The Road Not Taken: The Chamber of Secrets
~*
"Hello." The darkness of the dream echoed with the voice of a stranger. "Potter."
"Where am I? What is this?"
"A warning," the voice responded. "A spell, largely unknown, which allows me to speak to you while you sleep. And you'd better listen, because I've been waiting for hours for you to show up."
"What? What's going on?"
"If you're always this articulate while you're asleep, Potter, your dreams must be fascinating."
"Wait a minute-you're-"
"A friend." The voice cut him off sharply. "I can't warn you without catching the attention of some very dangerous people, and even this method has its dangers. Potter, you can't go back to school this year."
"Why not?"
"Something...very bad is happening. Soon, Hogwarts will be...dangerous. For you, for everyone. But especially you."
"Why?" The voice chuckled, and Harry tried not to think about who it reminded him of.
"Why? You tell me why, Potter! I know what really happened last year; other people do, too."
"Wait-Volde-"
"DON'T SAY HIS NAME!" There was a moment when a pale hand almost touched his, reaching from the darkness. "It's a dangerous name, Potter. Especially now."
"So...is *He* doing something?"
"No, Potter. The man you met last year is weak, near death. I can tell you...that old ghosts are awaking. Things that have not been seen for far too long...You cannot go back. Not now."
"But what about my friends?"
"You're the one in danger, Potter."
"But if I'm in danger, so is Neville. I'm sorry, but I have to go."
"Dammit, Potter! I didn't want to have to do this-" But Harry, feeling angry, *shoved* at his 'friend', feeling his mind press against the other's. But then the contact died, and the dream ended with a jolt.
*~
James Potter, certainly not as agile as he was when he was 13, nevertheless vaulted over a chair and an ottoman to reach his son's bed. The boy, screaming, barely noticed his father, even as the man wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace.
"Harry. Harry, I'm here. Your mother's down the hall. Harry!" Harry finally seemed to wake up at his father's voice; he glanced around, confused.
"Dad," he gasped, returning the hug. "I...thanks."
"Harry, what's wrong? What was...*that* about?" Harry suddenly loosened his grip and pulled away from his father a little.
"I...it's nothing, Dad. It's just a bad dream, you know?"
James gave his son a scrutinizing look, but then gave him a grin, even though Harry *knew* his father didn't believe that. "Okay, Harry. But get some sleep; we've got a big day tomorrow. Shopping, you know."
"With Sirius and Remus, right?"
"Yes, with the happy couple," James responded, making a mock-disgusted face. "If I didn't like those two so much, I'd kill them for being so...sweet." Harry grinned, and gave his father another hug. After James left the room, he sat in his bed for a few minutes, thinking. His father was so close to his friends...well, family. He was so close to the friends he had made at Hogwarts, and now that Harry was making his own friends...
'If something were to happen to them...' Harry shivered. Of course he had to go back to Hogwarts. He had to protect his friends from whatever what was happening...and protect the person who'd risked himself to warn Harry.
With those thoughts, he slipped back into sleep.
*
When Harry got to Flourish and Blott's the next day, he found a very exuberant Sirius Black waiting for him and his parents.
"Oi! Harry! I've got wonderful news for you!" James strolled up behind his son, and smirked at his oldest friend.
"From what I hear, it's more of good news for *you* than Harry..."
"Hey, shut up, you git!" Sirius grinned and pulled his godson along into the bookstore. "Don't listen to that git, Harry. He doesn't know what he's talking about; he's forgotten how enriching it is to have Sirius Black in his life. Luckily, he will learn this year because he will be denied that pleasure." Harry frowned in concentration as he considered what his godfather meant.
"Um...what do you mean?"
"I've got a job at Hogwarts, Harry."
"What?"
"I wanted to come to Hogwarts with Remus. You know..." Sirius suddenly found the ground very interesting, and Harry couldn't blame him. From what he knew, spending time away from Remus had driven his godfather crazy; he was apparently embarrassed about what had happened.
"So? Dumbledore'd let you-"
"I didn't want to be hanging around the school doing nothing of use to anybody!" Sirius protested. His face suddenly melted into a smirk, and he added, "Well, nothing of use to *almost* anyone." Harry suddenly wished his mother had never told him about...well, the sort of thing that Sirius and Remus liked doing together. It put a lot of what Sirius said in a very...well, different perspective. Harry blushed and looked away as Sirius laughed. "Sorry, Harry. Couldn't help myself."
"So what are you doing?" At that, Sirius' grin faded a little.
"Well, Dumbledore told me that there were no open positions, but...well, he felt that there might be a position he would create that might come in handy." Sirius stopped walking, and Harry realized it was because the bookshop was actually very crowded. A crowd stood before them, and Harry suddenly realized that Sirius had stopped right behind Remus, who had a stack of books with him.
"Ah, hello, Harry. I got your schoolbooks here. I thought you might want to worry more about Sirius than finding the right textbooks."
"Liar," Sirius responded. "You just wanted a chance to browse the bookstore unhindered. I see that Charms book in there; and is that Mercury LaRousse's newest book?" Remus flushed, and he glanced away from his fiance. Sirius grinned at Remus and stepped close, giving him a light kiss on the cheek. "Ah, I don't mean it. I love your bookishness, Remie. I'll even treat, hmm?" Remus sighed, and nodded. "Don't look like that, Remus. I never get to buy you anything unless you can't get out of it." Remus, who had seemed to be working at looking self-suffering, gave Sirius a half smile, and then slipped his free hand around Sirius' waist.
"Very well, Paddy. I will give into your wicked temptations. This time."
Harry glanced between the two men, frowning. Now that he knew what went on between them (in far greater detail than he actually might *want* to know), he wondered how he had ever not noticed *something*. The way Sirius brown eyes were so genuinely happy when he looked at Remus, or the way that Remus always had a sparkle about him, especially in his golden eyes, when Sirius was around. He wondered briefly if he'd ever have something like that with someone. But at the moment, they were being embarrassing.
"Sirius...do you need to be all...cuddly in here? And what's this line for?"
"Goodness me, it's another fan! Oh, Mr. Lupin, may I say that I am a great fan of your papers; I feel that you are nearly as knowledgeable in the defense against the Dark Arts as I am. Oh, is this your son? Wonderful little lad, aren't you? Look just like your father." Harry didn't have the time to tell the blond, smiling man that while he *did* look just like his father, Remus wasn't it (and where *were* his parents? They'd probably decided he was fine alone with "the boys", as his mother called them). Because by then, the man had already continued on what was not so much a conversation as a monologue. "Well, I'm certain you've come to bring your son to meet me; is he going to Hogwarts? Well, then, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised to learn that I will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. Of course, I was the natural choice for the position; Albus called me up one day, said, 'Gilderoy, we're in a bit of a spot. We need a Defense teacher, and we need one quickly. Of course, I wanted the best, so I thought of you. Please, Mr. Lockhart, tell me you're not going off to save the world from Dark wizards.' And although I had a number of very important appointments over the next year, I dropped them all, because as far as I'm concerned, there's nothing as important as educating the hope of the future. And there, little Lupin, I've signed your books. Remus, he looks like a bright lad-excuse me, do I know you?"
Sirius, who looked like he was listening to a Banshee, suddenly glanced at Mr. Lockhart, who was dressed in baby egg-blue robes. "If you recall, I was hired by Albus Dumbledore to be your teaching assistant," Sirius ground out, his teeth clenched. "My name is Sirius Black?"
"Ah, Sean!" Mr. Lockhart said, his face suddenly even more jovial. Sirius looked like he was seconds away from committing cold-hearted murder. "Yes, of course. Albus thought that this boy might make a fine teacher some day, but he's got a few problems. So Albus asked me to give him some tips, pointers, take him under my wing, as it were. Really, he seems a little dull, but I'll do my best. Well, you'd best run off. I'm sure you have lots to do." And as Mr. Lockhart pushed them aside, Harry caught sight of Neville several yards away, trying to clean up a huge stack of books.
"Oh, Sirius-I'm going to see Neville..." Sirius nodded, and pointed to the front of the store. Harry would meet him there when he was done. Harry nodded in response, and then headed to Neville's side. Apparently, the round-faced boy had knocked over a stack of copies of "Magical Me", the newest book by Gilderoy Lockhart.
"Hey, Neville. Having a bit of trouble?" Neville smiled a little helplessly.
"Yeah." He stacked a few books in his arms, tried to move a few dozen copies of "Magical Me" back into their pile, and failed miserably in both regards.
"Here, let me help," Harry said, and grabbed the books. They spent a few minutes picking up the mess, and Harry had just gotten Neville's last book off of the floor, when someone coughed. It was not the cough of someone who had something in his throat. It was the sound made only by the politest of people to indicate that yes, they are here, and yes, they have something to say, but wouldn't dream of interrupting anything to say so. Harry stood up, and came face-to-face with a man who radiated enough evil aura to actually dim the light in his immediate area.
