Chapter Seven: A Grim Old Place

It would be impossible to overstate how relieved Harry felt after clearing the air with his two best friends. Difficult times were upon them, and Harry recognised that he needed people he could trust. Feeling confident that he could confide in Ron and Hermione without worrying about them spilling his secrets could make a world of difference in the coming years.

With that in mind, Harry went into detail bringing his friends up to speed on everything that had befallen him that summer. Naturally, he gave them a blow-by-blow account of the dementor attack, including the abundance of letters sent to him afterwards. Hermione was particularly intrigued by Harry's wandless Summoning Charm and vowed to research the phenomenon once they got back to Hogwarts, and they were both floored by the knowledge that Aunt Petunia was somehow acquainted with Professor Snape.

Harry went on to explain his theories regarding the Ministry's motives for targeting him, culminating in his decision to leave Privet Drive. He attempted to gloss over exactly where he went and what he was doing during his ten-day absence — something that both Ron and Hermione picked up on immediately. He didn't give in when they attempted to question him on it, but he knew he'd have to tell them something, or else risk the delicate trust they were working to rebuild.

"Look, it's not like I don't trust you — I definitely do," explained Harry. He ran his hand through his mop of black hair and sighed heavily. "I can tell you this much," he continued, "I did receive help from someone, and this person offered me someplace safe to stay. They also helped me find a solicitor for my hearing. I honestly owe them a lot."

"That's great, Harry. I'm glad you didn't have to do it all by yourself, but why can't you tell us who helped you?" asked Hermione.

"Think about it — with both Voldemort and the Ministry out to get me, helping me isn't the safest thing at the moment," Harry explained, both of his friends conceding the point. "It'll probably come out sooner or later," he admitted, "but I promised I wouldn't tell anyone. What I just told you is way more than I'm planning to tell anyone else."

Ron and Hermione were at least mollified by Harry's explanation, so he took the opportunity to switch subjects and go over the details of his meeting with the Mr. Cartwright, the hearing, and finally, his conversation with Dumbledore. To say that his friends were stunned by everything Harry had to tell them would have been a massive understatement.

"So, this...prophecy," questioned Ron. "It says you're the only one who can defeat You-Know-Who?"

"That's what Dumbledore says, at least. Only I have to learn Occlumency first before I can hear the rest of it."

"It sounds like a fascinating branch of magic, Harry," remarked Hermione. "Do you think Professor Dumbledore would let us learn too?"

"I don't see why not," Harry shrugged. "I don't even know who's teaching me yet, though. I'll let you know once I find out more."

"Hang on," said Ron, a sudden look of confusion appearing on his face. "You said Dumbledore himself did the spells to protect you at your relatives' house, so how in Merlin's left ear did two bloody dementors get inside?"

A small smirk played at the corners of Harry's mouth as he shook his head, already anticipating his friends' reaction. "He explained that, too," Harry told them. "The protective charm works against Voldemort and anyone with the Dark Mark, but that's it. He didn't figure anyone else would be after me, or at least no one who would actually be able to find me there."

Ron swore loudly, earning an exasperated look from Hermione.

"You don't have to be so crass, Ronald...although I do admit that Professor Dumbledore's plan does sound a bit short-sighted," she remarked.

"Whatever the case may be, I'm definitely not going back there next summer."

"Maybe you can just stay with us at the Burrow?"

"Maybe...for now though, I'm starving — can we go find something to eat?" Harry requested. "I didn't have much of an appetite this morning."

The others readily agreed to that, so the three of them made their way downstairs to the kitchen. On their way, Ron and Hermione both shushed him as they approached the set of ugly velvet curtains in the hall, which Harry naturally found extremely odd.

"So, what's the deal with those curtains?" he asked, just as the trio were entering the kitchen.

"You mean the curtains hiding my hag of a mother?" a voice answered from across the room.

"Sirius!" shouted Harry joyfully, rushing over to greet his godfather, who stood from his seat to pull Harry into a manly, one-armed hug.

Sirius looked much healthier than he had the last time Harry saw him. His wavy black hair still fell to his shoulders, but it was clean and well taken care of. Although he was still thin, his face had filled out a bit and lost the gaunt appearance. He was smiling broadly at their reunion, only Harry couldn't help but notice that the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. That, more than anything, was how Harry knew Sirius was still haunted by his twelve years in Azkaban, and he wondered if there would ever be enough time for his godfather to fully recover.

"Why did you say those curtains are hiding your mum?" asked Harry.

"Didn't anyone tell you? This was my parents' house."

"Well yeah, I knew that, but that still doesn't explain your mum and the mouldy old curtains."

