Take My Hand
Chapter 2: An End to the Beginning
Dementors were on Privet Drive.
Harry's mind didn't stumble; it fell head over mental heels and collapsed into an undignified heap. Dementors were here? How? They were the magical guardians of the wizard prison, Azkaban. They kept people terrified and downtrodden by sucking out their best memories and making them relive their worst. But they were not to leave the prison. What were they doing here? There were no escaped prisoners for them to go after, were there? Well, there was his godfather, Sirius Black… Sirius had been imprisoned for a crime he didn't commit and two years ago he'd escaped, sending the Dementors on a rampage to find him. But the Dementors had been ordered to give up the search and return to guarding the prison, two years ago!
But he didn't have time for such thoughts, for the Dementors were slowly making their way towards him and his cousin who was presently backing his way into the dumpster. Harry could hear a far-off screaming and knew it would only get worse. His vision of the alleyway faded, only to be replaced with that of his mother, huddled around Harry's infant form. "No, please, he's just a baby. Spare him, I beg you! Kill me instead!" A scream, a flash of green light, silence, and then a murderous laugh: trapped inside of his own memory, Harry released a scream of denial.
He sagged against the brick wall of the alleyway and struggled to focus; a happy thought, he needed a happy thought! It was the only way to get rid of the Dementors: the Patronus charm and a happy thought. He cast about for something, but how was he supposed to find something happy to think about with his mother's death scream ringing in his ears? He watched, numb, as one of the two Dementors crouched over a whimpering Dudley and, almost lovingly, began to pry his cousin's hands away from his face.
"Do ssomething Harry!"
He jerked at the unexpected order before glancing down at the small snake still in the palm of his hand.
"Sserin? What?" Harry was distracted, he'd just spotted a third Dementor coming towards him, and the feelings of helplessness were increasing, leaving him with the impression that he'd never be happy again, that there was nothing to be happy about, and there never had been. A depression deep as the ocean swept over Harry and sucked him down into its depths; all he was aware of was the rattling of the Dementor's breathing and of the cold high laugh mocking his mother's death.
I can't let it end this way, he thought. Again he sought to find some happy thought, only to meet with failure, his mothers cry echoing crazily inside of his empty skull.
"Mummy!"
Dudley's cry abruptly cut off his mother's and granted Harry a moment of reprieve. Desperately clutching at his thoughts, Harry whipped his wizard's wand out of the pocket of his too-large jeans and pointed it at the Dementors.
"Expecto Patronum!" A feeble light emitted from the end of his wand, but it wasn't enough.
"Expecto Patronum!" Again, a feeble light, not nearly enough to drive off one Dementor, much less three. Harry collapsed onto the concrete, Voldemort's laughter taunting his inability to produce a patronus. Glancing down at his hand he was surprised to see Serin winding his way up Harry's arm. Remembering Serin's response when he asked the little reptile about cursing, Harry raised his wand again and focused on that memory.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" An enormous silver stag erupted from the end of his wand and charged towards the Dementors, catching the first one in its ribs just as it was tilting Dudley's quivering face towards it's own. Spinning about, the stag plowed into the second one and was turning towards Harry just as he felt icy fingers wrap themselves around his arm.
"No!" He cried as his mother abruptly screamed in agony, only to be followed by a dry raspy cackle.
But the stag raced towards him and rammed into the Dementor sending it spiraling off into the distance before turning to face Harry.
Slowly, Harry raised his wand hand towards the stag's delicate muzzle. "Prongs" he whispered, recalling his father's nickname at Hogwarts. Before he could touch it, the stag dissolved, it's mission complete. Fighting his disappointment, Harry turned to find his cousin and, unsurprisingly, discovered him shoved up against the wall with his arms wrapped around his knees, whimpering. He paused at the sight. What did Dudley have to be frightened of? He was a schoolyard bully who got away with whatever he wanted, and whose parents thought he could do no wrong; what was bad in his life? It wasn't like he was Harry, who had a mad man after his head.
He tensed, spinning around when Serin hissed a warning at him. "Who's there?" He called out brazenly.
Footsteps approached from a distance and Harry made out the rounded shape of Mrs. Figg, the cat lady, as she barreled around the corner.
