Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.


Chapter Five

Time flies when you're having fun

Harry pressed the door handle down carefully. As soon as the door was half open he slipped out into the dark hallway. Holding his breath he tiptoed past the only other occupied bedroom on the floor – Sirius' room. The man's loud snoring was only sometimes interrupted by even louder grunts. Harry didn't dare light his wand and had to make do without his vision. He crept forth slowly, one hand always touching the wall to his right seeking guidance. When he finally reached the stairs he sighed in relief. Sirius was still fast asleep.

Step by step he crept down the stairs. Time went by painfully slowly. Was the fourth or the fifth step the creaking one?

Screeetch.

Fifth apparently.

He stopped dead. The noise had sounded like thunder to his anxious ears. Had somebody heard him? He waited for a few seconds but thankfully nobody got up. When he resumed his path he tried to breath as soundlessly as possible.

After what seemed like an eternity Harry finally reached his destination. The Library. Behind him the door fell shut with a soft klick.

Harry wasted no more time and directly went for the rearmost shelves, the ones with the Dark Arts books.

During the day it had become nearly impossible for him to search through the library in peace. After he'd helped Mrs Weasley cook breakfast she'd changed her behaviour towards him completely.

She still didn't trust him by any means, but she no longer seemed to be of the opinion that he was an evil Dark wizard. He suspected that somebody had reminded her of his status as an orphan as she now constantly tried to smother him with motherly love, telling him he could come talk to her if something weighed on his mind, cooking his favourite dishes, humorously scolding him for not combing his hair…
She'd even stopped giving him the evil eye and was now regarding him with pity instead.

Harry suspected had he still been the eleven-year-old boy starved for affection he might have appreciated the effort but now… it only grated on his nerves. Her jibes on the evilness of Dark Magic were far less subtle than she thought and she was constantly around, trying to include him in that activity and this conversation… disregarding whether he even wanted to be there or not.
She treated him like some freaking lost lamb in need of saving and Harry honest to Merlin hated every second of it.

And that was why he was standing in the library, going through book after book on Dark Magic in the dead of the night wearing nothing but his pyjamas.

He had barely one week of holidays left and still not found a curse to deal with the abominable creature in the drawing room. But he would. Before he left Grimmauld Place he would make sure that that bloody boggart felt sorry for attacking him, for humiliating him.

A small voice in the back of his head remarked that he was overreacting, that it was in a boggarts nature to confront their victim with fears… but the experience was still too fresh in his mind to listen to reason. All he knew was that this boggart had made him feel helpless and desperate and on top of everything magicless. Feelings he was too familiar with from his childhood.

To him magic still was something wondrous, extraordinary, special. It was what had saved him from the dull and meaningless life his relatives had foretold him. It was what made him different from them and their pointless, boring and altogether too ordinary existence.

To him magic was everything. Safety. Power. Belonging. That boggart had dared to make him believe he had lost it. That boggart had taken is magic away and Harry would make him pay for it.

The next book Harry pulled out looked very old. It had a dark brown leathery cover and its pages were made of something that looked frighteningly similar to human skin. Curious Harry opened it, not aware that he was holding his breath as he did so.

Of the Blæcest Secrets of Muggle Magick

Harry's brows furrowed. Muggle Magic? Did that mean muggles could do magic as well?!

Harry flipped through the book, horror and fascination growing with every page he turned, his initial misunderstanding soon cleared up.

Bloody hell. The book in his hands wasn't about muggles using magic as he had first assumed, but about muggles being used in magical rituals. The index alone was so insulting that even Harry couldn't help but feel a bit outraged on the muggles' behalf.

Obviously to the author of this tome muggles had been little more than lab rats. He categorised them in age groups and then discussed their usefulness in certain rituals depending on gender and virginity.

The books started with the youngest age group, which included, Harry realised with disgust, unborn children forcefully extracted from their muggle mother's wombs.

In later chapters the rituals needed things like "blood of a female muggle taken within minutes after her first copulation" or "the still beating heart of a man in his prime". From what he could tell all the rituals in the book were used to strengthen the bodies and minds of witches and wizards in some way or another.