"Your friend seems to have dropped something," the man purred, handing Harry a copy of "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2". "Perhaps he would do well to keep a closer eye on his belongings." The man turned gracefully, or would have, had the entire contingent of Weasleys been approaching from his rear. With a shout, the man collided with an eleven- year-old girl, Ron's sister, Harry guessed, and fell to the floor. Books scattered everywhere.
"IDIOT!" the man shouted, grabbing for the cane he had been using to support his gait. He pushed himself to his feet, but a gangly redheaded man was standing there, looking a little smug.
"Hello, Lucius."
"Arthur." The man's response was stiff and formal. "I'd love to stay and chat, except I have more...*important* things to do. I believe this belongs to you." He handed the young girl a battered book, and then glided away, giving the intense sensation of watching a snake leave his hunt.
"Who...who was that?" Harry asked, glancing at the elder Weasley. The lanky man, looking slightly put-out, turned about to face Harry.
"That was Lucius Malfoy. He's a thoroughly unpleasant fellow who, until recently, has been safely locked away where he couldn't dig his filthy hands into anyone else's business. In my opinion, he should still be surrounded by Dementors."
"Arthur!" The stout woman Harry recognized as Molly Weasley hit him soundly in the back of the head. "Now, don't listen to him. You're not to talk that way about people, no matter how...unpleasant they may be. It's good to see you, Harry," she continued smoothly. "Now, I know your parents wouldn't send you out here all by yourself, especially not with...unsavory characters being around."
"Oh, yeah," Harry responded, feeling embarrassed. Mrs. Weasley seemed to have decided to treat him like one of her own sons, and it was a little uncomfortable. "I...Sirius and Remus are meeting me up front." As Mrs. Weasley nodded and led her brood to the front of the store, Harry fell back to talk to his friend, Ron. The redhead had gained a little in height, and was still generally gangly, and wearing robes a little too short for him and a shade closer to gray than black.
"Hey, Ron." Ron grinned shyly at Harry and led the way after his mother.
"Hey Harry. Did you have a good summer?" Harry had to think about that for a moment. He'd tried to get his godfather to make up with his werewolf lover, learned more than he needed to know about sex, and been warned that going back to Hogwarts would be certain death.
Harry suddenly realized how dumb he must look just standing there. He coughed nervously, and answered, "Yeah," and changed the subject. Ron was more than happy to talk about his own summer, and when he made an offhand comment about missing him, Harry realized that what with many of the distractions that summer, he hadn't gotten around to writing Ron.
"And how's Professor Lupin? He was pretty out of it at the end of the year...did he and-is he all right?"
"Yeah; I think he's in a better mood knowing Sirius is going to be at school this year-oops." Harry almost banged his head into a pile of rather frightening leather-bound books. Ron didn't know that Sirius and Remus were...involved, and given his mother's lecture, he supposed it wasn't exactly the sort of thing you told people right out. But Ron looked relieved at the news.
"Oi, that's great. My mum's been worried sick about them. Ever since I heard the rumors about Snape-ugh! Now there's someone to punch him in the nose if he starts sniffing around Professor Lupin."
"Wait...you *know*?" Harry demanded. "How-what-why?" Ron gave Harry a lopsided smile, almost embarrassed.
"Well, my mum always calls them 'Sirius and Remus', never one or the other. And, er...it was sort of obvious, Harry. We didn't want to bring it up because if your parents didn't talk about it, or you-well, Hermione and I didn't know how you felt about...them." Ron refused to look at Harry as he spoke, focusing his gaze instead on his feet. "I mean...some people..." He paused, as if struggling for words.
"It's just Sirius and Remus," Harry interrupted, a little confused. "I mean, yeah, it's a little gross when they get all emotional in public...it's like watching my parents kiss. Ech!" Ron nodded, smirking a little. It was an expression more at home on Draco Malfoy's face, but in a moment, it softened.
"Hello, Molly. I see you've got your whole brood-oh, Harry!" Harry paused to look at his godfather; Sirius gave Harry and Ron a quick glance, and then gave Mrs. Weasley an easy-going grin. She narrowed her eyes in response.
"All right, out with it, Black."
"Molly, are you insinuating that *I* am up to something?" Sirius asked with exaggerated shock.
"You're always up to something," Remus muttered, not without his own smile. "It's part of your charm." Sirius gave Remus a smile that must have been intended to be dashing. Harry thought he looked a little silly. He really hoped he never acted that way around anyone...at least on purpose.
"Well, out with it, Sirius," Mrs. Weasley chided.
"Ah, well, we're to meet James and Lily for lunch. They wouldn't mind extras. Would you like to come along?" Mrs. Weasley pressed her lips together a bit.
"Sirius, we wouldn't like to impose-"
"Ah, it's no trouble at all, Molly." Harry almost caught the flash of something like gold, and Mrs. Weasley's cheeks reddened.
"Sirius, we don't need-" Mr. Weasley placed a hand on her arm, calming her, and Sirius whispered something, evidently trying to make amends. The plump woman calmed a bit, nodding. "All right. Come along, everyone. We're having lunch with the Potters."
"Oh, shouldn't Neville...where is he?" Harry glanced around the store, but the other boy had vanished among the crowds. So he shrugged and followed the almost-parade of his friends and family out onto the street.
*
"Ron, what's wrong with your sister?" They had been at the restaurant for twenty minutes, and Ginny Weasley kept blushing whenever Harry looked in her general direction. And the way she kept looking at him...he couldn't help but feel that he'd seen that expression somewhere before, and aimed at *him*.
"What? Oh, she's been mooning over you ever since she saw you at the station last year. Bit silly, really, that she thinks she loves you when she barely knows you. I guess she just figures it doesn't matter. Besides..." Ron trailed off, digging into his potatoes.
"Besides what?" Harry asked. Ron only shrugged, and suddenly found his food very interesting. "Ron?"
"Harry, I need the pepper," Remus interrupted. Obliging him, Harry tossed Remus the shaker, and when he turned back to Ron, the boy had apparently calmed himself and was blissfully oblivious to any questions in regard to his earlier statement. By the end of the meal, Harry was more than a little frustrated with his friend. He may have learned a lot over the summer, but he still felt like no one was telling him anything.
*
"Thanks, Mum!" Ron gave his mother a final hug before she stepped into the fireplace and shouted, 'The Burrow', vanishing in a flare of green. He then turned to grin at Harry. After much pleading, Ron had managed to convince his mother to let him stay at the Potter's house for the remaining week of holidays.
The thought pleased Harry, mostly because he'd never really gotten a chance to be alone with Ron for most of the school year.
"Come on, Harry, let's get my stuff up to your room." Ron grabbed Harry's hand and very nearly dragged him and his trunk up the stairs. He shoved Harry's room's door open, nearly hitting Sirius with it. He was standing next to a bed set with maroon sheets, in the process of slipping his wand into his pocket.
"Hello, Harry, Ron," he said. "I was just making Ron a bed..." Harry thought he recognized hints of his mother's favorite chair, which Sirius seemed hell-bent on getting rid of, but didn't comment. Ron also looked like he wanted to say something, but cut off his own comment, as well. Sirius glanced between the two boys, an odd grin on his lips. "So, do you two want me to leave you...alone?"
Ron flushed a hot red, and Harry, now actually in a position to understand most of what his godfather said, glared at him.
"Sirius..."
"All right, all right," he said, throwing his hands in the air. "Hmph. You try to help out a bit, and everyone starts getting in a huff."
As Sirius wandered down the hall, Harry turned to Ron, whose face still a bright red; the other boy seemed to be trying to avoid looking directly at him.
"Hey, Ron, it's okay. Sirius is always like that...I think. Are you all right?"
Ron nodded vigorously.
"Yeah, sure. I'm fine, Harry." He turned back, and although his cheeks were tinted red, he looked like he'd gotten over the majority of his embarrassment. "Er...why don't we play some chess?" He kicked open his trunk and started rooting around in it for the marble chess set Harry had given him the prior Christmas.
"But I always lose."
"No; I'll go easy on you, Harry."
He didn't.
*
"Come on, Harry, you can go first." Harry nodded at his mother, and readied his cart. King's Cross Station was crowded, and so he had to pull this off in just the right way. He decided to do it at a run. Working up a turn of speed, Harry hurled himself and his luggage towards the wall between platforms 9 and 10.
Five seconds later, his mother was helping him off of the ground, and the Muggles around them were glaring at him.
"Terribly sorry," she said to passers-by. "He's just so rambunctious...ADD." The glares eased slightly at the flimsy explanation, and both of Harry's parents converged around him. Ron was left a few feet away, looking worried.