"Ah," replied Sirius, nodding in understanding, "Well, there's a portrait of my dear old mum hanging there. I didn't think it was possible, but the painting's even more deranged than she was when she was alive. If we make too much noise, the curtains burst open, and she starts screaming at the top of her lungs until someone manages to force them closed again."

"She sounds lovely," Harry quipped.

"Just wait, I'm sure you'll get to meet her sooner or later!" replied Sirius, accompanied by a bark-like laugh. "Sit down, Harry, and we'll catch up a bit while you eat some lunch. I see you've found Ron and Hermione," he added, nodding to the others.

"I did," he confirmed, only just noticing that Sirius hadn't been alone in the room. "Hello, Ginny," he greeted the youngest Weasley. "How's your summer been?"

"Hi, Harry. Okay, I guess," she replied blandly.

"At least she doesn't run out of the room anymore," Harry thought to himself.

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, they all sat down together at the long table, with Harry and Sirius on one side and the other three teens directly across from them. They had only been seated for a few seconds when they heard a loud bang from outside the door, followed by an ear-splitting screech.

"Filth! Scum! Mudbloods and freaks! Begone from here! How dare you taint the house of Black with your foul presence —"

Sirius rolled his eyes and flashed Harry an 'I told you so' look, as he pulled out his wand and left the kitchen to silence his mother's portrait. He had only been gone for a few seconds when Mrs. Weasley bustled into the room, followed closely by the twins Fred and George, who were both grinning unapologetically.

"I don't know how many times I've told you," admonished the Weasley matriarch. "You're not allowed to play with those things down here! It is absolutely — Oh! Hello, Harry," she said, her tone softening at once. "Professor Dumbledore told us he'd be bringing you today. Your hearing went well, then?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," he replied.

"Good," she said, before placing her hands on her hips and addressing him again, this time a bit more sternly. "Now, Professor Dumbledore asked us not to give you too a hard time about running away, but I must say, it was quite inconsiderate of you to make us all worry like that. Please be sure not to do anything like that again!"

Ron and Hermione looked at him apprehensively, as if they were fearful of his reaction. In truth, Harry's first instinct was to loudly defend both himself and his decisions, but he pushed it down. Mrs. Weasley was a mother, and even though Harry didn't remember having one of his own, this type of behaviour was exactly what he had come to expect from her when dealing with her own children. Luckily, his conversation with Dumbledore had already given him the opportunity to vent some of his frustrations, so instead of retorting, he gave Mrs. Weasley a forced smile and nodded his agreement.

"You're a good boy," she said as she crossed the room and pinched him lightly on the cheek. "Much too thin, though. Sit right there and I'll get you something to eat."

"Thanks," he replied, flashing a grin towards his relieved friends.

"Don't worry, Harry," said George, taking the seat next to him.

"A scolding from Mum just confirms you're an honorary Weasley," added Fred, opting for the empty chair next to his twin. He checked to make sure their mother wasn't looking and then leaned across to whisper to Harry, "Let's catch up when Mum's not around. We've made a lot of progress on the shop, thanks to your donation."

"Glad to hear it," Harry whispered back, hiding a grin. He'd given his Triwizard winnings to the twins to help with their joke shop, so he was pleased to hear they were putting it to good use.

Just then, the kitchen door opened again.

"Miserable old bat," grumbled Sirius, as he re-entered the room and reclaimed his seat at the table.

"Don't know what you mean, Sirius," joked Fred.

"Yeah, she's a lovely old bird. We don't know why you keep her stashed away like that," offered George.

"Well, if I ever find a way to get the old battle-axe off the wall, you're welcome to take her home with you."

Harry, Ron, and Ginny chuckled at the exchange while Hermione just shook her head and muttered, "Boys…" under her breath. It wasn't long before Mrs. Weasley floated a tray of sandwiches to the table, and then started doling out bowls of steaming-hot onion soup, which Harry gratefully accepted.

Conversation started to pick up as lunch was served, but Harry didn't participate much. Instead, he just took a bite of his sandwich and smiled inwardly as he looked around the table. After weeks of near isolation, being there, surrounded by his favourite people gave Harry a warm feeling in his chest that he didn't want to forget. Now knowing that he was destined to play a large part in the coming war, it was good to be reminded that while Voldemort may be incalculably strong and have a small army of Death Eaters behind him, Harry had something the Dark Lord didn't — something worth fighting for.

oOoOoOo

Later that evening, after another raucous meal with the Weasleys, Sirius, and even a visiting Professor Lupin, Harry went wandering the decrepit old house in search of his godfather. There'd been so much activity that day that they didn't find much time to actually speak with one another, mainly because Mrs. Weasley had put everyone to work as soon as lunch was finished.

