Everything Property of J.K. Rowling.
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-----------------------------------------
Harry
Mum got an owl from Dumbledore last night. She said I could be the one to tell you that you're coming to stay with us for the rest of the summer before term. I'm not sure when they are coming to pick you up but I expect it will be soon so just sit tight. I know you'll be happy to get away from those bloody Muggles finally and we can't wait to see you. We miss you, chap. We hope you're alright. Hermione says hi, she's here too. We'll see you soon, Oh yeah, Happy Birthday.
Ron
Harry closed the letter and looked at the small pile of packages that Hedwig had brought in. Before going to open them he walked to her cage and looked at his beloved pet. She chirped happily and looked at him with big eyes waiting patiently for her treat. He pushed the food through the bars of the cage and eyed her sadly for a moment, then returned to his bed to open the parcels. It was nice of them to send them early, though it didn't stop him from wondering why. If he was to be staying with them at the Order's headquarters why wouldn't they just wait to give him his gifts when he arrived? It would just be more for him to carry. They probably thought he needed a cheering up, he thought to himself scathingly. Yeah that was exactly what he needed, presents to cheer him up. That just covers up the fact that Sirius is dead, that he had to go back to headquarters… the same place Sirius had once called home, and that the only one who can destroy Voldemort was Harry himself even though it could have been… At the thought of that, all the memories of the end of term came flooding upon him in a thick wave of anger. Harry picked up the closest thing he could grab (his Quidditch Through the Ages book) and hurled it against the wall of his room with all the energy he could muster. The minute his fingers released the book he realized he'd made a grave mistake. The book slammed against the wall with a sickening crash knocking over the lamp by his bed. Of course the ceramic lamp shattered everywhere and before Harry could cover up the mess he heard the footsteps of one purple-faced uncle bounding up the stairs.
The door to Harry's room flew open and Uncle Vernon stood there wheezing, the hairs of his mustache flipping out with every heavy breath.
"What in the hell was that noise boy? I thought I told you…' he boomed.
"Thought you told me what Uncle Vernon? That I couldn't accidentally trip and knock over a lamp in my room, or are you going to punish me for being human enough to actually stumble over my own feet?" Harry said fiercely. Uncle Vernon suddenly looked as though he was about to explode, but said nothing. Harry supposed his uncle was remembering the warning given to him earlier that summer. It wasn't like Harry to take chances angering Uncle Vernon but today Harry was just too bitter to care. He was fortunate enough to have come up with that tripping story fast enough before his uncle could really have set in on him. It was believable, but he'd have to control his impulses a bit more carefully if he was going to stay on his uncle's good side. And that good side only meant being practically ignored and left alone to do as he pleases as long as he didn't cause a ruckus.
Uncle Vernon stood there puffing his chest for a moment eyeing Harry with the utmost contempt, then turned to leave. As he pounded down the stairs Harry could hear him mutter under his breath…
"Human indeed, little freak wants to speak against me like that again he'll be sorry…" but his voice faded when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Harry stood there for a moment soaking in the last few minutes, lately it seemed like everything around him was a blur. People spoke to him, but everything was just cloudy like Harry wasn't really apart of the conversation, it felt like his mind was in another world and he was just forced to live in this one as a shell, a very empty and saddened shell. Shaking the cobwebs from his head he remembered that he had presents to open. Maybe they would make him feel a little better; at least they would take his mind off his stupid git of an uncle.
Harry absently picked up one of the packages and tore off the brown paper. The gift was from the Ron, the bag contained handfuls of sweets and yet another book about Quidditch. Harry really was beginning to have a collection. The next was obviously from Hermione, he thought to himself. She had sent him a refill for the planner she gave him last year. It was filled with even more little anecdotes reminding him that if he finished his homework promptly there would be more time to play. Dropping her "fun-filled" present aside he opened the last of the packages and was immediately filled with curiosity. The paper revealed a small tarnished, silver box engraved in a language Harry did not understand. What the carvings might have meant was suspicious enough but what the box held was even more curious. It was lined with the smoothest blue satin and set in the center of the box was a set of oddly shaped keys. Harry picked up the keys and examined them carefully. One looked strangely familiar like one he may have used before, but he couldn't place it. Moving on to the second in the set, Harry made the assumption that it was simply a house key. What made it more interesting was the apparent crest the formed the head. Unfortunately it was horribly tarnished, probably from basic wear and tear, which made it practically indecipherable. The last key however, was a mystery in its own. Gleaming in the light, it was a glossy jet black and the top came to a very sharp point. Two serpents donned its length wrapping around the entirety of the key. Harry touched the point lightly with his index finger and jerked it back suddenly with a silent twinge of pain. A drop of blood formed slowly around the puncture and fell into the box staining the satin. Annoyed, Harry dropped the keys back into the box and went to the washroom to find a band-aid for his now very bloody finger. What was this all about? Why would someone make something as simple as a key look so sinister, and more so, why would it be sent to him? The thought became alarming when Harry realized what animal was the key's main focus, and thought he should send an owl back to Ron about it. It could be dangerous. But a small corner of parchment sticking out from underneath the satin caught Harry's eye. He pulled at the satin lightly and saw that it lifted in one corner and underneath was a note addressed to Harry himself.
