Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to him or his story. Anything you recognise, I probably don't own.

Times Past

Chapter 2

Finally Saturday arrived and Harry prepared to confront his uncle about the invitation to Grimmauld Place. Both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had been horrified about the survey and had threatened to lock Harry in his room for the rest of the holidays. However, Harry knew this was an empty threat as it was highly unlikely that the Dursleys had managed to forget the Order's warning so easily. Steeling himself, Harry ventured into the kitchen where he was sure his relatives would be.

Peering through the door he once again reminded himself that no, the Dursley's had not acquired a pet pink elephant over the holidays, and that it was just his bullying cousin, Dudley. After his encounter with the Dementors, something had put Dudley off his boxing dreams. Once his body was deprived of this exercise it had put on weight, forcing Aunt Petunia to order custom made knickerbockers for Dudley's school uniform.

Harry looked away from Dudley to regard his uncle. With greying hair and only half a moustache Uncle Vernon looked much as he did whenever something went wrong - beetroot and squinting.

Harry's only thin relative wasn't in the kitchen. Aunt Petunia was stick-like, with a long neck, perfect for staring over fences into the next door neighbour's garden.

Harry himself never seemed to fit in with his surrogate family, with his messy black hair and startling green eyes. However, his most shocking feature was a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. As was normal now, it was throbbing slightly; just enough to remind him it was there if he ever managed to forget.

Finally, the elder Dursley noticed Harry standing in the doorway.

"What do you want? If it's another form, you can forget it. If it was my choice you would be in an orphanage and certainly not getting extra benefits at your freak school," he growled.

"Actually it's not a form. I thought you might want to know that I'll be leaving today to see my friends. Hope you're grateful for the warning." He grinned at his uncle ad cousin, both who looked terrified at the even the thought of wizards. All relatives had bad memories of magic whether they were personal pig tails or balloon sisters.

Harry looked over his stupefied relations once more, before leaving the kitchen. Then he sat down in his room to wait… and wait… and wait.

Much later, Harry was still waiting. It was dark now and the Dursleys were watching a movie on the television. Just then, the doorbell rang. Harry perked up immediately and raced downstairs to answer it. There outside was Aunt Petunia.

"Wotcher, Harry," she said cheerfully.

"Tonks?" he asked. "Is that you?"

"Certainly. There are more people here too, and I'm just waiting for them to take the charm off." Nymphadora Tonks glared pointedly at an area to her right.

"Oh, right," said the patch of thin air. "Sorry."

Very soon it was no longer an empty space - it had shimmered to reveal three wizards - Remus Lupin, Arthur Weasley and Mad-Eye Moody.

"Hurry up, hurry up," the latter growled. "Tell them you're leaving and then let's go."

Harry shrugged and stepped back into the house. "Aunt Petunia? Uncle Vernon? I'm going now."

He heard a grunt, which he supposed meant fine.

"Er… goodbye then."

Hearing no answer he turned and went back to the waiting Order members.

"Got your trunk?" asked Lupin.

"It's just upstairs. I'll go get it."

"Don't worry," said Tonks. "Accio Trunk." Harry's trunk came bouncing loudly down the stairs. The witch grinned in apology.

"We'd better be going. With Dementors here last year, we don't know how safe this place is," said Moody, his magical eye revolving eerily.

"Hold on, what about Harry's owl?" asked Lupin.

"I just sent her with a letter to Ron and Hermione. Her cage is in my trunk. So… can we go?"

"Yes, Yes, of course," said Mr. Weasley who was peering vaguely at the doorbell. Almost reverently, he pressed it, listening with delight to the common ding-dong sound.

"Arthur," said Tonks exasperatedly. "We're going now."

"Mm-hmm," was the distracted reply.

Lupin pulled Mr. Weasley away from the doorbell and maneuvered him towards the side of the house gesturing for the others to follow him.

Moody shook his head, pointing to a broomstick in the shadows. "I'll follow later. I need to check something first."

Lupin shrugged and picked up an old pair of rusty lawn clippers. "Tonks," he asked urgently, "what was the word to activate the portkey?"

"I'll say it. Everyone holding on?" After checking Harry's grip to both the portkey and his trunk, Tonks took a deep breath and said softly but clearly, "lemon sherbet."

Harry felt the typical tug behind his navel before he was jerked away. After a moment's disorientation, he looked around at his new surroundings.

