The Mirror of Nostradamus

A/N: This took a while, I know. Sorry! Anyway, hope you like it and I just really really really love your reviews, so thanks to: (Sorry I'm writing the names with no comments but it's midnight and I'm exhausted)

Whitefeather, coolerimmortal, aniolek, Mella Deranged, Jerseygirl03, Kitch, Morphmaniac, Jesse, Jess, Luigi, AzianDorkess, Luke (Now that's a real flame. You're probably not reading this but I would recommend you reread the beginning of the chapter 'The Lost Prophecy' where JK herself makes Harry blame himself so tough luck pal) Lady A, Lan, Magee, GinnynHarrysecretlove, Lourdes, azntgr01

And a huge special thanks to the regular reviewers- luv you guys!

About the romance thing, I'm sorry but it can't go overly fast because it needs to develop. I even thought that it was slightly too fast in this chapter…but oh well! Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter 4: Back to HeadQuarters

         

Harry stood staring at the gold trunk for a few moments before kneeling on the dusty floor beside it and reaching for the old handle. The metal feeling cool against his warm skin, he pulled it open and the lid creaked slightly as he lifted it and steadied it with the wall. He peered inside and saw black material immediately; he ran his hand over the velvet gently then pulled the robe out. He recognized the standard Hogwarts robe and smiled slightly, then pulled out the next one; it was a beautiful lilac silk dress robe and there were a couple more underneath it. Harry piled his mother's old clothes neatly on the floor next to him. Their scent was still fresh and perfumed somehow, and Harry could almost smell her, feel her as she walked down the halls of the castle…

He reached back inside the trunk and this time he pulled out a framed photo of his parents similar to ones he'd seen in the photo album Hagrid had made for him. They were grinning and waving at him, and grinning back, he put the frame on top of the robes. Next came a stack of old letters and a silver badge that was still shiny despite how old it was, reading Head Girl.

He chose one of the letters and unfolded the yellowed parchment eagerly; the letters could very well be ones sent by her old friends or even his father. The handwriting was a bit childish but fairly decent, as though the person was writing very carefully and trying his best to make it look elegant.

Dear Lily,

            I miss you!! You just had to go skiing when you could've spent your Christmas with this amazing guy at Hogwarts (winks)…oh well, too bad…things are pretty dull without you. Well as dull as they can get over here…everyone's going crazy over the NEWTs although they're like months away, and the big Gryffindor – Slytherin match is right after the holidays- we're gonna kick their you- know- what, I'm sure of it!

Remember me while you're up those slopes…I know I'm a real jerk sometimes but I'm a lucky jerk and I really do miss you…

Anyway, gotta go…Sirius is supposed to be planting invisible Dungbombs on the professors' chairs in the High table and I'm supposed to be standing guard….Write back soon, please!

Love ya

            James

The letter was dated some time in December in what Harry assumed was their seventh year. Well his father didn't sound as arrogant as he'd been in Snape's memory- still pretty arrogant but just not as much. The letter sounded so light and happy and he wondered if the threat of Voldemort had been hanging on them at that time or not. It was probably around the time when he was gaining more and more power…

He skimmed through a few more letters; there were a couple more from James and some from a girl named Marlene McKinnon- the name was familiar to Harry and he realized that she was one of the members of the old Order Moody had shown him in that photo last year- one of those who had been killed…

Trying to push it out of his mind, he reached for another letter from James but this time immediately saw the difference: This letter –if it could be called a letter, as it was more like a short note- was neither happy nor light, and the handwriting was scribbled and barely legible, as though the writer was in a terrible hurry. The letters were jagged and faded sometimes, so it was obvious to Harry that James' hand had been shaking as he wrote. It was dated around a year after the Christmas letter, a couple of years before Harry had been born.

Lily,

      He's got it. I'm coming through the window in your room. Be careful. Don't touch ANYTHING.

