Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter universe, nor do I receive any compensation for using the characters in these mind droppings I call a story.

A/N: I know, I know… it's been a long time coming, but finally here's another chapter… one that's taken me months to write, and one that I'm not entirely happy with, but some things needed to be set up, and I couldn't think of a better way to produce it. Things may seem like they're plodding along, but the points in this particular chapter will have an important impact on the rest of the story. I can't make things too obvious now, but you'll see when it all comes together. I also want to thank everyone who has left a review, they're all read and they're all very much appreciated. ^_^ (Word Count= 5191)

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Chapter 16: The Old, New, Old Home

From The Life of Harry James Potter – Excerpt from Chapter 8: The Hogwarts Years, Year 6.

It didn't seem to be helping at all.

In fact, I had begun to wonder if Snape was purposely trying to weaken my mind in order for Voldemort to have easier access. I knew that he 'almost' had my best interests at heart, although the greasy bastard was absolutely loathe to admit that fact…he knew that he could have taken it easier on me, and not try to 'throw me into the fire' just to prove to me that I wasn't the miracle prodigy that everyone was making me out to be. He knew of the prophesy… he knew the importance of the task laid out before me… who he was trying to prove it to remains a mystery. Perhaps he reveled in telling Dumbledore how pathetic I was, or maybe he had hoped some ghost would float through the dungeon and witness how pathetic I was and spread it throughout the castle… I'll never know.

However, Snape was right about a lot of things… how I had to 'close my mind,' and 'keep my mouth shut' while casting spells. When I think back on that time, I cringe at how I had involuntarily broadcast my thoughts and intentions, not only while dueling, but in nearly everything I did. I was an open book who had no chance against an experienced opponent. As much as we believed in our childish notion of invulnerability, Hermione, Ron, and I really had no idea what a true fight was like. True, we held our own during the battle in the Department of Mysteries, but we were lucky more than anything else… lucky that none of us were hurt worse than we were. Only Luna had come out of the ordeal completely unscathed… and the worst injury was… well… you know already. That moment in time haunts me to this day…

I wish Hogwarts had taught non-verbal spellcasting much earlier…

I know it's late in the game by the time you're reading this, but you have to make it a priority to learn non-verbal casting as quickly as you are able, even more so than the half-hearted Occlumancy that you'll be trying to master. The discipline of Occlumancy will come to you more naturally as your mind matures, but non-verbal spellcasting will take patience and practice to master, and a lot of each. Practice every chance you get, even when you don't need to. It will be very frustrating at first, but you'll soon discover that the skill is absolutely indispensable. I wasn't fully skilled in it until after the War of the Sexes, and even then I knew that a lot more lives could have been saved if I had been more proficient in it earlier in my lifetime.

In the coming year, your relationship with Hermione will become strained, more so than even last year. The reason for this is twofold…Foremost, you will be showing her up in Potions lessons in front of Slughorn, the new Potions Professor, by use of Snape's old potions textbook. She's an extremely proud girl who believes that hard work and doing things 'by the book,' so to speak, is the only way to true success. Resist the use of the shortcuts the book holds while in front of her, but make sure that you learn them. As you'll see, Hermione will easily win the Felix Felicis, but if you blatantly use the shortcuts while she's trying to focus on her own task, she will become agitated and start making mistakes. Trust me when I say that she will know what to do with the potion when the time comes. You must always remember that during these hard times to come, her whole focus will be on your success… if you don't foolishly drive her away as I had nearly done.

Secondly, and more importantly, your relationship with her will be strained because, at that point in time, she was sure that she was in love with you, and had been getting more and more frustrated with herself and her inability to come to terms with that fact… and with the mixed signals I had been inadvertently sending her. She's a brilliant witch, but in matters of the heart, she's criminally shy. Don't think for a moment that you're the only one who has no idea how love is supposed to work. You must let her know exactly how much she means to you, and do it as soon as possible. Trust me when I say that she will be absolutely indispensable in the coming years in learning non-verbal magic. Use her amazing talents, yes, but make sure to consider her feelings at the same time. She is human, too, and needs to feel love, just like you and everybody else does.