Dear Harry,
Though I am not sure if this gift will bring you much happiness, I was under strict request to deliver it to you at once. Of course when I see you, I will explain its contents among a few other circumstances that are of very high importance. For now I wish for you to "hang out" and wait for one of my associates to retrieve you. I'm sorry to have yet again left you in the dark but I assure I will explain everything in due time. I will see you soon.
Professor Dumbledore
The note left Harry a bit angry and quite confused but he put it back in the box and closed it tightly. If Dumbledore said he would explain then Harry believed him, regardless that it aggravated him to wait.
~*~
Harry spent the rest of the day packing his things in his trunk taking extra time to organize everything for lack of better things to do. Before he knew it he was climbing into bed and sleepily flipping through the pages of his new Quidditch book. This book was a bit more interesting than his others because it explained some new tactics set specifically for Seekers. Harry thought of playing Quidditch again, that Umbridge woman had snatched it right out from under him last year. He was sure that her removal meant that he'd be free of that ridiculous ban she had placed on him.
IHe was flying through the air on his Firebolt, the sun beaming from behind him he could see others flying around the pitch as well. Yes, there was Ron over by the goal post hovering left and right as if waiting to stop and incoming Quaffle. Oh and there was Professor McGonagall near one of the stands, on a vacuum…? Wait, there was someone moving on the ground. He was too high up to see it, he headed down a bit… Who is that? Harry squinted as he dove further down to see this mystery person walking solemnly on the floor of the pitch. A moment later Harry faced a mental blow that made him slip off his broom and fall to the ground with a painful thud. Lucky for him he was a mere fifteen feet off the ground and by a Quidditch player's standards that was nothing. Harry shook his head as he sat up and immediately tears formed in his eyes. Standing there looking off towards the entrance to the pitch was Sirius. Harry sprung up and ran towards him at full speed, but as he got closer he saw that Sirius looked transparent like…a ghost. Right as Harry went to speak to him; Sirius whipped around and faced his gaze directly upon Harry. The man looked like death itself, his hair matted and hanging limp shadowing his eyes.
"Sirius, oh I thought you were dead. Thank god you're here. I've missed you so much…' sputtered Harry.
"Quiet. I don't have much time. I promise you Harry this won't be the last you see of me, but I have to make this short. I am dead. I cannot begin to explain how it happened to you as it would take too long. I have come to tell you something very important."
"Dead…? What? But you're here, you can't be…" choked Harry as he fought back another wave of tears. His face burned from the saline that soaked his cheeks, his stomach was so upset, he was doing all he could to not to throw up all over his shoes.
"Listen to me Harry, you must pay attention. There will be time for other things later…There are many rooms kept hidden from view, they contain,' but Harry couldn't hear what Sirius was saying. He could see his mouth moving but no sound was coming out. He suddenly realized everything around him was brightening. Sirius appeared to be screaming something at Harry and he strained his ears mercilessly to hear but failed. The pitch became so bright Harry couldn't see around him, with his final look at Sirius he saw him holding out his hand and Harry reached to touch it. Their fingers had almost met…
Harry jerked awake as the sunlight barreled through his window and into his eyes. He could have sworn he'd drawn the shade the night before. Sleepily he sat up and looked at the clock next to him, it blinked a staggering seven-thirty a.m. Realizing there was no way he could fall back asleep he stood up out of bed and walked to the window. He was then startled by the owl that perched itself on his window sill. Harry opened the window and the owl hopped in and hooted softly as he stuck out his leg. Harry pulled the small piece of parchment off the owl's ankle and hurriedly fed it a treat so it could be on its way. The owl hopped back over to the window sill, spread its tawny wings and flew off into the bright sunny morning. Harry ripped open the small letter; it read one line and one line only.
Have your things ready, we will come for you this evening at six p.m. sharp.