"Harry! Are you all right? Goodness child, that was amazing! I am so sorry that happened, we should have never let you out of our sight! Oh, I am going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!" She waved her arms about, her hands flopping uselessly at the ends.
"Who?" Harry had lowered his wand when he realized who it was, and was in process of trying to discretely tuck it back into his pocket.
"Mundungus Fletcher, that's who! Oh, Harry dear, leave your wand out, I can't help you at all, I'm useless, and Fletcher knows that. I'm going to kill you Mundungus!"
She shuffled over to check on Dudley, leaving Harry's mind reeling for the second time in five minutes. Mrs. Figg had just told him to leave his wand out. Did that mean she knew about magic? Was she a witch? Why had she never said anything before? She'd been babysitting him for years, and she'd never said anything! What was going on?
"Here Harry, come on, we can't stay here. Help me get -- oof!" Mrs. Figg grabbed onto one of Dudley's arms and strained to get the boy onto his feet. But Dudley only whimpered louder and refused to be budged from where he was wedged against the dumpster.
"Goodness, you're heavy, boy! Come on, now; get up! We haven't time for this; they could be back any minute now. Ohh, Mundungus, just you wait 'til I get my hands on you, I'll wring your neck! You were supposed to stay and watch Harry, not go gallivanting off after a shipment of stolen cauldrons!" She wrapped both of her hands around one of Dudley's arms and braced her feet against the ground. Hauling upwards with all her might, she managed to get him halfway out of his crouch before losing her grip to the sweat that was slick over Dudley's skin. With a crash, the boy fell face forward onto the concrete and lay there, whimpering.
"Gah, what a useless lump of filth, and a bully to boot! Here Harry, you see what you can do with him, I'll just go take a quick look—" Waving her hands dismissively at the massive form huddled on the ground, she whisked by Harry and leaned around the corner to look down the street.
Sighing in defeat, Harry walked over to his cousin and looked down at him, disgust written all over his features.
"Sserin?"
"Yess?" The little snake replied from it position where it was wrapped firmly around Harry's forearm.
"Would you mind if I put you around my neck? Do you think you could manage to sstay there if I do? I need to move Dudley, and that'ss going to take both of my handss, and I'm afraid that you might get hurt if you sstay where you are."
The little adder flicked its tongue thoughtfully. "I can try."
"Thank you." Harry gently unwound the little snake and placed it around his neck, careful not to squeeze too hard. It didn't even wrap all of the way around his neck."Iss thiss alright?"
"Perhapss, for a sshort while."
"Then I will try to hurry."
"Pleasse do." Harry could feel the snake wriggling its coils, striving to find a better position.
Leaning down, he grasped on of his cousins meaty arms just as Mrs. Figg came back from the end of the alleyway.
"Come on now boys, time to get moving. It's not safe out here at night anymore."
Harry only grunted in response as he strained to get his cousin into an upright position. "Come on Ickle Duddykins, what would Mommy say if she saw you whimpering like this? Stand up already." Feeling his back muscles beginning to spasm, Harry quickly wrapped his right arm around Dudley's overly thick waist while flinging his one of Dudley's arms around his shoulders, careful of Serin.
"All right then, lets get going Harry, we don't want to – where's your wand? Didn't I tell you to leave it out? I'm no good I tell you! I can't do a patronus, I can't do anything! Get it back out!" Mrs. Figg seemed nearly frantic with her questions, and her hands began to flop about fruitlessly once more.
"It's in my back pocked Mrs. Figg." Harry's voice came out strained with the effort of carrying his cousin and talking.
"Fat lot of good it's doing us there." She huffed, whipping it out of his pocked and shoving it into the hand around Dudley's waist. "Now leave it out this time silly boy, just because squibs can see Dementors doesn't mean I'm going to do you any good fighting them off!" Mrs. Figg was as squib? "Oh, but Mundungus Fletcher is dead when I see him next! I don't even have a way to get a hold of Dumbledore and tell him what happened! This has really gone too far this time, truly it has. I told Dumbledore that Fletcher was no good, but he said we could trust him. Now look where it's gotten us! Don't dawdle dear, you'll only be safe once you get back to your house, though even that is suspect at the moment."
"You're a squib? And you know Dumbledore? Where is he, what's been happening? Has Voldemort been sighted -- he hasn't killed anyone has he?" Questions poured out of his mouth faster than she could answer them, and Harry was hard pressed to be quiet long enough to get a single answer. Here was somebody who might know what was going on, and she wasn't saying anything!
