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It was a quarter past one in the morning, on the thirty-first of July, and Harry Potter had just turned seventeen. Spending his birthday morning on the Knight Bus was not exactly the best birthday present, but he suspected getting to spend the rest of the summer with Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the rest of the Weasley clan would make up for it. He smiled to himself, thinking of Dumbledore's orders to stay with the Dursley's until his birthday. Today was his birthday, what did it matter if he left so early. He followed orders, and now he had left the Dursley's forever. No sense in waiting a few more hours to say goodbye when they wanted him gone anyway.
This summer was particularly horrid. Not to say that his other summers were jelly, but the Dursley's were especially unhappy to have him back after his sixth year.
Harry figured it was because last summer he had almost killed Uncle Vernon after only a week in the house. Although, he did feel slightly bad after he had packed his bags and left, Harry knew Uncle Vernon deserved and absolutely asked for what happened. He also knew it was because Sirius's death was so fresh.
His godfather's death was announced to the muggle public the day Harry returned from his fifth year to Number Four, Pivot Drive. Of course, the Dursley's wasted no time in making their opinions of the convicted criminal known to Harry.
"That murderer got what he deserved, eh, Petunia?" Uncle Vernon would say at the dinner table in a loud enough voice so that he was sure that Harry had heard his comment. Aunt Petunia would laugh and agree with her husband; Dudley would shoot smirks and peas at him from across the dinner table.
The worst of it was that the story of Sirius's death that was announced was the biggest fabrication that Harry had ever heard. Sirius had died a brave warrior, and all of Europe heard he had died evading arrest. A muggle policeman, with a modified memory of course, claimed to have "brought Black down with a single shot, after chasing him halfway around Greenstone Village.'
Having to sit quietly through Uncle Vernon's taunts about his godfather, and knowing that he could never set them all straight about Sirius's death, almost drove Harry to madness. This was why on a quiet night, after one week of complete torture, Harry exploded.
After looking back at the situation, Harry could not remember what exactly Uncle Vernon had said, but it was obviously more than he could take. The whole house had shook and trembled, vibrating off the anger that Harry was exuding in waves. Windows broke, vases shattered, and before Harry knew what he was doing, he was choking Uncle Vernon… from across the family room. Harry remembered wishing that he could make Uncle Vernon feel as he was feeling, choked with anger. And suddenly, it was happening. Harry's hand had flexed and Uncle Vernon's large purple face had frozen, his eyes popping. His hands flew to his throat, and Harry heard Aunt Petunia stifle a scream.
"You're killing him!" Dudley had squeaked.
"Yes, that's right." Harry sneered as he approached the large man who was now kneeling on the floor, his hands clawing at his throat. "Let's get this straight, family. My Godfather, who was wrongly convicted, did not die a coward running from policemen. He died a warrior, he died fighting." Harry's hand flexed further, and Uncle Vernon clutched his throat tighter. Aunt Petunia and Dudley did not move.
"Do you want to know how I know he died?" Harry flexed his hand again and Uncle Vernon's head responded mechanically, stiffly nodded up and down. Harry's face was within inches of his victim's. "I know because I killed him," he whispered. His hand relaxed, and Uncle Vernon fell on the floor in a heap, breathing as though he had run a marathon.
"I'm leaving, see you next summer," Harry had stated simply, and then walked calmly upstairs to gather his trunk, wand, and Hedwig's cage. It was essentially the truth, what he told the Dudley's about being Sirius's murderer. Harry's actions that night had led to Sirius's death. But rather than explaining to them, Harry decided it was better to let them believe that their nephew killed a convicted murderer.
At the time, he thought it would make for some fun with Dudley next summer, but Harry was terribly wrong.
After getting arrested by the police as soon as he got off the train at the beginning of this summer, then investigated for his admittance of murdering Sirius, Harry was feeling quite pissed that he had to go back to Number Four. At least the police gave him a ride home from the station, he smiled crookedly. The police were surprisingly nice to him, asking him a few questions, and he was able to fabricate a pretty believable story on the spot. They admitted to not caring about Sirius's case, or where Harry was when it happened. They were just questioning him so they could tell Uncle Vernon to sod off and stop bothering them.
The rest of the summer at the Dursley's was absolute hell. Harry was locked in his room again, and Uncle Vernon made sure the food slot he had installed was used, although sparingly. Starved, angry, and alone, Harry spent most of the summer trying to figure out his new power.
After choking Uncle Vernon using magic, and not getting caught for it, Harry tried to figure out exactly what he had done. The only reason he came up with the unexplained hand flexing thing was because he was angry.
Harry had spent most of his sixth year at school in an empty classroom, trying to control what he had read as being called "wandless" magic. It was hard work, mostly because he didn't know what he was doing. The books gave some instruction on how to control the magic with his hands, but it never really worked.