Harry closed the book and was very careful to put it back to its former place. He didn't even want to contemplate what the others – and particularly Mrs Weasley – would do if they thought he was into stuff like that. He suspected that not even his "poor-orphan" leeway could help him much then…

He spent the next hour perusing book after book… but didn't find anything. He sighed in frustration. The loudest sound he had dared to make so far.

Irritated he took his wand out and sent a silencing charm at the door. He knew it was a bit risky – if somebody approached the library now he wouldn't hear them until they opened the door – but it was worth it. If his next attempt worked it could get very loud very fast.

He lifted his wand once more. "Accio books on boggarts!"

Nothing happened. Not one little book even so much as twitched a bit.

Resigned he flopped down into the nearest armchair…

"Is sir needing help?"

… and nearly jumped right out of it again.

"W-what?" He stuttered in surprise, staring at the ugly old house-elf. Where the bloody hell did it come from?

"Is sir needing help?" The house-elf repeated obediently.

"Why would you help me?" Harry asked mistrustfully. Was this some kind of trick? Had Sirius sent the elf to find out what books Harry was looking for?

The elf looked at him as though the answer to his question should be obvious.

"Yous is not like bad Master… Bloodtraitor. Flith… defiling the Noble House of Black. Allowing mudbloods inside… dirty maggots… no respect for Mistress…"

Kreacher continued to insult the current residents of Grimmauld Place in more and more creative ways until Harry cleared his throat loudly.

"Yous is not like that. Yous is in the Noble House of Slytherin. Yous remind Kreacher of Master Regulus. So Kreacher will help yous."

Harry stared at the elf and couldn't help but grin widely.

"I need a book that can tell my how to destroy boggarts. Not temporarily scare them away but destroy them." Harry said. "Kill them." He added in an afterthought to avoid any misunderstandings.

Kreacher returned Harry's grin with a mean, nearly toothless smile of its own.

"Sir is ridding Mistress' house of that filthy thing? Disturbs Kreacher's sleep with its rattling, it does."

The elf snapped its fingers and a small book with a pale blue linen cover appeared in its hand. With another snap it lay in Harry's lap. Said boy in the meanwhile had been staring at the elf in wonder.

"Thank you." He croaked, forgetting that one normally didn't have to thank elves.

The elf looked down at the floor. "Kreacher only being good elf. Mistress always said Kreacher good elf." It mumbled, sounding a bit shocked but also satisfied.

The book Kreacher had supplied was a manual on boggarts. Harry skipped the chapters discussing their origins, mating cycles and so forth and went directly for the last chapter.

When dealing with a boggart, the deciding factor is willpower. The weak-minded will succumb to their fears, lose the necessary focus and concentration thus rendering the curse – should they even succeed in completing the incantation – useless.
While ridiculing the creature (see Ch.7) will lead to a temporary defeat, its destruction can only be reached when its own weapons are turned against it.

A boggart is killed in two steps.

1) Bind the boggart.
A boggarts natural reaction to retaliation is to return to its hiding place. Boggarts are immune to most spells and curses. Use "remane" (details below) to bind him temporarily.

2) Kill the boggart.
The (now bound) boggart will confront you with your deepest fears. Allow them to flood your mind but do not let yourself get overwhelmed by them. Never forget that it is just a boggart in front of you.
Concentrate on the feelings of fear and helplessness, then, while speaking the incantation (experire terrorem) project them on the boggart. Hold the focus until the boggart implodes under the strain of your terrors.
It is important that you truly want the boggart to feel your terrors.

Killing a boggart is no small feat and should not be underestimated. It is easy to get lost in ones fears.

Well… that didn't sound too hard.

After practicing the wand movements and pronunciations a few times Harry got up from the chair, grabbed his wand and strode towards the door. Before he could leave the library Kreacher spoke up again.

"Is sir needing anything else?"

Harry looked at the elf contemplatively. The book hadn't mentioned how noisy killing a boggart would be… would it scream?

"Can you ward a room to be soundproof?"

"Kreacher can." The elf bobbed its head enthusiastically, its large ears flapping around like bat wings.

"Then come along. But be quiet. Nobody must hear us." Harry opened the door with caution and sneaked through the dark hallway and up the stairs to the second floor, the old house-elf trailing behind him noiselessly.