Harry had spent the last two months alternating between relief and terror as he listened to the Muggle news. Relief came at the conclusion of every evening news broadcast without mention of mass murders taking place. Terror came immediately on the heals of the relief when Harry started contemplating all the things Voldemort could be plotting with an extra day's worth of work.
"Well?" Patience, and breath, spent, Harry waited anxiously for her response.
"Oh, poor boy, they've kept you starved for information haven't they?" Mrs. Figg looked genuinely contrite and patted him on his shoulder awkwardly. "Probably trying to keep you out of trouble. I'm afraid there have been several attacks, and people have been killed, though mostly it appears to be suspected Death Eaters. I believe that it's just You-Know-Who getting his own back from those who abandoned him all those years ago. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but it seems to me that you've been kept in the dark quite long enough. As I was saying, there have been deaths, but only pardoned Death Eaters, and of course Fudge can't seem to get his head out of his ass long enough to acknowledge that anything is wrong."
Dozens of questions bubbled up to the forefront of Harry's mind, but all he got out was an undignified squawk when Dudley's trailing foot caught on a piece of protruding concrete. Stumbling, he barely noticed the crack of someone apparating not five feet in front of him.
"MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER!!"
Harry's headshot upwards at Mrs. Figg's screech, sure something else was after him, only to laugh unexpectedly as he was greeted with the image of the portly woman beating Fletcher about the head with her handbag.
"Ouch! Dammit, woman that hurts! What do you have in there, bricks?"
"Cat food!" She snarled at the man as she continued to bludgeon him. "Mundungus" wham "Fletcher" wham "how dare" wham "you leave" wham "Harry alone" wham "when you know" wham "You-Know-Who" wham "is back!" wham wham "He could have been killed!" wham "Now you go tell Dumbledore" wham "What happened and where you were!" wham "Go!" wham wham wh-
With a loud pop Fletcher disapparated and Mrs. Figg's last swing met only empty air. "Hmph! Serves him right if Dumbledore skins him alive! Come on Harry, your house is just down the street."
Harry rolled his eyes and started walking again. Like he didn't know where Number Four was; he'd only lived there for the first eleven years of his life and every summer after that. He grunted and heaved his over sized cousin higher up on his body, trying to keep from dragging as much of Dudley as possible. Really, why was he being so difficult? It wasn't as if he'd been kissed or—
The Dementors had been about to kiss Dudley! His thoughts flashed back to the moment just before the first Dementor had been sent flying by his patronus. Was it, yes, it was! The Dementor had tilted his portly cousin's face towards its own and was leaning down to kiss him. The Dementor's were going to kiss a Muggle, without orders and one that wasn't even wanted for anything. Harry glanced down at Dudley; worried that perhaps he had already been kissed, he was acting awfully strange; but how was he supposed to know how someone would act if they didn't have a soul?
"Umm…Mrs. Figg?" He asked softly, saving his breath.
"What is it Harry? Have you seen something?" She spun around and stared about them anxiously.
"No, I was just…how can you tell if someone's been kissed?"
She stared at him blankly. "Harry, you can't tell if someone's been kissed, and besides, this really isn't the time…"
"Not that," He panted, "I mean by a Dementor."
She blinked, "Oh. Well, let me see." She bent down and took Dudley's chin in her fingers, staring deeply into his half-hooded eyes. "No, Harry, he hasn't been kissed he's just in shock."
Standing slowly, her joints creaking, Mrs. Figg turned and continued down the street, glancing over her shoulder at the boys every few seconds.
"Alright Harry. We're here." She gestured at Number Four, Privet Drive.
"Yes, I know." Harry said, rolling his eyes.
"Well, I'll be seeing you Harry, take care!" Mrs. Figg said and with a cheery wave scuttled off down the street.
"Hey, wait!" He called, but she was already gone. He snorted before turning carefully and dragging his cousin's limp form down the walkway. Acknowledging to himself that he'd never get the door open with his arms full of Dudley, Harry proceeded to balance himself precariously upon one foot while viciously kicking the door with his other.
"Hold your horses, I'm coming already!" Uncle Vernon roared through the door. He flung the door open in a fit of spite only to freeze in shock at the sight of an unconscious Dudley suspended in the arms of his hated nephew.