The house was in terrible condition and looked as though it hadn't been cleaned in at least a decade, even though there had been a house-elf living there the entire time. Kreacher was the miserable, old, Black family elf, who had apparently spent the last several years isolated in the house and talking to no one but Mrs. Black's insane portrait. The elf obviously shared Sirius's mother's opinion of the current residents of the house, and his incredibly rude behaviour was testing even Hermione's patience.

Making matters worse was Mrs. Weasley insisting everyone clean the house without magic. Not even Fred and George were exempt, even though they were of age and legally permitted to perform magic outside of school. Being unsure whether Grimmauld Place would prevent detection of underage magic like the Greengrass Estate had, Harry elected not to press the issue and complied with Mrs. Weasley's instructions.

The initial joy of being reunited with his friends had also tapered off a bit throughout the day, leaving Harry feeling a bit melancholy, and he got the impression during dinner that Sirius was suffering from the same affliction. The man would laugh and joke with the others when called for, but his eyes never lost their haunted look, and he would often go quiet for long stretches of time.

Seeing that, Harry began to wonder if Sirius might actually be able to understand some of what he was going through. Maybe not the burden of the prophecy and his role in the coming conflict, but at least the struggle between the two sides at war within himself — one who wanted to relax and enjoy some moments of happiness with the people he cared about, and another who would rather rage against the injustices he'd faced and take out his frustrations on those responsible. While he appreciated their efforts, Ron and Hermione could never fully understand what Harry was dealing with, no matter how hard they tried. It was for that reason he had decided to wander the halls of number twelve, Grimmauld Place in search of the one person who might be something like a kindred spirit.

Harry had just reached a set of double doors at the end of the hall and was about to turn around, when he heard a muffled screech from the room beyond. His curiosity getting the better of him, he cracked open one of the doors and peeked inside, only to be greeted by the sight of his godfather tossing a rat to a large hippogriff.

"Is that Buckbeak?" Harry asked as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

The room itself turned out to be an exceptionally large bedroom. At one time it was probably quite luxurious, but being used as a makeshift hippogriff pen hadn't done much for the ambiance. The furniture had been mostly destroyed, the bed coverings and curtains ripped to shreds, and an unpleasant odour permeated the room — the scattered piles of hippogriff droppings being one of the primary culprits.

"We're calling him Witherwings these days," Sirius responded without looking back. "I doubt anybody would be looking for him, but Dumbledore thought it was better safe than sorry."

"That sounds like Dumbledore."

Sirius snorted while Harry approached Witherwings and exchanged bows.

"I suppose you would know something about that. What are you doing up here?" asked Sirius. "I figured you'd rather be spending time with your friends than your mangy old godfather. I'm sure they make for much better company."

"They're great and all," replied Harry, "but they don't always understand. I've got a lot on my mind lately, and sometimes I need to get away for a bit."

"I know what you mean."

Sirius chucked the last rat towards Witherwings, then dusted off his hands and turned to look at Harry fully.

"I'm surprised at you, though. I expected you to show up and start asking questions about Voldemort, but you haven't asked about the war at all. Your letters made it sound like you were practically dying for information."

"I had a long talk with Dumbledore this morning. He actually apologised for keeping so much from me over the years."

"Did he, now?"

"Yeah, I definitely wasn't expecting that," admitted Harry. "Ron told me that Hermione scolded him in front of everyone; maybe that had something to do with it."

"I'm not sure I'd go that far, but she definitely made all of us think really hard about the way you'd been treated. If Dumbledore felt guilty afterwards, then he wasn't the only one," confessed Sirius, his eyes dropping to the floor. "Harry I... I want to apologise too. I told you I'd always be there for you, but I seem to be failing at every turn. I need to — no, I will do better, I promise."

"I have to admit," Harry replied with a wry grin, "it felt a little off having one of the creators of the Marauder's Map telling me to lay low and keep out of trouble."

"I know, I know," chuckled Sirius, holding up his hands in surrender. "My teenage self would kick my arse if he knew, and so would James."

They both grew quiet at the mention of Harry's father. Sirius was the first to break the awkward silence, saying, "Well, you're here now, and Molly isn't around to stop me from answering your questions. So, is there anything you want to know that Dumbledore didn't already cover?"

The two of them sat down on what was left of the small sofa next to the fireplace, and Sirius spent some time catching Harry up on what the Order of the Phoenix had been up to. They'd had some modest success recruiting others to their side, although the Ministry's smear campaign against Harry and Dumbledore was significantly hampering their efforts. Otherwise, it didn't sound like they had accomplished much of anything, beyond gathering what little intelligence they could. The only other thing that caught Harry's attention was the mention of 'guard duty'.