They stepped inside the second drawing room. The curtains were not drawn and mild light, shining in from the street, illuminated the room. Harry waited for Kreacher to do his part, barely daring to breath. Mrs Weasley slept on the second floor.

"It's done, sir." Kreacher's croaky voice broke the silence.

Harry only nodded. Thanking the elf twice a day would give it the wrong ideas, and probably diminish the elf's currently high opinion of him anyway.

Harry looked at the cabinet and hesitated. What if he couldn't do it? He shook his head. Of course he could do it.

He grabbed his wand so hard that his knuckles shone white in the pale light of the moon.

He took another deep breath. The image of his broken wand came to his mind.

For Merlin's sake it was only a boggart!

He pointed his wand at the cabinet. "Alohomora!"

The door opened and Harry lifted his wand, prepared to see the dark haired Auror again. Only this time instead of long, manicured hands, pudgy fingers grabbed the wood and pushed the door open.

A fat belly, barely hidden behind an ugly mustard yellow pullover, appeared second. The rest was also not far behind.

"Remane!" Harry shouted, desperate to get his plan in motion.

Piggy little eyes darted across the room. As soon as they found him the lips stretched into a welcoming smile.

"Harry! Put that thing away and come in. Have you been playing wizard again? We told you already: There is no such thing as magic." The man barked out a loud laugh, his moustache dancing merrily above his lips.

Harry could only stare wide-eyed. This was the single most friendly tone his uncle had ever used when addressing him. Not your uncle, the small voice in the back of his had remarked, but it didn't get through the thick fog of astonishment and confusion that clouded Harry's mind.

"Now come on, boy. You really got to stop living in your dreams. Reality is not nice, I know. But even a little ninny like you will find a job some day. And in the meanwhile you'll just stay here with us." Vernon smiled at him reassuringly and it was probably the most frightening thing Harry had seen in his life.

Why would that man smile at him like that? As if he liked him? As if he didn't hate him because of his freakishness…

"You got to stop living in your dreams boy, I'll say it again. Magic is just not real." Vernon repeated and Harry felt as though he was going mad. Magic was real! He was nothing like the rest of them; he was special! And not in a crazy person sort of way.

"Boy your Aunt is waiting. You can play wizard again tomorrow." His uncle guffawed and clasped his wobbling overly large belly with one hand. "Magic real." He laughed. "And tomorrow they'll tell us the aliens have arrived…"

Aliens? Magic? Maybe it was all really just a dream. It had been too good to be reality…

Suddenly Uncle Vernon held Harry's wand. "We'll find you a new stick to play with tomorrow." He said, and broke it in two.

As Harry saw the two pieces of wood sail to the floor, his mind connected that picture with the one from earlier and his awareness returned in a rush.

Boggart. He was so stupid. He really wanted to kick himself. Hard. He'd let that damned creature ensnare him again.

Not wasting any more time he lifted his wand.

"Experire Terrorem." Harry hissed venomously through clenched teeth while concentrating on the raw fear he'd felt only moments before. The fear that his magic was a lie and that he was powerless again.

Oh yes, Harry had no problem wishing all his fears on the boggart. That it had taken the form of his hated uncle was only strengthening Harry's resolve.

Satisfaction spread through him as he watched boggart-Vernon cower on the floor, clutching his fat belly desperately in obvious pain. Yes, revenge truly was sweet.

"You are nothing. Your blood is dirty. Soon you will be only one more tombstone in a sea of grey." Boggart-Vernon spat, trying one last time to use Harry's fears against him.

But Harry welcomed the words. They only served to strengthen his wish to see the boggart as terrified as the creature was trying to make him.

Suddenly boggart-Vernon sagged to the floor and started to moan loudly. The contour of Vernon's body lost focus, grew blurred, some body parts flickered in and out of focus. His mouth opened wide, eyes nearly bulging out, taking on an orange hue, and with one last, long-drawn-out inhuman shriek the boggart imploded.

He disintegrated in millions of tiny dust particles that hovered mid air for a moment, moving fast and desperate trying to assume a permanent form again. Suddenly the dust cloud halted, as if frozen in time, then, in a wave like motion it rose up once more, quivered and fell down to the floor.