"Dudley! Petunia, come quick! It's Dudley, and he's hurt!" Vernon immediately reached out to take Dudley into his arms and Harry obligingly backed off, exceedingly grateful to have been relieved of his burden.
"Oh no! My poor little Diddykins! What's happened to you? Who did this Popkin? You can tell Mummy…" For the next few minutes Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia simpered and whined, trying everything to get their son to answer. Harry would have long since departed if they weren't standing in the way of him getting to his room. If they would just get out of they way…
"Who iss making all the noisse?"
"That would be my Aunt and Uncle. They're worried about my pig of a coussin." Harry gently reached up to his shoulders and removed Serin from where he was precariously balanced.
He seemed to be insulted. "What about you? Are they not worried about you? Perhapss assking you what hass happened?"
"Of coursse not. Why would they? They don't care about me; they never have." Harry's thought flashed to his friends from school that had written to him only four times the whole summer. "Few people do."
Serin got a look of reptilian concern on his face and curled around Harry's wrist in an embrace. "Have no fear wizard-mine. I will care for you."
Harry felt a flicker of a smile slide across his face and he looked up to see an opening appear when Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon finally managed to drag their son into the dining room. "Thankss." He replied to the little snake before sliding past his relatives and heading for the stairwell.
"Dudley? Please, please Popkin, speak to Mummy. Please!" Petunia, Harry could tell, was right on the edge of indulging in a very loud, and wet, fit of hysterics.
"M-mum?" Despite himself, Harry found himself relieved to finally hear Dudley talking. The boy had made his life miserable for years, but that didn't mean he wanted him dead.
"That's ma-boy Dudders. You tell us who did this to you, and we'll get them for you." Vernon's baritone voice was kind when addressing his son in ways Harry had never heard when it had been turned on him.
He had just placed his foot on the bottom step of the stairs when Harry heard his cousin's response.
"It was him."
Harry groaned internally. He knew exactly who Dudley was referring to, and knew he was about to catch it.
"BOY!" Once again Uncle Vernon's voice reverberated up the stairs. "You get your ass back in here, now!"
Hesitating for only the briefest of moments, Harry turned and reluctantly entered the dining room. "Yes, sir?"
"What have you done to my son?" Roared Vernon, lunging forward to grasp Harry's forearm in his meaty hand, "you undo it right now or so help me I'll lock you in your room and you'll never come out again!"
"I didn't do anything to him Uncle, except save him. We were attacked by Dementors—" Harry winced as his Uncle's hand tightened to the point of pain.
"Bullocks! You've done something to him! Look at him, he's shaking! Fix him now!"
"I didn't, Uncle. I swear. Dementors attacked us in an alley and I had to drive them off with a patronus."
"Don't you lie to me boy. These Dementors were probably conjured by you—"
"But they weren't!" Harry cried, ripping his arm out of his Uncle's grasp and putting the distance of the room between them. "No one can control Dementors, Uncle, but you're too spiteful and self-centered to learn that sort of thing."
"Oh yeah? And exactly what are these Dementors anyway?" Vernon asked scorn dripping from his every word.
"The guardians of the wizard prison." Aunt Petunia answered. There was a distinct pause during which Aunt Petunia's eyes widened to the size of saucers and her bony hand clapped across her traitorous mouth.
"What?" Uncle Vernon turned to give his wife an incredulous glare.
"Oh, no. I just—I heard her talking to him about it once and I just…" She trailed off, her eyes turning to focus on her whale of a son.
"You mean to tell me that the boy isn't lying?" Vernon's voice reached new heights if incredulity.
"…No." Petunia's voice was very soft.
"Then what—" his Uncle's voice was cut off as an owl swooped through the open front door and dropped a letter at Harry's feet. Bending down he picked up the bit of parchment and ripped it open, his heart sinking to the level of his shoes.
"How could they?" He asked, his voice just above a whisper.
"What did the bloody owl give you?" Vernon ripped the letter out of Harry's limp fingers and scanned it quickly.
Dear Mr. Potter,
We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past nine this evening in a muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle.
The severity of the breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand.
As you have already received an official warning for a previous offence under section 13 of the International Confederation of Wizard's Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is requested at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 A.M. on August 12th.
