Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.


Chapter Two

Leaving Privet Drive

Harry was half-crazed with boredom. Three weeks of his summer holidays had already passed and absolutely nothing had happened. He spent one day after the other in the same dull routine. He got up, had breakfast, read or wandered around alone, had lunch, read or wandered around alone, had dinner, read or wandered around alone and went to bed.

He'd visited Diagon Alley twice so far, but without his friends, who spent July travelling with their families, it just wasn't the same.

Thankfully his muggles didn't dare to starve or work him like a houseelf anymore. A grin spread across Harry's face when he remembered the reason.

He'd never told anybody about his home situation, but after three years Theo had managed to put together a pretty accurate picture and asked his father to threaten Harry's muggles a bit. Harry had watched from a distance as Mr Nott exchanged a few words with Vernon, all the while smiling pleasantly at the rapidly paling man in front of him.

Harry neither knew nor cared what Mr Nott had said to his muggles. All he cared about was that from that day onwards his summers got a lot easier. Sure his relatives still refused to let him eat at the table with them and hardly ever talked to him, but he always found his share of every meal in the fridge and his chores were a thing of the past.

At around midnight, Harry was lying on his bed reading a book, an owl pecked on his window. It was Sirius Black's owl and Harry hurried to let it in, anxious for news of his godfather.

Dear Harry,

I hope you are well and enjoying your summer holidays. I finally managed to find a safe place to live. Would you like to visit?I'd love to finally meet you. I could send someone by to pick you up anytime.

Just let me know!

Sirius

Harry did a little jig in the restricted space of his small room. Finally some good news! He'd been exchanging letter with Sirius ever since the headmaster had told him that his godfather had been wrongly imprisoned at the end of third year.

That conversation had been one of the most memorable ones in Harry's life. Of course he had known before that his parents died fighting against Death Eaters.

News to him had been that they died fighting in their own home, which should have been protected by the Fidelius charm. Apparently the Potters and friends had met at their place in celebration of the Dark Lord's fall when a group of Death Eaters attacked. The Potters were amongst the first to die and Sirius Black left soon afterwards. Now they knew Sirius went looking for the traitor Peter Pettigrew, who had conveniently disappeared the moment the attack started. At the time though, it looked like Sirius had betrayed the Potters and fled the scene only to kill Pettigrew along with thirteen muggles. He was carted off to Azkaban without trial.

Harry sent the owl away with a positive reply and went to sleep with a big smile on his face. Any time he had to spend with the muggles, cut from magic, was too much in his opinion. He longed for his own world, and soon he would be back.

...

Saturday, one week later.

Harry looked at the kitchen clock. Half past six. Whoever came to pick him up was already half an hour late. His relatives had left for the day, probably afraid of meeting another wizard.

Finally somebody knocked at the front door. Harry opened it and was greeted by a smiling man with red hair and freckles who offered his hand in greeting.

"Hello! My name is Arthur Weasley. I am here to pick you up. You are Harry right?" Harry nodded, shaking the man's warm hand firmly. "Marvellous. So you live with muggles, do you?" Arthur grinned at him widely as though that were something special.

"Uhm, yes, I do. I'll just get my trunk. Would you like to come in for a second?"

If possible the man's smile grew even broader. "Yes, thank you. Is your family here?"

Harry suppressed the grimace that wanted to spread across his face when Mr Weasley referred to the Dursleys as family.

"No, I am sorry. They had to run some errands."

"Ah pity, I would have loved to meet them. Muggles… always so interesting… oooh! Is that a fellitone?"

Harry could only stare open mouthed at the man who was inspecting the Dursley's telephone with great interest.

"Hello! Can you hear me?" Mr Weasley shouted at the telephone without picking up the receiver. When nobody answered he looked like somebody kicked his puppy.

"Is it broken?"

" Uhm… no Mr Weasley. You've got to pick up the receiver and dial the number of the person you want to call before you talk…"

Not really knowing what else to do Harry watched Mr Weasley play with the phone for a few minutes longer. Apparently the man found the monotonous beeps that resounded from the receiver utterly fascinating.

