Hey! Glad you liked the first chapter. Thank you so much for reading and I welcome any sort of review (except those that are just meant to put people down without any value at all). To convenient my readers, I've decided to announce the date I'll be posting the next chapter at the end of every chapter.
As for now, enjoy...
Chapter 2: The Sorting Thief
"Harry! Save us!"
Harry was swimming as fast as he could. Merlin knows he was not a good swimmer. He thrashed his hands forward and kicked hard at the water. But no matter how fast he moved, he could never seem to narrow the distance between himself and the crowd of people who were drowning.
Among them were his friends, his teachers, his families, and his love. They were all struggling in the deep blue ocean, beckoning at him. He felt so useless. He saw the flicker of hope on their faces – on Hermione's face, on Ron's face, on Remus' face, on Dumbledore's face, on Neville's face, on Mrs. Weasley's face, on Janieve's face…
Suddenly, a long, fat, green and silver serpent rises from the depths of the sea and coiled itself around the people, rounding them up in one swift motion and strangling them.
"NO!" Harry yelled.
Harry bolted upright in bed, soaked in perspiration and fear. It's just a dream, he told himself. His racing heartbeat slowly resumed to normal.
Harry glanced up and saw Ron standing in the doorway with his mouth agape. They stared at each other for a long time until Ron began to back out of the room.
"What?" Harry asked. Ron merely shook his head insistently, his face contorted with fright, and his body was trembling slightly.
"Ron, what's happening?" Harry demanded.
Ron shut his eyes tight and muttered something under his breath. He opened his eyes again and blinked twice.
"Harry?" he squeaked.
"Yes Ron, are you okay?" Harry asked.
Ron let out a haggard breath. He shook his head again. "I'm sorry I thought you were…"
"What?" Harry asked.
"Nothing. Never mind," Ron said, "You might want to get changed. We're going back to the Burrow today." Then he added, "Breakfast is ready."
Harry climbed out of bed and pulled on last night's pair of oversized jeans over his boxers and an oversized t-shirt over his head. All of his clothes were already packed in his suitcase and waiting downstairs for him. Looking into the oak-framed semi-oval shaped mirror, he brushed his fingers through his black messy hair. Then he attempted to flatten them with his palms but when he released them, the hair bounced back up again. He pressed them down a second time but his stubborn curls refused to budge. He threw down his hands in exasperation and turned to walk out the door.
Harry merely walked a few steps before he doubled back. He rummaged his hair with both hands for five more seconds and examined his work. He smiled at his reflection. My father knew better, he mused.
After much deliberation, Harry finally strolled out of his room and collided with something against his knees.
Ouch, Harry thought as he bent over to rub his bruised spot. A pair of big droopy eyes looked straight into his eyes and Harry shuddered.
"Kreacher!" Harry said angrily. Negative feelings Harry might have for the Black's house-elf come pouring back. He had not seen Kreacher ever since the day Harry spoke to him through the Floo from Dolores Umbridges' fireplace to ascertain Sirius' whereabouts.
Kreacher ignored Harry and tried to sidestep him. Harry blocked his way. "I thought you went to work for the Malfoys?" However, Kreacher turned around and headed for the other direction.
Harry shook his head to clear his annoyance. He wondered why Kreacher came back to Grimmauld Place. Harry knew the house-elf had gone to serve the remaining Black family, Narcissa Malfoy after Sirius' death. Did he come back to spy on the Order?
"What took you so long, Harry," Ron asked when Harry appeared in the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley passed Harry a butter-spread toast.
Harry took the toast gratefully from her. "Kreacher's back, did you know?" Harry asked him. Mrs. Weasley stopped working for awhile and eyed Harry. When Harry noticed her looking, she went back to doing her work.
"Yeah, came back since school ended," Ron said casually.
"But why? S-Si… He is not enslaved to anyone here," Harry stammered. It had been over a year but Harry still found it hard to talk about Sirius death openly.
"Kreacher is magically enslaved to this house," said Mrs. Weasley. "Finish this up and we'll set off. Hermione, your father and your sister are waiting for us at the Burrow," she added to Ron.
Harry gulped down the last mouthful of pumpkin juice and apparated right after Ron and Mrs. Weasley to the Burrow.
"At long last!" exclaimed Hermione. "I was beginning to wonder what's eating you."
"Well we are here," Ron said.
"And I think I may have to go back," Harry stated, "I left my broom."
"I'll go with you," Ron offered.
"Oh come on," Harry laughed, "it'll just take a few seconds."
Crack.
Harry tried to recall where he had left his broom as he headed back towards his room. On his way he passed the room where Sirius had shown Harry his family tree. Fond memories flooded back. Harry paused at the doorway, relishing the moment. Voices drifted down the hallway and Harry followed it out of curiosity.
