Chapter Three:

Weasley's Joke Shop

Harry Potter sat awake, knees pulled up to his chin as he shivered. The tremors that ripped spasmodically through his body weren't due to a cold temperature, rather to the fear that was coursing through is veins and attacking his mind. Fingers ran through tousled bangs and hands collected locks of hair, holding tight as if in attempts to be absolutely sure he was actually real.

The nightmare had been terrifying. There was ultimately no other way to describe it. Perhaps the next closest thing would be "petrifying," but Harry was relieved to find that he wasn't stone, so he settled with terrifying.

Lambent orange walls washed into view around him and the Quidditch players zooming excitedly around within the confines of the Chudley Cannons posters smiled brilliantly back at Harry, unaware of how awful he was feeling. Echoing screams his mother once yelled caught in his ears and he wanted to blot them out. He didn't have many memories of his parents, but hearing them cry out as they were murdered by the Dark Lord was not a memory he wanted to cherish.

He felt alone. Even though he could hear the steady snores of Ron in the bed beside his sleeping bag, Harry felt like he was the only person in the world. Chattering cricket calls floated in through the open window spilling midnight air, adding to the hopeless feeling.

"Mom…" escaped Harry's lips, and he ran his hands through his hair once again. "Why do you keep haunting me?"

It'd been sixteen years since Harry had been born, and over that enormous course of time he'd learned to let the feelings of emptiness where his parents had been disintegrate. Occasionally things would fill in the gap in his soul, like a good game of Quidditch or the beaming pride that Mrs. Weasley showed at the beginning of every summer holiday. But these didn't last for long.

Getting to his feet, Harry stretched his hands above his head as a yawn ripped through his lungs, up to his mouth where it escaped with a touch of voice that always came along with it. It was the typical yawn, loud enough to be heard throughout the room. And for a moment, Ron's snores faltered. Harry's body stiffened in silence as he waited for Ron to either awake or get angry, or continue to sleep.

The latter happened, and Harry was once again left with his thoughts as company. He had decided long before that this was not the most healthy or entertaining thing to be in the company of. Often his mind would race with ludicrous worrying that would amount to nothing. Always he was left with that feeling of dread in his stomach, reminiscent of when he forgot to do four classes homework and had to face the Professors who assigned them in a few hours.

Harry had been under the impression that the Christmas Holiday would be an exciting and warming event at Ron Weasley's house, the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley's twinkling eyes and broad smile had softened the feelings of hurt that had been within Harry at the end of first term. A parade of home-cooked meals had followed as well as the camaraderie that Harry and the Weasley brothers shared. Bill had been extremely pleased to see Harry sitting beside him at the table and Charlie was keen to tell Harry all about the happenings in the Wizarding world that he was oblivious to or unable to hear about.

But with the intensity of the nightmare, all those feelings of warmth seeped away like water through a strainer. It appeared this couldn't be helped.

What was he still doing awake?

I can't go back to sleep, he thought angrily to himself. It was like a double-edged sword. If he went to sleep, the nightmares could return unexpectedly. If he remained awake, he would be stuck with his thoughts, which he wasn't particularly enjoying at the moment.

"What the bloody Hell…"

Picking up his opened sleeping bag by one of its edges, Harry walked closer to Ron's bed. He had been quite a few feet away from his sleeping friend before, but now he didn't feel he could sleep without being close to somebody.

Pulling the thick sleeping bag over, he laid it out right beside Ron's bed. Normally he would have felt weird doing this (not to mention how Ron would react when he awoke in the morning,) but, Harry didn't care about that right now. All he cared about was being closer to someone and falling asleep.

Settling down, he stared up at the white ceiling. Slowly his eyelids felt heavier and heavier, and before long, he fell fast asleep, slipping into the world of dreams without another nightmare for the night.

When Ron Weasley awoke, he stretched his arms over his head, his fingertips brushing the ceiling that sloped down over his headboard. The Chudley Cannons players, who were zooming around the poster that was spellotaped there, made shocked faces as Ron's fingers raked up and down the slope, coming back atop his messy hair that stuck up at odd angles.

It was to his amusement and startle that he found Harry lying on a sleeping bag shoved up against his bed, still asleep and snoring slightly. A bit shocking to Ron because when he had fallen asleep, Harry had been halfway across the room, he had to swing his legs over the side of the bed and jump over his slumbering friend.