                                                                                                James

Harry frowned at the note in confusion. Who was 'he' and what had he got? 'He' was Voldemort, probably. And 'it' couldn't have been the location to the Potters' home after the Secret Keeper had betrayed them, because that had been after Harry had been born.

He put the letter with the others, still pondering over what James had written. Then he remembered Dumbledore telling him about the prophecy last year…the boy with the power to defeat the Dark Lord would be born to parents who had defied him thrice…

 This was probably one of those three times they had escaped. Wondering what had happened, he looked back inside the trunk, and to his disappointment found only some more robes. Well, it made sense that the majority of the items his mother had valued had probably been in her own house, not her sister's, and had been destroyed along with the house.

Just as he was putting the last robe, a sapphire blue one, on top of the pile, something fell out of a pocket with a clink on to the attic's floor. He picked it up and held the small object in the palm of his hand; it was beautifully shaped, pointed and curved perfectly, its color a magnificent sparkling green, very close to the color of Harry's own eyes. He turned the emerald over in his hand and noticed that whatever angle he looked at it from, it seemed to shine with a glowing soft green light. He pocketed it and thoughtfully gathered everything in his arms as he stood up, the open trunk now empty before him. The last robe, which had contained the emerald, was on top of the pile and Harry noticed for the first time that the blue material was ripped and torn around the shoulders.

 He supposed he had a right to take the trunk as well as it had been his mother's but decided to leave it in the attic for the time being. He tread carefully through all the junk and went back downstairs to his room where he stored his mother's things safely in the base of his own trunk. And all the time he wondered about that curious letter and the mysterious emerald that had been there like that all by itself.

                                                                        ********************************

The next few days passed by uneventfully. Harry moped around his room, annoyed that Lupin still had not sent him the Marauders' Map back, for he often felt painful urges to talk to Padfoot again. Then, on a bright sunny Monday morning, his OWLs results arrived while he was eating breakfast with the Dursleys, along with an excited telephone call from Hermione.

His eyes were on his own plate; oblivious to the nonsensical conversation his aunt Petunia was trying to engage her husband in; about the reunion of her favorite movie star couple after months of separation. The unfamiliar owl zipped inside, knocking over Harry's orange juice and landing persistently on his plate. Uncle Vernon narrowed his eyes but said nothing; they were now used to owls coming in and out of the house and were helpless to the fact that the neighbors for sure would notice. He had told them a long while ago, in explanation, that Dudley had a science project about birds and he had chosen to study owls and their behaviour, thus buying a couple from the pet store.

"I assure you, it's only temporary," Harry remembered his uncle saying, the worn out purple vein bulging, to a skeptical looking crowd of people gathered at his door after the first week of 'owl intrusion'.

Now Aunt Petunia was guardedly eyeing the formal looking envelope the owl had been carrying; she did not have good experience with owls delivering letters and had been wary about them since she'd received the Howler. Harry was trying to scrub the orange liquid off his T-shirt before it stained. He glanced at the official sort of crest on the envelope and on the upper left the writing, Head of Magical Examinations Authority. His pulse started racing instinctively.

"Honestly, you'd think officials like that would find better trained owls," he muttered as he ripped the envelope open. The Dursleys tried to pretend he was invisible. A piece of parchment rolled out in front of him.

Dear Mr.Potter,

            We apologize for the delay in delivering your OWL results but there has been a slight problem in the Examinations Authority and we appreciate your understanding. You will find below your scores for the respective magical subjects. We wish you the very best.

                                                                                                                                                            Griselda Marchbanks

                                                                                                                                                              Head of Magical Examinations

Charms- Outstanding

Transfiguration- Exceeds Expectations

Defense against the Dark Arts- Outstanding

Care of Magical Creatures- Exceeds Expectations

Herbology- Exceeds Expectations

Divination- Poor

Potions- Outstanding

Astronomy- Acceptable

History of Magic- Poor

Harry stared at the contents, an amazed grin forming at his face. It was one of the few times he'd smiled that summer. He'd made it! He'd gotten all the grades needed to become an Auror…including outstanding in Potions. Wait till Snape hears about this, he thought, his grin widening.