"Mr Weasley, shouldn't we get going?"

Harry dearly hoped is godfather was less crazy, or he would have to cut his stay short.

"Ah yes, of course. I wanted to have one of those for ages. But my wife… Aah… but no matter. Grab my arm, I will apparate us!"

A few seconds later Harry, his trunk and Mr Weasley stood in front of a row of high buildings, obviously in a muggle neighbourhood. Mr Weasley gave Harry a small piece of paper. Only one sentence was written onto it.

The Headquarters of the Order of Phoenix is at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

When Harry looked up from the note a house appeared between numbers eleven and thirteen. Slowly the compressed house grew broader and broader until it matched its neighbours.

Awed by that piece of magic Harry followed Mr Weasley. Inside, the house was less impressive. It was old, dark and smelled mouldy. They stood in a long hallway that was dimly lit by gas lamps and a large chandelier.

"Don't trip over the umbrella stand." Mr Weasley whispered just in time.

"Why are we whispering?" Harry asked back feeling slightly silly as there was nobody around.

Mr Weasley pointed at a pair of moth-eaten closed curtains in front of them.

"Behind those curtains is a picture of Sirius' mother. You really don't want to wake her up. She's horrible." Mr Weasley glanced down at his trunk. "Just leave it here. We'll go to the kitchen first, everybody else is there."

Harry followed Mr Weasley to the end of the hallway and down a narrow staircase. Who was everybody else? He had been under the impression his godfather was living alone…

They entered the kitchen where at least ten people were sitting around a long wooden table. Before Harry could even start to introduce himself a familiar red headed boy stood up angrily.

"What the hell is he doing here?"

Another redhead, presumably his mother, reprimanded him immediately.

"Ronald Weasley! You will sit down right now."

"But he's… " Ron tried to continue before he faltered under his mother's stern glare.

Harry groaned. Arthur Weasley. Ron Weasley. Red hair and freckles. How had he managed to overlook that?

"Harry." A hoarse voice croaked.

"Sirius?" A man with short, dark hair and striking grey eyes walked towards him. His face was gaunt and he was too thin but otherwise he looked fine.

Before Harry could say another word the man had enveloped him in a tight embrace. Harry felt increasingly awkward and after a few seconds his godfather thankfully let go of him and instead proceeded to look at him.

"You really look so much like him… like James… they told me, but I never thought…"

Harry smiled uncertainly, not really sure what to answer to that.

"Come sit down Harry. I'll introduce you to the rest. I suppose you know Neville, Ron and Hermione?" Sirius winked at him smiling and Harry forced himself to smile back. Oh yes, he knew the Wonder Boy, the Weasel and the little know-it-all.

"Then there, next to Hermione is Ginny Weasley, Ron's sister. You probably know her and the Weasley twins over there as well. There is Molly Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks…"

The young woman with bubble gum pink hair shrieked indignantly. "Just Tonks, Sirius. How often do I have to tell you?!" Sirius smirked at her briefly but continued unperturbed. "An lastly there is our dear Augusta Longbottom, Neville's grandmother."

After a round of handshakes Harry took the free seat between Sirius and, much to his chagrin, Ron Weasley. He ignored Ron to the best of his abilities and concentrated on his conversation with Sirius. Apparently the house they were in at the moment was Sirius ancestral home and his parents had put so many security measures on it that not even the Ministry could locate the escaped prisoner here. Soon Mrs Weasley served dinner and Harry had to admit that her cooking was delicious.

After dinner more and more people trickled in: the real Alastor Moody (apparently they had been taught by a polyjuiced Death Eater all year…), Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mundungus Fletcher, another male Weasley and lastly Severus Snape.

Harry very nearly choked on his pumpkin juice when his greasy haired Head of House marched into the kitchen, looking surly as always.

"Good evening sir." Harry greeted trying to salvage the situation as soon as his coughing fit subsided.

"Potter. What are you…" His gaze flickered to Sirius sitting next to Harry. "Naturally." He sat down with an even darker scowl than usual and proceeded to ignore both of them.

