~*Harry Potter and the Second War*~

Wow, I'm shocked to have so many reviews already! I thought I was a really poor writer and completely out-of-character, to say the least... Well, I'm going forward again, and I'll crank out another chapter by midnight tomorrow... or something.

Funny Part of Book Five: "You don't want to bottle up your anger like that, Harry, let it all out. There might be a couple of people fifty miles away who didn't hear you." Fred, Order of the Phoenix  p 68

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Chapter 3- A Curved Path

When the group of wizards came to take him to the Burrow, Harry's trunk was neatly packed and Hedwig in her clean cage. There were a few sounds like a whip cracking, and a gathering of wizards had appeared in his cramped bedroom. Among them were the recognizable Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, and Remus Lupin. All of them looked as though someone had dragged them there, and that they had something evidently more important to do than usher him to where he was going.

"Good evening, Harry," said Lupin, casting the Locomotor spell on Harry's trunk. He looked positively grey, from his face, to his eyes, to the now massive amount of grey hair he now had. Harry knew exactly how he felt. Losing someone you knew was so vibrantly alive, like Sirius, did that to people. Before the first letter he got from his godfather a few days before, Harry was just as distraught, and sympathized with his former Professor.


"Hey," Harry muttered. "What did you do with the Dursleys?"

Tonks led everyone downstairs, and the trunks magically moved as well. "Tricked them out of this house again." She gave Harry a small wink. "Got that Firebolt ready, then?"

He fished the racing broom out of the closet under the stairs and noticed Lupin giving a nervous twitch. It suddenly struck Harry that the broom he was holding was a birthday present from Sirius, and felt sick inside. He didn't know if the letters were really from Sirius at all. . . . Sirius could really be dead forever. The veiled archway was something that even the Department of Mysteries had not figured out, so perhaps his godfather was trapped in it for good.

All the witches and wizards conjured their brooms into their hands and prepared to fly. Moody was growling orders at all of them, and they began to make a formation outside on the Dursley's front lawn. The streetlamps had mysteriously gone out, so it would be hard for them to be spotted. Lupin lightened Harry's trunk with a spell, and tied it and Hedwig's cage to the Firebolt's tail. After a quick Disillusionment charm, they were off the ground and soaring before they knew it.

The other witches and wizards kept enough distance from him that he had nobody to talk to. Casually, he slumped down on his broom and gazed distractedly, turning now and then with the rest of the flyers. He had a feeling that, when they thought Harry wasn't looking, everyone was sneaking looks at him. He tried to ignore the feeling of eyes watching him.

He didn't realize it, but he was falling asleep. As his mind drifted, he thought he could hear a very low muttering in the back of his mind, but he shook his head. He was somewhat sure he had heard muttering like that before, but he didn't know where. His scar began to burn, but he bit his tongue. It had been happening all summer and he couldn't do anything about it, so he'd decided to ignore the pain.

As they continued the flight, over houses and rolling hills, the pain began to grow worse. His eyes were starting to water, and he felt violently sick as well. He translated the agony to mean that the Dark Lord was definitely angry. He himself didn't feel angry, but he could just comprehend what Voldemort felt. Sometimes, the emotion got to such a degree that Harry shared them, in his opinion for no apparent reason.

The pain subsided suddenly. He felt dizzy and sick and horribly tired. For a few minutes there was a sort of ghastly silence, then words began to make sense again to his fevered mind.

"Bank left!" Moody yelled. Everyone, even Harry, complied.

Lupin broke ranks long enough to tell Harry what was going on. "There's been a change of plans. We're stopping at the headquarters."

Everyone drifted silently across the starless night sky. Several more orders were given before the one to land. Upon hitting solid ground, each witch and wizard, save Lupin, Tonks, and Moody, Disapparated on the spot with a loud cracking noise. This was punctuated by every one of the streetlights within two blocks of Grimmauld Place going out simultaneously with a few clicks of Dumbledore's Putter-Outer.

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place sprang up before them. When it grew to normal house size, the four of them proceeded up the steps and through the front door. The gas lamps along the old walls roared to life, lighting the dismal surroundings. Harry watched out of the corner of his eye as Tonks slipped Lupin a package.

"Dumbledore should be here by morning, Lupin. He'll straighten everything out," Moody said. He and Tonks closed the door of the house before Disapparating. Lupin gazed rather sullenly at Harry.

"It seems there was an attack on the wizard community nearest to the Weasley Burrow. Dumbledore is supposed to come by tomorrow morning to get you where you're going. . . . you'll be staying in Hogwarts castle for the rest of the summer."

Harry stood bolt upright, while Lupin removed the Disillusionment Charm. "An attack? Where?"

"We're not sure, but I think we'll have all the details by the morning. You should remember the way to the bedroom. Locomotor Trunk!" Harry's trunk zoomed up the stairs. Harry himself raced after them, shouting a quick good-night over his shoulder. Lupin drifted away down one of the many hallways and disappeared.

The bedroom was the same as ever, with a high ceiling and two empty beds. The same house-elf heads had leered at him from their mounts on the staircase. Harry felt bitter despite himself.

"It's not like anyone else has to put up with this load of rubbish. There's just no break from it, is there?" Harry had become used to talking to himself aloud. Nobody around him had cared when he began doing it during early summer, and he had progressed to cursing as well, if he were in a particularly bad mood.

Eventually, he tired of grumbling to himself and fell into a very heavy sleep.

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By morning, there were a few pitiful rays of summer sunlight streaming through the window. Harry woke up and got dressed, his bad mood gone just as strangely as it came.

Dumbledore was in the kitchen with Lupin. They were talking very quietly, but if Harry strained his ears while he stood in the doorway, he could hear a few words, such as "school", "Weasleys", and "Portkey".

Lupin beckoned Harry over to the table he and the Headmaster were sitting at. He sat down, somewhat confused.

"Harry, I know you are no doubt angry that you cannot be taken to, and kept safe at, the Weasleys'. However, it is important you realize that it would be your safety in jeopardy if we were to let you go to the Burrow. That is why you will be spending the remaining part of summer at the Hogwarts castle. I will give you the liberty to wander around the interior of the castle and trust that you will do your homework, but you will still have Occlumency lessons from Professor Snape, and Auror training from Professor McGonagall."

"Occlumency lessons?" groaned Harry.

"I trust Snape perfectly well, and I have my reasons, too. I will be transporting your trunk and owl cage separately, so all you need is a Portkey –" Dumbledore found a small cup on the table and tapped it with his wand. It glowed blue momentarily. "The password to the Gryffindor common room is 'eye of newt'. Just wait in the common room or dormitory for today. I have a house-elf named Dobby bringing you your meals, never fear."

Harry grasped the cup. He felt, once again, the tug and the blur of colors around him that meant he was on his way.

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Kinda boring chapter, if you ask me... (even if you didn't ask me, I still think that)

I changed chapter one, people. I added O.W.L.s if you didn't see. More (interesting) chapters to come... I think... maybe...

Review! You don't want my really OOC Harry Potter blasting you with hexes, do you? No, I thought not... but he will if you don't review. *ducks a few tomatoes, spoiled fruits and veggies, and a boot*