"Are you sure we shouldn't tell Harry about it?"
"We will tell Harry, Remus, but not now."
"But he is Harry's godfather after all," Remus argued.
"I understand your concern. Of course Harry would want to see him. But he does not remember Harry. In due time, Harry will know. But now's not the time. Besides, we have more important things to do."
"I know, Dumbledore…"
Harry slammed the door open. "What are you talking about? Is Sirius still alive?" he fired at his Headmaster and mentor.
"Harry, this is an Order's meeting," Dumbledore warned sternly.
"I just want to know IS SIRIUS STILL ALIVE?" Harry demanded, raising his voice a few decibels higher, emphasizing every single word.
"Harry…" Remus began.
"I heard you! You were talking about Sirius!" Harry interrupted.
"Yes, we did mentioned him," Dumbledore said calmly, "but we did not say he is alive, Harry."
"But he is," Harry said.
"No he isn't," Dumbledore replied almost immediately.
"Then tell me what you were talking about," Harry challenged.
"This is the Order's – "
"I want to be in the Order," Harry shot.
"No."
"Why not? I'm seventeen!" Harry yelled.
"Our age does not determine the stages of our live. It is just a number," Dumbledore said.
"If anyone has a right to know what's going on in the Order, that would be me," Harry reminded.
"He's right," Remus said.
"Harry, you will be in the Order but not yet," said Dumbledore.
"Oh yeah? So when's the time? Until another one of us dropped dead?" Harry snapped. He swivelled around and left the room in a huff, not knowing the pain he had inflicted in the old man's eyes.
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Harry hardly remembers how he spent his time at the Burrow. He recalled playing Quidditch with the Weasleys' siblings like old times. However, when night falls and slumber nears, Harry knew that although he might still be doing the things he used to do, the feeling was not quite the same anymore.
Harry was beginning to understand Dumbledore's hesitance to tell him the truth about the Prophecy. Having the knowledge that the date when he would be facing Voldemort alone drew a step nearer each time he sleeps was a not a pleasant experience.
Harry had faced the Dark Lord twice and twice he managed to escape not because of his own capabilities. He escaped because he was lucky. Unlike what everyone else perceived, Harry knew that given a fair game, he would not be able to defeat Voldemort. And it was not death he feared. It was the thought of disappointing the entire Wizarding World if he failed, when he failed, that affected him.
Nose grazing the cold hard glass, Harry gazes out through the fogged windows of the Hogwarts Express. The early September blizzard fell gently outside and it gleamed a silvery blue against the darkening sky. The weather sort of reflected his mood - cold, and sinister.
Finally the train heaved into Hogsmeade station. Harry grabbed Hedwig and alighted the train automatically, nodding and mmm-hmm-ing occasionally to keep up with Ron's conversation. Truth was, Harry was not really interested in Ron recounting Charlie's letter, speaking of a dragon's outbreak.
The trio clambered onto the Thestrals' pulled carriages and waited it to soar into the chilly night. The night was extremely hazy and Harry could barely see the castle and only knew that they were near when the Thestrals started descending.
The carriages jingled to a rough stop and they quickly plunged their boots into the snow, desperately to be back in the comfort of the castle. Everyone claimed their places in the Great Hall, eager for the start of term feast to begin. Everyone but Professor Winter and Janieve.
The first years were already in a procession, waiting to be called to be sorted, looking very much distraught. Nevertheless, Professor McGonagall was nowhere to be seen. After a buzz of speculations, Dumbledore stood up and walked up to the front of the stage to address the students.
"Sonorous," he muttered, and the hall immediately went silent.
"Very pleased, I am, to be back here again and to see every one of you back here again as well," Dumbledore said, "Like every other year, this year may mean a lot to many. Some may be taking their NEWTS, some their OWLs, while for others it is a time to make new friends and learn about magic, and perhaps which Professors not to messed with."
There was a bout of nervous chuckle.
"The rules too, have not changed much, except for a dozen over additions. But allow me to reiterate for the benefit of the new students. The Forbidden Forest is strictly out of bounds to all students and all students fourth-year and below is to return to their respective common room by eight and the rest by nine.
Also, very unfortunately, Professor Winter is unfit to teach again this year due to certain circumstances. However, I am glad to introduce to you our new Potion Master this year, Professor John Mason!"
There was a round of polite applause and a small-framed man in bronze spectacles that matched his hair stood up shyly and acknowledged the school. At this moment, a flustered looking Professor McGonagall entered the hall and whispered into their Headmaster's ear.
Dumbledore cleared his throat and the applause simmered down. "I have a rather shocking news to make," he paused for a second, and, "Our head of Gryffindor had just informed me that the Sorting Hat had been stolen."
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Next chapter: 24 April 2005 (I will probably post 2 chapters at once)