"Guard duty?" he asked. "What are they guarding?"

"Something inside the Ministry. Dumbledore won't say exactly what it is, but he's hinted that it's some sort of weapon that Voldemort wants to get his hands on."

Harry sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead. "I think I know what it is," he said.

"Really?" asked Sirius, clearly surprised.

"Yeah," replied Harry. "I'm guessing they're guarding the door to the Department of Mysteries. You can't tell anybody about this, but somewhere behind that door is a prophecy..." Harry took a deep breath and continued, "A prophecy about me and Voldemort."

"A prophecy? Really?" Sirius replied sceptically. "I never took Divination, but I'm pretty sure that most prophecies are worth less than that pile of hippogriff shite," he said, gesturing towards a relatively fresh pile before vanishing it with his wand.

"Yeah, well, apparently this one's real," Harry replied irritably, rising to his feet. "And even if it's not, Voldemort believes it, so it doesn't really matter what I think." He angrily kicked the remains of an old table leg across the room and turned back to Sirius. "That's why, Sirius. Voldemort found out about the prophecy and tried to kill me when I was a baby. That's why my parents are dead," he spat.

"Harry, I..." began Sirius after a moment, then buried his head in his hands for a while. "What does it say?" he asked finally.

"I've only heard part of it. Apparently, I have to learn Occlumency before I can hear the rest, but from what Dumbledore tells me, it basically says that I'm the only one who can kill Voldemort."

Sirius sighed deeply, again rubbing his face with his hands. "And Dumbledore's sure about this?" he asked. "Do you believe you're the one?"

"Of course not," scoffed Harry. "I fought him once already; he'd had a body for all of five minutes and I was still nothing but a joke to him. How am I supposed to beat a monster like that?" Harry felt a prickle of pain lance through his scar, which only served to make him angrier. "The only thing I'm sure about is that he'll keep coming after me, no matter what."

"So run away, then."

"What?"

"Run away! Leave the country!" insisted Sirius, rising to his feet to join Harry. "You don't owe these people anything! Get out, and go live your life somewhere away from all this!"

Harry had to admit that the thought had never occurred to him. Could he really do it? Could he really just take off and abandon everything he knew, just to start over someplace else? What good could he really do by sticking around anyway? Of course, if the prophecy was true (and he wasn't convinced that it was), then he'd be basically handing the country to Voldemort on a silver platter.

No, he knew himself better than that. As appealing as sitting out the conflict sounded, Harry knew that he could never sit by while innocent people suffered — not if there was a chance that he could do something about it.

"I can't," he finally responded, slowly shaking his head.

"Why not?"

"Because that's not who I am, Sirius. And even if it was, there's no hiding from him — not for long, at least. He'd come after me eventually, and one way or another, he'd find me. This weird connection we have pretty much guarantees that," explained Harry, absentmindedly rubbing his scar.

Sirius walked over to Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it once for good measure.

"How can I help?"

oOoOoOo

"There you are, mate. Where've you been?" asked Ron, as Harry opened the door of their shared bedroom. He'd apparently been waiting up for Harry and was passing the time by perusing a Quidditch magazine.

"Just talking to Sirius."

"That's all right, then. It looks like you've got a letter," he replied, gesturing towards the opposite end of the room with his thumb.

"Hedwig!"

The snowy owl leapt from the dark wardrobe in the corner and soared over to Harry before gently landed on his shoulder.

"Hey girl, I'm glad you found me," he said, accepting the letter from her beak. Hedwig nipped his ear affectionately and allowed him to stroke her feathers for a few moments before gliding back to perch on the wardrobe.

"Who wrote to you using Hedwig?" Ron asked curiously, but Harry was busy opening the letter and ignored his question.

Dear Harry,

I waited for hours, but I started to worry when you didn't come back, so I sent this with Hedwig hoping she would find you. If you get this, please write me back, if only to let me know you're okay.

Astoria

Harry smiled as he read the short note. He was exhausted from a long and very trying day, but he decided to write Astoria back before going to bed — he owed her at least that much.

"Do you have any parchment?"

"Yeah, there's some on the desk over there," said Ron, jerking his head in the direction of a beat-up old writing desk. "So, who wrote you?" he enquired a second time.

"Oh, it's the person who helped me. I wasn't sure what was going to happen, so I left Hedwig there. They just wanted to make sure I was okay, since I never came back after the hearing."

Ron nodded and resumed flipping through his magazine, but Harry could tell that his friend wasn't thrilled with the idea of him having a secret correspondent.

"Look, Ron," Harry began, not wanting there to be any lingering awkwardness between them. "I know you want to know where I was, but I made a promise. I'm sure it won't be a secret forever."