Remus
Read and Review
-----------------------------------------
Harry
Mum got an owl from Dumbledore last night. She said I could be the one to tell you that you're coming to stay with us for the rest of the summer before term. I'm not sure when they are coming to pick you up but I expect it will be soon so just sit tight. I know you'll be happy to get away from those bloody Muggles finally and we can't wait to see you. We miss you, chap. We hope you're alright. Hermione says hi, she's here too. We'll see you soon, Oh yeah, Happy Birthday.
Ron
Harry closed the letter and looked at the small pile of packages that Hedwig had brought in. Before going to open them he walked to her cage and looked at his beloved pet. She chirped happily and looked at him with big eyes waiting patiently for her treat. He pushed the food through the bars of the cage and eyed her sadly for a moment, then returned to his bed to open the parcels. It was nice of them to send them early, though it didn't stop him from wondering why. If he was to be staying with them at the Order's headquarters why wouldn't they just wait to give him his gifts when he arrived? It would just be more for him to carry. They probably thought he needed a cheering up, he thought to himself scathingly. Yeah that was exactly what he needed, presents to cheer him up. That just covers up the fact that Sirius is dead, that he had to go back to headquarters… the same place Sirius had once called home, and that the only one who can destroy Voldemort was Harry himself even though it could have been… At the thought of that, all the memories of the end of term came flooding upon him in a thick wave of anger. Harry picked up the closest thing he could grab (his Quidditch Through the Ages book) and hurled it against the wall of his room with all the energy he could muster. The minute his fingers released the book he realized he'd made a grave mistake. The book slammed against the wall with a sickening crash knocking over the lamp by his bed. Of course the ceramic lamp shattered everywhere and before Harry could cover up the mess he heard the footsteps of one purple-faced uncle bounding up the stairs.
The door to Harry's room flew open and Uncle Vernon stood there wheezing, the hairs of his mustache flipping out with every heavy breath.
"What in the hell was that noise boy? I thought I told you…' he boomed.
"Thought you told me what Uncle Vernon? That I couldn't accidentally trip and knock over a lamp in my room, or are you going to punish me for being human enough to actually stumble over my own feet?" Harry said fiercely. Uncle Vernon suddenly looked as though he was about to explode, but said nothing. Harry supposed his uncle was remembering the warning given to him earlier that summer. It wasn't like Harry to take chances angering Uncle Vernon but today Harry was just too bitter to care. He was fortunate enough to have come up with that tripping story fast enough before his uncle could really have set in on him. It was believable, but he'd have to control his impulses a bit more carefully if he was going to stay on his uncle's good side. And that good side only meant being practically ignored and left alone to do as he pleases as long as he didn't cause a ruckus.
Uncle Vernon stood there puffing his chest for a moment eyeing Harry with the utmost contempt, then turned to leave. As he pounded down the stairs Harry could hear him mutter under his breath…
"Human indeed, little freak wants to speak against me like that again he'll be sorry…" but his voice faded when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Harry stood there for a moment soaking in the last few minutes, lately it seemed like everything around him was a blur. People spoke to him, but everything was just cloudy like Harry wasn't really apart of the conversation, it felt like his mind was in another world and he was just forced to live in this one as a shell, a very empty and saddened shell. Shaking the cobwebs from his head he remembered that he had presents to open. Maybe they would make him feel a little better; at least they would take his mind off his stupid git of an uncle.
Harry absently picked up one of the packages and tore off the brown paper. The gift was from the Ron, the bag contained handfuls of sweets and yet another book about Quidditch. Harry really was beginning to have a collection. The next was obviously from Hermione, he thought to himself. She had sent him a refill for the planner she gave him last year. It was filled with even more little anecdotes reminding him that if he finished his homework promptly there would be more time to play. Dropping her "fun-filled" present aside he opened the last of the packages and was immediately filled with curiosity. The paper revealed a small tarnished, silver box engraved in a language Harry did not understand. What the carvings might have meant was suspicious enough but what the box held was even more curious. It was lined with the smoothest blue satin and set in the center of the box was a set of oddly shaped keys. Harry picked up the keys and examined them carefully. One looked strangely familiar like one he may have used before, but he couldn't place it. Moving on to the second in the set, Harry made the assumption that it was simply a house key. What made it more interesting was the apparent crest the formed the head. Unfortunately it was horribly tarnished, probably from basic wear and tear, which made it practically indecipherable. The last key however, was a mystery in its own. Gleaming in the light, it was a glossy jet black and the top came to a very sharp point. Two serpents donned its length wrapping around the entirety of the key. Harry touched the point lightly with his index finger and jerked it back suddenly with a silent twinge of pain. A drop of blood formed slowly around the puncture and fell into the box staining the satin. Annoyed, Harry dropped the keys back into the box and went to the washroom to find a band-aid for his now very bloody finger. What was this all about? Why would someone make something as simple as a key look so sinister, and more so, why would it be sent to him? The thought became alarming when Harry realized what animal was the key's main focus, and thought he should send an owl back to Ron about it. It could be dangerous. But a small corner of parchment sticking out from underneath the satin caught Harry's eye. He pulled at the satin lightly and saw that it lifted in one corner and underneath was a note addressed to Harry himself.