"Does this mean Harry can't go back to school?"
"Certainly not," Lily said. She glanced at Ron, thinking hard. "However...would you mind going on ahead? Your family's probably in there already, and I think you need to tell people what's going on. We're going to try and contact Dumbledore. Come along, Harry."
And so the two boys were separated when Ron entered the magic passage to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and Harry was taken from the train station into a nearby wizard book shop.
He knew that Ron would probably tell the others why he was held up, so he wasn't worried about them. When he saw his mother reach into the pocket where she kept her constant supply of Floo powder, however, he did get worried.
"Pardon me," she said to the shopkeeper, a short, dumpy witch dressed in neon violet, "But we need to use your fireplace. Is that all right?"
"No, let's not bother this nice woman, mum, huh? We can always take your broomstick, right? Please?"
Lily shot Harry a glance he'd long ago come to understand as 'I know you're not going to like this, love, but it's for your own good, so you're going to suck it up like a man and do what needs to be done' look. "We need to get to Dumbledore quickly. Whatever blocked the doorway for you is powerful, and that means it may be dangerous."
Harry stop babbling, a coldness settling in his chest. At the end of his first year at Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore had revealed that some eleven years ago, Voldemort had caught wind of a prophecy of a child that would herald his defeat, one born "as the summer dies". He planned to destroy that child, but found there were two children who matched the prophecy's requirements. Harry had been one, and Neville Longbottom the other.
So Voldemort decided to kill both, starting with what should be easy. However, he never left the Longbottom household. The Killing Curse, the dreaded spell that slaughtered thousands during the war, rebounded off of the child Neville and struck its caster. But events last year had proven that Voldemort was either a master at planning for all contingencies, or not enough of this world to truly die. And Dumbledore had revealed to Harry that his wand, a twin to the one wielded by the Dark Lord, marked him still as an equal, and thus, a target.
It made his parents' concern a little more understandable.
"Go ahead, Harry, you go first. The Three Broomsticks should do it; Dumbledore still doesn't like anybody entering the castle except by conventional means."
Harry stepped into the fireplace at the back of the book shop, now flaming with green fire, and shouted, "The Three Broomsticks!" Or, at least, he tried to. It came out quite a bit garbled; Floo powder and its affiliated actions always made him nervous.
There was the familiar sense of hurtling through very narrow space, and then he was ejected into a dark, dirty room. As he fell to the floor, he realized the room was not so much dirty as very, very messy. Furniture was smashed, and there were deep scratches on the wall. It looked like some animal had been locked up there, and had raged at the imprisonment.
Harry carefully stood up, drawing his wand from his pocket. He felt nervous, as if he were walking into a graveyard. As he crossed the room, something caught his eye. An unusually bright spot in the darkness drew him. There, on the wall, was a small door that did not seem to lead outside. He pulled it open by the brass doorknob, the light which had caught his attention, and found himself looking into a long tunnel.
With a streak of curiosity his father would have been proud of, Harry ducked into the tunnel and began walking. It didn't occur to him to wait in the room. First of all, there didn't seem to be any entrances, and secondly...the house was really very creepy.
The tunnel, however, was simple. It was strong, dry, and well-kept. Walking along the path, something struck Harry. The tunnel wasn't dusty, and neither was the room. Someone had been using the area recently, and that meant that it was likely that someone would be at the other end of the path.
Harry didn't know if that made him feel better or worse.
It took a little while before he saw daylight...and heard the strange creaking noise. As he got close to the exit to the tunnel, he saw something fly past the opening, and heard a sharp 'crack', like a whip.
He stumbled back, and almost ran into someone less than four feet tall.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Harry Potter," the high-pitched voice squeaked. "Dobby didn't mean to run into you."
Harry turned slowly, hoping he wouldn't see what his mind insisted was there. A house-elf stood behind him, a small green creature that only came up to his navel. He was dressed in a tea-towel, and had a nervous, jumpy look about him, like a dog that had been kicked one too many times. House- elves had always made Harry slightly uncomfortable. He was always reminded of older Muggle movies, when black servants were always bowing and calling people 'master'.
"Um...hello?' he ventured. The house-elf grinned, and then gave a short bow.
"It is an honor to meet you, Harry Potter. Dobby has learned a great deal about you, and feels very honored to finally meet you."
Harry looked at Dobby with an odd glance. Who in the world would tell a house-elf so much about him? He knew none of his friends lived in houses old enough to have house-elves; in fact-
Dobby suddenly leapt up and grabbed the front of Harry's shirt. "Harry Potter must not to go back to Hogwarts. Turn around and never come back!" It was odd, to have a house-elf attempting to shake him; for one thing, Dobby's feet were barely on the ground. But Harry pulled away from Dobby, shaking his head.
"You're ridiculous. Why shouldn't I go back to Hogwarts? All my friends are there..." But Dobby was shaking.
"Oh, Harry Potter MUST not go back! Dobby knows he is in great danger...Master-" Dobby broke off, and unexpectedly began slamming his head into the wall. "Bad Dobby! BAD!" Startled, Harry pulled the house- elf away from the wall, leaving Dobby struggling against him.
"Stop it! Dobby, what's going on here?"
"Dobby should not be here," Dobby replied. "Dobby is not allowed outside without...Dobby means...Dobby is a good house-elf!" He pulled away from Harry, and stood before him, breathing hard. "Harry Potter should not go back to Hogwarts...it is dangerous." And with a sharp 'crack', he vanished.
Harry was left staring at the empty space for a moment, flabbergasted. What sort of a creature could Disapparate this close to Hogwarts? Yes, one could Apparate into Hogsmeade, but the protective charms around the castle tended to leak into neighboring areas.
Letting the subject drop, Harry stepped out of the tunnel and into daylight. The first thing he noticed was Hogwarts standing impressively to the north, only a short distance away. The second thing he noticed, nearly a moment too late, was the huge branch slicing towards his head.
With a shout, he jumped out of the way, only to be caught by the edge of another set of branches that whipped across him, leaving a trail of scratches on his arms and chest.
Laying on the ground, he got a good look at the huge willow tree, a strange species of growth that hovered at the edge of campus, routinely attempting to flatten anyone who got near it. Its branches were waving wildly, and behind him, others had already blocked off his escape. There was a moment of panic, and then he heard a number of people shouting, and, quite to his surprise, the tree froze.
Then Lily was hugging him, and he heard his father and Sirius arguing about something, and behind them, a whispered conversation between Remus and Dumbledore.
Harry stayed conscious long enough to realize he was safe, before he slipped into blackness.
*
"-Won't let you in if you were Albus Bloody Dumbledore! This boy got a nasty beating from that tree, and if I had my way, the whole plant would be on fire this very minute." Harry found it a comfort to wake to Madam Pomfrey threatening someone's life; it meant everything was going to be all right, if he ignored the portions of the near future when he would be forced to drink something vile.
However, given that she was so worked up, the people in question were probably Ron and Hermione. Harry made an effort to call out, to let the nurse know he was all right, but his voice seemed to have gone. His neck seemed to be bruised, and it made him wonder how many injuries he hadn't noticed.
And it made him wonder why there was a tunnel underneath the Whomping Willow.
Then Madam Pomfrey returned to her domain, trailed by a very subdued Sirius. "Very well, Mr. Black. One minute. And then I'll send you packing...I remember the last time I left you unattended in here." And she vanished in a huff.
Sirius grinned at Harry, looking a little embarrassed.
"Hey, Harry." Harry tried to push himself up, but his arms seemed weak, and he had to settle for a seated position against the pillows in the bed. Sirius sat on the edge and leaned next to Harry, slinging a friendly arm over his shoulder. "Your parents are having a chat with Dumbledore, and it seems Lily's about ready to tear the old man a new one..." He chuckled. "And by the way, you should definitely thank Peter the next time you see him; he's the one who froze the tree."
Harry nodded, considering. Peter Pettigrew usually was a slow-moving person, but when he grew anxious or particularly disturbed, he moved a lot faster, a bit like a rodent. He could imagine the paunchy man darting about under the tree looking for an opportunity to stun it.
"Why is there a tunnel under there?" Harry asked, after a moment. "It seems like a stupid thing to do, putting a tunnel under a tree like that."
"Not stupid, Harry," Sirius replied, "Cautious." He frowned for a moment, and then leaned close. "Poppy'll kill me for staying longer, but...that tunnel goes into Hogsmeade."
"It goes to a big, boarded-up house," Harry said. "I know. I got lost in the Floo Network."
Sirius snorted, smiling. "Yeah. I have a lot of great memories in that place."
"Um...Sirius, it didn't look like a great place to spend the night or anything," Harry said. "It looked pretty trashy, to tell the truth."
