Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, they belong to J.K Rowling.
Chapter 3 Dream
Finally 10 o'clock arrived, and Harry, now feeling extremely nervous made his way down the stairs. He wanted to see his Aunt and Uncle's faces when they saw a group of wizards on their doorstep! He went into the kitchen, and looking out of the window, he noticed his Uncle's car was missing, but he could hear his aunt cleaning in this living room. Vernon didn't have to work much in the holidays, but sometimes he did have to go into work, and apparently he had today. Harry didn't know whether to be relieved that his Uncle was out, or disappointed. He supposed that this did make things easier.
He entered the living room, where his Aunt as usual completely ignored him, and only had to wait a minute, before he heard the knock on the door that announced the arrival of the Ministry members. He followed his Aunt, quietly so that she wouldn't notice him, to the front door. Maybe his should have warned his Aunt of their arrival. But where was the fun in that?
She opened the door, and he saw her instantaneously freeze on the spot, as she stared at the two people standing before her. They were dressed as muggles, though rather ineffectively, but she recognized them for what they were immediately. She had seen Arthur Weasley several times before meeting his children at the station. And as he had single-handedly demolished her living room 2 years ago, and joined in threatening her mere weeks ago, he was quite hard for her to forget.
Neither of the ministry members had noticed him yet. Arthur Weasley greeted his Aunt fairly cheerfully, Harry knew he didn't like his relatives very much, but Ron's dad had a strong fondness for all muggles. "How nice to meet you again. I hope you are well? We're here to see Harry, as I am sure he must have informed you." His aunt seemed to have lost the ability to speak, and merely gawped at them open-mouthed.
There was a small rather awkward silence, before the other member decided to speak up. He looked to be in his early forties as far as Harry good tell, he had slightly greying hair, a large black moustache, and somehow seemed to be familiar to him, but he couldn't place where he had seen him before.
"Mrs. Dursley, am I correct? We are from the Ministry of Magic, and we have come to talk with your nephew. May we come in?" He spoke much more formally than Mr. Weasley had, and offered his hand to Aunt Petunia. However she did not shake it, nor did she reply, she however did seem to have regained some of her senses, because at his mention of the word magic, she had looked nervously past him to the street, as if expecting to see the neighbours standing right outside the front door eavesdropping on her conversation.
Harry decided that maybe it was time to help rescue them, so he came forward, gently pushing his Aunt to the side slightly to let them pass. "Come in please," his said, and they crossed the threshold, both looking slightly relieved.
"Harry! Wonderful to see you again. This is Harold Stoughton form the improper use of magic office." Harold Stoughton nodded to him, and Harry shook his hand.
His aunt seemed to have finally regained the use of here voice. She had stopped gawping at the two older wizards, and now turned her beady eyes to her Nephew, she glared at him. "What are they doing here?" she asked angrily. Harry was saved answering by Stoughton, we said, "We are here to investigate your nephew's misuse of Magic. We would like to speak alone with him if that's at all possible?" his aunt looked terrified at the prospect of letting some strange wizards into her house and leaving them alone, but she was clearly still terrified of the threats of Mr. Weasley and the rest at the end of last term. So she nodded stiffly, glared at Harry one more time, and retreated into the kitchen.
The two men followed Harry into the living room, who silently offered them seats on the sofa. He sat perched tensely on the edge of the armchair opposite them, dreading the conversation he knew was coming.
There were a few moments of silence, in which the two wizards curiously surveyed their muggle surroundings, before Stoughton cleared his throat. "You have received several warnings about your use of underage magic, the latest of these being early this morning." Harry defended himself only silently, he didn't want to get into some kind of argument. None of those had been his fault. The first had been Dobby the house-elf, the one last year had been to defend himself from the dementers, and the other had been when he had accidentally blown up his Aunt. Ok, so that last one was a little his fault, but the minister of magic himself had decided not to press charges against him, so this man should not be using those incidents against him.