Hoping you are well,
Yours sincerely,
Mafalda Hophirk
Improper Use of Magic Office
Ministry of Magic
"Ha!" Uncle Vernon crowed. "So you can't do magic eh? We'll just see how you like the way things turn out now, won't we. I might even be inclined to be nice to these 'officials' when they show up to destroy you wand."
Harry's features darkened dangerously and he stalked up to Uncle Vernon, ripping the letter out of his hands before turning towards the stairwell.
"Don't you dare leave!" his Uncle yelled, moving surprisingly fast for all his girth and snagging Harry by the scruff of his grossly oversized hand-me-down shirt. "You won't be going anywhere until those people," he practically spat the word, "show up to put you in your place." He shook Harry like a rag doll, causing his jaws to clink together in his head and his teeth barely missed sinking into his own tongue.
"Gggggg." He gurgled, his thoughts scrambled in his head like broken eggs, his hands involuntarily going up to his collar in an effort to release himself from his Uncle's grasp.
"How dare you."
That was Harry's only warning before: "AHHH! He bit me! Little bastard bit me!"
"No!" He cried, flopping uselessly onto the floor when his Uncle abruptly released his collar. "Sserin? Are you alright?"
"Yess, Harry. I am fine. Though," He added smugly. "Your Uncle, perhapss iss not."
"Perhapss?"
"Well," Serin said sheepishly "I'm not quite ssure how to do the bite-of-death, though any ssnake can do the bite-of-pain."
Harry heaved a sigh of relief; perhaps his Uncle wasn't going to die. Though, he thought, it would be nice to have the man out of his life for good, he just didn't want to have to face a murder trial as well as having his wand broken. His thought's darkened.
How dare they? He was just protecting himself, and Dudley, though Merlin alone knows why—and they were just going to sit there and ignore the fact that Dementors were on Privet Drive of all places! A purely Muggle place of residence, with the sole exception of Harry himself! Didn't it mean anything that they weren't guarding the prison like they were supposed to?
"Vernon? Vernon!" Aunt Petunia was screaming her husband's name at the top of her prodigious lungs and Harry quickly found himself developing a headache. In a rush of flying hands and swirling fabric, he found himself almost smothered as his Aunt collapsed in hysterical sobs by the side of her furious husband.
"What have you done now boy!" Vernon was struggling to his feet from where he'd fallen and – if looks could kill – Harry would be crossing the river Styx right about now.
Hastily scrambling to his feet, Harry felt something deep inside of himself break. All of the pain, the humiliation, the insults, all of the things he'd suffered at the hands of his family rushed over him. Images of slaps and insults, of his little cupboard under the stairs, of cooking breakfast without being allowed any himself…these things were quickly followed by snapshots of that fateful night in the graveyard. Wormtail, sniveling, as he cut his hand off; the blinding flash and sonic boom of the cauldron exploding; Lord Voldemort stepping out of the ashes of the cauldron's fire in all of his dark glory; the excruciating pain of the Cruciatus curse; the shock and terror of the ensuing battle; these images, too, were followed by the most recent happenings of the day; his measly breakfast, the discovery of Serin, the almost-fight with his cousin, and the sudden appearance of the Dementors. Harry's world spinned and he was only aware of Serin hissing in his ear, though he could not seem to make out the words.
It's not enough. It's never going to be enough. It doesn't matter what I do or how hard I try the world will always expect me to give and do more than I will ever be able to. The Dursley's want me to stop existing, as does Voldemort, though he'd like to help me on my way. The Muggle world thinks I'm a juvenile degenerate with no hope of being rehabilitated and the Wizarding world sees me as the boy-who-lived and suddenly I'm expected to do something wondrous because of it! Voldemort is back, and I don't know how. They don't believe me; they think I'm a lying fool who just wants attention. He shook his head mutely. It doesn't matter. None of it matters. I won't let them do this to me anymore. I may have made mistakes, and I may be responsible for Cedric's death, but I will not allow the world to use, or abuse, me ever again. The broken thing inside of Harry slowly reformed itself into something stronger and more durable. I'll not accept this sort of treatment any longer. I am my own person and I'll be damned if I'll just roll over and die. After all, he thought derisively it takes two people to treat someone like a rug: one to lie down, and one to do the walking.