"Like a wild animal had torn everything to pieces?" Sirius asked. At Harry's nod, he squeezed his godson's shoulder a little tighter. "That is because that is the Shrieking Shack, the most haunted house in all of Britain. How about that?"
"Haunted? But that didn't look like the sort of ghost I've seen before," Harry protested. "It looked more like..."
"A werewolf," Sirius completed. "It's where Remus went during his school years...he still spends his time there, even though we've got everything under control."
Harry had to shudder at the image that statement conjured. He wasn't afraid of Remus, but he could imagine the man stumbling past the tree, eyes fixated on the horizon...he could imagine Remus falling onto the wooden floor, clutching at his side as his skin began to ripple, could imagine a beast raging at the inside of the house, tearing everything, including himself, to shreds of their former selves...
"Hey, Harry. It's all right...it's just Remus we're talking about." At Sirius' words and the more comforting hug he received, Harry understood Sirius had misunderstood his reaction.
"I'm not scared," Harry replied. "I just wonder how he bears it."
There was a quiet moment where Harry could actually feel Sirius smiling warmly. "He has people who help him through it."
"But...to always weather the full moon alone..." Harry murmured, suddenly sleepy. Sirius slid him down into a prone position and stood up, leaving Harry alone in the hospital wing.
And Harry dreamed.
He didn't remember much about the voices in his memory, nor the content of the dream, but what he did remember was the voice that spoke as he slipped back into consciousness, one whispering in the walls.
"He comesssss...he comes back for me...massster."
"All right, Mr. Potter, you can join the others in the Great Hall," Madam Pomfrey muttered, stepping into the main room of the Infirmary. He glanced up at her, looking and feeling quite a bit frightened.
"You didn't...you didn't hear anyone in here, did you?" he asked nervously.
Madam Pomfrey tilted her head at him, lips pressed together in concentration. "No, I don't think so. You're the first casualty of the year. And I really hope I don't have to see you here again this year." She gave a long-suffering sigh, and then added, "Although, knowing your parents and your godfather, I can't expect that. Could I at least hope you won't be sending Slytherin students here in any regular frequency?"
Harry paused, and a thought occurred to him. He reached under his robes to touch a small pendant that hung about his neck, a strange, hollow shield made of silver. He looked up at Madam Pomfrey and answered, sincerely, "Yes. I don't think it'll be a problem."
*
"Harry! Oh, you won't imagine the sorts of rumors that have gotten around. Dean Thomas has been telling people you were hexed and sent to St. Mungo's, Neville's convinced you were caught by Muggles and locked up in a lab somewhere, and I-"
Ron slapped a hand over Hermione's mouth and gave Harry a wide grin. "I'm glad to see you're all right, mate, although it's horrible you left me alone with her trying to explain things."
With a sharp slap, Hermione pushed Ron's hand away, and rolled her eyes. "Well, come on, sit down..." Harry followed her to take a seat, trying to ignore the stares of the Great Hall. Evidently, the word had gotten around he was missing, and seeing him there was either going to stop the gossiping or make it infinitely worse. He thought he knew which one it would be.
"Have you talked to Dumbledore about it?" Hermione whispered at him as she took a seat to his left. "Because I'm sure he'd need to know about this sort of thing right away-"
"Honestly, 'Mione, give him a chance to eat," Ron muttered. As requested, Hermione fell silent, only to be replaced by Dumbledore's loud voice.
"Good evening to you all, and welcome to another year at Hogwarts. As is customary, first we'll be bringing in the first-years...here they come!" And indeed, Professor McGonagall entered the hall, carrying a stool and the Sorting Hat, followed by a string of nervous-looking children. Harry found himself marveling how small they all looked, despite being at most a year or two younger than him.
A flash of red caught his eyes, and he remembered that Ron's sister Ginny was going to be there. He reached to his right and patted Ron's shoulder. "Don't worry; she'll be fine."
"Who's worrying, mate?" Ron asked, but his voice betrayed a shake that could only be born of nerves. As they watched, a young, mousy boy was sorted into Gryffindor, and upon sitting, he pulled out a Muggle camera and took a picture of the ceiling.
By the time "Weasley, Virginia," was called, Ron was nearly vibrating with tension.
The hat remained there for only a brief moment, and then shouted out, "GRYFFINDOR!" Next to him, Harry heard Ron breathe in sharply, and he realized the other boy must have been holding his breath.
The short girl hurried over to the table, amid a small hubbub of Weasleys; even Percy seemed amenable to offering a polite clap. She blushed when Ron gave her a brief hug, and ended up sitting across from Harry. There was a brief, complicated moment, when the two siblings managed to communicate a remarkable amount of information, after which, Ginny became a little more subdued.
And then Dumbledore stood to speak.
"Well, here we all are again. I'd like to start off this dinner by noting the rather tragic loss of our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor...I imagine, however, that he will not be missed. But I bring news of Mr. Quirrel's hopefully more useful successor, An Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart." Harry didn't expect the raucous applause, and it left him a little startled. He glanced up at the staff table, where the ditzy blond man, now dressed in pale violet robes, was waving to the crowd. Harry was almost certain he heard something along the lines of, 'Forgot he's won the Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award 5 times' to his left, but dismissed it at hallucination.
"Ah yes," Lockhart announced when the din died down, "I am very honored to have this position and look forward to helping shape the minds of the future. Thank you." Harry rolled his eyes and turned, intent on adding a scathing comment to Hermione, but she was watching the stage with a dreamy look on her face.
While he would have understood perfectly if she were ogling Sirius, who had claimed a seat near the edge of the table, and despite being allegedly an assistant and therefore not worth mentioning, was stunning in his dark red robes, the ones he always wore on special occasions, he had a sneaking suspicion Hermione went for the pretty boys.
"Honestly," Ron muttered, "You throw them a pretty face, and they start falling all over each other to drool over him." Harry leaned back and turned to Ron, who seemed at least coherent.
"What, you'd prefer if Sirius were teaching us?"
"Your godfather at least knows what he's doing," Ron said. "All Gilderoy has is a line of books telling his wonderful stories of traipsing about the Himalayas and the like killing monstrous beasts and shagging beautiful witches." Harry only let his eyebrow quirk at the rant, and Ron flushed a bit. "Well, I'm just saying I can't imagine him sitting in some hut in the rainforest writing while he was trying to kill some were-leopard or something. He just hasn't got the *time*."
"Thought about this a lot?" Harry asked.
"You won't *believe* how nutters my mum is over him. It's now a family rule we're not allowed to discuss him over dinner."
There was suddenly a scream from down the table, and a loud scuffle resulting in a pot falling to the floor. Neville, Harry managed to think, before the most unearthly wail filled the hall. The people nearest the sound slumped bonelessly into their plates, and Harry found himself fighting for consciousness. The last thing he heard before he lost his grip on the waking world for the second time that day was Lockhart's voice from the staff table, announcing, "Oh, it's the curse of the banshee...there's no hope for any of them..."
*
So Harry woke up near midnight on the first day of his second day of school with a blinding headache. Ron was sitting up in his own bed, massaging his forehead.
"What the bloody-"he started, then winced, as the sound of his voice cut through his brain like a ragged knife. Ron grinned in sympathy, and then pointed to Neville's bed. The boy was laying as if dead, only the movement of his chest hinting as his status among the living. 'What was it?' Harry mouthed, and Ron held up a single finger.
Harry recognized the game. One word. Two syllables. First syllable...Ron pointed at himself. Wizard? Boy? Big boy...man! Ron tapped his nose, and then tapped his forearm with two fingers. Second syllable. An ear- tug. Sounds like...it looked like Ron was making a claw with his hands. Stab? Hit...scratch? No, Ron seemed to ponder this, and then ran the claw through his hair. Brush, comb, conditioner? No, to push back your hair like that...Rake? Yes! Man...rake? Man-mandrake!
"You could have just told me," Harry muttered, but Ron just shrugged and pointed at his throat. He couldn't talk. Harry racked his brain, trying to remember what mandrake what supposed to be like. It had roots that looked like a human, and its cry-
"Why aren't we dead?" he asked. Everyone in the hall must have heard that sound...
Ron held his palms only an inch or two apart, and Harry nodded. So it had been a young mandrake, and probably explained why Neville had let it get into a position where it could be exposed. He was meticulous, mostly, about his plants, keeping the more dangerous ones under lock and key, and even made sure the mundane ones behaved themselves.
It definitely made an interesting start to the year, he thought. On a whim, he drew out an old book from his trunk, 'The Book of Ages'. It had been a gift from Remus, and was supposed to contain the wisdom of the universe.
He flipped open to a random passage, and the phrase that he read was very simple:
"Go back to sleep. You're going to need it."
*
Well, as I said, I'm back. I suppose my excitement over PoA has sparked this again. And I assure you, things will start happening, and even now, there will be surprises. Maybe.