Thoughts formed into questions as he pulled off his pajamas and searched his large and rather cluttered closet for clothing.

Well, that was a surprise, Ron thought as he shoved a bunch of orange robes aside. He wore those only when he was rooting for the Cannons on his Enchantavision – the Wizard equivalent to a Television in the Muggle world. It seemed just the night before, Harry had been keen on keeping his distance from the boy who he had wronged not three days before. Now, it seemed he was right on his feet practically.

Not that I'm complaining…

Selecting a nice pair of faded blue robes with white lining, Ron shoved his pants off and slipped into the worn silk hand-me-downs and quickly shrugged into the long folds of the lengthened shirt and jacket. He felt safer wearing more than pajamas around his best friend. For some strange reason, he didn't feel comfortable wearing practically nothing around Harry…even though they lived with each other every day of the year – excluding summer holidays.

He felt weird like that all of a sudden. It hadn't appeared within him before, but now that he was older, he was more self-conscious. Having grown a bit since the summer, he had to get newer robes soon or else he would be exposing half his calves. Hermione had done a lengthening charm on them before he left for the holidays as a gift, but that would only last so long.

Tying the robes up in the front, Ron glanced down at Harry. His hand was up near his face, tucked beneath his chin. Hair stuck up at all ends and his eyes were closed. He actually looked peaceful for once. It had been too long, in Ron's opinion.

Regret shaped in his mind as he realized he'd have to wake Harry if they were going to go through with their day plans. They were exciting, to say the least. But still he was loath to wake his serene friend.

"Hey," he started softly, trying to make the transition from dreams to reality smoother. "Harry…"

He crouched to his knees and rested a hand on Harry's shoulder, nudging him slightly. Watching, Harry squeezed his eyes shut before they slid open. Immediately, reddened hands formed into fists shot up to his face and massaged the sleep away.

"…Ron…" he started, sitting up. Ron's hand was still on Harry's shoulder, and when the groggy boy acknowledged it, Ron pulled it back, feeling his cheeks tinge. "Morning already?"

"Yeah…" Ron said with a smile. "Gotta get up if we're going to go to Fred and George's."

Harry immediately shot out of his sleep mode and was awake.

"Oh yeah! We're going to the –"

"Ssh! Harry!" Ron shushed with a grin. "Mum can't know about it!"

"Oh…" Harry trailed off, shoving the sleeping bag off his lap. His pajamas were clinging to his sweat-covered body and he ran his hands over them to get them unstuck. "Right."

It didn't take long for the two boys to get ready and sneak off down the hallway to the bathroom to brush their teeth, comb their ridiculous hair and make sure they smelled good enough to go out.

Almost impossible though it was, Harry and Ron managed to sneak by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's bedroom while they were still asleep and make it to the grate of the fireplace where a loop of iron supported the flower pot of Floo Powder.

Taking a large handful, Ron motioned for Harry to step in.

"Best if we do it at once, so that Mum doesn't notice the Floo Powder's too less."

Harry nodded, and stepped ahead Ron into the fireplace. Ron grinned as he stepped into the grate beside his excited friend. He noticed it when Harry bumped up against him in the tight confines of the fireplace. Holding the hand of powder out, he cleared his throat.

"Diagon Alley!"

In an eruption of emerald flames, Harry and Ron were engulfed and shot upwards into the fireplace and into the Floo Network. Dozens of grates flew past within the first second and the boys' once neat hair messed instantly in the wind that funneled around them. Laughter escaped Harry's throat as they zoomed down another set of grates. It was an experience he'd always enjoyed. In a way, shooting through fireplaces made up for all the amusement parks that the Dursley's had left him home from.

After a few moments, Ron held out his foot and another blast of green flames engulfed them. When the flames subsided, Ron and Harry had stepped out of the large fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron inn and pub. Nice dim lanterns lining the walls cast a golden glow over the comfy red leather chairs and the quaint woodwork that adorned almost everything. Adding to that the smoke of dozens of pipes and bubbling cauldrons behind the counter, Ron decided it was perhaps his favorite place in Diagon Alley to visit. But after today, perhaps it would be his second favorite place to visit.

"Ready?" Ron asked. Harry nodded. "Alright. Let's go."