He hadn't deemed it possible- after he'd done the tests, although he'd done fine, he had accepted the fact that just fine was not enough to realize his ambition, and he hadn't cared much at the time as he'd had much more important things going on… But now he could finally do what he really wanted, to fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters- and avenge his parents, Sirius and Cedric. It was the only thing he cared about living for right now.

"What are you so happy about?" Vernon growled, unable to stop himself.

"Oh, nothing," Harry said airily. "I just got my grades of last year back." He wolfed down his bacon with renewed energy and the phone rang as he was putting his plate in the sink.

Uncle Vernon answered, and Harry was halfway up the stairs when he stopped, frowning as he heard his uncle's end of the conversation.

"Yes?  ..Ohh…" His face grew purple and he pulled absently at his mustache. "We don't have any- er, right…one moment." He glared at Harry. "It's for you, boy. Make it quick." In spite of Moody's warning last year, it was the first time someone had attempted to call Harry on the telephone, besides Mrs. Figg.

Surprised, he took the receiver from his uncle. "Hello?"

"Harry! How are you?" He recognized the high pitched female voice immediately- it was Hermione.

"Hey, Hermione…what's up? Is something wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"Oh, no, no, nothing at all!" She sounded euphoric. "I wanted to talk to you and sending owls would take too much time."

"Yeah…Hedwig's out hunting…so I'm going to take a wild guess and say you did great on your OWLs?"

"Well, I guess I did pretty okay. But he could hear the beam in her voice. "I got Outstanding in everything except Astronomy- that was an E- well you know, no one did well on that, you remember."

Harry did. "Yeah, Hermione, this is great! Congratulations!" He was able to sound cheerful without faking it for at this rare moment he truly did feel some sort of happiness. "Not that it wasn't expected of course..."

"Thanks, Harry. How did you do?"

"Well I did pretty good too," And he told her. She was ecstatic. "You see, Harry? When you really want to work you do great! I'm proud of you…" Harry laughed.

"Do you know how Ron did?" he asked.

"No, I sent him an owl- speaking of which…"

"Yeah?"

"We're in a bit of a hurry, that's why I called. We're all going over to…headquarters…today evening. I was supposed to let you know. Someone will be here to get you at around seven pm."

"Oh." He didn't know what to think. He wanted to see everyone again, but on the other hand, that house held so many painful memories… "So you're telling me I have to fly all the way over there like last time in the freezing cold?"

"No. You're taking a Portkey- apparently the Ministry didn't care about the unauthorized Portkey Dumbledore used to get you to Hogwarts a few days ago so you're using one today. So are the Weasleys and I."

"Oh…okay." He still wasn't terribly excited about going to Grimmauld place. "Yeah…so, see you today?"

He hung up and looked back at the three Dursleys who immediately busied themselves with miscellaneous tasks and pretended they hadn't been listening. "I'm leaving today," he said dully. "At seven."

"Good," Vernon said immediately, not looking up from his newspaper. Dudley grunted and Petunia stared at him for a moment, then said in an attempt at casualness, "You'll…take care, boy, won't you?"

Dudley and Vernon just gaped at her.

                                                            ********************************

At promptly seven in the afternoon Tonks arrived to pick him up, this time with a fairly normal hairstyle: brown curls that fell to her shoulders.

"I didn't want to attract attention," she said matter-of-factly, eyeing him from up to down. "Got all your stuff?" Harry nodded. In the end he'd been unable to leave Sirius' 'burial' behind and had packed up everything that was under the floorboard, as well as some of his mother's old things he'd found.

They used an 'Undetectable Portkey' this time, which other than being secret, prevented anyone from tracking down the location of wherever they were going to go. They chose an old shoe which Tonks bewitched, and before they left, Harry glanced around at the Dursleys, who were- once more- gathered in the living room. Suddenly he felt a pang of worry for them, despite the mutual hatred they shared; it was just a matter of time before Voldemort struck again and the Dursleys- and Mrs. Figg- would be main targets of his, mainly due to their large role in protecting him, whether they liked it or not. "See you next summer," he muttered, and he tried to smile at his aunt. Her lips pulled up painfully in response.