But he practiced in his room this summer, and actually got quite good at it. Though, the Dursley's were not pleased with his thumping and crashing, Uncle Vernon couldn't really do anything about it, except yell.
The only time something ever did really happen was when Harry was angry and fed up with trying, or he would do it without thinking. Then things would happen, without even trying, without even concentrating.
Amazing as hell, Harry thought, but just as frustrating.
Ginny was also frustrating, Harry thought again, looking out the window of the Knight Bus. Actually, Ginny is STILL frustrating. His whole sixth year was complicated enough with the whole wandless thing, but Ginny made it even more problematic.
It started the summer after his fifth year, after he had choked Uncle Vernon, and was still dealing with Sirius's death, and thinking about the Prophecy that no one knew about, he got to the Weasley's and things had changed. The Weasley's still loved him, and welcomed him home, but something didn't feel right.
Later, Harry had realized it was himself who had changed. He pretty much went from teenager to adult in the span of about an hour. But it was almost a year later that Harry actually realized he was different from he peers.
Except for Ginny, she seemed to be a kindred spirits of sorts. He found her friendship a welcoming comfort that summer, as though she knew to show up exactly when he needed her. And Harry remembered the exact day he realized it.
It was still the summer after his fifth year, and he had just arrived at the Weasley's. Surprisingly, Hedwig was waiting for him with Post from the Ministry.
Looking back now, that Post had been the downward spiral of anger and hatred that led from the summer into his sixth year. It was from the new Minister of Magic, Amos Diggory.
Dear Mr. Potter, it read, I would like to congratulate you on your spectacular defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the Ministry last month. Your bravery and heroism will not go unrewarded. I, and other Ministry Officials, would like to present you with the highest rank of a wizard: Order of Merlin, First Class. A ceremony will take place at the end of the week, honoring you and your comrades, who will be receiving the Order of Merlin, Third Class. Congratulations again, Minister Diggory.
What infuriated him most about the letter was not that they chose to celebrate the fact that Voldemort had returned with a party, or that Voldemort wasn't actually defeated because he escaped, but that they had seemed to completely forget Sirius had died that day. But Harry went with the Weasley's anyways, and smiled woodenly as he received his metal and shook hands with Minister Diggory and the rest of the Officials, all the while silently seething inside. Every one of his friends who had been present the day Sirius died was there, and he could tell by the glances they shot furtively in his direction that they weren't sure how to react to the celebration either. They were waiting for him to react first, Harry realized.
And when he got up to make his speech, as custom would have it for newly honored Order of Merlin, First Class recipients, he tore down the Ministry for anything and everything he could think of. He blamed them for not realizing Voldemort was back, and for not telling him what he was up against, and for thinking this party was a good idea, since Voldemort was still at large. But most of all, he told them all to go to hell, for Sirius.
Sirius was wrongly convicted, he told them, and no one did one damn thing about it. And today, they stand here giving away honors that should have gone to him. The Ministry put him in Azkaban, forgot about him, and now when he also fought for the Ministry that day, he gets no recognition. And to make things worse, in a show of ultimate disrespect, the Ministry calmly lied to everyone about how he died. There was no funeral for Sirius Black, no ceremony to celebrate his unfair and unjust life. And, Harry said, Sirius probably wouldn't want one. He spent his life living as a murderer, and he died a hero. He wouldn't want people at his funeral faking emotion, which was what they were all doing today.
He almost cried on the podium in front of an auditorium full of stunned people, and thankfully he didn't. But, as he ripped the medal from around his neck, and stormed off the stage, he caught Dumbledore's eye.
At first, Harry thought the old man looked disappointed. But at second glance, Harry realized Dumbledore was crying. At least one other person in this world loved Sirius as much as he did, and the thought comforted him.
He headed straight for the door, needing to get out of the overbearing room. He didn't look at anyone else as he was leaving, but he knew everyone was watching him. He imagined Hermione looked displeased and Ron's mouth was probably open in disbelief.
Knowing he couldn't leave the Ministry with out the Weasley's, and that there was at least another hour of the ceremony to go, he started to walk. Curiously, he found himself in front of the door to the Department of Mysteries. Figuring the door would not open, he tried it anyways, and was surprised when it unlocked easily. Harry would later learn that the door opened because it no longer held any mysteries for him, thus there was no reason to keep him out.
He found his way easily, and stood in front of the billowing curtain with his hands in his pockets for a long time, just thinking about Sirius. He knew Sirius wasn't coming back, and it was so unfair. His words at the ceremony came flooding back to him, and before he knew what he was doing, he had launched his Order of Merlin, First Class medal into the curtain.
He didn't hear it hit the ground, nor could he see where it had landed. It didn't reappear on the other side of the curtain. It was gone, just like Sirius.
Surprisingly, tossing the medal was better closure than raving at an auditorium full of people, or blaming himself day after day. Even now, he liked to think that Sirius found the medal and knew it was from his godson.
