Chapter 10: A New Start
Harry awoke early, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. It was early in the morning; the sunlight
had not drifted into the room yet, and Ron was still asleep, snoring quietly. Harry rolled onto his
side, hoping that today would be better. Before drifting off to sleep again, he made a conscious
decision to be nicer to Ron and Hermione today; he had so many things to tell them, things that
just weren't as good unless you shared them with a friend. With that thought, he closed his eyes
and drifted back into a dreamless sleep.
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Voleta Voile paced anxiously across her living room, tears streaming from her eyes. She had tried
to shut this out, to disown this world, to forget its very existence, and yet here it was, rushing
to meet her and attempting once again to pull her back into its realm. She spun around and faced
Dumbledore, who was sitting serenely on Voleta's overstuffed sofa.
"I can't go back," she said forcefully. He merely smiled. Damn him, she thought bitterly to
herself. He hasn't changed, not one bit, in 15 years! She knew at this very moment he was
probably reading her mind, just like he always had, and that she would lose the argument she was
about to have with him. Still, it was worth an effort. "I can't go back," she repeated. "It would
be too hard for me, emotionally... I can't do it," she finished lamely, desperately trying to
figure out why she had ever tried to oppose him in the first place. She knew he was right. She
must return.
"Adele, I know you understand why you have to return to our world. The wizarding community needs
you. I know you do not want to come, but this decision is not up to me. This is fate, Adele, and
we all must answer its call." Damn it! she thought to herself angrily. Why does he always
have to make so much sense?!?! There's no way out of this now, she thought. She sighed.
"All right," she said snappishly, her French accent ringing clear. "I will do what you need me to."
Dumbledore bowed his head.
"Thank you," he said simply, smiling up at her. "We will allow you one week to finish your business
in the muggle world, and then we shall have a team come to help move your belongings to the
Order of the Phoenix headquarters." She glanced sharply at him.
"Where exactly are the headquarters of the Order?" she asked.
"Number 12, Grimmauld Place," he replied, looking somewhat downcast.
"Not Sirius too?" She whispered. "How many of them are gone? Is anyone left, anyone at all?" Her
eyes brimmed with tears. "Is... is he..."
"He's still here, Adele. At the headquarters. You will see him in one week. I shall meet you here
next Tuesday at noon. Good luck packing, and thank you for having the strength and courage to do
this. I know it is difficult for you." With a swish of his cloak, he disapparated.
Voleta Voile fell back into an armchair. First, I'll have to quit my cozy office job, she
thought to herself. The job she had continuously told herself she loved; in reality, however, she
knew it was meaningless. Especially in comparision to what she would be doing next week. Standing,
she walked to her desk and withdrew a dust-covered book from the back shelf. Brushing it off a
bit, the shiny letters embossed on the cover appeared, "Hogwarts Class of 1978"; she glanced through
the pictures inside quickly before throwing it down, tears appearing in her eyes. She stood up
abruptly and went into her bedroom to begin packing, leaving the yearbook open to the page with her
own picture staring up innocently from the coffee table. "Adele Fleur, Most Likely to Succeed" was
written just below it.
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Harry, Ron, and Hermione had taken the day to go to Diagon Alley. They had already bought their
school supplied and were currently sitting outside enjoying their sundaes in the late August heat.
For what seemed to be the first time in months, Harry was actually enjoying himself around his
friends, talking and laughing. The conversation was light and carefree as Hermione described her
holiday in Italy; Harry listened jealously, he had never been anywhere exciting. If the Dursleys
went on a trip, they always left him home. Hermione finished and turned to Ron.
"How about you? Anything exciting over the summer?" she asked.
"Hmm..." He thought for a minute. "Fred and George's business is still booming, they're going to
be bloody millionaires pretty soon. I overheard Ginny telling one of her friends she has a new
boyfriend, I just haven't figured out who it is. She won't tell me." Hermione giggled at this,
and Ron shot her an angry look. "What? She won't tell!"
"Well of course she won't, Ron, she has good reason not to. You tend to dislike her boyfriends,
if I remember correctly from last year..." Ron gaped at her.
"Well if she doesn't ever tell me, how will she know if I'm mad??" He asked, exasperated.
"How about you, Harry, anything new over the summer?" Hermione cut in smoothly.
"Er..." What had he done all summer? Just mourned Sirius, he thought to himself. That would
sound quite pathetic to Ron and Hermione: Oh, nothing really, just spent every day crying in my
room not eating... An escape from this question occured to him.
"Did I tell you I'm a prefect?" He asked, grinning, knowing that in fact he had not told them yet.
"What??" cried Hermione, flabbergasted. "But... how... Ron and I..." Harry grinned.
"Dumbledore sent me a letter, when we got our Hogwart's letters. I guess they chose 2 more prefects
for each year, because the VOldemort situation has gotten out of control." Ron shivered at the name,
Hermione hitting him lightly on the shoulder.
"Ron, you have to get over this name thing," she chided gently. He didn't respond. "Anyways, Harry,
that's wonderful news! Anything else?" she asked, as if she already knew.
"I'm Quidditch captain," he said quietly, smiling but trying not to look too proud of himself.
"You are?? Congratulations, mate!" Ron said jovially, punching his shoulder. "This is gonna be a
great year... the best one so far!" Harry smiled. He was glad Ron was so happy for him; he had
been afraid that he might be jealous. At this point in time, Harry knew there was nowhere he would
rather be than sitting in the warm sunlight eating ice cream with his friends, telling stories
about their summers, listening to jokes and predicting what next year would bring. However, he
still knew that, in the back of his mind, the prophesy existed; he knew he must tell Ron and
Hermione soon, but for now he could push this thought away.
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