"However we are aware of your, um… unusual situation and the ministry recognizes that the magic you used last year was for self defence. We trust there is a good reason for the magic you used early this morning?" both wizards regarded him steadily as he hesitated to answer. He met the eyes of Mr. Weasley who gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Harry took a deep breath, "I did have a good reason for using the charm." They looked at him expectantly, and Mr. Weasley looked a little worried, "what happened Harry?"
"This is going to sound a little insane… but I was attacked. By a Lethifold." The last word escaped him reluctantly, and he waited for their reaction with bated breath. Both men simply looked at him for a second while the absurdity of the statement sunk in.
"What? That's impossible. It's ridiculous! A Lethifold? Here?"
"Harry, why don't you tell us exactly what happened," said Arthur slowly.
Great, thought Harry, that Stoughton guy probably thinks I'm a liar, and Mr. Weasley seems to think I've gone insane. Fantastic. He sighed and told them the whole story, minus the dream that had woken him up beforehand. He had the feeling that there was something strange about the dreams he was having, he didn't know how he knew but they didn't seem completely natural to him. Still, thought, he was reluctant to share the dream, especially with that Stoughton man, who was giving him disbelieving looks. He seemed to be looking down on him. That's when Harry realised where he had seen him before. He didn't know how he could remember him this well, but he recognised him as a member of the Wizengamot. One who had voted against him last year, at his hearing in August.
"…and that's what happened" he finished. Mr. Weasley looked thoughtful, and then he looked Harry straight in the eye, and Harry could tell immediately that Arthur believed him. It was such a huge relief-not everyone thought he was crazy or a liar.
"Well, that seems rather unlikely to say the least," said Stoughton bluntly. He had a slightly scornful look on his face as he regarded Harry, who stared stonily back at him.
"I don't know; he did seem to describe the effects fairly accurately. Besides why else would he need a Patronus charm in the middle of the night? Harry, we need to report back to the Ministry."
"You will be receiving a letter shortly, regarding our decision." Stoughton rose to leave, without as much as a goodbye. Arthur paused before he left the room, and put a hand on Harry's shoulder, saying quietly, "don't worry about a thing Harry, we'll short this out. I'll write you soon with more news; we'll get to the bottom of this." Harry nodded slightly, he wanted to ask more questions, but knew that they couldn't talk freely here, with Stoughton and his Aunt in the house, so he realized that, as always, his questions would be left unanswered and he would remain in the dark.
After they had left, Harry had returned straight to his room to avoid his Aunt. A year ago, she probably would have locked him in the cupboard for this, but she was so scared of the order, that she hadn't even yelled at him. Harry was worried that the ministry wouldn't believe him, but was glad to know that the order would. Hopefully he shouldn't be getting expelled. Dumbledore probably had a lot of influence at the Ministry right now, after the events of the end of last year.
Two owls came for him in quick succession. One, clearly from the MOM, and the other he guessed would be from the order.
Dear Mr. Potter
Further to our inquiry of your use of underage magic, the ministry has revised our decision, due to Clause seven of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, which states that magic may be used by underage wizards or witches in exceptional circumstances. Therefore, you have been cleared of all criminal charges, and are no longer suspended from school.
Enjoy your holidays!
Yours sincerely
Mafalda Hopkirk
Improper Use of Magic Office
Ministry Of Magic
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He was cleared! And this year, no hearing! He was a little surprised though, that they had cleared him so easily. He opened the other letter, hoping that the order could give him some explanation. He knew however that they could not write too much, in case the owl was intercepted, but they had to be able to tell him something, right?
Harry-
I was shocked to hear the news from Arthur this morning that you had been attacked. We are very glad that you managed to defend yourself, and I am yet again very relieved I taught you the Patronus! You may have received the letter from the ministry clearing you, and you may be surprised at their change in attitude from last year. However as Fudge was proved wrong by you last year, you have become very popular again to the general public and Fudge does not want to be seen punishing you for anything. As it is, he will be struggling to stay in office.
