The Grim
Summary: Harry was about to become the-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Blow-Up-His-Aunt. He was positive it was an Auror in those bushes. And just as he was about to put aside his suspicions, a dog emerged from between the bushes. What? Did the Ministry employ dogs as well?
Chapter six! I haven't updated in ages, so I sincerely apologize. I know I've promised to update, but... yeah. Well, it's here now.
I actually had no idea how I was going to go about this chapter. I know where I want to take this story, but getting there seems to be a bit tough. I have no excuses for why I didn't update. I wanted to write it. I really did. But at the same time, I didn't. And that feeling sucks.
Hopefully, this isn't an utter disappointment. Enjoy!
Oh yeah, chapters one through five have been edited as well.
Arthur Weasley walked into the room and kissed his wife, who was at the stove single-handedly creating breakfast for a family of nine.
"Good morning, Molly dear," he greeted as he sat down at the head of the table in the cluttered kitchen of The Burrow, carefully avoiding everything that was floating in the air.
"Good morning? Yes, yes, it'll be a good morning, if you could go sort out your children!"
'Oh dear… it's one of those days.' Arthur absent-mindedly thought as he wondered how he was supposed to placate his wife. It wasn't as though he was not aware of what happened in his house. He just simply chose to overlook what his kids did. They could handle themselves, and even as they landed themselves into a little trouble, they could usually pull themselves out of said trouble.
"Ginny and Percy are both stuck in their rooms; she's moping in her room because of what happened last year at Hogwarts, and he's doing Merlin knows what in there. Percy's too pale, Arthur! He never goes out and plays Quidditch with the boys. Fred and George are getting out of hand. They're always shaking the house with whatever they're doing in their room. Charlie's going back to Romania in a week or so. Ron spends all his time playing Quidditch and worrying over that rat of his, who he swears is getting thinner by the day.
"And Bill! Bill wants a tattoo! A tattoo." At this, the stout mother turned around, wand in hand and pan in the other. "He can't have a tattoo, not after that hair of his and that earring."
"There is nothing wrong with my hair. Good morning, mum. Good morning, dad." Bill sat down at the table, and placed a pancake onto his place, pancake dangling precariously from a fork. Charlie entered the room moments later, echoing his brother.
Molly wiped her hands and cast a charm to have all the dishes wash themselves. "Good morning. Where's your brother and sister?"
"Where else? Stuck in their rooms"
"Where they've been all week." Fred and George Weasley squeezed through the doorway, side by side.
"Good morning, mummy dearest, daddy dearest, Charlie dearest, Billie dearest," they chorused. Bill rolled his eyes at the twins, while Charlie sniggered at him, earning a glare from his older brother.
Arthur gave a nervous chuckle when his wife gave him a pointed look. "Alright, dear. I'll have a talk with them tonight." Molly stared at him a bit more. "Promise."
Ron yawned widely as he entered the kitchen. "Mor – " He was cut off by another jaw-splitting yawn. "Morning, everyone." He plopped down in an open seat and helped himself to some toast.
"Oh, way to be lazy, Ron." The twins stated in unison. Fred buttered a slice of bread and placed in on George's plate, while George, ignoring Bill's indignant cry of 'Hey!', stole half of Bill's pancake and placed it on Fred's plate.
"You can't expect me to greet everyone, do you?"
"We did."
Ron slapped his forehead, before opening his mouth. "Good – "
"Just kidding. We really don't need"
"You to tell us everyone's name. Though we"
"Did say everyone's name when"
"We came in." Fred and George grinned at each other, before taking a drink. At. The. Exact. Same. Time.
Ron stared blankly at them, before continuing with his meal.
A tawny owl flew into the kitchen and landed on the perch next to the kitchen table, sticking its leg out. Arthur took the roll of newspaper, slipped five knuts into the brown pouch attached to its other leg, and watched owl fly off. He placed a piece of toast into his mouth, opened the Daily Prophet, and promptly choked.
Coughing, he accepted the mug of coffee Charlie handed him, and quickly drank.
"Dad?"
"Arthur? What's the matter?"
Arthur coughed a bit more, before clearing his throat.
"HARRY POTTER, MISSING AND IN DANGER
It appears that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, has fled from home, as Aurors arrived at a Muggle dwelling to undo the effects of accidental magic cast by said Harry Potter. Last night, over dinner apparently, Mr. Potter simply up and left his home, where he lived with his Muggle aunt and uncle. Reporters swore, under the Aurors watchful eyes, never to reveal Mr. Potter's address. They're eyes aren't watchful enough, though, since no one knows where the Boy-Who-Lived has gone off to. The Ministry officials are not giving the public any details on the matter and are refusing to comment, but it appears that Mr. Potter has disappeared into mid-air, and not by Disapparating, since Mr. Potter is underage.