Harry stared at the small pile of dust on the ground. The carpet around smoked slightly and seemed to be burned. A wide grin spread across his face. He, Harry, the scrawny boy from Little Whinging had managed to kill a boggart. He'd managed to stay concentrated while confronted with his worst fears. To Harry it felt as though he had not only defeated the boggart but also those fears, at least in some way.

"Scourgify." Harry murmured and vanished the last remains of the boggart. The burned spot remained and Harry realized that he didn't know any charms to repair damage like that.

"Kreacher!" He called out for the elf. It was cowering in the farthest corner of the room looking at Harry with big, dull eyes.

"Sir is great wizard. Like Master Regulus. No mudblood filth." It whispered to itself as it made its way to Harry. "What can Kreacher do for sir?" It asked reverently.

"Repair the carpet." Harry ordered, pointing at the burned spot near them.

Kreacher nodded and snapped its fingers, but nothing happened. The elf looked at Harry fearfully. "Kreacher can't undo it. Kreacher is sorry. Kreacher will punish himself severely."

Harry sighed. "You probably can't undo it because it was made by Dark Magic. There is no need to punish yourself."

...

The next morning when Harry came down, the kitchen was already filled with people. The four Weasley children, Longbottom, Granger, Lupin, Mrs Weasley and Sirius were all sitting around the table laden with food.

Mrs Weasley looked up and smiled when he entered the room. "Good morning Harry! Come sit down? Do you want scrambled eggs? – Ronald, pick that up right now!"

"Mum! I'd've picked it up in a second anyway!" Weasley argued back while he bent down to retrieve his buttered toast from the floor. He blew on it twice and then shoved half the toast in his mouth, chewing open mouthed. Harry watched disgusted.

During breakfast Harry let their chatter wash over him, not really paying it any mind until Mrs Weasley brought up the boggart.

"Normally I hear it rattle that cabinet every morning, but today there was nothing but silence. So of course I went inside, even opened the cabinet, but it's gone."

Lupin regarded her doubtfully. "Are you sure Molly? Boggarts don't just leave… maybe it moved somewhere else? Did you check the old grandfather clock?"

"Of course! I looked everywhere, but it's gone! Oh, and then there was that scorch mark on the carpet. Couldn't get rid of it. I thought maybe that elf, Kreacher, did something to the boggart?" She looked at Sirius questioningly but Sirius was fixing Harry with his eyes.

"Yeah, could've been Kreacher." He replied absentmindedly.

When Harry got up Sirius followed him outside. He grabbed Harry's shoulder rather harshly and didn't say anything until they reached Harry's room.

"Did you kill the boggart?" Sirius was leaning against the closed door, watching Harry's reaction carefully.

Harry felt Sirius heavy gaze, it somehow seemed to limit his ability to think fast. Merlin. Why was Sirius staring at him like that? What should he say? Could it really have been Kreacher? He opened his mouth to tell Sirius that he didn't know what he was talking about but Sirius was faster. His voice, sharper than usual, cut through the silence.

"I want you to consider carefully what you tell me now, I don't tolerate liars Harry."

Feeling caught Harry shut his mouth without speaking.

"Did you kill the boggart Harry?" Sirius asked again, more forcefully this time.

"Yes." Harry bit out defiantly. "So what?"

Sirius just shook his head looking somewhat disappointed. For reasons Harry couldn't understand seeing that look directed at him made his stomach clench painfully. He forced the feeling down. He refused to let Sirius stupid sensibilities cheapen his triumph.

"Harry…" Sirius sighed, sounding somehow older, wearier. "Why would you do that? How did you even know how to do that?"

"I found the curse in the library." Harry answered brusquely.

"How?"

"By looking for it." He would be damned if he revealed Kreacher's involvement, the elf was too useful.

"But why where you even looking for it? That was Dark Magic Harry!" Sirius exclaimed, running his finger through his long hair clearly agitated.

"Because I wanted to kill the boggart."

"Yeah, I got that. But why?"

"It attacked me. I wanted to get it back."

His godfather shot him a troubled look. "Get it back? Harry, it was just a boggart."

"Well, it was a boggart that humiliated me."

Sirius sighed deeply. "And you just had to go and kill it? Wouldn't ridiculing it have been enough?"

"No." Harry answered stubbornly, he couldn't tell Sirius why the attack had rattled him so much. Why ridiculing it wouldn't have been enough. That was too personal.

