Chapter 23 – The Calm Before The Storm
Harry first awoke to the sensation of a cold wind brushing against his skin. At first he hoped he was still asleep, but the longer the sensation went on, the more it seemed that it wasn't simply a dream. He opened his eyes, only to confirm his suspicions, he was no longer in his room.
He tried to shake the soreness from his muscles as he eased his body into an upright position and began surveying his surroundings. All he saw in front of him was trees and a quick glance behind him confirmed that he wasn't too far from Privet Drive.
Picking himself off the ground, he began the familiar trek back to his relative house. Ever since he returned home from school for the holiday, Harry noticed something was off. He felt more so at the mercy of the moon and his more primal instincts than ever before. This was nearly the tenth time he had woken up away from his bed. Gazing quickly up in the sky, he was greeted by a nearly full moon.
Instead of making him more relaxed, it did the exact opposite. The tensions inside his mind was constricting him in a tight chokehold. Why was the moon effecting him so? It went beyond simply sleepwalking at night. He found himself even more irritable and found it hard to keep things like his strength in check.
If that wasn't enough, he began to notice the all too familiar prickling sensation from his scar. Ever since the return of Voldemort in the graveyard, Harry noticed that his scar was in an almost constant state of pain. From a slight discomfort to pounding headaches, he couldn't escape the burning that irradiated from his scar.
Eventually made it back to his Aunt and Uncle's house and noticed that his bedroom window was open. In a leap impossible for a normal person, Harry bounded up onto the roof before vaulting in the window, deftly landing in his bed. Quickly pulling the covers over himself, he managed to appear asleep before his door opened to reveal his Uncle apparently investigating the disturbance.
Harry waited for him to leave the room before glancing at his clock to see what time it was.
2:17
'Well,' Harry thought, 'So much for a full night's sleep'. He laid back down, shuffling a little to find a comfortable position before sleep finally took him.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Harry was roused from his sleep by the sound of his alarm going off at 5:30 as it did every morning. Groggily, he brought his hand down on the snooze button, only to be rewarding by a resounding crunch. Curious, he opened his eyes further to look at his clock, or rather what was left of it. Laying on his bedside table was a pile of broken part that had once been his alarm.
"Oh bloody hell!"
This was just what he needed. Now he would have to either explain to Uncle Vernon that he needed a new clock or possibly go without and suffer the man's wrath if he didn't get started on his chores. Figuring that that was a bridge he would cross when he came to it, Harry decided to get up and begin his day.
Removing his oversized clothes from his closet, Harry glanced at his desk and saw that Hedwig stood there with a few letters for him. He lazily opened and skimmed through each of the three letters, one from Sirius, one from Ron, and one from Hermione. As expected the only letter that included anything of significance was from Sirius and even then there wasn't much to go on. From all the letter he had received from Sirius, Harry managed to gather that he was in the country and that he and Dumbledore were up to something top secret. He would also take the time in each letter to simply converse with Harry and ask how his godson was doing.
Harry couldn't say the same thing about Ron and Hermione. Neither had sent anything of substance to Harry since the summer holiday had begun. In every letter addressed to both of them, Harry would ask them about what they were up too each summer, but their replies were never substantial. Harry expected as much from Ron, being able to gather that he and his family were off with Dumbledore while he had to suffer the Dursley's.
However, it was Hermione's letters that had hurt that most. Since the end of Fourth year, he went from having Hermione always be there for him to not. Ron keeping him in the dark didn't affect him all that much, but Hermione doing it had cut him deep. What was worse was that Harry was able to deduce that her and Ron were together for the summer and it made him feel unwanted being left out of it. Were they having fun without him, while he had to suffer here?
Harry was brought out of his thoughts and his dressing by the sound of ripping fabric. Looking down he noticed that sometime during his frustration, his claws had elongated and he had accidently ripped the shirt he was attempting to put on.
Cursing himself internally, he fished for a new shirt but he heard the ruffling of feathers coming from somewhere outside. Glancing back at his desk, he saw the Hedwig was still there. Before he could question it any further, a great brown owl landed next to Hedwig.
Fleur.
The beautiful French Veela had slowly immersed herself in his circle of close friends. Whereas Ron and Hermione seemed reluctant to communicate anything meaningful, Fleur's letters were filled with conversation about both of their lives. If he was being honest, Harry felt that her letters were a bright spot on an otherwise terrible holiday.
