What a Strange and Mysterious Thing It Is

Disclaimer All characters and references to Harry Potter mythology are the sole property of the amazing J.K. Rowling. I write for fun only, besides lawyers make me nervous.

Summary: Following the death of Sirius, truths emerge from everywhere. Harry must learn to cope with them and perhaps find what he has been seeking. This story, in keeping with the style of Ms. Rowling, is in Harry's point of view. It is mostly about Harry and Professor McGonagall, but there is a lot of AD/MM as well. It is rated PG-13 for some violence in later chapters. Please read and review! Enjoy!

A/N: Thank you so much to my reviewers: Quill of Minerva, Lanzer, Nightwing 509, mugglemin, ancient-memories, and Lou. McGonagall! Hope you enjoy this next installment!

Chapter Two: The Risks We Take

Before Harry knew it he was standing outside the Burrow. He had been thinking so intently on all that had occurred at his aunt and uncle's house. McGonagall was peering at him quizzically. "Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" she asked. Harry could only nod in response. His thoughts were consuming him. The door of the Burrow flew open before either Harry or Professor McGonagall could knock.

"Harry!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley as she threw her arms around Harry's neck. "So good to see you, dear."

"Molly," interrupted McGonagall, "may we come in?" Harry was grateful for McGonagall's question as Mrs. Weasley's embrace was squeezing off the blood flow to his face.

"Oh, of course, of course," blushed Mrs. Weasley. She yielded the entryway to the new arrivals. Harry stepped over the threshold and for the first time that summer he felt a wave of comfort enter his soul. Though he had only visited the Burrow a handful of times before, but it was more of a home than Privet Drive had ever been.

As he entered the house Harry saw Ron and Ginny sitting at the table. They must have been waiting for him to arrive. They both jumped to their feet straight away. "Hey, mate," Ron said excitedly as Ginny just smiled softly. "Come on, let's take you stuff upstairs. That is..." Ron hesitated glancing from Professor McGonagall to his mother, "if that's okay."

"By all means, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall chuckled. The three Gryffindors turned to hurry upstairs to Ron's room. Ginny had taken Hedwig from Harry as Ron grabbed the opposite side of Harry's trunk. By the time they finally reached the landing outside Ron's bedroom door all three were huffing and puffing from the effort.

Harry pushed his way through the door and smiled at the familiar sight of Ron's brilliantly orange room. Ron was an avid Chudley Cannons fan and it was certainly evident from the posters adorning the walls right down to the slightly worn bedspread. Harry and Ron set down his trunk and Harry sank upon it. Ron and Ginny had likewise seated themselves, but onto Ron's bed. No one spoke for a minute or two. Even though they were all happy to see one another, no words seemed legitimate enough to speak. Harry could tell that Ron was becoming uncomfortable by the silence as he was shifting around nervously.

"So," Harry said trying to stimulate a conversation, "how did you do on your OWL's?"

"You won't believe it!" Ron perked up. "I got an outstanding in Care of Magical Creatures, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and get this, Potions."

"Yeah, me too," Harry laughed. "I can just imagine Snape's reaction when we're in his class this year."

"If I didn't want to be an Auror I probably wouldn't continue on in Potions," explained Ron forlornly. A knock at the door alerted them to the arrival of someone on the landing. Professor McGonagall poked in her head.

"Might I come in?" she asked.

Ron shot to his feet as though he had been blasted from a cannon. "Of course, Professor," he stammered.

Professor McGonagall entered and Harry noticed her scanning the room as she had done in his own that morning. Ron's ears were turning a deep shade of scarlet. "You have good taste, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall stated when her analysis was complete. Ron turned even more red and narrowed his eyes. Clearly he was unsure whether this was a compliment or not. "I like the Cannons as well," the professor said bemused. "Let's just hope they are not as dismal as last year...embarrassing." This lightened Ron quite a bit.

"Harry," McGonagall said turning to him, "I need to head back to the school, but I just wanted to let you know that you may contact Professor Dumbledore or myself should you need anything." Harry nodded. McGonagall did the same in response and she strode from the room in a swirl of tartan.