For a while nobody said anything, then:

"Did you know the curse you used was Dark Magic?"

Yes. No. Should he go with the truth or try to lie? One look at Sirius told him all he needed to know.

"Yes, I knew that it was Dark Magic."

"And that didn't bother you?" All emotion was gone from Sirius' voice.

"No." Harry didn't dare to look at Sirius lest he'd have to see the disappointment in his eyes again.

"I didn't want to believe Molly when she told me…" Sirius sighed. "Probably should've. But with you being James' son… A Potter… I just didn't think…"

Harry gritted his teeth so hard they hurt. "I'm not my father." He bit out angrily. "I never knew my father. I'm just me, not James junior. If you can't deal with that, then I'm sorry." Harry stared at the floor. He didn't need Sirius anyway.

A warm hand grabbed his chin and forced him to look up, right into Sirius' expressive grey eyes. Harry thought he could see concern in them. "I didn't mean it like that. You know I like you for who you are. I'm just… You're…" He floundered.

"I'm just concerned. Dark Magic is nothing to be trifled with. Yes it can be useful, make you feel powerful… But Harry, you must never forget that the Dark Arts are dangerous. They change those who use them, corrupt them…" Sirius looked at him with desperation clear on his face.

Harry only stared back blankly. He'd never have thought that Sirius believed that load of tripe. Of course they were dangerous, but to others. That's why they were termed "Dark" after all. Because they could harm your opponent like nothing else, because they left permanent marks, wounds nothing could heal…

"I know I can't forbid you to use them, but Harry, you ought to be careful. Promise me." Sirius looked at him with so much sincerity that Harry couldn't bear it not to do as he was asked.

"I promise. I'll be careful." Harry said, though he was not sure what exactly that meant.

Sirius nodded, but didn't smile. "Good." He said and turned to leave. He closed the door only to open it again one moment later. "If you ever have questions. You can… Just ask me okay? Before you ask any of your housemates' fathers or something. I was raised a Black after all." Then he shut the door firmly.

"Sirius?" Harry hollered up and down the stairs. Five days had passed ever since their little confrontation and things had actually changed for the better. As his secret was out of the bag now anyway and the feared consequence – Sirius forbidding him to use the Black library – had not ensued, Harry could read the books more freely. Of course he still didn't flaunt the fact that he was learning Dark Magic in front of Mrs Weasley – that would be suicidal.

"Yes?" A voice finally shouted back from somewhere on the topmost floor.

Harry ran up the stairs and found Sirius lazing around in a cosy chair in an otherwise very dusty, empty room. He was staring out of the window, watching the passers-by going after their day-to-day life with a wistful expression on his haggard looking face.

"Do you…" Harry panted a bit. He'd been running up and down the stairs a few times already before he'd found Sirius. "Do you know if the Potters wrote family journals?"

The idea had come to him just a few minutes ago, while he was reading a journal of yet another of Sirius numerous ancestors.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't know. Why do you want to know?"

"Well… If they wrote one then I could get to know more about them, about my family. Maybe my father even wrote one, do you think that's possible?" Harry couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice.

Sirius tipped his head back and stared at the dirty ceiling. "I know that James never bothered to write one. We were all still so young at the time… But the other Potters? Sure. Could be. It was very en vogue for purebloods to do so. They were all such important people after all; they couldn't just let their lives be forgotten. Merlin forbid."

Harry decided to ignore the bitterness in Sirius' voice. The nearer the beginning of the school year drew, the more Sirius secluded himself. To find him in a less then cheerful mood had become the new norm in recent days.

"Do you know where I find them, if there are some?" Harry pressed on.

"Hm… Maybe in your parents' house in Godric's Hollow… It should still be in the same state your parents left it…" His voice broke.

"Could we go take a look?" Harry asked immediately. He'd wanted to know more about his father's family ever since he found out he was a wizard. All he knew for now was knowledge the general public had access to, which was basically nothing.

"James died there."

"He did." Harry didn't know what else to say. He still wanted to go.

Sirius stared at him for a long moment. "Let's talk about it again in the winter holidays, Harry. You're going to Diagon Alley tomorrow and leaving the day after… there wouldn't be any time left now anyway."