Harry's depressed feelings increased as they landed in the Black House's gloomy living room and Tonks went flying into the cabinets, knocking over various silver serpent- shaped instruments. "At least it's better than crashing into that old umbrella thing," she muttered, groaning and starting to clear up the mess. Harry, remembering he was allowed to do magic, helped her by Banishing everything back inside though he was tempted to break the whole lot of them.

"It's much easier that way, eh?" a voice said behind them and he turned around to see a very tall Ron grinning at them. He heard footsteps; Hermione and Ginny had just entered behind Ron. For the next fifteen minutes the old room was filled with the sounds of their greetings and Harry tried to keep focused on the warmth and cheerfulness he felt around his friends and forget his surroundings. He slapped Ron's palm and hugged Hermione and Ginny, noting vaguely that it was the first time he'd done so with the latter.

"I'll leave you guys to catch up," said Tonks and for a moment the four of them stood staring awkwardly at each other after all the pleasantries and 'how are you doing's were over.

"Poor thing," Hermione said suddenly, sitting carefully on the moth- eaten couch.

"Who, Tonks?" asked Ron. "Why? She seemed okay to- oh." He broke off, staring at his feet. Harry remembered with a jolt that Tonks was Sirius's second cousin or something like that. He hadn't realized they were that close. His depressed feelings intensified and he wished for the joy he'd been feeling earlier that day.

"Erm…nice clothes," said Ron, grasping for another subject. "They actually fit you." Harry looked down at his muggle clothes. Black jeans. Black shirt. Black belt. He'd bought them at around the beginning of the summer and it was the first time he'd worn them. He hadn't even realized until now that he'd unconsciously picked the same color- or rather absence of color- for all his new purchases.

"Thanks, the Dursleys decided to be nice to me…I wonder why," he added sarcastically. They all looked at him and Harry knew they were noting his mourning clothes as well. There was silence again and Ron went over to sit on the couch next to Hermione. He and Ginny sat opposite them on the other one.

"Well honestly, this is ridiculous," Hermione snapped finally and Harry smiled gratefully. If every little thing had to remind them of Sirius they were never going to get through the summer. And he didn't want them to be uncomfortable because of him.

"Harry, why don't you tell us about how you caught Lestrange and all?" Ginny asked cautiously. But the look on Harry's face made it clear that this too was a dangerous subject. Then he attempted a small smile; he'd wanted to tell them anyway and at least this was something he would get off his chest.

"Well I didn't exactly catch her by myself…what I did was-" He coughed. Hermione was certainly not going to be happy. But he wanted to tell them, if not merely for the sake of curiosity about their reactions. "You can't tell anyone…I put the Cruciatus curse on her," he mumbled, not looking at any of them.

Ron's jaw dropped. "You what?!" cried Hermione. Ginny remained silent and chewed her lip thoughtfully. "I cast Crucio on her," Harry repeated flatly, louder this time.

"Harry, what- I don't believe- I- you," Hermione sputtered and Harry couldn't help feeling amused in spite of himself; it was rare to see the day when Hermione Granger was at a loss for words. "You could've gone to Azkaban!" she shrieked finally, her eyes wide.

"Yeah, I-" Harry shrugged, embarrassed. "I was mad, I dunno what got into me…besides, Dumbledore said they're legal again…"

"Dumbledore was there? And he didn't try to stop you?" Hermione practically yelled.

"Yeah…he stopped me…he wasn't too happy I used it but-"

"Well, obviously!"

"For heaven's sake, Hermione, give him a break!" Ron snapped. "Can't you see he's feeling bad about it himself?"