...

After Mrs Weasley had ushered him and the other "children" out of the kitchen, Harry used the time it took him to drag his trunk step by step up to the first floor to ponder on this weird evening.

He'd obviously been mistaken in the assumption that Sirius would be living alone, but why was Neville Longbottom here? Was this some kind of general hideout? Was the "Order of Phoenix" a real organization? When he'd first read the note he'd thought it was just one of Sirius' jokes to make his situation seem less dull... But then who were those people down in the kitchen and why did they come together. It was obvious that some of them did not get along well enough for this to be just an evening with friends.

Professor Snape seemed to despise everybody present and by the looks of it that feeling was not one sided. The weird drunk, something Fletcher, stayed away from Molly Weasley as far as possible. Moody and his magical eye searched the room every few seconds as tough afraid some threat might jump out behind a kitchen board any moment – though that was probably to be expected if one had recently spent a whole school year imprisoned by an identity thief…

When he reached the first floor another long dark hallway awaited him. Multiple doors led into different rooms and Harry suddenly realized that he had no further instructions. There were voices coming from behind one of the doors and reluctantly Harry decided to knock.

"Yes?" A male voice, probably Ron Weasley, shouted back over the noise. Slowly Harry pushed the door open and peaked inside. It was a bedroom with two single beds made of dark wood on either side of it. His three Gryffindor year-mates and the Ginny Weasley occupied the room. Their voices died down and they looked at him expectantly.

"Yes?" Ron repeated, this time less friendly. Harry fought down the urge to scowl at the boy and decided to play nice for the time being. By the looks of it he would see a lot of them during his stay with Sirius.

"Do any of you know were I am supposed to sleep? They only told me to go to upstairs." For good measure, he smiled at the Weasley girl. As far as he was concerned she was the most tolerable out of them. The girl blushed immediately.

"No, I'm sorry. But you can stay here until the meeting is finished… if you want…?" She finished uncertainly ignoring the nasty look her brother sent her way.

"Yes, thank you." Harry agreed, shut the door behind him and sat down cross-legged next to the female redhead. "So… what about that meeting you mentioned?"

The four of them exchanged meaningful looks before Longbottom spoke up, trying to act casual.

"Not a real meeting, just, uhm you know… the grown ups discussing V-Voldemort's return…"

"So all of the people downstairs really believe that he is back?" Harry was not sure what to make of this. Was it really just a discussion among acquaintances, or could it be something more? Maybe Neville's grandmother was rallying people to stand beside her grandson in the upcoming confrontation? But why were they at Sirius' house and not Longbottom Manor? And why was Snape here? Harry had always had the impression that Snape hated Longbottom only slightly less than Harry.

"Of course they believe him! Neville is no liar!" Ron Weasley's angry shout ended his musings. He groaned inwardly. He should have known that this was a touchy subject – what with all the Longbottom and Dumbledore slandering the Prophet was up to these days.

"That's not what I said. I only asked because a lot of people don't seem to agree with his-" he jerked his head in Longbottom's direction "-version of what happened during the Third Task."

"Well, do you believe him then?" Granger pressed on.

"I haven't seen anything yet that would prove or disprove your story... I'll have to wait and see what happens next before I make up my mind." He tried to stay as vague as possible. What he really wanted to discuss when it came to the Dark Lord's return was not a possibility with these people anyway… and if he was lucky they would feel prompted to reveal more in an effort to prove themselves right now.

"Cedric's death is not proof enough for you?" Longbottom's quiet voice quivered as he spoke.

"He is not the first incompetent champion to die during the Triwizard Tournament," Harry said dismissively. "And I really don't know any of you well enough to just accept your words as the truth, do I?"

During the following minutes Harry nearly regretted his careless words. The voices of Granger, the Weasleys and Longbottom all descended on him in a blur of angry shouts.

"How dare you speak of Cedric…"

"Cedric was a better wizard than you will ever be. He didn't die in an accident!"

"Neville would never lie about…"

"Don't you have any sense of tact?"