With that Sirius turned away to continue watching the street, ignoring his godson's presence completely.

Harry sighed. He really didn't understand what was going on with Sirius at the moment. It was obvious that his godfather grew increasingly frustrated with his confinement, but in Harry's opinion shutting oneself away could only make matters worse.

Harry waved the Weasleys goodbye and strode towards the waiting group of Slytherins. Like every year Theo, Blaise, Tracey and he met to do their shopping together. Theo welcomed him with raised eyebrows.

"I can't wait to hear the story behind that." He said, nodding in the direction the Weasley matriarch alongside her multiple children as well as Granger and Longbottom had disappeared.

"Yeah well, I'm pretty curious about your summer too, your letters weren't exactly informative." Harry shot back. "Hey Tracey, Blaise." He greeted the other two.

"Later." Theo mouthed with a pointed look in Tracey's direction. "Blaise was just telling us about his marvellous summer, weren't you?"

"Oh shut up." The dark skinned boy replied moodily. "My mother dragged me all over Italy and then left me with my grandmother to spend some 'quality time' with her latest conquest." He elaborated for Harry's benefit.

"It was horrible. My grandmother is the most overbearing person there is. She treated me like a five year old. Always demanding to know what I was doing – not that telling her was really a problem. There was nothing to do in that dump of a town anyway."

"Ah come on. It couldn't have been that bad. Isn't Italy supposed to have pretty girls at least?" Harry asked his friend cheekily.

"Yeah, one should think so… but the only witch my age was the daughter of a famous chef. Sadly she looked the part." Blaise sighed, shaking his head regretfully.

"You know Blaise, if you keep talking like that some people might think you're superficial…" Tracey commented.

"Yes, and wouldn't that be a misconception… Our dear Blaise would never judge people based on their looks." Theo said, rolling his eyes.

Blaise only lifted his chin and looked at them down his nose. "I'm only looking for an equal, if that's too much to ask…"

Harry snorted audibly. He knew while right now Blaise was only joking around, deep down his friend probably truly believed this. After all when it came to arrogance Blaise could give Malfoy a run for his money.

Nevertheless he enjoyed listening to their friendly banter, it was refreshing after spending a whole month cooped up with people who took every word overly serious. Granger would probably already be up in arms, lecturing them about how 'people of all sizes were equally beautiful'…

"So… Florish & Blotts?" Tracey suggested, and the boys followed her lead.

The shopping day went by quickly. After visiting Flourish & Blotts they bought new robes at Madame Malkin's – were Blaise couldn't help but tell them about all the superior Italian tailors with their even more superior Italian fabrics he'd visited with his mother –, stocked their potions ingredients up at Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary and finally ended up treating themselves to a nice sundae at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.

After that Blaise and Tracey left to buy owl treats.

"Where do you want to go now?"

"I have an idea." Theo replied and led them to a dingy looking pub at the entrance of Knockturn Alley.

"So, are you finally going to tell me about your summer?" Harry asked staring at Theo over the rim of his butterbeer mug.

Theo shifted in his seat, looking around anxiously. Then he pulled out his wand and murmured a charm as discretely as possible.

"I can't risk anybody overhearing us." He replied in answer to Harry's raised eyebrows.

"Well, that's got to be some tale." Harry remarked dryly.

Theo only groaned. "You've no idea… I really shouldn't be telling you this… I shouldn't even be thinking about telling you this… Anyway." He looked at Harry sharply. "What I tell you know must not leave this room, am I clear? I could get in so much trouble for this. And my father would probably be the least of my problems…"

"Spit it out Theo. You know I would never do anything that could harm you."

The addressed boy nodded pensively. "I know. And that's the only reason why I'm even telling you."

Theo stopped again. This time to bite one of his fingernails nervously and Harry had to resist the extremely strong urge to slap him. It couldn't be that bad, could it? On the other hand he'd never seen Theo bite his fingernails before… normally the proud boy resented such plebeian behaviour.

"Hisback" Theo whispered.

"I didn't understand a thing. You put a charm up Theo, you can speak clearly you know?"

Theo shot him an annoyed look. "Yeah I know." He took a deep breath. "He's back Harry. The Dark Lord. He's really back."