Ron simply nodded again instead of replying, but Harry thought he at least looked somewhat more accepting of the situation.

"Right, well...I should probably respond to this, but then I'm going to bed. It's been a long day, and I'm absolutely knackered."

Harry went over to the desk to pen his reply. It took him the better part of half an hour to finish his response, and when he was done, he sat back in the chair to read over what he had written.

Dear Astoria,

First, you should know that I'm perfectly fine, and also somewhere safe. Professor Dumbledore took me somewhere after the hearing, and it looks like I'll be here until it's time to go back to Hogwarts.

If you haven't heard, I was cleared of all charges. It felt like a close thing, though. They brought me into this old courtroom that was pretty much a dungeon, and the Minister for Magic himself led the trial, which I found out was in front of the entire Wizengamot. The whole thing was mad, really. I don't even want to think about what would've happened if you hadn't found me that solicitor.

I want to thank you again for all your help. I'm not sure what will happen once we get back to Hogwarts, but if we don't get to talk there, I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you've done for me. Even though I was technically in hiding, I really did enjoy getting to know you and your sister while I was there. You can tell Daphne not to worry, because I haven't told anyone about either of you, and I don't plan to.

If it's not too much, can you send Hedwig back with my things? I like my new clothes quite a bit and would like to keep wearing them. I also wouldn't mind having my Firebolt back, if you can manage to wrestle it away from Daphne.

Thanks again,

Harry

Satisfied with what he had written, Harry gave the letter to Hedwig and asked her to deliver it as soon as she felt up to it. After accepting the letter, the owl stared haughtily at him for a moment, and then immediately took off out the window. Hedwig's latest display of unabashed pride put a smile on Harry's face, which quickly transformed into a deep yawn. Now feeling completely exhausted, he quickly changed his clothes and plopped down onto the bed, falling asleep within minutes.

oOoOoOo

"Just a bit further...just a bit further..."

Harry slowly crept down the familiar corridor, eventually reaching the mysterious door that had been consuming his thoughts. Once again, he attempted to turn the handle, only this time it actually worked! His heart fluttered rapidly as he slowly cracked open the door, allowing a soft, twinkling light to pour out into the darkened hallway.

All of a sudden, Harry stood up straighter and looked back up the corridor. "Wait, why did I even want to come here?" he thought to himself, suddenly confused.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he shook away the thought and stepped through the door, only to come face to face with an enormous snake. Poised as if readying itself to strike, the serpent was so massive that the top of its head nearly reached the ceiling. Harry immediately began to retreat, only to find that the only door had locked itself behind him.

Harry looked up at the snake and readied himself for a fight, but the attack never came. Instead, the snake simply opened its mouth and began speaking to him.

"Come, Harry Potter...Harry...Harry...Harry!"

Gasping for breath, Harry awoke with a start and scrambled for his wand. It took him a few moments, but he finally realised that he'd been dreaming. He was still in his bedroom in Grimmauld Place, Ron was snoring away in the opposite bed, and Sirius was standing over him with a look of concern on his face. Heart rate slowly returning to normal, Harry grabbed his glasses off of the nightstand and slipped them onto his face. He had no idea why his godfather was in his room, but the lack of light from the window told Harry that it was either still late at night or very early in the morning.

"Sirius?"

Sirius held a finger up to his lips and gestured for Harry to follow him. Nodding his understanding, he quickly got dressed and followed after his godfather, taking care not to wake Ron. Moving quietly, Sirius led Harry up two sets of stairs to a hallway he hadn't been down yet. The gas lamps on the wall suddenly burst to life, allowing Harry to see how exceptionally filthy it was up there. The wallpaper was peeling, the carpet stained, and nearly every available surface was decorated with cobwebs.

They eventually stopped at a blank stretch of wall, which Sirius then tapped twice with his wand. The wall silently slid to the side, exposing another narrow staircase. Lighting his wand, Sirius trekked up the staircase into the darkness above, Harry following closely behind him. More lamps lit the area once they reached the top of the stairs, revealing a very large, but still fairly cluttered attic. Sirius paced the floor a few times while waving his wand and muttering under his breath, then turned to face Harry.

"Good morning," he greeted Harry with a wide grin.

"Er...good morning, Sirius. What are we doing here?"

"Well, yesterday you told me you needed to learn how to fight. Molly doesn't want you kids to know this, but this house is so bursting with enchantments that you can do all the magic you want without worrying about the Ministry finding out."

Harry wasn't surprised to learn this, as he'd been able to do magic undetected at the Greengrasses' house. Still, it was nice to have his suspicions confirmed.

"That's great to hear, so does that mean you're going to train me?"