Slowly, he lifted his head, and Harry's Uncle took an involuntary step back, swallowing hard at the emotion burning strongly in the emerald eyes.
"I'm leaving." He announced softly, but his words rolled though the small dining room with the force of a thunderclap.
Turning on his heel, Harry walked up the stairs and down the hallway towards his little room with the cat flap on the door. He grimaced as he remembered the times his family would lock him in. No more. Striding over to his trunk, Harry began to haphazardly throw things into it, taking no interest in how his hand-me-down clothes ended up, though his schoolbooks were wrapped reverently in cloth and laid down with special care. There really was no telling what would happen to him once he left Number Four, but he did know that the Ministry would be after him. He might not get a chance to learn anything new about magic, so he might as well preserve the information he had.
Going over to his bed, Harry carefully removed the loose board and slid his portable CD player and his precious CDs from the small niche, sliding them deep into the pocket of his jeans. He'd need them later; he just knew it.
"Hedwig?" Harry walked over to his sleeping owl and stuck his hand through the cage's open door to gently stroke her feathered breast. "Hedwig can you wake up for me please?" She hooted softly and clicked her beak in mild annoyance, though her eyes were clear and attentive as they settled on him. "Hedwig, I'm afraid that we're going to have to leave. I was attacked in the alleyway and-" he was cut off by her indignant screech and he had to snatch his hands back as she baited on her stand. "Hey, hey, it's okay girl, I'm fine." Harry held out his hands to the sides of his body and turned around showing Hedwig that he was, indeed, fine.
"I'm fine" he repeated, "But we are going to have to leave, and soon. I got a letter from the Ministry of Improper Magic Use that said the magic I used to drive off the Dementors that attacked was illegal, and that they were sending people over to break my wand." He gave his owl a look. "I'm not waiting around for strangers to make me completely vulnerable for whenever Voldemort decides he wants to off me permanently. So we've got to get going. You up for a journey?" She hooted softly in agreement and reached out to gently nibble on his fingertips. "Thanks Hedwig, you're the best. Oh, one more thing before we go. Hedwig, this is Serin, Serin, this is Hedwig, she's my owl, and a darn good friend, so play nice you two."
Switching to parseltounge he hissed, "Sserin, Hedwig iss my owl and sshe deliverss letterss and packagess for me, be nice and don't bite her okay? Sshe's been my only friend for a long time and I'd hate it if you two fought."
"Of coursse, Harry. I wouldn't think of it. We'll get along jusst fine, I'm ssure."
Harry laughed as he set Serin on his bed and finished up the last of his packing. He paused long enough to throw an oversized black button down over shirt on before scooping Serin back up and depositing him in one of its front pockets.
"Comfy?" He hissed as he turned and grabbed the handle on his trunk in one hand and Hedwig's cage in the other, his wand securely tucked behind his ear.
"Doess it matter?" Came the pithy response.
Harry chuckled. "I guesss not."
Making his way down the hall, Harry was grateful for the permanent featherlight charm that he had convinced Flitwick, his charms professor, to put on his trunk at the end of the year. Life would be much more difficult right about now if his trunk was as heavy as it should be. It even floated a couple of inches above the ground on what seemed to be invisible wheels. Handy that.
Ghosting into the dining room Harry spared himself a smirk as his Aunt abruptly cut off her wailing at the plight of her husband and son at the sight of Harry standing in the doorway.
"I'm leaving." He announced again in the same frighteningly soft tone. "And I shan't be returning again this summer; perhaps never again. I'm sure you'll manage to get over your grief at the loss of my companionship in time." He turned to leave, paused, and turned back. "I suppose you should have your hand looked at Vernon. Serin tells me he isn't sure if he injected any poison into you, and judging by the fact you are still standing I'd say he didn't, but it could still get infected. I'd hate to think that I left you three feeling anything less that the deepest of affections for me because of any harm that had come to you. Au revoir."
Turning once more Harry headed for the front door, his face splitting into an unholy grin as he heard only silence in his wake. I should have done this a long time ago. Opening the front door, Harry took a deep breath and stepped out into the night.
ooOO00OOoo
The letter from the ministry of magic comes from J. K. Rowling's book Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and can be found on page 26. This book is published by Scholastic Press and all credit goes to the appropriate persons. (Namely not me.)