As thoughts of the beautiful French witch continued as he opened her letter, he was met by a sense of confusion. Lately he'd been getting a warm feeling whenever he thought of Fleur, one similar to when he thought of Hermione towards the end of term. He found it peculiar that his feelings towards his two closest female friends changed so suddenly. These feeling only served to strengthen both his recent kinship towards Fleur but also the bitter sense of betrayal towards Hermione.
Dear Harry,
Things here have been the same as they've been all summer. My father is still insisting that I stop talking to you. As you can tell, I continue to go against his wishes.
Have you heard anything significant from Ron and Hermione? I suspect not, but I hope that they open up son, I know how much it hurts you.
I'm sorry that I can't give you any news about what's going on in the wizarding world. Either nothing that's happening in Britain either isn't of international importance or your ministry is keeping it quiet.
I can't wait to hear from you again,
Fleur.
With a smile on his face, Harry proceeded to head downstairs to get started on what would be another boring summer day. Little did he know how wrong he truly was.
-HP-
Fleur's summer was not nearly as enjoyable as she would have liked. First and foremost, she wasn't prepared for the media onslaught that would follow her ever since the conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament. It seemed as though everywhere she went, she couldn't escape photographers and reporters, all out to find any juicy information they could about her. She was used to gaining a lot of attention but this was ridiculous.
'Now I see why 'Arry hates it.'
Harry.
Whenever her thoughts turned towards the young man, she felt a combination of pity and frustration. They had decided to keep in touch after the tournament and what initially was the occasional correspondence turned into letters moving between them almost daily.
The tournament caused a bond to form between the two of them and it only strengthened as the summer went on. She became an outlet for all of his anger and frustration. Fleur was told about the lack of news about the happenings of the wizarding world and the information he got from his best friends.
Or rather, the lack of information from them. She scoffed at the thought, remembering how Harry recounted how all the letters he received from Ron and Hermione had little to them and simply told him to keep his nose cleaned. She immediately made the connection that they were together, but she kept this train of thought from Harry; the last thing he need is to feel even more isolated.
"Fleur! Dinner is ready!"
"Coming Maman!"
Fleur groaned internally, she wasn't looking forward to this particular meal. To describe Fleur's current relationship with her parents as tense would be an understatement. Ever since that night in the maze, her parents were hesitant to believe the tale that their daughter and the Potter boy told since that night.
At first her parents simply dismissed her claims and chalked it up to the stress of the night causing Fleur to see things. For the first week or two of the holiday nothing changed, that is until one particular meal where the subject of Harry was brought up.
~Flashback~
"I don't understand why you refuse to believe me?"
"Fleur, I understand that you believe in what you saw, but honey you have to see that it is impossible."
This seemed like the hundredth time that this discussion was brought up during meals. Fleur maintained the same story as every other time, while her parents as always refused to believe her.
"I know what I saw Papa, and it wasn't all in my head. 'Arry was there and he fought Volde-"
"Do not say his name!" The forcefulness in her father's voice left no question to his command. As the days went on and the conversation kept reappearing, Sebastian Delacour's patience was slowly wearing thin. The repeat mention of Harry Potter, a boy who he believed was simply out to steal the other champion's thunder, caused his anger to rise more rapidly.
"'Arry doesn't fear his name."
"Yes well we all can't be like young Mr. Potter." Fleur could hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Trusting the word of a young man who has a history of seeking out attention and causing trouble..." he shook his head as his sentence trailed off.
"Papa, 'e's not like that!"
"It seems like an odd coincidence that something is always happening around the boy."
"If you tried to get to know him, you would know that that is not true."
Fleur's father turned a questioning glare towards his daughter, the evidence of his imminent eruption clear on his face.
"Yes I am aware that you are very 'familiar' with Mr. Potter." It was Fleur's turn to glare towards her father. She was not liking where this conversation was heading. "I don't like that you are in frequent contact with a delinquent. I don't think you should be talking to him anymore."
"Papa you can't stop me from owling my friend. I will not abandon him."
Her father suddenly stood up, throwing his chair back in the process. "No Fleur! It is clear to me that the boy is poisoning your mind with all of this talk of the Dark Lord returning. I will not have you associating with him anymore."