He was on a hill, surrounded by many other hills, while in the distance was a forest. That was about all that could be said about the area. There was nothing Harry could find to allow him to work out where he was. The only familiar sights were those of Mr. Weasley, Lupin and Tonks, who was back to normal aside from her green hair.

"Er…" said Harry. "Where are we?"

"Did you go to the Quidditch World Cup?" Tonks asked. "'Cause this is near where it was held."

Harry stared at the countryside. If he tried really hard, he could compare it to the World Cup area but even then, only broadly.

"Here it is," said Mr. Weasley suddenly, holding up a branch which was almost the same shape as an old fashioned key. Lupin glanced up at Mr. Weasley, nodded vaguely, then looked a watch-like contraption on his wrist. Straining to see better, Harry saw an hourglass. The sand had almost run out.

"Come on," called Lupin. "We're leaving fourteen seconds, twelve, eleven…"

The other three rushed over, Tonks and Harry a bit slower than the Mr. Weasley because of his trunk, reached out and grabbed part of the portkey.

"Seven, six, five…"

"Hold on," said Harry, feeling a memory surface. "Didn't you say-"

Without warning, Harry was cut off by the portkey leaving. After the familiar sensation of magical travel, he found himself in an abandoned stretch of pasture, where the only sign of life was an old and rickety shed.

"Sorry about that, Harry," said Lupin. "What were you saying?"

"Last time you picked me up didn't you say something about not being able to create portkeys because of the Ministry? Because, well, that doesn't seem to matter now."

"Oh, that," answered Tonks. "Fudge had to give Dumbledore permission." She shrugged. "It didn't really matter anyway, Dumbledore would have just gone ahead even if Fudge hadn't authorised it."

"After all," added Mr. Weasley, "there was no way Fudge could pretend Dumbledore was lying and, if he had tried, he probably would have been thrown out of office."

Harry considered this as Lupin and Tonks wandered over to the shed and opened it with a charm Harry didn't recognise. They pulled out three broomsticks and came back over to Harry and Mr. Weasley.

"Harry, you still have your Firebolt, don't you?" asked Tonks.

"Yeah," he answered. "I'll just get it."

Harry wandered over to his trunk, which had bounced away when they landed. As he opened it he thought about what he had just been told. Fudge had backed down and was finally listening. From what Harry had seen during the holidays, the Prophet was no longer using him as a joke; instead, he was once again the Golden Boy of the wizarding world, the ill-treated hero. Harry opened his trunk and grabbed his broomstick, before slowly dragging the trunk back over to where Lupin, Tonks and Mr. Weasley were waiting.

"Ready, Harry?" asked Lupin.

"Yeah," answered Harry, "I'm ready."

"Let's go then," said Mr. Weasley.

The four of them pushed off the ground and rose until Lupin motioned for them to stop. While they were hovering, Lupin pulled out his wand, and sent gold sparks into the sky. Once that was done, he signaled for them to start moving again and off they went, with Tonks leading, followed by Mr. Weasley, then Harry and with Lupin bringing up the rear. Similar to last year they flew and flew until Harry was sure he was stuck on his broomstick for life. Although they didn't seem to be taking as many detours as during the last flight, Harry was relieved when they finally reached Grimmauld Place.

They dismounted from their brooms and stood at the fence that separated eleven and thirteen Grimmauld Place. Harry concentrated on what he had read last year – The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London. Number twelve expanded out, taking up previously non-existent space. Tonks stepped up to the door and knocked softly, explaining to Harry: "We still haven't been able to get Sirius' mother's picture down."

Harry nodded, his throat dry. Suddenly it seemed as if he could only call, and Sirius would come bounding down the stairs, grinning, eager to welcome Harry to the headquarters. Harry's joy at being about to finally see his friends again faded, as everywhere he looked in this house he saw reminders of Sirius. Glumly, Harry walked up the stairs towards the room he had stayed in last year.

"Harry!" he heard from behind him. He turned around, only to be almost bowled over by Hermione.

"Hello, Hermione," said Harry, smiling at her. "Hi, Ron."

"Hi, Harry," answered Ron. He grinned. "Least this time you only had to stay there a couple of weeks."

Harry grinned back. After all, he had to admit Ron was right. Unlike last year, this time he had been kept at least partially informed, thanks to Ron, Hermione and the Daily Prophet.

"I guess," he replied. Still depressed by all the reminders of Sirius, he added, "I'm getting up to bed."

"Oh – alright then... goodnight," said Hermione.

"'Night," said Harry, wandering over to his room. Once he got there he collapsed on the bed, pictures of Sirius swirling before his eyes.