Chapter 1: The Secret's Out

All was calm, and yet what didn't meet the eye was not. It was a quiet evening on Privet Drive and everyone was slowly relaxing. Well, not everyone. The Dursleys of number four were yet again making quite a racket. This was due to, of course, the young and troubled Harry Potter. The problem was not only that Harrys' friends have been writing to him, but the entire wizarding world including the Daily Prophet. Everyone wanted to know the facts, and what the Ministry had still been regretting to tell them. Harry believed he was safe, until somehow his address at the Dursleys came out into the open and now, all over London, there were owls soaring overhead, all heading for the same house. Uncle Vernon was in an uproar, because he and his wife would not hold with such nonsense. Harry was trying again to explain what all the post was for, but they wouldn't listen to him even if he were screaming. It was better for Uncle Vernon to let all his anger out and not let Harry say a word.

"I already told you," shouted Harry. "It's not my fault, I never told your address to anyone!"

"Haven't I already told you boy, I will not tolerate such things in this household!" bellowed Uncle Vernon.

Dudley turned his bulky form around from the TV to watch, because Harry being bullied was even better than his favorite shows.

All summer long, he had resorted to the television, because his entire "gang" was away on expensive vacations somewhere. He couldn't beat up kids or wreak havoc unless there were others to cover for him, and they weren't on vacation themselves because there was no one to watch Harry (Mrs. Figg had gone off herself). This left Dudley, as Harry thought miserably, to torture him.

"I can't help it, there's no way to stop the letters from coming, and they just want some answers!" he said over his uncle's uproar.

"Answers to what?"

"Not like you'd care."

His uncle's ignorance of the magical world was really beginning to bug him. They would never completely understand what he had been through, what he was going through. He thought they'd feel differently if they were the ones being hunted down, watching as their loved ones fell in defending them.

"Oh really, I would like to know why we get put in so much danger with you around!"

Aunt Petunia spoke quietly in the background to Dudley, who sulkily left the table and went upstairs. It's no like he wouldn't be able to hear them.

"Fine." The blood coursing through his veins felt close to boiling. "They want to know what really happened between Voldemort and me, not what our Ministry has been telling them."

"So your confounded "Ministry" has been lying, eh?"

"Yes." Harry said, slowly taking a breath. "They wouldn't believe Dumbledore about anything. They all think I'm some sort of a nutcase."

"Well why should they believe you, idiot boy?" snarled Uncle Vernon.

"Because it happened, I was there, remember!" Harry stated loudly through clenched teeth.

"Fine," said Uncle Vernon, glancing at his wife for support. "I don't need to know, just try to keep away those bloody owls!"

Harry was amazed at how fast his Uncle could change the matter they were talking about to blame something else on him.

"Well you're going to have to get over it because that's just as likely as trying to stop a speeding bullet."

"Why don't you use your…" he said, pointing at Harry's wand. Harry couldn't believe his Uncle was suggesting he do magic in his own house.

"It's caused us enough trouble before! Thanks to you we're still staying here during the summer and not in that vacation home in Majorca we could have had!" The memory of the pudding incident had not entirely vanished from his uncle's mind.

"Well darling, he has been through a lot," said Aunt Petunia, finally speaking up and once again giving a thought to Harry's problems.

"I still don't want him ruining our house with those owls! Why can't they use the regular post?"

Harry thought it was like asking him why the grass grew.

"It's just the way we do things." Harry said slowly, trying not to get his uncles temper up once again. He dared not say the word "wizard" in front of him, for his own safety.

"I have had enough for one night," he said, plopping down in the nearest chair. "Go to bed and I'll deal with you tomorrow,"

Very reluctantly, Harry climbed the stairs to his room; "I'll deal with him tomorrow," he murmured to himself.

Once he reached the landing, he heard the loud snores of his cousin, who, Harry thought, could sleep through a stampede outside his bedroom door. After he closed his door, he took a look at his alarm clock. It was already 11:57.

"I might as well have some real food and answer some of those stupid letters," he said to himself.

At first, Harry had been reluctant to open any of them, but eased into a routine of answering a few a day, trying to get the majority of people to stop bugging him.

Slowly and carefully, he lifted the loose floorboard under his bed as to make no noise to disturb the Dursleys. Pulling out a handful of cakes from the Weasleys and a grabbing a few of the letters in the corner of his room, Harry sank down on his bed. "Well, better now than never," he mumbled, as he opened the first letter addressed to him in sloppy writing. Harry ripped off the seal on the heavy parchment and unfurled it. It was written so hastily he could barely read it.

Mr. Harry Potter,

Due to the immense change in the Minister's beliefs after the said night at the Ministry of Magic concerning He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, I have no reason to doubt you any longer. I had always known you were truthful in your words, but being in close relation to the Minister, my views had been slightly swayed. Do note that many at the Ministry have approved of your story and are now attempting to fix the problems that have arisen since the dreadful night of two months and three days previous.

