Half Lives – Chapter Three

"What I don't exactly understand, Harry," Hermione began forthrightly, "is what on earth happened that night." She finished packing Harry's school robes, and looked around for something else to pack.

"Then you understand more than me." Ron admitted glumly. "Because I haven't got the foggiest."

"Look, you two," Harry began in a low voice, glancing sideways at his cousin Dudley, who was looming in the doorway, "perhaps we could just talk about this after we get to Number Twelve."

Hermione gave him a look, "You're not putting this off forever, you know. Now where do you keep your socks?"

Harry waved a hand towards his chest of draws, and he and Ron made faces at each other behind Hermione's back as she organised Harry. "Wait!" Harry cried, flinging himself forward.

Hermione shut the draw with a snap. She spun round and kept her hands on the draw behind her. "There is underwear in there." She said flatly.

"Err…yeah. I just remembered. Sorry." Harry said awkwardly.

Hermione took a deep breath as Ron sniggered. "So, I'll just pack your school supplies, shall I?"

"Because Harry'll need skin of Boomslang for the next few weeks, won't he?" Ron quipped.

"He probably won't be coming back here before school starts." Hermione explained. "So you see Ron, he needs to organise his Boomslang now, or when it gets to Potions, he'll put Babbling Bane in the cauldron instead. And then where will we be?"

"Where will we be indeed."

With every mention of 'Boomslang' or 'Potions' or 'Babbling Bane' Harry could see his cousin flinch. By the time Hermione had reached the word 'cauldron' Dudley had left. Harry still couldn't believe this. He sat down on the end of his bed, and watched his two best friends happily, as they bumbled around his room, trying to pack his stuff and getting under each other's feet. That Tuesday, Harry had received a short letter from the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore himself. In its thin, slanted handwriting, the letter announced that Dumbledore would be arriving in person that Friday at eleven pm to take Harry to Number Twelve, where he had been invited to spend the holidays. It also teasingly mentioned another, yet unnamed, matter that he wanted Harry's help with.

The letter that had arrived three days ago, tightly scrolled, now lay, perfectly flat, on his windowsill, which was the only clear surface in the room. Harry hadn't packed yet. He couldn't help but feel it was all too good that he was to be released from his confinement in Number Four Privet Drive after just two weeks of summer holiday. He couldn't help but feel that his reply might have got lost, that Dumbledore wouldn't turn up, that it had been a trick or a joke, that no one was coming to take him away at all. He couldn't help but feel that it would all go wrong.

So when, on the dot at eleven pm, the lights outside Number Four had been extinguished, and the voices floating from downstairs not only belonged to Uncle Vernon and Dumbledore, but also to Ron and Hermione, Harry suddenly wished he had packed. Or at least tidied. But, help was at hand, in the forms of Ron and Hermione, whilst Dumbledore kept Vernon and Petunia occupied downstairs, talking about something or other that involved threatening the Dursleys.

"Harry."

Harry looked up; Sirius was glowering down at him from the doorway of Number Twelve. Considering that they hadn't seen each other since the night that Voldemort confronted them at the Ministry, and the pair of them had almost died, Harry was slightly surprised that Sirius still seemed so angry. As his godfather glared down at him like that, Harry could remember with full force how terrifying he had looked when they had first met.

"Kreacher has something to say to you." Sirius growled in the same voice, and shoved what looked like a collection of moving wrinkles in front of him. Sirius kept both his hands on the house elf's shoulders. "Don't even think about struggling." Sirius whispered. "You're not going anywhere. Speak, Kreacher. I order you to speak!"

"Kreacher must apologise to Harry Potter Boy. Kreacher had been ordered-!" The old elf's voice hitched up in a squeak, as Sirius shook him. "Kreacher has apologised! Kreacher has apologised! Foul Master! Punishes Kreacher when he does foul Master's repulsive bidding!"

"Get out of my sight!" Sirius spat, throwing the elf behind him. "And don't you dare leave this house, or communicate with any individual not on The List!"

Hermione's small hand curled around Harry's elbow, and he turned to see her regarding Sirius with a nauseous look. Ron glanced at Harry over her head and patted her on the shoulder gingerly. "Hello Sirius." Harry said finally.