We are all shocked at the way in which you were attacked, Molly is almost beside herself with worry, and we will be looking into to it. You haven't been at Privet Drive for very long this year, however Dumbledore feels that it is necessary to bring you here early this year, so please make sure that you are ready to leave for sometime in the next few days,
Yours sincerely,
Remus J Lupin
Harry felt a mixture of emotions. He was glad that they had believed him, and that they were concerned for him, but he was annoyed that he had once again almost been expelled because he had been forced to defend himself in a place where they had all told him he was safe. He was happy to be leaving earlier than normal, but angry that they would be leaving him there for at least one more night. How was he supposed to feel safe enough to sleep in this house now? He wanted to leave privet drive, but knew that meant he would be going to Grimmauld place, Sirius's old house. Could he cope staying there, where there would be memories of Sirius all around him? He wasn't sure. Could he handle all the looks of pity he would get? All the people either tip toeing around him, or asking him about Sirius?
He felt so conflicted. Either way he would be miserable, but at least if he went he would feel a little safer, and he would be with his friends and people who cared about him.
After a day of trying to finish his homework from last year, as a way of keeping himself busy and avoiding the Dursleys, Harry felt wrung out and exhausted. He sat on his bed, his wand on his bedside table, so he knew he could reach it quickly if the necessity arose, trying to avoid the sleep he knew was coming. He was too scared to sleep, but after weeks of mostly sleepless nights, it was too hard and he felt himself reluctantly drifting off to the sleep that beckoned…
He was back in this place, he had been here before, but he couldn't remember where it was or how to get out of here. He wanted to leave this place, but his terror gripped mind could not think clearly. All he knew was that he had to keep running; he just had to keep going because if he stopped they would find him. They would kill him. It was all that they wanted-his death. He didn't even know who they were, but he knew they were there. They would not stop until they killed him. All that mattered was that he escaped them, but he struggled to remember where he was going. He had the feeling that when he had set out, he had known his destination, but it escaped him now. If they would just stop for a few minutes, if the eyes he felt watching him constantly would relent, maybe he could focus. If they all just stopped he knew he would remember where he was going, and how to get out of here. But they would never give him a chance.
He had never felt this terrified in all his life, it was a complete and soul consuming terror that was overtaking him. There was no one around him, no one there except them. No one would save him this time. He had never felt so completely alone, so utterly helpless. He was going to die here tonight. He was going to die alone and no one would ever know what happened to him.
That was when he woke up, almost crying out, so out of breath it was as though he had actually been running as though his life depended on it. He looked around his room, still completely terrified. He had faced so much in his life, but the fear he felt in his dreams was greater than any he could ever remember. It was greater than he had ever imagined possible. He was expecting to see someone there, maybe one of them, whoever 'them' was. But he was alone. He tried to calm himself down, 'it was just a nightmare,' he reassured himself 'nothing dangerous.' He couldn't understand what the dreams meant. They were not ordinary, he knew that, but they were not at all like the ones he had last year. Maybe somehow Voldemort was sending them in the hopes of driving him insane. Well, if that was the plan, it was working very well, but he couldn't help but think there was more to them than just that.
He struggled to recall where he had been in his dream. He had recognised it while he was asleep, but the details were slipping away from him, and he couldn't remember the location. All he could remember was the darkness, and the eyes watching him as he ran, consumed with terror, trying to escape someone, or something, that wanted nothing more then to see him suffer, to see him die.
He groaned quietly to himself, glad he had not appeared to wake anyone else in the house. He had to get to the bottom of this. He felt like he was losing his mind. Maybe he would ask someone for help when he got to Grimmauld place. He once again missed Sirius with a physical ache. If he was still alive, Harry would not have hesitated to ask him for help or advice. Then he thought he had no right to wish for that, because if it wasn't for him Sirius would still be alive. As soon as he thought that, he lay back down, with tears beginning to fall down his face. Sirius was dead, he would never see him again, and it was completely his fault. Laying there in the darkness, praying for a dreamless sleep that would not come to him, Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, the hero of the modern magical world had never felt so alone.