Harry grinned sadly to himself at the memory.
"Wotch'u smiling at?" Stan Shunpike said suddenly sending Harry back to the present. Evidently, Stan had been watching Harry intently for the past few stops.
"Nothing," Harry replied evenly, then turned his back on Stan and went back to staring out the window into the dark morning sky.
The day of the Order of Merlin ceremonies had been the day when he first thought of Ginny as someone more than Ron's kid sister. She had been the one who found him, sitting in front of the curtain in the Department of Mysteries.
Ginny had walked slowly towards him, probably uncertain how he would react. But Harry was actually glad she was there. She lowered herself next to him in front of the curtain, and they sat close to each other, silent and still, for what seemed like forever. Then Ginny sniffed. She was crying, Harry realized, and looked over at her.
"Sirius Black was a great man," she said suddenly, breaking the silence. "He deserved more than anyone could have ever given him, but was happy with what he got. I am sorry he is gone," she said softly, without looking at Harry, her voice rough with emotion. Harry saw a tear fall from where it had rolled down her face, and she hastily brushed the wetness off her cheek. Then she produced a bundle of flowers he didn't know she carried in with her and laid them in front of the curtain. They were from the party, Harry realized, and didn't much care. He was in shock, but still managed to grunt what sounded like thank you. To him, it was one of the most beautiful things anyone had ever done, and he appreciated Ginny much more for her understanding at that moment.
They sat at the curtain for a while longer. Harry silently said his goodbyes, stood up and Ginny stood up with him. With one last long look at the curtain, they walked out of Sirius's spontaneous funeral hand in hand.
After that, things changed. Ron and Hermione, who couldn't seem to stop fighting, annoyed him to no end, and he found himself sitting at length with the ever silent Ginny. He spent more of that summer being quiet than he ever had in his life.
He just couldn't find anything to talk about, and it seemed Ginny was the same way. Something was troubling her, and as much as Harry wanted to know what it was, he was content with not asking. So they would sit with each other, understanding, but not talking; solitary, but not alone.
It was the shocks that got him though. They started right when he got to the Weasley's that summer. And, curiously, they only happened around Ginny. He would feel a sudden jolt of energy travel through him when Ginny was near, as though he had a gut reaction to her. It happened though the whole summer, and foolishly he believed they were because he had feelings for her.
Love wasn't actually that hard to be talked into, Harry thought, since he never experienced real love. They were spending a lot of time together, and with Mrs. Weasley always giving them long glances and making them sit next to each other at the dinner table, Harry thought he was in love. But, never really knowing what love was like, he wasn't sure that love was the feeling he got around Ginny.
That's where his sixth year got really hard. They continued to spend time with each other at school. Ginny was just quiet, and Harry was… well, he had changed. He didn't care much about the things he used to find so important. The only people he could bear to be around were Ron and Hermione. But, it would never last long, since Herm would harp on about his new withdrawn self. She knew there was something that he wasn't telling them, and he suspected she knew of the Prophecy but was waiting for him to say something first.
He played Quidditch with new passion, and did his schoolwork with rigid management. Everything about him was solid and unfeeling, Herm said.
He didn't much care. Even when rumors went around that he was dating Ginny. They both knew it wasn't true, and she didn't mind enough to set the record straight. They both knew Harry wasn't about to talk to other people, so the rumors flew wildly. And the shocks he received around Ginny were less important as he got used to the feeling.
He never told Ginny he thought he was in love with her. Mostly because he didn't really believe he was in love with her, and he didn't feel like taking the chance and telling her. But, he was so confused about the shocks he would get when he was around her.
It was at the end of that year, when he had a chat with Colin Creevy, when he finally decided what the shocks were. Colin's point of view was that Ginny was bloody gorgeous. Harry agreed. Ginny really was a stunner, from her long red hair, to long beautiful legs. But he wasn't really interested in what he already knew. Harry had casually mentioned that she sometimes "shocked" him when she came into a room. Colin, spastically, verified that he felt the same thing around her, but only because he was too scared to talk to her.
So, that was it. Harry was getting jolts because he was scared of Ginny and her blossoming beauty. It didn't make much sense to Harry; he spent a good deal of every day with her. They never talked much though. But he was relieved that he had one less thing to worry about.
Harry chuckled to himself again at the memory of Colin and his description of his unrequited love for Ginny. Poor guy.
"Oy, you're stops next," Stan glared at him. Harry guessed the Knight Bus host had never forgiven him for lying about his identity four years back. Then wondered how Stan had actually remembered him at all, it had been such a long time ago.
It seemed almost a lifetime away since he found out he was a wizard. But his seventh year was starting in a month, and it would be the best year yet. Harry could feel it. And he smiled to himself as he hopped of the Knight Bus into the Weasley's front yard.
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