"Harry!" Sirius cried joyfully, as though the last few events had never happened. "Come in, come in! And Ron and Hermione too! The house is still standing, and there's a few good people in it!" He ushered them in, taking their coats hospitably, but then ruining the illusion as he chucked them on the growing pile on the floor. "They may be the only two positives to this place, and most of them think I'm guilty, but what can you do? Ah! Albus!" Sirius smiled at the old man too, but turned away and left him to show himself in, drop his own cloak on the floor and shut the door behind him.

As soon as the teenagers were able to do so, they headed to the boys' room. Ron and Hermione ushered Harry in, shut the door and sat down the bed facing him expectantly.

"What do you want to know?" Harry asked, feeling slightly overwhelmed as the pair of them stared at him.

"Where did Dumbledore take you?" Ron began in a conspiratal whisper. "He sent us to the Burrow first, made us pick up our stuff. Mum wouldn't let us leave though, she kept trying to hold us behind."

"We eventually got it out of Ginny that Dumbledore had asked not to have us arrive before you did, because he was taking you somewhere first."

"Oh." Harry felt a strong sense of relief that they were starting with something as easy as that. "We went to see an old teacher. Horace Slughorn. Lived in Budleigh Babberton. Or, sort of did. He had taken over someone's house for the week."

"That's terrible! What did he do to them?" Hermione cried, her hands going to her mouth.

"No, no. They were on holiday." Harry quickly corrected himself.

"So what did Dumbledore what you there for?" Ron asked incredulously – he had been expecting some big adventure.

"Erm…to remind the old professor what he was missing out on by not teaching. I think he's coming back to teach this year."

"Defence?" Ron asked, automatically.

"Probably." Harry shrugged. "He used to be Head of Slytherin though."

"Well. Maybe he won't be as biased towards his House as Snape is in lesson." Hermione said, with a stern look at Ron, who was wincing.

"Oh yeah," Harry said suddenly remembering, "and I don't have to have Occlumency lessons with Snape this year!"

There was a brief moment of congratulations and celebration, before Hermione, ever the voice of reason, asked; "But, Dumbledore's just going to leave you defenceless against You-Know-Who? He can't. He just can't. You wouldn't survive five minutes!" Then, seeing the look in Harry's face, she smiled and added, "Not that I don't believe in you, Harry."

"He seems to think that Voldemort has shut the connection-thing down." Harry rubbed his scar unknowingly. "I haven't had any dreams all summer."

"It's only been two weeks." Ron said ominously.

"Anyway." Hermione shot Ron a frown. "The link's gone, that's really good!"

"Mm…I've still got to do extra lessons though." Harry admitted.

"Oh no, not How To Be A Greasy Scumbag by Professor Snape." Ron groaned. Even Hermione laughed.

"Actually, I've no idea what they will be." Harry shuffled about in his place. "They're with Dumbledore though. And he thinks I should keep the Invisibility Cloak with me. Even at school. All day."

The three of them sat in silence for a while, contemplating that the threat to Harry's life had increased.

"If it prevents You-Know-Who getting to you, like he did at the Ministry…"

"Harry…" Ron started slowly. "What did happen? I mean, me and Hermione, we've done research. And, well, you should be dead, mate."

"Yeah…" Harry stared at the quilt on his bed. He felt horribly as though he had swallowed something alive. It squirmed and wriggled in his stomach. This topic didn't sit well with Harry. To be frank, it freaked him out.

"No living thing can pass through that Veil Harry." Hermione said gently. "There isn't much known about the Veil, and even less written on it. But, what there is…seems to suggest that any living thing, never comes out again."

"I- I don't know." Harry said quietly, twisting the fabric between his fingers. "I have no idea. Everything went muffled, like when you go underwater. I was in the air for ages. Then, when I fell on the other side, I well, I felt alive. I mean, I feel alive."

They all stared at the same spot on the quilt, feeling horribly awkward. No one said anything for a full minute, until Ron tried to cheer things up by saying; "Man, this You-Know-Who bloke, he's really got it in for you, hasn't he?"

Harry laughed nervously. "About that…" He glanced up at them. "Dumbledore also said there was this Prophesy…"