Thank You again for your time and immense strength.

Mathew Breskid,

Ministry of Magic

He reached for his parchment, ink, and quill. He couldn't think of a reply to this; the warm summer night air was getting to him. Setting aside the letter, Harry began to think about his godfather. His heart began to thump loudly in his chest at the thought.

For two months now Sirius has been dead. Harry hoped against hope that Sirius would come back as a ghost, but the idea was long forgotten. Harry knew that he was not going to come back. He would take a different path. But Harry only wanted to see him one last time, which he told himself, was not possible. Over and over again he thought back to what happened and how he could have prevented it.

"It's all my fault," he quietly said to the ceiling. He kept reminding himself, 'If I hadn't thought my dream was real he would never have had to come to my rescue. I should have reached him through that mirror first, I forgot all about it. It would have saved his life if I would have remembered.'

He took a quick glance at his broomstick lying in the corner. His firebolt was his most prized possession, and one of the few reminders left of Sirius.

As he drifted off into his own misery, yet another owl was slowly making its way towards the bedroom window, which Harry realized, was still open. He didn't know whether to close it or not. He wasn't in the mood to read about someone else who had to know the details. Leaving the window open and deciding he would answer whoever it was tomorrow, he let the owl fly in. And not a minute too soon, the brown tawny landed lightly on his bed. Heading over to untie the message, he realized it was Hermes, Percy Weasley's owl. Thinking it was another letter of criticism, he opened it slowly not wanting to know what was inside.

Dear Harry,

My deepest sympathy towards you, due to the death of your godfather. I have been informed that he was on our side after all. I also apologize for doubting yours and Dumbledore's judgement. Fudge, of course, has told me all about your astounding escape from the Dark Lord and your truthfulness in the matter. He also is extremely sorry for judging you. And if you would ever like a job here at the Ministry, I would be pleased to refer you to the any of my esteemed colleagues. Once again I feel horribly downtrodden at the fact that so many have been reluctant to hear you out.

Sincerely,

Percy Weasley

Undersecretary for the Minister of Magic

"Well, the prat should have known I wasn't lying in the beginning," Harry said aloud to himself.

His anger at Percy had still not completely left him. As the owl fluttered back out the open window, Harry couldn't help feel sorry for the Weasleys and how they had to deal with Percy's ignorance. Taking another quick glance at his clock, which now read 12:03, he tossed the remaining letters in the corner and placed the last cake back under the loose floorboard and started off to bed.

As the sun peeked through the open blinds the next morning, Hedwig returned with a slimy dead frog clasped in her beak.

"Oh, why did you have to bring that thing in" Harry said groggily.

He was told earlier the day before to get up by Aunt Petunia at 5:00, and that they would have plenty of work for him to do. As he was changing into his cousin's old and baggy shorts, pants for Harry, his uncle called up the stairs to tell him to be down in five minutes. Slowly making his way across the room, he set out to the tasks which lay ahead. He was to trim the dying begonias, water the lawn, clip the shrubs, and scrub the bathrooms. Harry was out in the back garden with cutting shears ready for the dreadful ordeal to begin when a loud voice rang from inside the kitchen.

"I wouldn't make him do that if I were you."

Overwhelmed with happiness Harry spun around, believing it to be Mr. Weasley or Moody or someone, but it was only uncle Vernon arguing with some old man wearing a cloak. Wait a second, a cloak?

"Oh, hello there Harry!" Lupin said turning to face him. "How has your summer been?"

"P-professor Lupin?" Harry said, his happiness flooding back at full speed.

"Yes I was just having a talk with your uncle." He was looking just as weary and pale as he had the last time Harry had seen him, but he seemed happy enough.

"You have no right to tell me how to handle that boy!" snarled uncle Vernon, his pudgy eyes darting right towards Lupin's wand.

"Oh, I'm afraid I have more of a right than you do, sir," Lupin added kindly. "I also think you should lay off of the criticisms, because Harry has had enough to deal with already." Lupin said, with sympathy in his young eyes.

"You can't tell me or my family what to do," he growled," I've already told you I am not intimidated by such people!"

"Yes well, has Harry forgotten to mention that you are constantly being watched by no less than three wizards?" he stated calmly. He checked his watch and gasped. "Sorry Harry, I've got to run, I have some important business with Dumbledore, and I'll be in touch soon."

"What?" Harry said, bewildered. "Aren't you going to take me to the Weasleys' or somewhere other than here?"

"I'm sorry Harry, I really can't and Dumbledore wants you to stay here, remember?"

"But I can't stay here!" he said full of suppressed rage.

"I really must be off, but I will make sure that you will get together with the Weasleys before the end of summer holiday."

"But…" Harry tried to get in a last word, but Lupin had already disapparated, leaving him standing there to be unhappy with the Dursleys until that day when he would finally leave, would come.