~*
"Hello." The darkness of the dream echoed with the voice of a stranger. "Potter."
"Where am I? What is this?"
"A warning," the voice responded. "A spell, largely unknown, which allows me to speak to you while you sleep. And you'd better listen, because I've been waiting for hours for you to show up."
"What? What's going on?"
"If you're always this articulate while you're asleep, Potter, your dreams must be fascinating."
"Wait a minute-you're-"
"A friend." The voice cut him off sharply. "I can't warn you without catching the attention of some very dangerous people, and even this method has its dangers. Potter, you can't go back to school this year."
"Why not?"
"Something...very bad is happening. Soon, Hogwarts will be...dangerous. For you, for everyone. But especially you."
"Why?" The voice chuckled, and Harry tried not to think about who it reminded him of.
"Why? You tell me why, Potter! I know what really happened last year; other people do, too."
"Wait-Volde-"
"DON'T SAY HIS NAME!" There was a moment when a pale hand almost touched his, reaching from the darkness. "It's a dangerous name, Potter. Especially now."
"So...is *He* doing something?"
"No, Potter. The man you met last year is weak, near death. I can tell you...that old ghosts are awaking. Things that have not been seen for far too long...You cannot go back. Not now."
"But what about my friends?"
"You're the one in danger, Potter."
"But if I'm in danger, so is Neville. I'm sorry, but I have to go."
"Dammit, Potter! I didn't want to have to do this-" But Harry, feeling angry, *shoved* at his 'friend', feeling his mind press against the other's. But then the contact died, and the dream ended with a jolt.
*~
James Potter, certainly not as agile as he was when he was 13, nevertheless vaulted over a chair and an ottoman to reach his son's bed. The boy, screaming, barely noticed his father, even as the man wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace.
"Harry. Harry, I'm here. Your mother's down the hall. Harry!" Harry finally seemed to wake up at his father's voice; he glanced around, confused.
"Dad," he gasped, returning the hug. "I...thanks."
"Harry, what's wrong? What was...*that* about?" Harry suddenly loosened his grip and pulled away from his father a little.
"I...it's nothing, Dad. It's just a bad dream, you know?"
James gave his son a scrutinizing look, but then gave him a grin, even though Harry *knew* his father didn't believe that. "Okay, Harry. But get some sleep; we've got a big day tomorrow. Shopping, you know."
"With Sirius and Remus, right?"
"Yes, with the happy couple," James responded, making a mock-disgusted face. "If I didn't like those two so much, I'd kill them for being so...sweet." Harry grinned, and gave his father another hug. After James left the room, he sat in his bed for a few minutes, thinking. His father was so close to his friends...well, family. He was so close to the friends he had made at Hogwarts, and now that Harry was making his own friends...
'If something were to happen to them...' Harry shivered. Of course he had to go back to Hogwarts. He had to protect his friends from whatever what was happening...and protect the person who'd risked himself to warn Harry.
With those thoughts, he slipped back into sleep.
*
When Harry got to Flourish and Blott's the next day, he found a very exuberant Sirius Black waiting for him and his parents.
"Oi! Harry! I've got wonderful news for you!" James strolled up behind his son, and smirked at his oldest friend.
"From what I hear, it's more of good news for *you* than Harry..."
"Hey, shut up, you git!" Sirius grinned and pulled his godson along into the bookstore. "Don't listen to that git, Harry. He doesn't know what he's talking about; he's forgotten how enriching it is to have Sirius Black in his life. Luckily, he will learn this year because he will be denied that pleasure." Harry frowned in concentration as he considered what his godfather meant.
"Um...what do you mean?"
"I've got a job at Hogwarts, Harry."
"What?"
"I wanted to come to Hogwarts with Remus. You know..." Sirius suddenly found the ground very interesting, and Harry couldn't blame him. From what he knew, spending time away from Remus had driven his godfather crazy; he was apparently embarrassed about what had happened.
"So? Dumbledore'd let you-"
"I didn't want to be hanging around the school doing nothing of use to anybody!" Sirius protested. His face suddenly melted into a smirk, and he added, "Well, nothing of use to *almost* anyone." Harry suddenly wished his mother had never told him about...well, the sort of thing that Sirius and Remus liked doing together. It put a lot of what Sirius said in a very...well, different perspective. Harry blushed and looked away as Sirius laughed. "Sorry, Harry. Couldn't help myself."
"So what are you doing?" At that, Sirius' grin faded a little.
"Well, Dumbledore told me that there were no open positions, but...well, he felt that there might be a position he would create that might come in handy." Sirius stopped walking, and Harry realized it was because the bookshop was actually very crowded. A crowd stood before them, and Harry suddenly realized that Sirius had stopped right behind Remus, who had a stack of books with him.
"Ah, hello, Harry. I got your schoolbooks here. I thought you might want to worry more about Sirius than finding the right textbooks."
"Liar," Sirius responded. "You just wanted a chance to browse the bookstore unhindered. I see that Charms book in there; and is that Mercury LaRousse's newest book?" Remus flushed, and he glanced away from his fiance. Sirius grinned at Remus and stepped close, giving him a light kiss on the cheek. "Ah, I don't mean it. I love your bookishness, Remie. I'll even treat, hmm?" Remus sighed, and nodded. "Don't look like that, Remus. I never get to buy you anything unless you can't get out of it." Remus, who had seemed to be working at looking self-suffering, gave Sirius a half smile, and then slipped his free hand around Sirius' waist.
"Very well, Paddy. I will give into your wicked temptations. This time."
Harry glanced between the two men, frowning. Now that he knew what went on between them (in far greater detail than he actually might *want* to know), he wondered how he had ever not noticed *something*. The way Sirius brown eyes were so genuinely happy when he looked at Remus, or the way that Remus always had a sparkle about him, especially in his golden eyes, when Sirius was around. He wondered briefly if he'd ever have something like that with someone. But at the moment, they were being embarrassing.
"Sirius...do you need to be all...cuddly in here? And what's this line for?"
"Goodness me, it's another fan! Oh, Mr. Lupin, may I say that I am a great fan of your papers; I feel that you are nearly as knowledgeable in the defense against the Dark Arts as I am. Oh, is this your son? Wonderful little lad, aren't you? Look just like your father." Harry didn't have the time to tell the blond, smiling man that while he *did* look just like his father, Remus wasn't it (and where *were* his parents? They'd probably decided he was fine alone with "the boys", as his mother called them). Because by then, the man had already continued on what was not so much a conversation as a monologue. "Well, I'm certain you've come to bring your son to meet me; is he going to Hogwarts? Well, then, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised to learn that I will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year. Of course, I was the natural choice for the position; Albus called me up one day, said, 'Gilderoy, we're in a bit of a spot. We need a Defense teacher, and we need one quickly. Of course, I wanted the best, so I thought of you. Please, Mr. Lockhart, tell me you're not going off to save the world from Dark wizards.' And although I had a number of very important appointments over the next year, I dropped them all, because as far as I'm concerned, there's nothing as important as educating the hope of the future. And there, little Lupin, I've signed your books. Remus, he looks like a bright lad-excuse me, do I know you?"
Sirius, who looked like he was listening to a Banshee, suddenly glanced at Mr. Lockhart, who was dressed in baby egg-blue robes. "If you recall, I was hired by Albus Dumbledore to be your teaching assistant," Sirius ground out, his teeth clenched. "My name is Sirius Black?"
"Ah, Sean!" Mr. Lockhart said, his face suddenly even more jovial. Sirius looked like he was seconds away from committing cold-hearted murder. "Yes, of course. Albus thought that this boy might make a fine teacher some day, but he's got a few problems. So Albus asked me to give him some tips, pointers, take him under my wing, as it were. Really, he seems a little dull, but I'll do my best. Well, you'd best run off. I'm sure you have lots to do." And as Mr. Lockhart pushed them aside, Harry caught sight of Neville several yards away, trying to clean up a huge stack of books.
"Oh, Sirius-I'm going to see Neville..." Sirius nodded, and pointed to the front of the store. Harry would meet him there when he was done. Harry nodded in response, and then headed to Neville's side. Apparently, the round-faced boy had knocked over a stack of copies of "Magical Me", the newest book by Gilderoy Lockhart.
"Hey, Neville. Having a bit of trouble?" Neville smiled a little helplessly.
"Yeah." He stacked a few books in his arms, tried to move a few dozen copies of "Magical Me" back into their pile, and failed miserably in both regards.
"Here, let me help," Harry said, and grabbed the books. They spent a few minutes picking up the mess, and Harry had just gotten Neville's last book off of the floor, when someone coughed. It was not the cough of someone who had something in his throat. It was the sound made only by the politest of people to indicate that yes, they are here, and yes, they have something to say, but wouldn't dream of interrupting anything to say so. Harry stood up, and came face-to-face with a man who radiated enough evil aura to actually dim the light in his immediate area.