Now, just remember that non-verbal spellcasting must be your number one priority, and I'll outline a few tricks and exercises here that will make it much easier for both you and Hermione… and don't get frustrated because she picks it up quicker than you do… it's just her 'thing.'

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Tuesday, July 6th, 1989 7:22 AM

He was walking confidently through the Atrium on the ground level floor of the Ministry of Magic. The various witches and wizards milling around the room turned and bowed respectfully to him as he passed, just as they should to someone in his station. Even the golden figures of the Fountain of Magical Brethren seemed to lower their heads as he passed by.

He stopped at the checkpoint and reached into his robes for his wand, but the wizard there just shook his head and waved him through, quickly saying, "There's no need for that, Minister. Just go on through."

He primly nodded and slid his wand back into his robes as he continued through the golden gates towards the lifts that would bring him to his office.

He entered one of the gilded cages and watched the doors close. He pressed the button for Level One, and with only a slight lurch, the cage began its descent below the streets of London.

It took him a few moments to realize that the lift had bypassed his floor. The cage also began to pick up speed. The pleasant female voice that heralded each floor became a jumbled mix of words and the floors sped by in a blur. He became alarmed when he looked up at the indicator above the door and saw that he had just passed level seventy five.

He was distracted from the odd way the lift was acting when he felt something sharp poking at his ribs. He looked down to see one of the paper airplane memos incessantly poking his side.

"Master must come," the memo said in a rushed, squeaky voice, "The mistress is ill and is not waking up!"

"What? What the…"

He opened his eyes to find himself looking into the face of a panicking house elf.

"Gah!" he yelled as he pushed the elf from his bed and onto the floor, "What do you think you're doing, waking me up like that!"

The elf would normally be cowering on the floor and groveling for forgiveness, so he was quite concerned when the elf just jumped up again and began bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.

"The Mistress, Master… the Mistress is in the den and is not waking up!" cried the elf.

He scowled at the little creature before he sighed heavily and looked at the clock on his nightstand, "Of course she's not waking up… she got drunk again, just like she does every night. She won't be up until noon, at least."

"But Master," cried the elf as he nervously pulled downwards on his long ears, "the Mistress is not waking… and has turned blue…"

It took a moment for that statement to register in his sleep-fogged brain. Even at his young age, he knew that turning blue wasn't a good thing. Not a good thing at all.

Suddenly, he felt his own panic rise as he threw the covers off of himself and raced for the door. He ran through the hallway to the wide, marble staircase that led down to the main floor. He made his way across the expansive receiving hall in seconds flat and threw open the door to the study. What he saw in the room made him freeze in his tracks.

There, sprawled on the sofa next to the fireplace, was his mother. Her soiled blonde hair was matted to her face by the dried vomit that had covered that end of the sofa and had pooled on the floor. Her arm was hanging limply to the floor, with a near-empty bottle of sugarbrandy still clutched in her pale blue hand.

"Mother?" he asked, hoping that he was wrong. Her dull, unmoving eyes were wide open. There was no rise and fall of her chest. Tears began to well in his eyes.

"MUM!" he yelled as he ran across the room and threw himself upon his mother. A gasp escaped him as he felt the unyielding stiffness and the icy chill of the body beneath him. The smell of stale liquor, vomit, and fecal matter almost made him lurch as he cried, "No! Mum! Not you, too!"

The house elf stood to the side of the sofa watching his young master wail and scream. Even with all the beatings and punishments that had been inflicted upon him throughout the years that he had served the family, he still felt a pang of sympathy for the young master. He wasn't sure of what to do for the boy, or even who to contact. He only knew of one relative of the boy, his mother's sister, but the family had been out of contact with each other for many years as the boy's aunt had been disowned and expelled from the family line.