The next few days were the happiest Harry had had in a long time. He could get up whenever he wanted, and thanks to Mrs. Weasley's insistence that he "fatten up", he enjoyed many of his favorite foods. One of the best times he had was being able to get out his Firebolt and play quidditch with his friends. He had missed it immensely since he had been banned playing by Umbridge the previous year. Though he worried whether his ban would be uplifted now that she was gone. Ginny had apparently sensed his mood on the subject. "Don't worry," she said, "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore has already taken care of that. You'll be playing again this year. If not, Professor McGonagall will kill him." Harry laughed. Leave it to the Weasleys to put a smile on his face.

The week of his birthday had brought the arrival of Hermione, his other best friend from Hogwarts. Ron had, much to Harry's relief, abstained from mentioning Sirius. Hermione was a different matter. She was insistent that Harry talk about it. "I know you're hurting Harry," she said one day. "You put on a brave face, but I can see it in your eyes."

"Oh, leave him alone, Hermione," scolded Ron.

"I will not!" she said indignantly. "Friends don't ignore each other because something bad has happened. That's when we should stand together stronger!"

"I am standing up for Harry!" Ron yelled angrily. He suddenly grabbed Hermione by the arm and steered her from the room. Harry was surprised. He had never seen Ron so physically intense with her. It was not a violent intensity, just a determined one. They had continued their fight in the hallway. Though muffled, Harry could clearly hear their interlude.

"Hermione," Ron was saying, "I know you are doing what you think is right by Harry, but for as long as we have known him, what has he always done when you push him emotionally?"

"He bottles up even more," Hermione realized.

"Exactly," assured Ron. "Be there for him, but let him bring it up to you." In that moment Harry realized how much his friends meant to him. They knew and understood him. They cared for his heart and he knew that he would always be able to rely on them.

Harry's birthday came and went. It felt strange to be sixteen. Where had the time gone? August saw the arrival of the trio's Hogwarts letters. Harry felt a pang of nervousness for the upcoming year, but he was excited as well. He prayed that this year would be better than the last, though inside he doubted it. How could it now that the second war had begun.

The week before the start of term Ron, Harry, and Hermione made a their annual trek to Diagon Alley. At the very least Harry was able to visit Quality Quidditch Supplies, his favorite shop, and meet some of his fellow Gryffindors there. The three students were currently standing outside of Flourish and Blotts. All three were scanning their book lists for the new term. Harry had only a handful of new ones to purchase. One for each of his NEWT classes: Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. The sound of a malevolent voice caught his attention, and Harry scanned the crowd to locate its owner.

"Mother says he should be out in no time," the voice drawled. "Father still has plenty of sway. Funny what gold can do for you."

"What are you looking at?" Harry heard Ron whisper in his ear. Harry nodded his head abruptly in the direction of the voice. It was Draco Malfoy, Harry's enemy since the day they had met. Hermione had grabbed Harry's arm as if she were afraid that he would swoop down upon Malfoy like a starving vulture. Malfoy was surrounded by his cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. It did not take a great deal of imagination to realize what they were talking about. Harry had been partly responsible for the apprehension of all three of their fathers a couple of months ago.

"Oh, look who it is," Malfoy said vindictively having spotted the trio at last. "Potty, Weasel, and the Mudblood." Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles threateningly at his sides.

"What's the matter Malfoy?" fumed Harry. "Cross because the world knows what a lowlife your father is?" Malfoy's cheeks flushed deeply and Harry took a twisted sense of pleasure in knowing that he had touched a nerve. Harry was sick of being at the mercy of Malfoy's forked tongue.

"I told you last June, Potter, that you will pay for sending my father to Azkaban," Malfoy hissed. Harry was reaching cautiously inside his robes for his wand. "I'm going to make you pay."

"WELL DO IT THEN!" Harry shouted. The crowd perusing Diagon Alley all stopped to stare, but Harry did not notice or quiet himself. "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" Malfoy must of realized that he had been beaten. It was inconceivable to attempt anything here in Diagon Alley. There were simply too many witnesses. He shot Harry one last malignant look and was gone, Crabbe and Goyle lumbering along in his wake.