"Your friend seems to have dropped something," the man purred, handing Harry a copy of "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2". "Perhaps he would do well to keep a closer eye on his belongings." The man turned gracefully, or would have, had the entire contingent of Weasleys been approaching from his rear. With a shout, the man collided with an eleven- year-old girl, Ron's sister, Harry guessed, and fell to the floor. Books scattered everywhere.
"IDIOT!" the man shouted, grabbing for the cane he had been using to support his gait. He pushed himself to his feet, but a gangly redheaded man was standing there, looking a little smug.
"Hello, Lucius."
"Arthur." The man's response was stiff and formal. "I'd love to stay and chat, except I have more...*important* things to do. I believe this belongs to you." He handed the young girl a battered book, and then glided away, giving the intense sensation of watching a snake leave his hunt.
"Who...who was that?" Harry asked, glancing at the elder Weasley. The lanky man, looking slightly put-out, turned about to face Harry.
"That was Lucius Malfoy. He's a thoroughly unpleasant fellow who, until recently, has been safely locked away where he couldn't dig his filthy hands into anyone else's business. In my opinion, he should still be surrounded by Dementors."
"Arthur!" The stout woman Harry recognized as Molly Weasley hit him soundly in the back of the head. "Now, don't listen to him. You're not to talk that way about people, no matter how...unpleasant they may be. It's good to see you, Harry," she continued smoothly. "Now, I know your parents wouldn't send you out here all by yourself, especially not with...unsavory characters being around."
"Oh, yeah," Harry responded, feeling embarrassed. Mrs. Weasley seemed to have decided to treat him like one of her own sons, and it was a little uncomfortable. "I...Sirius and Remus are meeting me up front." As Mrs. Weasley nodded and led her brood to the front of the store, Harry fell back to talk to his friend, Ron. The redhead had gained a little in height, and was still generally gangly, and wearing robes a little too short for him and a shade closer to gray than black.
"Hey, Ron." Ron grinned shyly at Harry and led the way after his mother.
"Hey Harry. Did you have a good summer?" Harry had to think about that for a moment. He'd tried to get his godfather to make up with his werewolf lover, learned more than he needed to know about sex, and been warned that going back to Hogwarts would be certain death.
Harry suddenly realized how dumb he must look just standing there. He coughed nervously, and answered, "Yeah," and changed the subject. Ron was more than happy to talk about his own summer, and when he made an offhand comment about missing him, Harry realized that what with many of the distractions that summer, he hadn't gotten around to writing Ron.
"And how's Professor Lupin? He was pretty out of it at the end of the year...did he and-is he all right?"
"Yeah; I think he's in a better mood knowing Sirius is going to be at school this year-oops." Harry almost banged his head into a pile of rather frightening leather-bound books. Ron didn't know that Sirius and Remus were...involved, and given his mother's lecture, he supposed it wasn't exactly the sort of thing you told people right out. But Ron looked relieved at the news.
"Oi, that's great. My mum's been worried sick about them. Ever since I heard the rumors about Snape-ugh! Now there's someone to punch him in the nose if he starts sniffing around Professor Lupin."
"Wait...you *know*?" Harry demanded. "How-what-why?" Ron gave Harry a lopsided smile, almost embarrassed.
"Well, my mum always calls them 'Sirius and Remus', never one or the other. And, er...it was sort of obvious, Harry. We didn't want to bring it up because if your parents didn't talk about it, or you-well, Hermione and I didn't know how you felt about...them." Ron refused to look at Harry as he spoke, focusing his gaze instead on his feet. "I mean...some people..." He paused, as if struggling for words.
"It's just Sirius and Remus," Harry interrupted, a little confused. "I mean, yeah, it's a little gross when they get all emotional in public...it's like watching my parents kiss. Ech!" Ron nodded, smirking a little. It was an expression more at home on Draco Malfoy's face, but in a moment, it softened.
"Hello, Molly. I see you've got your whole brood-oh, Harry!" Harry paused to look at his godfather; Sirius gave Harry and Ron a quick glance, and then gave Mrs. Weasley an easy-going grin. She narrowed her eyes in response.
"All right, out with it, Black."
"Molly, are you insinuating that *I* am up to something?" Sirius asked with exaggerated shock.
"You're always up to something," Remus muttered, not without his own smile. "It's part of your charm." Sirius gave Remus a smile that must have been intended to be dashing. Harry thought he looked a little silly. He really hoped he never acted that way around anyone...at least on purpose.
"Well, out with it, Sirius," Mrs. Weasley chided.
"Ah, well, we're to meet James and Lily for lunch. They wouldn't mind extras. Would you like to come along?" Mrs. Weasley pressed her lips together a bit.
"Sirius, we wouldn't like to impose-"
"Ah, it's no trouble at all, Molly." Harry almost caught the flash of something like gold, and Mrs. Weasley's cheeks reddened.
"Sirius, we don't need-" Mr. Weasley placed a hand on her arm, calming her, and Sirius whispered something, evidently trying to make amends. The plump woman calmed a bit, nodding. "All right. Come along, everyone. We're having lunch with the Potters."
"Oh, shouldn't Neville...where is he?" Harry glanced around the store, but the other boy had vanished among the crowds. So he shrugged and followed the almost-parade of his friends and family out onto the street.
*
"Ron, what's wrong with your sister?" They had been at the restaurant for twenty minutes, and Ginny Weasley kept blushing whenever Harry looked in her general direction. And the way she kept looking at him...he couldn't help but feel that he'd seen that expression somewhere before, and aimed at *him*.
"What? Oh, she's been mooning over you ever since she saw you at the station last year. Bit silly, really, that she thinks she loves you when she barely knows you. I guess she just figures it doesn't matter. Besides..." Ron trailed off, digging into his potatoes.
"Besides what?" Harry asked. Ron only shrugged, and suddenly found his food very interesting. "Ron?"
"Harry, I need the pepper," Remus interrupted. Obliging him, Harry tossed Remus the shaker, and when he turned back to Ron, the boy had apparently calmed himself and was blissfully oblivious to any questions in regard to his earlier statement. By the end of the meal, Harry was more than a little frustrated with his friend. He may have learned a lot over the summer, but he still felt like no one was telling him anything.
*
"Thanks, Mum!" Ron gave his mother a final hug before she stepped into the fireplace and shouted, 'The Burrow', vanishing in a flare of green. He then turned to grin at Harry. After much pleading, Ron had managed to convince his mother to let him stay at the Potter's house for the remaining week of holidays.
The thought pleased Harry, mostly because he'd never really gotten a chance to be alone with Ron for most of the school year.
"Come on, Harry, let's get my stuff up to your room." Ron grabbed Harry's hand and very nearly dragged him and his trunk up the stairs. He shoved Harry's room's door open, nearly hitting Sirius with it. He was standing next to a bed set with maroon sheets, in the process of slipping his wand into his pocket.
"Hello, Harry, Ron," he said. "I was just making Ron a bed..." Harry thought he recognized hints of his mother's favorite chair, which Sirius seemed hell-bent on getting rid of, but didn't comment. Ron also looked like he wanted to say something, but cut off his own comment, as well. Sirius glanced between the two boys, an odd grin on his lips. "So, do you two want me to leave you...alone?"
Ron flushed a hot red, and Harry, now actually in a position to understand most of what his godfather said, glared at him.
"Sirius..."
"All right, all right," he said, throwing his hands in the air. "Hmph. You try to help out a bit, and everyone starts getting in a huff."
As Sirius wandered down the hall, Harry turned to Ron, whose face still a bright red; the other boy seemed to be trying to avoid looking directly at him.
"Hey, Ron, it's okay. Sirius is always like that...I think. Are you all right?"
Ron nodded vigorously.
"Yeah, sure. I'm fine, Harry." He turned back, and although his cheeks were tinted red, he looked like he'd gotten over the majority of his embarrassment. "Er...why don't we play some chess?" He kicked open his trunk and started rooting around in it for the marble chess set Harry had given him the prior Christmas.
"But I always lose."
"No; I'll go easy on you, Harry."
He didn't.
*
"Come on, Harry, you can go first." Harry nodded at his mother, and readied his cart. King's Cross Station was crowded, and so he had to pull this off in just the right way. He decided to do it at a run. Working up a turn of speed, Harry hurled himself and his luggage towards the wall between platforms 9 and 10.
Five seconds later, his mother was helping him off of the ground, and the Muggles around them were glaring at him.
"Terribly sorry," she said to passers-by. "He's just so rambunctious...ADD." The glares eased slightly at the flimsy explanation, and both of Harry's parents converged around him. Ron was left a few feet away, looking worried.