"But Papa-"
"ENOUGH!" and with that final yell, he slammed his hand down on the table causing a glass to fall to the ground and shatter. Fixing her father one final glare, Fleur promptly stood from her seat and left the room.
~Flashback End~
It had been nearly two weeks since then and the tension between Fleur and her father was still palpable. Thankfully he had yet to follow through with his threat to keep her from contacting Harry. All he needed was one more person to abandon her.
The air was still tense when she sat down with her parents and her little sister. She had barely spoken to her father since the fight and even though her mother did her best to stay out of it, Fleur knew that Apolline Delacour agreed with her husband to a degree. Only her sister had remained in her side but she didn't fully understand the state of the wizarding world.
Yes it seemed like another quiet dinner for the family. The silence in the room was thick, and was only interrupted by the sound for a disturbance outside.
-HP-
Hermione was having a hard time enjoying her summer holiday. Within three days of returning to her childhood home, Professor McGonagall had shown up requesting that Hermione come to an Order safe house for the remainder of the holiday.
The eagerness with which her parents were willing to get rid of her startled her slightly. Granted, Hermione never had as close of a relationship with her parents as many kids her age, but she had hoped that they would want to spend a little time with their only daughter.
For as long as Hermione could remember, her relationship with the elder Granger's was strained at best. With both of them working at their dentistry practice, the young girl was often left to her own devices. The only adults who usually paid any attention to her were the teachers at her primary school. She grew a certain closeness to those who taught her and found her love for learning.
The summer at Grimmauld Place however, was causing her to question her faith in authority figures. The night that she was brought the Sirius' ancestral home, Dumbledore pulled her and Ron aside and made them swear to not divulge any of the Order's activities to Harry. He reasoned that Harry needed the time to grieve after the catastrophe that was the Triwizard Tournament.
Though she felt guilty for leaving Harry out of the loop, at least it seemed as though there wasn't much for her to tell Harry about the Order's business. That and the fact that she trusted Dumbledore helped ease her conscious.
The chores that Mrs. Weasley had her and all the Weasley children performing and her relative solitude helped her work through the many questions in her mind. Mainly, her confused feelings towards Harry.
As the previous year began winding down, Hermione's feelings towards her raven-haired friend grew to things beyond what was platonic friendship. To top it all off, she also noticed how close he was getting towards the Beauxbatons champion Fleur. Her mind would constantly flit back and forth between wanting to tell Harry or simply letting her jumbled emotions settle down.
Currently, she was with Ginny and Ron, scouring one of the upper rooms of Grimmauld Place, when they heard a commotion coming from downstairs. Deciding to investigate, the trio ran downstairs and were met by a furiously pacing Sirius.
"Sirius, what's going on?"
The older man, looked up at the group, a grim expression marring his face.
"We just received word from our contact on Privet Drive that something has happened down there?"
"Oh god, Harry!" Hermione's mind instantly went into over drive, summoning up every possible scenario that could've happened. Harry had to be alright, Dumbledore promised that he would be brought to headquarters as soon as possible. He simply had to be okay.
While this was happening, another thought crossed her mind, one that was more than a little unsettling.
"What do you mean by 'contact'? Are you spying on Harry?"
Before she could be granted an answer, the fireplace flared, the face of an elderly woman appearing in the flames. If her appearance was startling, then the words that came out of her mouth was enough to send chills down the spine of all of the people residing in Grimmauld Place.
"Dementors in Little Whinging!"
Author's Note:
Wow! It's been a long time since I've updated this story. I can't possibly say how sorry I am for the wait but I can contribute the absence to 4 reasons.
School. This semester has been hell and it's taken a while for me to find the time to write. I actually started this chapter around February but was only just able to finish it.
I've had so many story ideas, that my brain keeps bouncing from one to another making it hard to focus on one particular story
I've completely restructured how I want to do the rest of this story. I have a habit of trying to stretch things out over too long of a period. This story was originally supposed to be around 75 chapters long, now I have it down to between 40 and 50.
Procrastination. I've just found it hard to get back to writing. But now that I'm back, I hope to stay back for a while.
I hope to have a new chapter for this story every 2 weeks.
As always, that's for reading!