"Harry!" Hermione scolded. "You should not provoke him!"

"May I remind you that he started it," Harry said bitterly rounding on her. Harry immediately felt guilty for being so harsh with her. Her face fell as she looked at the ground. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he apologized. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Seeing Malfoy made me remember what Kreacher did to betray us. Maybe we would not have gone to the Department of Mysteries and Sirius would..." He could not finish. Hermione had looked up at him and tears were brimming her eyes.

A sudden sense of anxiety began to flood Harry's insides. He felt himself begin to panic. He could not stand it. He turned and fled from his two friends. Where he was going he did not know. He just had to run, run from the memory of his godfather falling through the veil. He did not know how far he had gone, but eventually weariness overtook him. He stumbled to a nearby wall. Harry looked around him and realized he was on the far side of Diagon Alley from where he had been. The far end of the alley held only a few shops and only a scant number of witches or wizards ever came down this far. Harry sank to the ground with his back to the wall. He clutched his knees to his chest. He was still panting heavily from his retreat. You can't outrun the truth, Harry, he thought to himself. At that, any resolve Harry had left melted away. He dropped his face to his knees and wept.

The train ride back to Hogwarts on September first was a quiet one. As the Hogwarts Express ambled along Harry stared out the window. He was thinking of the incident in Diagon Alley earlier that week. It was Mr. Weasley who discovered him. Ron and Hermione had apparently informed Ron's parents of what had transpired outside of Flourish and Blotts. Harry had composed himself by the time Mr. Weasley had arrived, but he was exhausted and emotionally drained. He had become numb to the goings on around him. Mr. Weasley had escorted him back to the familiar end of the alley where after the obligatory questions to whether he was alright and Mrs. Weasley's bone-crushing hug, everyone had thankfully left him alone. Though Harry would not soon forget the deeply worried looks on Ron and Hermione's faces.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Later he could not remember arriving at Hogsmeade station or even the welcoming fest that night. He just wanted to get back to his familiar four-poster bed in Gryffindor Tower. Any greetings that night had been answered with nods or waves. When the feast had finally concluded Harry silently joined the throng as the different houses made their way in various directions to their own common rooms. It was lucky that Ron and Hermione and been with him as he reached the portrait hole. He simply stood in a daze looking at his feet. Harry was completely unaware of his own odd behavior. Only after Hermione uttered the new password ("Narro Veritas!"), did he continue on. Without so much as a good night to his friends, Harry ascended the stairs to his dormitory.

Harry did not bother to change into his pajamas or remove his glasses, but simply fell, face forward, onto his pillow. Only the sound of parchment aroused him and prevented him from drifting immediately off to sleep. Harry rolled over to find three letters lying on his bed. Hedwig, who hooted softly, was perched upon the headboard. "What?" Harry chastised. "You couldn't wait until tomorrow to deliver these?" Hedwig ruffled her feathers indignantly and flew off for the Owlery.

Harry turned over the first letter and by the soft glow of the fire rising the stairs from the common room, Harry surprisedly recognized his Aunt Petunia's handwriting. Harry could not imagine what his aunt would possibly be writing to him about. Curiosity took hold as Harry eased open the envelope.

Dear Harry,

I know that my writing to you must come as a great shock. I find myself shocked in doing so. I should have done this sooner, but I knew that I have been anything but kind and loving with you since your parents passed away. The truth is Harry, that I did not hate your mother. I loved her dearly, but for some reason that I still have not yet ascertained, I had come to think that she had abandoned me all those years ago.

When Lily received her Hogwarts letter when we were children she was so excited. I guess you could say I was jealous. She garnered all the attention from our parents after that. I wanted to feel special too. So, when she left to go to school I thought she had deserted me to be without her. I was narrow-minded and foolish. So, each passing day a resentment in my heart grew. It was like an evil monster eating away at the image of the Lily I remembered, and in its place left the image I had formulated in my mind of the sister who did not love me or was embarrassed by my ordinariness.