Still… she was his last living relative… well, one that wasn't in prison, of course…

The elf tore his eyes away from his anguished master as he stepped over to the fireplace. The elf grabbed a handful of floo powder and tossed it into the hearth. The flames flared green as the connection to the floo network was initiated. He briefly glanced over his shoulder at Draco, the newest orphan in the wizarding world, before he turned back to the fire and called out, "Andromeda Tonks!"

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Wednesday, July 7th, 1989 12:22 AM

Even though the room was nearly pitch dark, from his position on the bed he could just make out the dim, twinkling reflected light from Jaana's blankly staring eyes. He had been waiting for her to fall asleep for over two hours. He needed to check on the Shrieking Shack to see if Sirius was there, but his guardian's insomnia was putting a crimp into that particular plan.

He had tried to make an appearance at the Shack as often as he could since Wynmae had delivered his letter, but it was difficult now that they were living in Jaana's grandparent's mansion. Although the mansion was huge, they had cloistered themselves in the master bedroom until Jaana and Cooley could determine if the protections in place around the estate were going to be sufficient to effectively hide them. Until they were sure, they had refrained from doing any magic at all, which was clearly wearing on Jaana's nerves. Even Harry was getting anxious to start practicing magic again.

With a quiet, frustrated sigh, Harry rose from his bed and walked across the room.

"Where are you going?" said Jaana quietly from her own bed.

"The loo," replied Harry, trying to sound sleepy.

Harry felt his guardian's eyes on him as he closed the door to the bathroom. He strained to use the toilet, just barely managing to force out a stream loud enough for Jaana to hear. At the same time he was mentally calling for Wynmae.

He had just finished up when a wispy form solidified into the tiny, sprite-like creature. Harry ran the water in the sink and then quietly said to Wynmae, "Listen, I need you to go to the shack where Sirius Black is supposed to meet me."

Harry wasn't surprised to see the look of fear that appeared on Wynmae's normally cheerful and carefree face.

"What's the matter?" asked Harry concernedly, "You've been there before for me."

Wynmae stared back at Harry with her unblinking, pupil-less eyes, motionless except for the slow fluttering of her white wings. Every time she had gone there for him, he had to practically beg her to go. After an uncomfortable moment where the little creature looked absolutely unwilling to comply, she just let out a puff of a sigh and said in a decidedly less than cheerful voice, "Wynmae will go."

"It'll be okay," reassured Harry, even though he had no idea what was causing her apparent distress, "just see if he's there and come right back. I'll make sure that the coldbox is still cracked open for you when you're done."

Harry quickly wet his hands, turned off the water, and dried them by rubbing them on his pyjama legs as Wynmae resumed her vaporous form and flowed out under the closed door. He opened the bathroom door and let out a gasp of surprise when he saw that Jaana was standing just outside.

Fearing that she had heard him whispering to Wynmae, or worse yet, had actually noticed her leaving the bathroom, Harry was about to stammer out an excuse but his thoughts were interrupted when Jaana spoke first.

"Come on, get out of there!" said Jaana sleepily, "I heard the water running, and now I have to… well…"

Harry had to stifle the sigh of relief that threatened to escape him. He just nodded and stepped past her as Jaana rushed into the newly vacated loo.

As the door closed, Harry stepped out of the bedroom into the wide hallway, making a point to avoid meeting the glances of the numerous magical paintings that lined the walls as he made his way down to the kitchen.

The old Victorian-style mansion they were now occupying, although relatively well-kept, had an ancient, depressing feel to it. It had been solely occupied by Jaana's grandmother for many decades, and even before the old witch's husband had died, the house hadn't seen many youngsters for nearly two generations. Serene Figg was ashamed of the unusually large number of squibs in her family, and didn't seem to tolerate the youthful exuberance of children in general, even the magical children in the family, although the old lady obviously had a soft spot for Jaana, seeing that she left her entire estate to her and virtually ignoring her own squib daughter, Arabella.

Harry arrived in the kitchen and fixed himself a quick snack of crackers and cheese, and at the same time he made sure to keep his promise to Wynmae and cracked the door open to the coldbox so that she could assume her preferred resting state… a layer of frost on the inside of it.