"I'll do what little I can from here," replied Sirius. "For some reason, Molly is hell-bent on keeping you kids distracted with work. I think she's convinced herself that if she can keep you ignorant of what's happening, it'll somehow prevent you from getting involved."

"She means well," Harry offered half-heartedly.

"I know," said Sirius, "but she's deluding herself. That said, there's no use in causing more strife than necessary, which is why I brought you up here at four-thirty in the morning. As you saw, the attic is pretty well hidden, and I've spelled the room so nobody can hear what goes on up here."

"Great, so where do we start?" Harry asked excitedly.

"Slow down, Harry," he laughed, holding up his hands. "You asked me about learning some more...dangerous…spells you can use to fight the Death Eaters," he continued, his demeanour growing more serious. "The truth of the matter is that I do know quite a few questionable spells, but I'm not sure I'm ready to teach them to you." Seeing Harry's impending protest, he quickly continued, "Please, just hear me out. You've seen where I grew up, so you can guess what sort of people my family were. I didn't have much of a choice when it came to learning magic like that, but you do. I've seen what Dark Magic does to people, Harry, and believe me, you're better of avoiding it if you can."

"Can I, though?" Harry asked pointedly.

Sirius sighed heavily. "I don't know, Harry," he replied. "All I know is that I don't think I can bring myself to teach you that...there's just too many bad memories involved. I may be able to get you some books to study on your own, but that's the best I can do."

Harry was disappointed, but he understood where Sirius was coming from.

"However," said Sirius, his expression brightening, "That doesn't mean I have nothing to teach you. There's a lot more to duelling than slinging nasty spells at one another, so that's what we're going to work on together."

With a few sweeps of his wand, Sirius banished the assorted trunks, boxes, and other junk up against the walls of the attic, providing them with adequate room to practice. Harry noted that the open area was similar in size to the platform used during Gilderoy Lockhart's ill-fated duelling club in their second year, only a bit wider.

"Well?" said Sirius expectantly, a broad grin appearing on his face. "Show me what you've got!"

Harry hesitated for a moment, then raised his wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus!" The spell had barely left his wand when Sirius stepped to the right to avoid it, and before Harry could even react, a jet of crimson light collided with his own chest. Stumbling backwards, he looked on helplessly as his wand flew across the room and dropped to the floor in front of his godfather.

"You have good form, Harry, and your spell certainly wasn't lacking in power," said Sirius, bending down to collect Harry's wand. "Expelliarmus is a useful spell, but the incantation is a bit of a mouthful, don't you think?"

Taking his wand back, Harry replied, "I suppose so. I didn't hear you say anything, though. Is that how you got me so quickly?"

"Exactly — but that's not all. You shouting your incantation not only gave me plenty of time to get out of the way, but it also let me know exactly what was coming. As you just saw, casting nonverbally is much faster, and it makes it harder for your opponent to know what spell you're using. If you want to have any chance of defeating adult wizards, you're going to need to learn how to cast silently."

"Right...so, how do I cast silently? Is there some sort of trick to it?"

"No, not really," answered Sirius, his head cocked slightly to the side. "It's one of those things where you keep trying and trying, and then one day you just get it. You're meant to start casting nonverbally in your sixth year, I think, but you're more than ready to do it now."

"Great," he huffed, and then screwed up his face in concentration and tried to silently disarm Sirius. After half a dozen or so failed attempts, Sirius could see Harry's frustration mounting and decided to try another method.

"Think about it like this. Speaking the incantation is basically you letting your magic know what you want it to do. Casting silently isn't all that different, you just have to tell your magic what to do without using words."

"I don't understand," frowned Harry. "What do you mean tell my magic what to do? How do I do that?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not explaining this very well," muttered Sirius, rubbing his cheek contemplatively. "You know that feeling you get when you cast a spell, like your magic's flowing through you?"

Harry just looked back at him with a blank expression.

"What, are you saying you've never felt your magic? You don't feel anything when you're casting a spell?"

"No, not really," responded Harry, suddenly feeling very inadequate. He thought hard about all the magic he'd done at school, and he could honestly say he had never felt what his godfather was describing — or had he? Now that he really thought about it, there had been a few instances where he felt something extra when channelling his emotions into his spells — some of them very recently. Was it possible that the rush of power he'd felt at the time was really just his own magic?

"Well, now that you mention it," he continued, "the Patronus Charm does give me a feeling sort of like what you're describing."

That was true of course, but Harry was thinking more about the spells he had worked on with Daphne. Once he'd figured out how to funnel his anger into his spells, the handful of Dark curses they'd attempted had been positively easy for him to master. More than that, the feeling he got by using such powerful magic was exhilarating, almost intoxicating. Did other wizards feel something akin to that even when using mundane spells?