The day you left in July I was angry. Your professor, Professor McGonagall I think it was, made me remember the day I thought Lily had abandoned me. But I came to an epiphany soon afterward. The letter she gave me, I don't know if you knew or not, but it was from your mother. I did not read it for several days. Indeed I tried many times to tear it up or burn it in the fireplace. But each time I could not get myself to do so. Finally I read it. I now understand. Your mum did not leave me, and even now that she is dead she has not yet left me. Her letter did that for me. I hope you understand that too. In all the terrible ways I have betrayed you as your aunt, please let me give you this: I know your mum loved you more than life itself and she still lives in you. That is why I could not bear to look you in the eyes for all those years. When I saw your eyes I saw Lily staring back out at me.

I know this will not greatly change things. I know for certain that your uncle Vernon shall never be persuaded, but my soul is as free as it has been for thirty years. Understanding what I do now, I have failed you in almost every regard as I betrayed the memory of you mother and father. So, I would like to give you these other two letters as a token, as late as it may be, to let you know that you were always loved. Even if I never realized it until now. The first is Lily's own Hogwarts letter. I found it after she died. I know that you have no material things from her and you should have it. The second is your mother's letter to me that I was given that day in July. Keep them, treasure them.

Harry, I hope I can do right by you from now on. Know though that it will be difficult. I have been living a lie for so long that the lines between that lie and the truth are still blurred. Good luck to you at school, enjoy your life as much as you can while you are young.

Petunia.

Harry reached up to wipe his face. His cheeks were wet and he had been unaware that Petunia's letter had invoked his eyes to tears. It all made sense now. Why Aunt Petunia had never looked at him, and why the few occasions she had were filled with hatred. Harry swallowed hard to try to force the lump in his throat back down below his Adam's apple. He turned the other two letters over in his hand. He caressed them softly. What a wonderful gift they were. Not only because they had been given to him in that way, but also because they were blessed physical reminders of his mother. Harry opened the letter that had been addressed to his aunt and read. Like on the envelope, the letter began:

My dear, Petunia,

It is so strange how life works sometimes. I thought that once I graduated from school life would be as wonderful as it could ever be. But we are facing a severe threat, Petunia. The whole world, not just the magical one. I fear that the world as we know it will no longer be the same. Who will live to see the coming of a new dawn? The truth is no one can say for certain.

Yet, one thing is certain. We only regret the risks we didn't take. I should have been more forthcoming with you long ago, my dear sister. I think you know that if you have this letter it is too late and I am gone. I have never pretended to understand where your intolerance of me has come from, but despite all this, I hope you know that I have always loved you. If you felt that I have deserted you I am sorry. I went to better myself. I may be magical, but that never made me better than you! You are better than me in so many ways. I know few people as determined as you are, it is a strength you have always possessed. Though I was older, I always looked up to you for it.

Now that I am gone can you see it in your heart to love me again? I am afraid that should you be reading this letter I never had the chance to explain all of this to you in person, or to know that you have forgiven me for what ever I did to cause you despair. Petunia, you mean the world to me. You are as important to me as James or my little Harry! I love you, and know that when I am gone I will still love you, no matter where that may be.

Like I said before, it is strange the way that life works sometimes. You and I both have sons in an era of uncertainty. Should my Harry survive what is in store, I hope you will tell him everyday how much he was loved. He is my shining star, James my rock, and what of you Petunia? You Petunia, are the smile in my heart. Remember that Petunia. Remember I love you now, and always.

Your sister,

Lily

Torrents of fresh tears were streaming out of Harry's eyes now. He had been holding the letter out away from him so that his tears would not smear its precious contents. Harry was completely fatigued physically and emotionally. He removed his glasses and deposited them on the bedside table. He carefully placed Petunia's letter underneath his pillow and sank down upon it restfully. The other two letters Harry clutched to his chest over his heart. As his eyes blinked heavily and his body succumbed to dreams Harry thought of how the first time in his life he was glad Aunt Petunia was his mother's sister.