Fred Weasley brushed his now lengthening ginger hair out of his eyes as he glanced towards the door. Today, though the day had really just begun, had brought about yet another tumult of customers. It was beyond him how he and his twin brother, George, had become so popular in Diagon Alley. Just the last year they were students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now, less than a year later, they were practically famous. George had even suggested investing some of the gold that Harry had given them as a gift to purchase professional adds and flyers they could hand out. But, the cost of moving photographs was getting quite high, and he had decided they'd wait on that.

"Well, speak of the devils…" George muttered as he came around the counter with a rag in hand, wiping his callused hands. Fred guessed he had been trying to get some of the stinging Wartruckle sap into the canisters for the inventory.

The bell tinkled as two new customers entered, customers who the twins knew very well.

"Harry! Ron!" Fred said as he jumped over the counter where he was supposed to be positioned and ran to his brother and close friend. Giving each a one armed hug, he smiled as they parted. "We were just talking about you!"

Harry noticed how a bit of maturation had happened in the two of them. Not only did they look different, they were not scathingly annoying to their brother, the Prefect of Gryffindor House.

"Good to see you too, guys," Ron said as he smiled back. "Thought we'd come around and see how the two of you were getting along. Really well, by the looks of it."

They were standing in a towering entrance where shelves literally stacked up to the ceiling, crammed with display cases sporting the logo, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, emblazoned in a flaming red lining, which perfectly matched their hair.

"Look at this stuff!" Harry muttered as he picked up a bottle of aging droplets.

"Oh – be careful with those!" George said, dropping the rag he had been carrying off at the counter. "Those should only be used twice a week. We've tested. If you don't want to age into a decrepit old woman before you're twenty."

Harry chuckled.

"You guys invented all of this stuff?"

"Darn right, Harry."

"Amazing!"

Two young witches entered the massive store and grinned as they eagerly raced towards a stand supporting Crazy Cremes.

"They always come in at least once a week to get something," Fred muttered as he took out a box from beneath the counter and started spilling stuff onto empty shelves. "Amazing, really."

"Can we look around wherever we want?"

George contemplated this, probably wanting to hide some of their more dangerous experiments, then nodded reluctantly.

"Why not? Just don't touch anything not in a package."

"Oh – wait a second!" Fred said as he stepped over to Harry. "Could I have a word with Harry for just a moment?"

Ron contemplated this one, and then nodded. "Sure. I'll be over here if you guys need me."

Fred waited until Ron had left before he started talking.

"Harry, do you mind if we talk for a moment about something serious?"

Harry couldn't believe it. "Serious? I would have thought you'd be the last person."

"No, really, Harry," he went on. "I've got this feeling that I just can't shake."

Harry's attitude stiffened into a severe counterpart.

"Sure. Okay."

"Good," Fred went on, taking a deep breath before he went on. "I understand that you've had some problems with Dementors lately."

"Dementors?" Harry asked stupidly. "That was a while ago."

"But, still, Harry. I notice these things when they end up in the Daily Prophet."

"Wait – that was in the Prophet?"

"Yeah. It was. That's why I'm concerned."

Harry shook his head, not believing it.

"That was such a little thing."

"It might have been, but I think you need to be a bit more careful."

"I don't follow."

"I'm talking about your alliance with Draco Malfoy."

Harry was taken back.

"How do you know about that?"

Fred looked over at Ron and didn't even have to answer.

"Ron told you?"

"Not only did he tell me, he informs me that he – too, is pretending to be Malfoy's friend."

"I'm not pretending, Fred."

"You mean you actually think you've got a friend in that snake?"

Harry sighed.

"He's changed."

Fred snorted.

"Yeah. Right."

"No…" Harry cut in. "He…he saved my…my life."

Fred dropped the sarcasm.

"Seriously?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, that changes things, doesn't it?" he muttered as Harry picked a box of Flirting Fruits off the shelf to do something with his hands. Finally, Fred picked up his now empty box and leaned closer to the dark-haired boy. "Just be careful, okay?" he muttered in Harry's ear before returning to his spot behind the counter.

A bit shaken, Harry nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah…I'll be…"

Unease had settled over his stomach. He didn't feel much like eating sweets now, or laughing for that matter.

Walking over to Ron, he pretended to be interested in the same display, really bottling feelings of anxiety that he couldn't overcome. His mind that he had worked so hard to empty of responsibility now seemed force-filled, and on the brink of overflowing.