Chapter Three

The Story Begins..Again

Sixth Year (for Harry co)

Summer (RIGHT after OotP)

Harry! Flashback( aren't you just glad

Dear Harry,

How is your summer going? PleaseREAD. Anyways, I send all the Daily Prophets from about a week after school ended. I do hope the muggles aren't being too hard. Ron is fine, so don't worry. As last year, we're still waiting for the old man to speak. Do write back as soon as possible!

Love,

Hermione

PS: don't brood.

Those were the short letters or even notes he received. The new READ system was installed. He didn't let Hedwig out too much after what happened last year. All letters were short, and usually, between Hermione and Ron, the rest of the Order had sent one every week. "the Old Man" still hadn't said anything about arrangements for Harry to stay with the others, but then again, it's Dumbledore. He read between the lines and the P.S was the nice and short way to say, "don't blame yourself, we're all fine and there's nothing more to change what happened." He really wished he could have a time turner, but after this, not even if another rendition of third year would anyone let him near one. It wouldn't change much anyway.

He stared at the pile of newspapers next to the letter and sighed. He wasn't in the mood for reading nonsense and absurd predicaments that had nothing to do with Voldemort. He had attacked in the past two months, yet so randomly that it was difficult to know what he was up to. Harry was in the aloof stage of just showing Voldemort the hand and walking away. The prophecy rang in his head whenever he thought of Voldemort (not much in between) thus about the Department of Mysteries and finally…Sirius. His throat thickened every time he thought of the events. The nightmares didn't end and the state of brooding melancholy only helped more "visions".

Considering life with the Durseleys, nothing more could help, there was just no abundant supply or cause for happiness. All his homework was finished. The pile of books next to his trunk gave proof. It was only the second month of the summer hols and he had nothing to do. Aunt Petunia avoided him like the plague, even with chores. He almost did mind though, the work could block the thoughts and it would be easier to tolerate.

The most he had to do was work in the attic. The attic itself was rather interesting with the neat pile of boxes lying in the corners. If you think that in this attic would lie more about his parents, then you are quite correct. Aunt Petunia was not able to throw away family possessions left to her by her parents. Hence, the reason for the attic; no one came up there, not even Dudley. Harry could spend whole days up in the dusty niche and no one would even try the latch.

The latch was the best part of his small room, it was located right behind the door. Aunt Petunia had set him to dust the attic and straighten it up. She didn't dare make him do more, not after his good bye party at the train station, and Dumbledore's owl. The whole day he sat there and opened boxes looking through faded albums. He found one of Aunt Petunia and his mother. He didn't open it after the first page, in fact any related to Lily Potter was left in a shadowy corner in a small pile. He couldn't see those picture yet, not so soon.

Hedwig lived up in the attic as well. She enjoyed mainly, the lack of noise and threats from Vernon. She in her own manner knew how and when to leave and enter. She would stay with Harry for hours and at time distract him from his brooding sessions. It was comforting, yet still, the faded albums were untouched. He had this phobia, this apprehension of finding more than he wanted.

Whether or not Aunt Petunia knew or remembered what was up here, she never showed a sign. And Harry, couldn't say he was happy or annoyed by the gesture, it just was. The "hedwig" size window had a very nice view of the garden and the house behind Number four Privet Drive. That house however, showed no signs of life whatsoever. The people, if there were any, never went out. There was a pale green car outside in front of the house, yet it didn't seem to go anywhere. Harry would stare at the silent house wondering what sort of people lived there. His first impulse after a few days was to say, "Wizards!" but then again, he was the only registered wizard in his area.

Other times, he would dream the house was some undetected stronghold of Voldemort. That Voldemort would rise from its shadows and fulfill the prophecy. Those were only nightmares, and Harry neither hoped nor anticipated their reality. On a dark, damp summer night, trapt in his nightmares, he wouldn't sleep ever after, not until one quick glance at the window. Searching through shadows, just waiting for his adrenaline to fall.

Today, he realized was different. For those times were last month, and today, it was July 31 and he was 16. Sixteen years of luck and life. Today, he would not brood, he would not lurk in the shadows. He didn't go up to the attic either. He knew, or thought, what was up there and Hedwig would understand. He went downstairs to the funeral affair, and had breakfast. Later, he went outside.

Today, someone, was in the house. Someone was living there. The strange place where the garden was always trimmed yet wild. Outside, he saw girl. She was of medium height with long black hair. She didn't see him, but she was singing to herself. There were other people too, two guys and another girl with a video camera. 'Muggles' thought Harry, seeing the video camera and the sketch book beside one of the boys.

That was all he saw, turning away he sat in the lawn. One may ask, "Is he going to visit Ms. Figg?" That would be too predictable and today, he didn't want to talk with anyone from that world. No, don't hold your breath, he's not turning "Muggle!". The memories lingered in their eyes, like a reflection or a movie played over and over, in a tormenting session, endless.

He walked out of Number four. Toward the park in Little Whining. He almost laughed as he passed the alley where he had crossed with the dementors last summer, then again, it wasn't such a jolly occasion then. He sat on a deserted swing in behind the trees where the children played. Their voices sounded like fading whispers where he was sitting.

"Still brooding Harry?" asked a light voice beside him. Looking up, he saw Tonks, in all her multi-colored brilliance. "Tonks…when..? I.. "You're quite the sight for sore eyes eh? No Hi Tonks, how are you?" she said smiling. He smiled, never a dull day with Tonks anyways. "Hi Tonks HOW are you?" he said emphatically. "Oh please don't cry over me it's only Tonks." She said even more dramatically.

He laughed, "Ok, so what are you doing here? I know you've been following me these past days". She stared for a second and then smiled, "I've come to take you back of course!". Harry, did not smiled, he didn't even react to the news. In fact he had known this since the beginning of the summer. Normally leaving the Durseleys was fine, in fact great, yet now going back..there? He sighed silently and murmered, "When do we leave?"

Tonks seemed nonplussed by his manner, or chose to ignore it all, " Tonight, I just came by to drop the news and that you have to pack, we leave at nine, the Dursleys are once again invited to…erm the Grunnings Employee of the Year Ceremony." She replied laughing. Even Harry managed to chuckle. The thought of the Dursleys wandering to some deserted building for no reason to realize it was a trick was hilarious. He looked up to see Tonks disappear with a small pop. The park was once again faintly noisy, and now, it was also oppressing with all the happy families. Harry left as well.