"It takes a fair amount of power to conjure a Patronus, so I suppose that makes sense," Sirius replied thoughtfully. "It almost sounds as though you've been brute-forcing your way through spells all this time, which you wouldn't be able to do with a Patronus."

"Do you think it's because the spell relies on positive emotions?" asked Harry.

"Probably," agreed Sirius. "Your emotions drive the spell, but ultimately, it still draws from the magic inside of you. Most people believe that using magic comes down to intent, or like I said before, telling your magic what to do. If you think about it, using happy memories to power a Patronus is still just guiding your magic with intent, albeit in a very specialised manner."

Harry had to admit that he'd never thought about it that way. He usually just memorised the wand movement and incantation for a spell and left it at that. The idea of using those things to actually direct his magic was a brand-new concept for him. Why hadn't they been taught that at school? Or had they just gone over it while he was otherwise occupied? He really should pay more attention in class.

"Listen, Harry," said Sirius, reclaiming his godson's attention. "If you've been able get this far without learning how to properly channel your magic, then once you get the hang of doing it without having to be in life-threatening situations, you're really going to be something special."

"That sounds great, but how do I channel my magic without using my emotions?" Harry asked again. He was eager to learn, but he couldn't help but be a little frustrated at how vague some of the concepts they were dealing with actually were.

"I know my stuff, Harry, but I'm not exactly an expert," Sirius replied apologetically. "You're probably better off speaking with McGonagall about it when you get back to school, or maybe even Flitwick. For now, though, try this. When you're alone in your room, try casting Lumos or making something levitate, and concentrate on your magic while the spell is going. If you can do that, then you can try to recreate the feeling without saying the incantation."

"Okay, I'll try it."

"Excellent, then that will be our plan. Every morning at four-thirty, we'll meet up here to practice spells and duelling, and you can work on feeling your magic and silent casting in your free time," declared Sirius, an eager grin plastered across his face. "Now, let's see how good you are with the Shield Charm…"

oOoOoOo

Several hours later, while Harry was busy trying to evict an infestation of doxies from the drawing room curtains at Grimmauld Place, Astoria and Daphne were having lunch together in the small dining room used by the family when they didn't have guests.

"What are you going to do today?" asked Daphne.

"I'm not sure," replied Astoria, dabbing at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. "I do have some summer homework left, but I think I'd rather try to finish my book. How about you?"

"Depends on whether or not Father's still here."

"Oh, is he home?"

"I think so. At least, I saw him coming out of his office a little — is that Potter's owl?" asked Daphne, interrupting herself as the white owl perched outside the window caught her attention.

Astoria jerked her head towards where Daphne was looking, and then tore across the dining room to open the window. There hadn't been any mention of Harry in that morning's Daily Prophet, which Astoria took as a good sign, but she was still anxious to hear from the boy himself.

"Hello, Hedwig," she said as she took the letter. "Would you mind waiting a while, in case I need to write back? You can go rest for a bit if you'd like, and I'll meet you down by the cabin later."

"Why do you talk to the owl like that? Do you think she'll actually listen to you?" asked Daphne, even as Hedwig hooted in response to Astoria's question and flew off in the direction of the cabin.

"I don't see why not. Harry talks to her like that, and she seems to understand him. She's a very smart owl," declared Astoria, as she walked back to her seat. She breathed a sigh of relief as she opened the letter and skimmed the first few lines, but as she continued to read, her eyebrows started to narrow, leaving her looking less than pleased.

"Ugh!" she snapped as she set the letter down on the table. "Why are boys so stupid?"

"They just are," shrugged Daphne, though she had difficulty keeping the smirk off her face. "Why, what happened?"

"Well, he was cleared any wrongdoing, so that's all well and good. But then, he goes and starts talking like we're never going to see him again, as if we'll just stop being friends. It's like he thinks that we'll all just go back to Hogwarts and pretend that the last two weeks never happened."

"Maybe he decided he doesn't want to be friends, now that he doesn't need your help anymore," suggested Daphne.

"Nonsense, Harry would never be like that," Astoria replied dismissively. "No, he just thinks it's safer for us if we don't associate with him. He's said things like this before, only I was there to make him see how stupid he was being."

"Astoria, it is safer for us if we don't associate with him."

"And I disagree. I'll admit it all seemed a bit scary at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised that I'm not actually worried at all. Harry has plenty of friends at school, and none of them have been targeted by You-Know-Who."

"Things are going to be different this year, and you know it," replied Daphne, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"I know things are hard for you in Slytherin, Daphne," Astoria said sympathetically. "If you want to ignore Harry or mock him along with the cowards in your House, that's your business, but I am not going to allow others to dictate how I live my life. I've done enough of that already."