"Excuse me, Ron, if I care so much about my friend that I want to keep him alive! Don't you even know what casting Cruciatus can do to you if you're untrained?!" Hermione shot back. Harry closed his eyes, bracing himself for another argument.

"Well no I don't but I suppose you're going to tell me seeing as you're the brain here, Miss All Outstanding OWLs!" Ron snarled, his ears as red as his hair.

 Tears filled Hermione's eyes and Harry groaned silently. Way to go, Ron. "That's got nothing to do with this, Ron Weasley- don't change the subject!! It could've taken so much energy away from Harry, enough to kill him! If Dumbledore hadn't stepped in when he did-"

Ron paled instantly but his face was still livid. "Yeah? Well, obviously Harry didn't know! And you know what? I don't blame him! I mean, if some Death Eater had blasted away my Godfather I wouldn't only torture her I'D KILL HER!" the furious redhead yelled.

The room instantly fell silent. Ron knew he'd gone too far. He cast a nervous glance at Harry and got up, mumbling something under his breath about writing a letter to his brothers as he left the room. Glaring daggers at the spot where Ron had been sitting, Hermione stormed out without a word.

Harry buried his face in his hands. "I pity you," said a light voice from next to him, and his head jerked up. He'd forgotten Ginny was there.

"Yeah…you've seen nothing yet…although this was one of the bad ones. Personal record I'd say," he said dryly. She laughed and he looked up at her. Her chocolate brown eyes were twinkling. Harry was glad at least one person wasn't making a big deal about this.

"He likes her, doesn't he," Ginny said, in the form of a statement rather than a question. Harry nodded. "Yeah, I reckon so…they'd make a good couple- that is, if they can stop tearing each other's hair out for two seconds."

"Well I wouldn't count on it." She gave him a smile. Harry looked at her curiously. "If you don't mind my saying this, Ginny…I mean not that it bothered me or anything- but when you heard about me casting that curse, you didn't seem too…" He searched for the right word.

"Traumatized? No, Harry- I found it kind of expected you'd do something like that. I mean, you tried to last year didn't you? So when it didn't work, you just tried again." She said it so simply that Harry stared at her. "So you don't think I'm some sort of-"

"Crazed madman? Nah, I'll leave that to Fudge. And neither does Hermione, for that matter, or Ron. They just care about you, that's all," she said wisely. She was looking him straight in the eye and for some reason Harry found her gaze unnerving.

"I just wish they wouldn't make me the subject of their arguments every time…there are a lot of things wrong in this world, surely they can find something else that'll let them have a go at each other's throats," he said.

"Nah, you're much more interesting," Ginny said and then blushed furiously. "As a subject, I mean, of course," she added very hastily and Harry felt his own face flush. "Yeah, of course…" He was suddenly aware of how close she was to him on the couch as he could feel the heat coming from her body.

He leapt up. "I think I'm going to go and…say hello to your mother- haven't seen her yet."

"Yeah, I'd better go up and check up on Hermione…see what's up with her...do you want me to take your things up for you on my way?" She glanced at Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage which were still on the floor.

"You don't have to do that," said Harry quickly.

"Don't be ridiculous; I'll just levitate them, I love doing magic at home." And she did so before Harry could argue with her. Feeling stupid, he followed her out of the room and then as she went upstairs he headed off to the kitchen, keeping his eyes on the floor and not baring to look around him. He could still feel his very presence here, his scent…it wasn't right for them to use this house. It just wasn't right.

At the doorway to the kitchen he paused, sure that he could hear Lupin's voice. Good. His ex- professor would understand. It didn't occur to him to wonder about the other person talking with him and he was already past the doorway and calling out, "Professor Lupin, is that-" And he stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing with barely concealed anger as he saw the wizard sitting across the table from Remus. It was Snape.

A/N: I have the book now, thankfully, and when I was skimming through it I saw Grimmauld place being described as being like 'the house of a dying man' at the very beginning of the book. I read that and thought wow – did any of you notice that before you found out who dies? I have no idea why this occurred to me right now.