Dear Harry,
Though I am not sure if this gift will bring you much happiness, I was under strict request to deliver it to you at once. Of course when I see you, I will explain its contents among a few other circumstances that are of very high importance. For now I wish for you to "hang out" and wait for one of my associates to retrieve you. I'm sorry to have yet again left you in the dark but I assure I will explain everything in due time. I will see you soon.
Professor Dumbledore
The note left Harry a bit angry and quite confused but he put it back in the box and closed it tightly. If Dumbledore said he would explain then Harry believed him, regardless that it aggravated him to wait.
~*~
Harry spent the rest of the day packing his things in his trunk taking extra time to organize everything for lack of better things to do. Before he knew it he was climbing into bed and sleepily flipping through the pages of his new Quidditch book. This book was a bit more interesting than his others because it explained some new tactics set specifically for Seekers. Harry thought of playing Quidditch again, that Umbridge woman had snatched it right out from under him last year. He was sure that her removal meant that he'd be free of that ridiculous ban she had placed on him.
IHe was flying through the air on his Firebolt, the sun beaming from behind him he could see others flying around the pitch as well. Yes, there was Ron over by the goal post hovering left and right as if waiting to stop and incoming Quaffle. Oh and there was Professor McGonagall near one of the stands, on a vacuum…? Wait, there was someone moving on the ground. He was too high up to see it, he headed down a bit… Who is that? Harry squinted as he dove further down to see this mystery person walking solemnly on the floor of the pitch. A moment later Harry faced a mental blow that made him slip off his broom and fall to the ground with a painful thud. Lucky for him he was a mere fifteen feet off the ground and by a Quidditch player's standards that was nothing. Harry shook his head as he sat up and immediately tears formed in his eyes. Standing there looking off towards the entrance to the pitch was Sirius. Harry sprung up and ran towards him at full speed, but as he got closer he saw that Sirius looked transparent like…a ghost. Right as Harry went to speak to him; Sirius whipped around and faced his gaze directly upon Harry. The man looked like death itself, his hair matted and hanging limp shadowing his eyes.
"Sirius, oh I thought you were dead. Thank god you're here. I've missed you so much…' sputtered Harry.
"Quiet. I don't have much time. I promise you Harry this won't be the last you see of me, but I have to make this short. I am dead. I cannot begin to explain how it happened to you as it would take too long. I have come to tell you something very important."
"Dead…? What? But you're here, you can't be…" choked Harry as he fought back another wave of tears. His face burned from the saline that soaked his cheeks, his stomach was so upset, he was doing all he could to not to throw up all over his shoes.
"Listen to me Harry, you must pay attention. There will be time for other things later…There are many rooms kept hidden from view, they contain,' but Harry couldn't hear what Sirius was saying. He could see his mouth moving but no sound was coming out. He suddenly realized everything around him was brightening. Sirius appeared to be screaming something at Harry and he strained his ears mercilessly to hear but failed. The pitch became so bright Harry couldn't see around him, with his final look at Sirius he saw him holding out his hand and Harry reached to touch it. Their fingers had almost met…
Harry jerked awake as the sunlight barreled through his window and into his eyes. He could have sworn he'd drawn the shade the night before. Sleepily he sat up and looked at the clock next to him, it blinked a staggering seven-thirty a.m. Realizing there was no way he could fall back asleep he stood up out of bed and walked to the window. He was then startled by the owl that perched itself on his window sill. Harry opened the window and the owl hopped in and hooted softly as he stuck out his leg. Harry pulled the small piece of parchment off the owl's ankle and hurriedly fed it a treat so it could be on its way. The owl hopped back over to the window sill, spread its tawny wings and flew off into the bright sunny morning. Harry ripped open the small letter; it read one line and one line only.
Have your things ready, we will come for you this evening at six p.m. sharp.
Remus