Daphne looked angry for a moment, but then she closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. "I understand, Tori, and I've already told you that I won't try to stop you from being friends with him, but I need to you to understand that there really are risks involved," she persisted. "I need you to promise me that you'll be careful."

"I will be," Astoria replied earnestly. As annoying as it could be at times, deep down, she really did appreciate how protective her older sister could be. "What about you?" she asked. "Are you just going to act like nothing's changed?"

"Potter already knows that for now, at least, I can't associate with him publicly, but that doesn't mean I have to pretend to hate him," explained Daphne. "We haven't had much to do with each other the last four years anyway, so not much will change. It's mostly just Draco and his hangers-on that have a problem with him."

"I notice you're back to calling him Potter instead of Harry," Astoria pointed out.

Daphne simply shrugged. "I figured I should get back in the habit before school starts," she explained.

Astoria nodded and took another bite out of her sandwich before giving her sister a wry look.

"He asked about his broom, you know?"

"Oh?"

"Mm-hmm. He said he'd like to have it back, if I can wrestle it away from you..."

"Is that so?" smirked Daphne. "If that's the case, then I think I'd better hang onto it for a bit longer. It's not as if he'll need it before school starts."

Astoria snorted in response before they both went back to her lunch, only to be interrupted soon after by another unexpected arrival.

"Good afternoon, girls," spoke Elias Greengrass, greeting his daughters as he entered the small dining room and took his seat at the head of the table.

"Hello, Father," the girls replied in unison, earning a slight chuckle from their father.

"So, what were you girls talking about before I arrived?"

"Oh, you know, Father — boys, of course," replied Daphne before taking a drink, her eyes dancing mischievously as she stared at her sister over her cup.

Elias grimaced slightly at Daphne's response, but he recovered quickly. "Is that so? And were you discussing anyone in particular?" he asked with genuine curiosity, if a bit stiffly.

"No, I was just wondering if anyone special had caught Astoria's eye. She is nearly fourteen, after all," replied Daphne.

He turned to his youngest daughter expectantly, but Astoria held up her hands in protest and shook her head. "Don't listen to Daphne, Father. You know how she likes to tease me," she said crossly, just as Flopsy entered the room from the opposite door and served Mr. Greengrass his lunch. "I'm actually surprised to see you home. Do you not have any meetings today?" she added, rapidly changing the subject.

"Actually, I do," he responded, more than happy to move off the prior topic. "I had to reschedule my meeting with a potential client due to yesterday's Wizengamot session, so I'm meeting with him this afternoon."

"That's right, you mentioned something about a trial. How did it go?" enquired Astoria.

"It was certainly interesting," he responded with a thoughtful expression. "It was easily one of the most unusual proceedings I've ever had to attend. Tell me, what do you two know about Harry Potter?"

"Not much," Astoria replied quickly. "Why? Was he involved somehow?"

"Yes, he was accused of performing unauthorised magic outside of school, and in front of muggles. He claimed to have only used the Patronus Charm to repel two dementors, which is concerning in itself. He wound up being cleared of all charges, but I admit to being curious about the boy."

"He's a Gryffindor, so we don't have much to do with him," said Daphne. "He and Draco Malfoy hate each other with a passion, but other than that, all I know is that he seems to be Dumbledore's favourite."

"I see," replied Elias. "I'm not sure whether you've been keeping up with the Daily Prophet, but they seem to have it in for the boy lately." Both girls nodded in acknowledgment. "From what you've seen," he continued, "would you say he's the type to make up stories just to get attention?"

"I don't think so," answered Astoria, as Flopsy took away her empty plate. "I can't say that I know him well, but he's never seemed that way to me. Most of the school didn't believe him when he said he didn't enter himself in the Triwizard Tournament, but I always thought he looked uncomfortable with all the attention."

"You seem to have observed him somewhat closely," her father replied questioningly.

"It was hard not to notice him last year," she responded noncommittally. "The tournament was a big deal, and he is Harry Potter."

"Very well," said Elias, sounding contemplative. "Listen, girls, I want the both of you to be extra cautious at school this year — especially you, Daphne. There are a lot of unsettling rumours about, and if there is any truth to them, things may become dangerous before long."

Astoria and Daphne quickly glanced at one another before nodding to their father in agreement.

"I'm glad you both understand. Now, if either of you see or hear anything concerning, I want you to write to me immediately. Understood?"

"Yes, Father," they responded.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Astoria stood up from the table.

"If you'll both excuse me, I have a book to finish," she announced, before kissing her father on the cheek and exiting the room. The book would have to wait, however. First, she had a letter to write.