floor under the shelves was a large trunk, Harry was sure he recognised it as a Hogwarts trunk. Had Mrs Figg attended the school in her youth? Harry's attention was pulled away from the shelves by the sound of Mrs Figg's voice.
"Harry, before we do this you have to promise me something."
Harry nodded.
"You see," Mrs Figg shifted uneasily. "Well... there are some items that the Ministry like to keep out of circulation, they're not dangerous as such just, if they fell into the wrong hands it would be... awkward." She looked directly at Harry, now completely serious. "So you have to promise me that you won't tell anyone about this!"
"I promise," Harry swore, wondering exactly what kind of item could be so special it would make Mrs Figg act like this.
"Ok then." Mrs Figg walked over to the corner and pulled a large black sheet off what looked like an empty life-sized picture frame. Harry looked at it expecting something amazing to happen but was disappointed. He looked at Mrs Figg trying to hide his expression of disappointment. Her eyes gleamed brighter now.
"It's called a Spectare Vitrum," she said getting more and more excited "basically it's a looking glass." Harry reached out and touched it. 'But there's no glass,' he thought then berated himself for being so naïve. 'Of course there was no glass, is a Chocolate frog a real frog?'
"How does it work?" he asked evenly.
"Well it's kind of like Apparating except without a wand. No wand, no registration, no record! You can go wherever you want to and no one will ever know." She was doing a sprightly little jig now. Harry suppressed a laugh.
"So you just have to imagine where you want to go?" Harry asked with a smile.
"No, it's not as easy as that. You have to be able to see the place in precise detail. I might know where your room is but I don't know what it looks like. You do. That's why I had to show you."
"Oh," Harry said realising that she wanted him to use it.
"Now close your eyes and start picturing your room, start with one detail and work from there. Once you're finished open your eyes again and we'll see if it worked."
Harry shut his eye and began to imaging his room. Starting with Hedwig's cage. He worked across his bed, over his trunk, past his wardrobe and mirror - seeing himself in it - then he seen the door, complete with the cat flap Vernon had installed three years ago and finally his window showing the back garden of number 4 Privet Drive. Harry took one last look making sure everything was in place before he opened his eyes.
He stared into the Spectare Vitrum but there was nothing there. He was about to look away when something caught his eye, a glint of metal as sunlight hit it. Harry realised it was the handle of his trunk. Slowly and surely, as if coming out of a mist, his room appeared before him is hazy but definite view.
Harry's mouth dropped open. Every time he experienced a new magical item it always amazed him. He had thought this would wear off as he got used to the wizarding world, but after four years he was still as impressed as ever.
"Should I go now?" he asked Mrs Figg, who was as immersed in the picture as he was.
"You have to wait until it's clear, otherwise you could get caught in the glass." Harry looked at her in shock. "Oh it's only ever happened a few times," she reasoned. "Where do you think talking mirrors come from?"
Harry gulped and stared at his room as it came into sharper focus.
"You ready?" Mrs Figg asked.
Harry nodded and then with falsely confident movement took two paces forward and stepped through the looking glass.
***
Author's note: Some may wonder why I have included Harry so prominently into a story, which is for the most part, concerned with the relationship between Sirius and Remus. My thinking was that if Sirius and Remus were to get together, Harry – being Sirius's godson – would be an important part of their lives, therefore he is an important part of my story.
***