Harry had just made it to the bottom of the stairs when he saw Jaana appear at the top and looking very flustered.

"What do you think you're doing?" said Jaana in a hissing whisper, "Get up here now!"

Harry held up the plate of food as he slowly climbed the stairs and said simply, "I was hungry."

Recently, it appeared that she didn't want to let him out of her sight, which was putting quite the strain on his numerous plans. She had been becoming increasingly more manic as the days passed. On top of his being unable to check the Shrieking Shack as often as he said he would and his failure to keep his promise to return to visit that Luna girl, he had yet to make another attempt to capture Pettigrew… not to mention that he had entirely given up on trying to kindle a friendship with that Hermione girl… he had certainly botched that particular mission, but good.

Harry turned on the landing and began walking up the stairs when he heard the flapping of wings coming from the hallway above him. A Great Horned owl appeared at the head of the staircase and swooped past him to land on Jaana's outstretched arm. Harry paused to watch as Jaana removed the small note from the owl's leg.

"It's Ray," said Jaana as she read the note, "He's at the gate. I'll go let him in… and you go back to bed!"

Harry climbed the stairs as Jaana walked across the main hall on her way to the front door. He walked to their room and set the plate on his nightstand. He then crossed the hall to the darkened bedroom opposite theirs and made his way to the bay window which had a wide, panoramic view of the front property of the mansion.

Harry watched Jaana through the window as she hurried down the paved drive while pulling on a dark hooded cloak. He could just make out a figure standing in the distance beyond the large, wrought iron gates.

When Jaana opened the gate, the figure quickly slipped in through the opening. Rather than coming up to the house, the pair began conversing there at the gate.

Curiosity got the best of Harry. He hurried into his room, pulled out a black hooded robe from his cupboard and quickly slipped it on. He rushed back to the window and, as soon as he was completely covered with the robe, he relaxed himself and concentrated on the top of one of the stone pillars that supported the massive front gates. An instant later, he Shifted out from the bedroom and silently appeared on the shadowed top of the right-hand pillar, arriving just a few moments after their conversation had started.

"…nothing to worry about. The wards seem to be just as strong as ever," said Cooley in his deep, Jamaican accent, "I know I'm no expert, but I know enough to say that magic is pretty much undetectable here, and the muggles I tried to bring from the village up north couldn't get within a mile of this place before they made up some excuse to leave. There's not an anti-Apparition ward in place like dere is at the Gables, but I don' tink that will be a problem as long as you keep this place secret."

Jaana sighed audibly, and then asked, "Did the Confundus work as it's supposed to?"

"Almost too well," laughed Cooley, "I had to keep reading this wretched note just to find the gate again. It's a good thing that owls aren't affected, or I'd have been standing at dis gate waiting for you to notice me."

Jaana nodded and gave Cooley a wan smile, "Thanks again. That's a load off my mind."

"But dere's something else that's botherin' you, isn't dere…?"

Jaana sighed and looked at the ground, "Its Harry…"

After a long, silent pause, Cooley prompted, "Well?"

"Well… I really don't know. I mean, he's doing okay with his studies, and he seems well enough physically, but… there's definitely something wrong," said Jaana distractedly, "I know that what he's been through with his relatives wasn't easy, but I think it's affected him more than we know. He's been so quiet and secretive… he never plays or laughs… I can't remember the last time I've seen him smile… I mean really smile."

This statement from Jaana took Harry somewhat by surprise. He didn't think he was acting different than usual. Sure, he had a lot on his plate, and maybe he really didn't have that much to smile about, given his recent frustration with his inability to go forward with his plans, but he surely wasn't this stiff, brooding Emo-child that Jaana was making him out to be… was he? And as far as being secretive went… well, she had a point there, but his reasons for that were many. It wasn't as though he thought he was doing anything wrong, but he was afraid that she would try to stop him if she knew the entirety of what he was up to… and that wasn't an option.

"Do you want me t' have a look at him?" asked Cooley concernedly, "Maybe he's got a touch of the Wizard's Flu or sumtin'."