And to add to the concern, with the mass murderer, Sirius Black, on the loose, Mr. Potter is not as safe as we would hope. Sirius Black, the first and only one to escape from the infamous Wizard prison Azkaban, is a danger to all, Wizards and Muggles alike. However, Mr. Potter may be in more danger than we all realize. After all, Black is known to be You-Know-Who's right hand man and his most devoted follower.
There is some belief that Black may be after Mr. Potter, especially since it was due to the incident at the Potters' home, twelve years ago, that caused his Lord's downfall. Who is to say that Black won't go after Mr. Potter now, in revenge for his Master? …"
"And it goes on and on." Arthur looked up to see his stunned family. The whole situation would have been hilarious, if it weren't for the cause of the shock. His eyes widened when they all started speaking at once.
Through the din and chaos, no one noticed that Ron had run back upstairs.
Hermione Granger grinned as she entered the dining room and strode confidently to her parents, hair tied in a bun. It was a good day. The sun was shining brightly, the canaries they owned were happily chirping away in the corner, and the skies were clear for once. She had a wonderfully pleasant dream about graduating from Hogwarts with flying colors and the best scores since the opening of the school.
Her thoughts lingered on her dream.
'No, not dream.' She thought furiously. 'A soon-to-be reality.' And she nodded resolutely to herself. Now if only she could get Harry and Ron to study by themselves without any pushing from her side.
"Good morning, mum. Good morning, dad." She gave them both a kiss, and walked over to the window, where an owl waited for her to open it. It hooted twice, and stuck out its leg. She took the newspaper it delivered, placed five knuts in its pouch, and fed it a piece of toast she had grabbed from the table on the way to the window.
She stood there, watching it fly off into the distance, an anticipating glee growing in her chest. She was anxious for the school year to start again. Despite what happened near the end of the previous two years, Hermione was sure that this year would be normal, and she couldn't wait to be back in class.
With a satisfied smile, she turned to sit at the table. Opening the newspaper, she stared at the pictures of Harry Potter and Sirius Black. Her eyes caught sight of the large and glaring headline. Hermione let out a squeak and her hands shook.
"Is something the matter, dear?" Mrs. Ophelia Granger looked up from her book and Mr. Philip Granger glanced at her from his copy of the Daily Telegraph.
Hermione immediately folded the newspaper in half and plastered on a grin. "Nothing's wrong, mum. I just… I just sat down in a bad position."
Ophelia just rose an eyebrow at her daughter's excuse, but trusted Hermione's judgment, and continued spooning cereal into her mouth, both eyes focused on her novel. Philip simply shook his head before reading his newspaper again. If his daughter didn't want to tell them, then it wasn't their place to pry. And Hermione knew what she was doing. If she needed their help, she would ask them. She was always mature and independent, bless her.
Hermione calmly finished her cereal and low-fat milk, before quietly excusing herself from the table, newspaper in one hand. Suddenly, the sun wasn't shining quite as brightly, the clear day had approaching storm clouds in the horizon, and the happy trilling of her birds grated on her eardrums.
'Oh Harry, what did you do now?'
"Wow…"
Harry grinned proudly.
"Just… this is amazing, Harry. I… I'm not even kidding here. I honestly believe I'm in love."
Harry tried to hold in his laughter as best as he could at the sight in front of him, his cheeks swelling with air. His cheeks were turning red, but he couldn't take a breath. If he tried to, he wasn't positive that he wouldn't laugh.
"Oh, you're lovely. Simply lovely."
At this, Harry burst out laughing, hands clutching his stomach as he double over, howling. After a minute or so, he sat back up, shoulders shaking every now and then with silent mirth. Sirius was lounging in the couch across from him with an affronted look on his face, which sent Harry into another set of chortles.
"Excuse me, but can you quit all that laughing? Me and my Nimbus 2000 are getting insulted!" Sirius stuck out his tongue as he continued caressing the glistening, polished wood.
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"…Me and your Nimbus 2000 are getting insulted. Happy? Merlin, you're getting stingy."
Harry scoffed.
"But honestly, why couldn't we have had this broom when we were kids? This is almost good as my motorcycle." Sirius started nuzzling the broomstick. "Can I take it for a test run? Pretty please? With a chocolate frog on top?" His eyes almost sparkled and he sent a wide-eyed look towards the boy in front of him.