"Does this mean Harry can't go back to school?"
"Certainly not," Lily said. She glanced at Ron, thinking hard. "However...would you mind going on ahead? Your family's probably in there already, and I think you need to tell people what's going on. We're going to try and contact Dumbledore. Come along, Harry."
And so the two boys were separated when Ron entered the magic passage to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and Harry was taken from the train station into a nearby wizard book shop.
He knew that Ron would probably tell the others why he was held up, so he wasn't worried about them. When he saw his mother reach into the pocket where she kept her constant supply of Floo powder, however, he did get worried.
"Pardon me," she said to the shopkeeper, a short, dumpy witch dressed in neon violet, "But we need to use your fireplace. Is that all right?"
"No, let's not bother this nice woman, mum, huh? We can always take your broomstick, right? Please?"
Lily shot Harry a glance he'd long ago come to understand as 'I know you're not going to like this, love, but it's for your own good, so you're going to suck it up like a man and do what needs to be done' look. "We need to get to Dumbledore quickly. Whatever blocked the doorway for you is powerful, and that means it may be dangerous."
Harry stop babbling, a coldness settling in his chest. At the end of his first year at Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore had revealed that some eleven years ago, Voldemort had caught wind of a prophecy of a child that would herald his defeat, one born "as the summer dies". He planned to destroy that child, but found there were two children who matched the prophecy's requirements. Harry had been one, and Neville Longbottom the other.
So Voldemort decided to kill both, starting with what should be easy. However, he never left the Longbottom household. The Killing Curse, the dreaded spell that slaughtered thousands during the war, rebounded off of the child Neville and struck its caster. But events last year had proven that Voldemort was either a master at planning for all contingencies, or not enough of this world to truly die. And Dumbledore had revealed to Harry that his wand, a twin to the one wielded by the Dark Lord, marked him still as an equal, and thus, a target.
It made his parents' concern a little more understandable.
"Go ahead, Harry, you go first. The Three Broomsticks should do it; Dumbledore still doesn't like anybody entering the castle except by conventional means."
Harry stepped into the fireplace at the back of the book shop, now flaming with green fire, and shouted, "The Three Broomsticks!" Or, at least, he tried to. It came out quite a bit garbled; Floo powder and its affiliated actions always made him nervous.
There was the familiar sense of hurtling through very narrow space, and then he was ejected into a dark, dirty room. As he fell to the floor, he realized the room was not so much dirty as very, very messy. Furniture was smashed, and there were deep scratches on the wall. It looked like some animal had been locked up there, and had raged at the imprisonment.
Harry carefully stood up, drawing his wand from his pocket. He felt nervous, as if he were walking into a graveyard. As he crossed the room, something caught his eye. An unusually bright spot in the darkness drew him. There, on the wall, was a small door that did not seem to lead outside. He pulled it open by the brass doorknob, the light which had caught his attention, and found himself looking into a long tunnel.
With a streak of curiosity his father would have been proud of, Harry ducked into the tunnel and began walking. It didn't occur to him to wait in the room. First of all, there didn't seem to be any entrances, and secondly...the house was really very creepy.
The tunnel, however, was simple. It was strong, dry, and well-kept. Walking along the path, something struck Harry. The tunnel wasn't dusty, and neither was the room. Someone had been using the area recently, and that meant that it was likely that someone would be at the other end of the path.
Harry didn't know if that made him feel better or worse.
It took a little while before he saw daylight...and heard the strange creaking noise. As he got close to the exit to the tunnel, he saw something fly past the opening, and heard a sharp 'crack', like a whip.
He stumbled back, and almost ran into someone less than four feet tall.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Harry Potter," the high-pitched voice squeaked. "Dobby didn't mean to run into you."
Harry turned slowly, hoping he wouldn't see what his mind insisted was there. A house-elf stood behind him, a small green creature that only came up to his navel. He was dressed in a tea-towel, and had a nervous, jumpy look about him, like a dog that had been kicked one too many times. House- elves had always made Harry slightly uncomfortable. He was always reminded of older Muggle movies, when black servants were always bowing and calling people 'master'.
"Um...hello?' he ventured. The house-elf grinned, and then gave a short bow.
"It is an honor to meet you, Harry Potter. Dobby has learned a great deal about you, and feels very honored to finally meet you."
Harry looked at Dobby with an odd glance. Who in the world would tell a house-elf so much about him? He knew none of his friends lived in houses old enough to have house-elves; in fact-
Dobby suddenly leapt up and grabbed the front of Harry's shirt. "Harry Potter must not to go back to Hogwarts. Turn around and never come back!" It was odd, to have a house-elf attempting to shake him; for one thing, Dobby's feet were barely on the ground. But Harry pulled away from Dobby, shaking his head.
"You're ridiculous. Why shouldn't I go back to Hogwarts? All my friends are there..." But Dobby was shaking.
"Oh, Harry Potter MUST not go back! Dobby knows he is in great danger...Master-" Dobby broke off, and unexpectedly began slamming his head into the wall. "Bad Dobby! BAD!" Startled, Harry pulled the house- elf away from the wall, leaving Dobby struggling against him.
"Stop it! Dobby, what's going on here?"
"Dobby should not be here," Dobby replied. "Dobby is not allowed outside without...Dobby means...Dobby is a good house-elf!" He pulled away from Harry, and stood before him, breathing hard. "Harry Potter should not go back to Hogwarts...it is dangerous." And with a sharp 'crack', he vanished.
Harry was left staring at the empty space for a moment, flabbergasted. What sort of a creature could Disapparate this close to Hogwarts? Yes, one could Apparate into Hogsmeade, but the protective charms around the castle tended to leak into neighboring areas.
Letting the subject drop, Harry stepped out of the tunnel and into daylight. The first thing he noticed was Hogwarts standing impressively to the north, only a short distance away. The second thing he noticed, nearly a moment too late, was the huge branch slicing towards his head.
With a shout, he jumped out of the way, only to be caught by the edge of another set of branches that whipped across him, leaving a trail of scratches on his arms and chest.
Laying on the ground, he got a good look at the huge willow tree, a strange species of growth that hovered at the edge of campus, routinely attempting to flatten anyone who got near it. Its branches were waving wildly, and behind him, others had already blocked off his escape. There was a moment of panic, and then he heard a number of people shouting, and, quite to his surprise, the tree froze.
Then Lily was hugging him, and he heard his father and Sirius arguing about something, and behind them, a whispered conversation between Remus and Dumbledore.
Harry stayed conscious long enough to realize he was safe, before he slipped into blackness.
*
"-Won't let you in if you were Albus Bloody Dumbledore! This boy got a nasty beating from that tree, and if I had my way, the whole plant would be on fire this very minute." Harry found it a comfort to wake to Madam Pomfrey threatening someone's life; it meant everything was going to be all right, if he ignored the portions of the near future when he would be forced to drink something vile.
However, given that she was so worked up, the people in question were probably Ron and Hermione. Harry made an effort to call out, to let the nurse know he was all right, but his voice seemed to have gone. His neck seemed to be bruised, and it made him wonder how many injuries he hadn't noticed.
And it made him wonder why there was a tunnel underneath the Whomping Willow.
Then Madam Pomfrey returned to her domain, trailed by a very subdued Sirius. "Very well, Mr. Black. One minute. And then I'll send you packing...I remember the last time I left you unattended in here." And she vanished in a huff.
Sirius grinned at Harry, looking a little embarrassed.
"Hey, Harry." Harry tried to push himself up, but his arms seemed weak, and he had to settle for a seated position against the pillows in the bed. Sirius sat on the edge and leaned next to Harry, slinging a friendly arm over his shoulder. "Your parents are having a chat with Dumbledore, and it seems Lily's about ready to tear the old man a new one..." He chuckled. "And by the way, you should definitely thank Peter the next time you see him; he's the one who froze the tree."
Harry nodded, considering. Peter Pettigrew usually was a slow-moving person, but when he grew anxious or particularly disturbed, he moved a lot faster, a bit like a rodent. He could imagine the paunchy man darting about under the tree looking for an opportunity to stun it.
"Why is there a tunnel under there?" Harry asked, after a moment. "It seems like a stupid thing to do, putting a tunnel under a tree like that."
"Not stupid, Harry," Sirius replied, "Cautious." He frowned for a moment, and then leaned close. "Poppy'll kill me for staying longer, but...that tunnel goes into Hogsmeade."
"It goes to a big, boarded-up house," Harry said. "I know. I got lost in the Floo Network."
Sirius snorted, smiling. "Yeah. I have a lot of great memories in that place."
"Um...Sirius, it didn't look like a great place to spend the night or anything," Harry said. "It looked pretty trashy, to tell the truth."