Jaana had a sad, far-away look in her eyes as she absently commented, "No, he's fine… it's more about what he has to do…"

Cooley's eyebrows rose as he asked, "And what, pray tell, does the child have t' do?"

Jaana's gaze slowly focused on Cooley's face, and after a heartbeat her eyes widened as she realized what she had said aloud. Although she had told Cooley about his training, and some of the things in Harry's book about the boy's past, she had never breathed a word about the revelations of the future it contained and what was expected of him.

Thinking fast, and hoping she could sound convincing, she said, "Well, he'll be ten soon, and getting his Hogwarts letter. Can you imagine what it's going to be like for him going to school after being 'missing' for so long?"

Cooley gave Jaana a pointed look that made it clear that he knew she meant something else entirely. After a few moments, he just shook his head and said, "I won't be prying, but I've known dere's been tings you haven't been telling me… Harry's not the only one that's changed over the last few years. It's been a while since I've seen that smile of yours, too."

"Ray, I really can't…"

"Not to worry, Jaana," said Cooley in an understanding tone, "As I said, I won't be prying… just know that if tings get out of hand, you can always call on me."

Jaana gave him a half-hearted smile and simply said, "Thanks."

Cooley pulled a scrap of parchment out of his pocket and began scribbling something down as he said, "Now, after I walk out that gate, I'm not going to remember being here. Dis note to myself will tell me where I am and why I was here. Make sure you tell Harry about the Confundus… if he wanders off the property, he won't be able to get back in easily, if at all… Remember, the only safe way in or out of here is Apparition, portkey or by broomstick by way of the sea, and dis gate, of course, but it can't be opened from the outside by anyone other than you and Harry, assuming you've tuned the wards to him."

"I've already added him, and I'll make sure he understands," said Jaana as she opened the gate, "and thanks again for everything… I'll make it up to you someday."

"No worries… just keep in touch, and let me know if there's anyting else I can do."

Jaana watched as Cooley stepped out through the gate. Almost immediately, Cooley stopped in his tracks and looked around in confusion. He didn't seem to notice the gate, the house, or even the young woman just a few feet away from him. He looked down and noticed the parchment in his hand. After briefly scanning the page, he smiled and turned towards the house. With a wave in Jaana's general direction, he Apparated away with a sharp snap.

After Jaana closed the gate, she began walking back to the house. Harry silently Shifted himself back to his room and quickly put away his robe. He grabbed the plate of food from his nightstand, picked up his wand, and vanished about half of the contents of the plate. Just after he tucked away his wand and stuffed a cracker into his mouth, Jaana entered the room.

"Well, I'm glad that you saved a few for me," said Jaana as she picked up a cracker and a hunk of cheese and popped them into her mouth.

"Hey, go make your own!" said Harry with a spray of cracker crumbs as he playfully slapped her hand away when she reached for another piece.

A flash of hurt appeared on Jaana's face, but it only lasted a moment before it morphed into a look of suspicion when she saw the smile that Harry wore.

'Rats,' Harry thought to himself, 'I've got to be more careful…'

"I was just kidding," said Harry as he purposely let the smile on his face falter and sliding back into a more subdued demeanor, "You can have the rest… I'm about done anyway."

Jaana looked critically at Harry for more than a few moments. After an uncomfortable pause, she seemed to shrug off Harry's rather abrupt change in habitual demeanor.

"That's okay, I just… well, never mind," said Jaana as she threw her cloak over the back of a chair and took the plate from Harry.

Harry settled back into his pillow, thankful that he had just managed to dodge what could have been an ugly situation… he still found it very difficult to lie to Jaana convincingly.

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Wednesday, July 7th, 1989 4:07 AM

Harry must have dozed off, because he was startled out of his sleep by a most unladylike snore emanating from his guardian in the bed across the room. He heard the steady, rhythmic breathing coming from his guardian telling him that she had finally fallen asleep. With a glance at the illuminated timepiece next to Jaana's bed, he saw that it was already after four o'clock… over three hours since he sent Wynmae on her mission. He figured that the little sprite should return at any minute.

