Harry sighed and leaned back in his chair. He shut his eyes and let the warm summer breeze play upon his face. He sat, content for a moment, not thinking, not remembering.
"More tea?" croaked an elderly woman with drastically thinning hair who was sitting across from him.
"No thanks," he replied, not moving from his comfortable position.
"All right, all the more for me then." Harry laughed a little at Mrs.Figg's response. He had been spending the last two weeks at this squib's home; returning to the Dursley's only to sleep and to check on his mail, although Hedwig was beginning to learn to fly to Mrs. Figg's first to check if he was there. He quite enjoyed the batty old woman's company, she was someone he felt he could trust and talk to. Because Harry needed someone he could talk to. He needed to tell someone about the dreams—nightmares more like—that he had been having. Once again they were about the door, the same door that had haunted him all last year without him understanding what it was about. Well, now he understood. But the fact was, Harry no longer dwelled on the Department of Mysteries because the Dark Lord did. Voldemort no longer yearned for something within its walls, what he had wanted had long been destroyed. Harry, however, did long for something from this particular section of the ministry. Harry longed for his godfather.
For the past few weeks, Harry had avoided this topic at all costs. Whenever someone mention Sirius's name or asked Harry if he wanted to talk about it, he would jump up and visit someone else, or attempt to sleep in his dormitory. On the train ride home he had managed to avoid the subject altogether, and nobody said a word about it when they said their farewell, all of them promising to write and saying they would see each other soon. In fact, it wasn't until a few days ago that Harry was hit with the full realization. Sirius was dead. He wasn't coming back.
So there he was, ready to discuss it and accept it, but there was no one to talk about it with. No Hermione, so quick to understand what he was feeling. No Ron, the ultimate listener and friend. So he turned to the only one he thought could possibly understand, fellow member of the wizarding world and neighbor, Mrs. Figg.
His thoughts were interrupted as a loud screech sounded from behind Mrs. Figg's fence. Harry's owl Hedwig made her way onto the porch. She dropped a letter in a green envelope on Harry's head.
Ministry of Magic 7/13/97
Dear Mr. Potter,
We would like to express our regret regarding the death of your godfather, Mr. Sirius Phinneas Black. Mr. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore has proven Mr. Black's innocence, therefore the enclosed document is legal.
With Sorrow,
Cornelius Fudge
Minister of Magic
Harry frowned. What were they talking about? He reached inside the envelope and pulled out what looked like a miniscule stack of paper. It didn't even fill up the palm of his hand. How was he supposed to read this? The moment this thought crossed his mind the tiny parchment began to expand, until suddenly it was too much to hold. He carefully set it down on the table.
"What is that, boy?" croaked Mrs. Figg from across the table.
"My thoughts exactly," muttered Harry, examining the top sheet.
FROM: SIRIUS PHINNEAS BLACK
TO (UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF DEATH):
HARRY JAMES POTTER
Harry's hands began to tremble. Should he read it? Wasn't there some law about having a lawyer present? Or was that just in the muggle world?
"Is that from that boy...James' friend...Sirius Black?" Mrs. Figg asked, leaning over the table to read the cover.
"Yeah...yeah it is...should I--?"
"No you should not!" Mrs. Figg seized the stack and started to shuffle towards the kitchen.
"Wha—what are you—wait!" Harry jumped up and followed her. "It was addressed to me! It's—I'm supposed to—"
"Oh, do shut up, Potter! You're going to get to read it, don't burst a blood vessel! I just think it'd be wise to contact Dumbledore before you do!"
"Dumbledore!" Harry snarled, "Why, so he can take it away and promise to read it to me when I'm in the nursing home? 'You're too young, Harry. You're too delicate, Harry.'—"
Mrs. Figg was doing a very good job of ignored Harry's little rant, she was busy fiddling with a toaster, changing the settings randomly and muttering to it.
"—'Harry, I was trying to protect you, Harry, I don't care that I killed Sirius! I don't care that I sent that bitch Umbridge to ruin your life, I don't care that I didn't look at you for months, Harry, I don't—'" Harry's tirade was interrupted by a blast and a burst of purple light.
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and most esteemed Wizard of the century, stood in the squib's kitchen. His face looked drawn, as if life was extremely stressful, and although the trademark twinkle in his eye was there, it was faint and not as prominent as usual.
"Arabella, you called? Harry, are you okay?"
"Like you care!" Harry spat at him, turning away so as to avoid looking at the face of the man who caused his godfather's death.
"But I—"Albus took a step forward, but thought better of it. With what looked like a great effort, he turned to Mrs. Figg. "So....what seems to be the problem?"
"The Ministry sent Potter a letter from Sirius."
"Ahhhh....I thought so....Kingsley warned me this might happen...well, well, well...."
"Well what?" Harry reeled around and looked the Professor in the eye. "Well?! What are you going to do? Hide it, right? Wait until I have a dream about Mrs. Weasley or Professor Lupin getting tortured and rush off to save them before mentioning it to me? Is that the plan? Well, if it is, too bad, because I'm reading it, it's mine, and there's nothing you can do to stop me!"
"Harry, I must ask you to calm down." The old Headmaster stared down his crooked nose, giving Harry the traditional peircing stare. "You are going to get to read it. However, in order for it to be legal, someone from the law enforcement division of the Ministry must be present, that being either an Auror or a member of the Wizengamot. So, Harry, if you don't mind, I think it'd be wise if you came with me."
"I refuse to go the Ministry! I'm not stepping foot in there again! Don't even—"
"Harry, if you would please refrain from interrupting me and jumping to conclusions, I would be most grateful. I have no itention of bringing you to the Ministry. Our destination happens to be the Headquarters."
"Oh." Harry muttered, turning slightly red.
"Mrs. Figg, we'll be seeing you soon I hope?"
"Yes, I expect you will."
"Well, come on, Harry, there are a few stops we have to make before we get there." Harry stood behind Dumbldore with his hands in his pockets, scowling at the silver head in front of him. The Headmaster mumbled something, and immediately the air was filled with glorious music, the high notes wavering in the small kitchen. A burst of fire exploded on the counter and Fawkes the Phoenix emerged. He flew around the room once before perching on Dumbledore's shoulder.
"Would you mind taking Harry and I to Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked the bird. Fawkes nodded, his eyes glinting. He turned around and allowed the Headmaster to pluck a single feather, which he gave to Harry. The moment Harry took it he felt the familiar hook behind his naval, and seconds later he landed with a thud in Dumbledore's office.
Everything that he had broken after the events in the Department of Mysteries seemed to have been fixed; the spindly little gadgets and knick-knacks were all sitting in their rightful place on the table he had attempted to destroy. The beautiful office was empty except for one person, a woman who was sitting in an armchair next to Fawkes's usual perch. At first Harry didn't recognize her, then—
"Professor McGonagall?!" he gasped. She looked up from whatever she was reading. Her hair was down, perhaps that's what confused him, and she was wearing a muggle blouse and slacks.
"Hello, Potter." She said, smiling. "Why the shocked face?"
"Oh....you just....I didn't recognize....how's your summer been?" he asked lamely. Thankfully her amused response was interrupted by a burst of light and feathers.
"Minerva! Harry! Hurry, we must leave at once!"
A/N: Hey! This is my second fic of all time, and it's my first one with chapters. Listen: I NEED REVIEWS. And this is why: A: I need to see if this is any good so that I can B: have the inspiration to finish it which leads to C: I need ideas. SO PLEASE REVIEW! THE LITTLE BUTTON AT THE BOTTOM IS SOFTLY CALLING YOUR NAME! LISTEN TO IT!