Harry didn't know whether he should be relieved or annoyed. He'd already known this, for Merlin's sake. If he hadn't already been convinced at the end of last school year, spending one whole month in the Headquarters of a secret anti-Voldemort organization would have probably done the job by now.

"We already came to that conclusion on the train ride home from Hogwarts you know…" Harry said carefully.

"But that was different Harry. We were only contemplating it as one possibility. Even I wasn't completely sure back then… But now… Please just don't do anything stupid."

"What do you mean?"

"Well… Death Eaters killed your parents…"

"It was war back then. People die during war times. You know I've accepted that." Harry answered emotionlessly.

"Yeah you say that… but I mean… I'm just worried. I don't want you meet the same end. And from what my father says there'll probably be another war sometime soon."

"I'm not my parents Theo, I don't hold the same views, you of all people should be aware of that."

Theo only laughed, but the sound was devoid of any amusement.

"Yeah I know that. Our friends know that. But the important people don't. All they see is yet another Potter consorting with the Wonder Boy and his mudlblood and blood traitor friends." Dark nut-brown eyes stared into Harry's green ones imploringly.

Harry sighed. Maybe he owed his friend some answers too.

"I spent the summer with Sirius Black. Golden Boy and consorts stayed with him too."

Theo shook his head. "It's still hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that The Sirius Black, supreme Death Eater and right hand man of the Dark Lord is really innocent of these accusation and now you're telling me you spent your summer getting cosy with him and Longbottom?"

"I certainly didn't get cosy with Longbottom." Harry hissed back. "You know I can't stand the prat."

"Well… one summer can change a lot… but maybe you were too preoccupied leering after the little know-it-all mudblood…" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Theo! Stop that. It's not funny. And just so you know, she might be a know-it-all and a mudblood to boot, but that doesn't change the fact that she's a great girl!" Harry replied in mock outrage.

Theo's face went slack. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"Of course I am." Harry sneered. "Though all things considered she really is the most tolerable out of the lot of them."

His friend huffed in annoyance. "Yes, yes… Be that as it may, we got off topic. I understand that you spent the summer with them because you wanted to get to know you godfather, but Harry, when we're back at school you need to stay away from them. You really don't want to give people the wrong ideas."

"I don't know why you're making such a drama out of this. Not that I'm saying I want to spend time with them-" He quickly reassured his friend when Theo opened his mouth once more. "-I'm just saying that I don't understand why you're so worried. We'll be at Hogwarts, far away from everything."

"You don't get it do you?" Theo fixed him with the most serious expression Harry had ever seen on his friend's face. "The Dark Lord is back, Harry. There is no far away anymore. You can be sure that people like Malfoy – people like me – will report anything conspicuous back to their parents and thus to the Dark Lord. He's back, lying in wait until he has a better picture of the current state of affairs. He is looking for potential followers and adversaries as we speak. I don't say that you should behave like you wanted to become a Death Eater, but you sure as hell also don't want to appear to be his enemy. Consorting with Longbottom and his lot would definitely attract the wrong kind of attention."

A few minutes later Harry left the pub deep in thought. Theo's warning worried him greatly. Were things truly already getting that serious? Already reaching Hogwarts, his home, his sanctuary?

He'd thought being a student would give him time to watch from the side-lines, stay uninvolved for the time being… Even though Theo hadn't said it outright the message was clear: Being who he was, a Potter, a war orphan, a Slytherin, a reasonably skilled and powerful wizard, certain people would keep an eye on him, maybe even expect him to pick a side sooner or later, and how he behaved now could open or close future doors.


Hope you liked it! Thanks for all the great reviews. It's really motivating to hear what you think of the story!

Somebody wrote he/she hoped the story would contain slash later on, so I'll say it again: My Harry is straight. Definitely no Voldemort/Harry pairing anywhere in the future.

Another reviewer pointed out that there are a few grammar and spelling mistakes. I'm really trying to avoid them, but English isn't my first language and some of the grammatical structures might sound right to me but completely wrong to the ears of native speakers. If you find really bad ones or ones that disturb the reading flow I would be grateful if you could point them out to me. (If you have enough time to point out the smaller mistakes too, I wouldn't mind correcting them either, of course.)

Thanks for reading, and please review!