"Like a wild animal had torn everything to pieces?" Sirius asked. At Harry's nod, he squeezed his godson's shoulder a little tighter. "That is because that is the Shrieking Shack, the most haunted house in all of Britain. How about that?"
"Haunted? But that didn't look like the sort of ghost I've seen before," Harry protested. "It looked more like..."
"A werewolf," Sirius completed. "It's where Remus went during his school years...he still spends his time there, even though we've got everything under control."
Harry had to shudder at the image that statement conjured. He wasn't afraid of Remus, but he could imagine the man stumbling past the tree, eyes fixated on the horizon...he could imagine Remus falling onto the wooden floor, clutching at his side as his skin began to ripple, could imagine a beast raging at the inside of the house, tearing everything, including himself, to shreds of their former selves...
"Hey, Harry. It's all right...it's just Remus we're talking about." At Sirius' words and the more comforting hug he received, Harry understood Sirius had misunderstood his reaction.
"I'm not scared," Harry replied. "I just wonder how he bears it."
There was a quiet moment where Harry could actually feel Sirius smiling warmly. "He has people who help him through it."
"But...to always weather the full moon alone..." Harry murmured, suddenly sleepy. Sirius slid him down into a prone position and stood up, leaving Harry alone in the hospital wing.
And Harry dreamed.
He didn't remember much about the voices in his memory, nor the content of the dream, but what he did remember was the voice that spoke as he slipped back into consciousness, one whispering in the walls.
"He comesssss...he comes back for me...massster."
"All right, Mr. Potter, you can join the others in the Great Hall," Madam Pomfrey muttered, stepping into the main room of the Infirmary. He glanced up at her, looking and feeling quite a bit frightened.
"You didn't...you didn't hear anyone in here, did you?" he asked nervously.
Madam Pomfrey tilted her head at him, lips pressed together in concentration. "No, I don't think so. You're the first casualty of the year. And I really hope I don't have to see you here again this year." She gave a long-suffering sigh, and then added, "Although, knowing your parents and your godfather, I can't expect that. Could I at least hope you won't be sending Slytherin students here in any regular frequency?"
Harry paused, and a thought occurred to him. He reached under his robes to touch a small pendant that hung about his neck, a strange, hollow shield made of silver. He looked up at Madam Pomfrey and answered, sincerely, "Yes. I don't think it'll be a problem."
*
"Harry! Oh, you won't imagine the sorts of rumors that have gotten around. Dean Thomas has been telling people you were hexed and sent to St. Mungo's, Neville's convinced you were caught by Muggles and locked up in a lab somewhere, and I-"
Ron slapped a hand over Hermione's mouth and gave Harry a wide grin. "I'm glad to see you're all right, mate, although it's horrible you left me alone with her trying to explain things."
With a sharp slap, Hermione pushed Ron's hand away, and rolled her eyes. "Well, come on, sit down..." Harry followed her to take a seat, trying to ignore the stares of the Great Hall. Evidently, the word had gotten around he was missing, and seeing him there was either going to stop the gossiping or make it infinitely worse. He thought he knew which one it would be.
"Have you talked to Dumbledore about it?" Hermione whispered at him as she took a seat to his left. "Because I'm sure he'd need to know about this sort of thing right away-"
"Honestly, 'Mione, give him a chance to eat," Ron muttered. As requested, Hermione fell silent, only to be replaced by Dumbledore's loud voice.
"Good evening to you all, and welcome to another year at Hogwarts. As is customary, first we'll be bringing in the first-years...here they come!" And indeed, Professor McGonagall entered the hall, carrying a stool and the Sorting Hat, followed by a string of nervous-looking children. Harry found himself marveling how small they all looked, despite being at most a year or two younger than him.
A flash of red caught his eyes, and he remembered that Ron's sister Ginny was going to be there. He reached to his right and patted Ron's shoulder. "Don't worry; she'll be fine."
"Who's worrying, mate?" Ron asked, but his voice betrayed a shake that could only be born of nerves. As they watched, a young, mousy boy was sorted into Gryffindor, and upon sitting, he pulled out a Muggle camera and took a picture of the ceiling.
By the time "Weasley, Virginia," was called, Ron was nearly vibrating with tension.
The hat remained there for only a brief moment, and then shouted out, "GRYFFINDOR!" Next to him, Harry heard Ron breathe in sharply, and he realized the other boy must have been holding his breath.
The short girl hurried over to the table, amid a small hubbub of Weasleys; even Percy seemed amenable to offering a polite clap. She blushed when Ron gave her a brief hug, and ended up sitting across from Harry. There was a brief, complicated moment, when the two siblings managed to communicate a remarkable amount of information, after which, Ginny became a little more subdued.
And then Dumbledore stood to speak.
"Well, here we all are again. I'd like to start off this dinner by noting the rather tragic loss of our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor...I imagine, however, that he will not be missed. But I bring news of Mr. Quirrel's hopefully more useful successor, An Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart." Harry didn't expect the raucous applause, and it left him a little startled. He glanced up at the staff table, where the ditzy blond man, now dressed in pale violet robes, was waving to the crowd. Harry was almost certain he heard something along the lines of, 'Forgot he's won the Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile award 5 times' to his left, but dismissed it at hallucination.
"Ah yes," Lockhart announced when the din died down, "I am very honored to have this position and look forward to helping shape the minds of the future. Thank you." Harry rolled his eyes and turned, intent on adding a scathing comment to Hermione, but she was watching the stage with a dreamy look on her face.
While he would have understood perfectly if she were ogling Sirius, who had claimed a seat near the edge of the table, and despite being allegedly an assistant and therefore not worth mentioning, was stunning in his dark red robes, the ones he always wore on special occasions, he had a sneaking suspicion Hermione went for the pretty boys.
"Honestly," Ron muttered, "You throw them a pretty face, and they start falling all over each other to drool over him." Harry leaned back and turned to Ron, who seemed at least coherent.
"What, you'd prefer if Sirius were teaching us?"
"Your godfather at least knows what he's doing," Ron said. "All Gilderoy has is a line of books telling his wonderful stories of traipsing about the Himalayas and the like killing monstrous beasts and shagging beautiful witches." Harry only let his eyebrow quirk at the rant, and Ron flushed a bit. "Well, I'm just saying I can't imagine him sitting in some hut in the rainforest writing while he was trying to kill some were-leopard or something. He just hasn't got the *time*."
"Thought about this a lot?" Harry asked.
"You won't *believe* how nutters my mum is over him. It's now a family rule we're not allowed to discuss him over dinner."
There was suddenly a scream from down the table, and a loud scuffle resulting in a pot falling to the floor. Neville, Harry managed to think, before the most unearthly wail filled the hall. The people nearest the sound slumped bonelessly into their plates, and Harry found himself fighting for consciousness. The last thing he heard before he lost his grip on the waking world for the second time that day was Lockhart's voice from the staff table, announcing, "Oh, it's the curse of the banshee...there's no hope for any of them..."
*
So Harry woke up near midnight on the first day of his second day of school with a blinding headache. Ron was sitting up in his own bed, massaging his forehead.
"What the bloody-"he started, then winced, as the sound of his voice cut through his brain like a ragged knife. Ron grinned in sympathy, and then pointed to Neville's bed. The boy was laying as if dead, only the movement of his chest hinting as his status among the living. 'What was it?' Harry mouthed, and Ron held up a single finger.
Harry recognized the game. One word. Two syllables. First syllable...Ron pointed at himself. Wizard? Boy? Big boy...man! Ron tapped his nose, and then tapped his forearm with two fingers. Second syllable. An ear- tug. Sounds like...it looked like Ron was making a claw with his hands. Stab? Hit...scratch? No, Ron seemed to ponder this, and then ran the claw through his hair. Brush, comb, conditioner? No, to push back your hair like that...Rake? Yes! Man...rake? Man-mandrake!
"You could have just told me," Harry muttered, but Ron just shrugged and pointed at his throat. He couldn't talk. Harry racked his brain, trying to remember what mandrake what supposed to be like. It had roots that looked like a human, and its cry-
"Why aren't we dead?" he asked. Everyone in the hall must have heard that sound...
Ron held his palms only an inch or two apart, and Harry nodded. So it had been a young mandrake, and probably explained why Neville had let it get into a position where it could be exposed. He was meticulous, mostly, about his plants, keeping the more dangerous ones under lock and key, and even made sure the mundane ones behaved themselves.
It definitely made an interesting start to the year, he thought. On a whim, he drew out an old book from his trunk, 'The Book of Ages'. It had been a gift from Remus, and was supposed to contain the wisdom of the universe.
He flipped open to a random passage, and the phrase that he read was very simple:
"Go back to sleep. You're going to need it."
*
Well, as I said, I'm back. I suppose my excitement over PoA has sparked this again. And I assure you, things will start happening, and even now, there will be surprises. Maybe.