"I saw him die! How can you…"

"Slytherins, what do you expect…"

Harry put his head in his hands in frustration. In retrospect he should have known that Gryffindors would take a careless remark on the death of a Hufflepuff they did not even know overly personal.

...

The next morning Harry woke up in a queen-sized bed on the topmost floor. Thankfully Sirius had given him his own space – the bedroom that had formerly belonged to his now dead brother Regulus.

Sirius hadn't said much about his brother, but if the room was anything to go by Regulus Black had been a Slytherin and proud pureblood. The room was furnished in dark wood; the only colours present being silver and emerald. Above the bed was the Black family crest along with their motto "Toujours Pur". The most interesting thing in the room though was collection of newspaper cuttings concentrated on Lord Voldemort's first rise. Apparently the young Regulus Black had been an avid fan of a certain Dark Lord.

Nobody talked much during breakfast. From time to time, the three Gryffindors threw him hostile looks - probably still sulking because he didn't outright believe them. Oh and because he had dared to talk about their dead schoolmate so carelessly. Diggory's death seemed to burden Longbottom heavily, something Harry could not understand. Longbottom had neither cast the killing curse nor led Diggory to Lord Voldemort on purpose… It really wasn't his mistake, no matter how you looked at it.

Afterwards Harry followed Sirius through the house. It really looked like the set of a muggle horror movie. On the wall next to the staircase leading up to the first floor hung the heads of former house elves like a morbid decoration. He smirked as he imagined one of those decoration magazines Petunia liked to read doing a home story on it like they sometimes did with the houses of famous people.

Sirius followed his gaze and his face scrunched up in disgust.

"Yeah. My family had some peculiar tastes, the darker the better. Could never stand this place, not even as a child." Harry only nodded; there really wasn't much to say in defense of that house. It was grimy, dusty and dark. The wallpapers were peeling and the floor was so dirty in some places that one couldn't even make out the carpet's original colour.

Harry followed Sirius into the drawing room. It was not too big and looked quite nice compared to the rest of the house. The furniture was used but comfortable and a large fireplace added to the cosy picture.

"The last room I'll show you is the library. The others are just spare bedrooms or bathrooms, nothing exciting. "

As soon has Harry had taken the first step into the library he knew where he would spend most of his free time at Grimmauld Place. It was huge, at least twice the size of the drawing room, with dark wooden shelves so high they reached the ceiling. The books in here looked old, dark and some of them were probably extremely rare… Three comfortable dark green wing chairs were spread across the room. In front of a long window facing the street stood a large mahogany desk. It was a beautiful room – the only one in the house that still emanated the elegance of long forgotten times. Seeing it Harry could imagine that the rest of the house must have looked similarly noble once upon a time. He had to restrain himself from perusing the library right that minute.

Sirius noticed his sudden enthusiasm anyway.

"I guess you like books? Hermione reacted similarly." Harry grimaced at the comparison to that girl. He was nothing like her, thank you very much.

His godfather looked at him pensively.

"I'll tell you the same thing I told her. You are allowed to look through the library but you've got to be careful. A lot of the books are on Dark Magic and I don't want any of you anywhere near them. Apart from the questionable knowledge they hold they can be dangerous themselves, picky in their choice of reader. Just steer clear from all tomes on Dark Magic and you should be fine."

"Of course." Harry grinned. He couldn't believe it. He had a whole library full of books he could read at his hearts content. No restricted section. Nobody here could control what he read when he was alone. Dark Magic. Powerful Magic. New knowledge that had formerly been denied to him…

Sure, he had used some darker spells before – he was a Slytherin after all – and had read one book or another on the topic… but up until now his education in the darker aspects of magic had always been at the mercy of his classmates.

He'd only gotten to read a fraction of their books, only the less dangerous ones they were allowed to take to Hogwarts… He had always been at a disadvantage in comparison, but now he had the chance to catch up.

He realized that he probably looked like a lunatic, grinning because of a collection of dusty books, but he couldn't wipe that smile of his face if he tried.


Second chapter finished. If you can spare a minute please tell me what you think. Thank you!