Harry lay awake in the darkness for what seemed like an hour until he felt a chill run along his skin telling him that Wynmae was finally close by. Being careful not to make a sound, he rose from his bed and made his way out of the bedroom and across the hallway into the opposite bedroom.

As soon as the door had closed, Wynmae's form coalesced from a previously unseen cloud of thin vapor.

"Well?" asked Harry excitedly, "Was Sirius Black there?"

"No," replied Wynmae in an annoyed tone, "and Wynmae will not go back."

Harry sighed in disappointment and said, "What's the matter? Every time you go there, you get all jittery… even though you say nobody is there. The place really isn't haunted, you know… it's just a story to keep people away from it."

"No ghost is there… Wynmae is scared of the snap-and-bite," said Wynmae with a shudder, "always jumping and snapping at poor Wynmae… chasing and barking…"

"What?" exclaimed Harry much louder than he should have. He nervously looked at the door and waited a few moments. When Jaana didn't come busting out into the hallway, he turned back to Wynmae and said, "A snap-and-bite? Do you mean a dog?"

"Wynmae nodded her head emphatically as she said, "Yes! Big and black and fast and scary… always biting, always snapping at poor Wynmae…"

"Sirius!" hissed Harry, "Has the 'snap-and-bite' always been there?"

Again, Wynmae nodded, "Yes! Always barking and chasing, scaring poor Wyn…"

Harry quickly and quietly went back into his bedroom to get his wand and backpack, and then made his way down to the first floor of the mansion with Wynmae fluttering closely behind. As soon as they entered the kitchen, Wynmae let out a high pitched 'squee' and made a bee line for the coldbox that Harry had left open for her.

Harry, too, made a bee line for the coldbox and opened the door to see that Wynmae had already assumed her frosty form along the inside.

"Hmmm," said Harry to himself as he rummaged around the sparse items, "There's not much here. He's going to have to make due with some bread and cheese until Jaana can go shopping again."

Harry stuffed few food items into his backpack as he said to the inside of the coldbox, "Wynmae, do you want to come along with…"

Harry smiled as the door to the coldbox slammed shut before he could finish the sentence, "I guess not."

Harry gripped his backpack tightly as he closed his eyes and relaxed, allowing himself to silently Shift out of the kitchen, reappearing a moment later in the dark, dirty kitchen of the Shrieking Shack.

"Mister Black?" Harry called out hopefully, but was only met with silence.

Harry spent nearly ten minutes searching the shack, following the large paw prints that marred the thick layer of dust that covered the floors. He even checked the trap door that led to the tunnel onto the Hogwarts grounds, but found that the dust around it was completely undisturbed. He did, however, find a broken area in the den's wooden paneling that led to the outside and saw that there was and abundance of paw prints next to the dog-sized hole, telling him that Sirius had already left to find safer shelter elsewhere for the day.

Harry placed the bundle of food near the opening, hoping that Sirius would return the following night and would know that he had been there. With one last glance around the dreary room, Harry closed his eyes and silently vanished.

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Wednesday, July 7th, 1989 5:09 AM

A large, black dog squeezed his way through the tight opening into the Shrieking Shack. Once inside, the dog froze and carefully sniffed the stagnant air. He then seemed to notice the package lying near the entrance. He walked over to the bundle and gave it cautious sniff. A smile seemed to cross the dog's lips as he spit out the dead rat that had been held tightly in his jaws. A moment later, the bundle had been torn open and the dog was noisily chewing down its contents.

Once the meager meal had been consumed, the dog carefully meandered around the building. He was searching for that annoying little pixie… or whatever it was. He didn't trust the little imp… his canine senses didn't detect any evil or malice from the diminutive creature, but he certainly didn't detect any benevolence from it, either.

Once he was sure he was alone in the shack, he curled up upon a broken down bed on the second floor and closed his eyes… the package of food was a good sign… maybe tomorrow he'd finally meet his godson.

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