"I- I don't think so… It's clear today, I think." Harry leaned back in his seat and peeked out of the curtains. There were many people that briskly walked by, never giving the house that they were in a single glance. Like the Leaky Cauldron, people's eyes seemed to slide straight from Number Thirteen to Number Eleven, or vice-versa, should they look. "Yeah, it's bright outside and there aren't any clouds up in the air. Sorry, Padfoot." Harry gave a crooked smile and furrowed his brows apologetically.
"But Prongs!" Sirius whined. "You're such a kill joy. That's supposed to be Moony's job, remember?"
The air in his lungs was starting to hurt him. "S-Sirius?" he stuttered. He was breathing in, but the air refused to leave his body.
Sirius looked at him strangely. "J-James?" After a few moments, he broke out into a grin. "Moony must have set you up for this! He must still be angry from when I clawed up his first-edition, signed book thingy while I was Padfoot, because some moron decided to slip the dog some Firewhiskey! Cut a bloke some pity, especially since he was sick for days on end due to the bloody alcohol. Who the hell feeds the dog alcohol?" He shook his head angrily, before giving a pitiful smile to Harry. "Can I take the broom for a ride now?"
Harry stiffened. 'How would my father respond?' And that was a dilemma, because he obviously didn't know what his father would do. 'What happened? Sirius was just fine when we were having breakfast...'
'Oh, come on! Never mind how Sirius was like at breakfast. Now you've got to deal with how Sirius is likenow. Are you a Potter or not? You've faced worse. Don't tell me that the great Harry Potter can't do something as simple as pretending to be his father!'
'I can't act as my dad if I don't know him!'
'When has not knowing anything ever stopped you? And besides, you've mimicked Goyle, and you don't have the pleasure of saying that you know him.'
'Goyle is an idiot. It's easy to – '
'Act like a buffoon? I was wondering if you were ever going to realize that you were insulting yourself in that thought.'
Harry flashed a grin. "Sorry, Padfoot!" he sang. "Otherwise, Moony's gonna have my head. Besides," 'Think 'Hermione',' "not only was the book first-edition, there's only ten, give or take, in existence! And he won it in some contest or something. I don't think he's going to forgive you anytime soon."
Through reading the comments in the album, he managed to infer that while his dad and Sirius were pranksters through and through, Remus, like Hermione, was the bookworm-ish type of person who kept his friends in check, and Peter was the follower who had some talent in Charms, though he learned that his mum was a natural at Charms despite being Muggle-born.
"Oh… Merlin, I knew that shifting into Padfoot was a bad idea… why didn't you stop me?"
Raising an eyebrow, Harry tilted his head to the side slightly.
"Fine, be like that."
Sirius stretched, his arms spreading widely while the racing broom was balancing on his legs, before draping them behind the couch. "Did you know that even though the hag I have to call mum kicked the bucket, she had a portrait installed in the house? Can't take it off or burn it." He grimaced. "She wants to make my life miserable even in death, the bitch."
Harry looked startled. He thought that 'bitch' was more of a Muggle term. Looking quizzically at Sirius, he lightly commented, "Bitch?"
"Dunno… I heard it when wandering through Muggle London the other day. Apparently, it's the Muggle equivalent to… you know… the M word?" Sirius shrugged helplessly.
Harry stared blankly at him. Having been raised by the Dursleys and having to live by their rules for eleven years had him spontaneously associating the 'M word' with 'magic', the 'B word' with 'broomstick', and so on. After a few seconds, he remembered the incident back in Second Year.
"Oh." He responded, not knowing exactly what to say, though he hoped that Sirius didn't notice his delay in answering. He didn't know much about Sirius's mum. He only knew that Sirius probably hated her more than Snape hated him. And his relationship with Snape was already an extreme.
Suddenly, something started flashing in the corner of his eye.
"We've got owls, Prongsy." Sirius grinned cheekily. "I'm letting them through the wards now. How much do you wanna bet that they're from my wonderful fangirls who're after my devilishly handsome looks?"
'Who could be owling us? The Ministry? Merlin, I hope they didn't put trackers on the owls. They'd find us immediately!'
Frozen on the couch, Harry didn't even think of a retort as he waited for the familiar Ministry owl that he remembered from the previous summer to glide into the room.
So there's chapter six.
I've finally settled on one way to make Sirius appear slightly insane. Now I have to think of other ways. Any suggestions?
I've decided to name Hermione's parents. Ron's parents have names, so why not Hermione's parents? Jo mentioned that "Hermione" was a name she got from Shakespeare's Winter Tale, so I wanted to continue on that trend and name Hermione's mum "Ophelia" from Hamlet and name Hermione's dad "Philip" from Taming of the Shrew. Yay for Shakespearean names.