Chapter Text
Deliveries of the Daily Prophet each day from Hedwig were the only things keeping Harry sane as the summer dragged on at the prison he called Number 4 Privet Drive. Held captive, summer after summer at his awful aunt and uncle’s house, was wearing Harry thin. He could not wait to return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to begin his sixth term. Had it really been five years since he was first introduced to the wizarding world? Time had gone by so quickly.
Harry had been plagued with lamenting thoughts that he never dared to mention, not even to Ron and Hermione in the letters they had been exchanging since the end of term. The thoughts and sometimes nightmares were about those in his life he had lost: his godfather Sirius and Hufflepuff classmate Cedric Diggory. Their deaths were on repeat inside his head, not even sleep relieved him of the perseverating thoughts, and he would awake in the night in a cold sweat, having dreamt them alive and then watching them die, their lifeless bodies, drifting away. All of this just made him feel more alone, and reminded him of the orphan he was.
Was he truly dead, Sirius? Every letter that came, Harry hoped would be from him. He had to remind himself of course, that his godfather was dead. Dead like his parents. He had no one.
Hedwig pecked him awake this morning. “What, Hedwig? I’m trying to sleep,” Harry huffed, rolling over. She was incessant. “I’m not giving you any more treats. You’re getting plump.” She ruffled her feathers, offended, dropping a letter in his lap.
In her letters, Hermione had shared mostly that she had been reading the new textbooks for sixth years, and a few things she had found interesting in the Daily Prophet. Harry hated to admit it, but he had not even looked at his supplies list, nor was he sure where it was. Ron’s letters were a little more interesting. Mostly, he said that many Order of the Phoenix members had been visiting on and off all summer, but that no one would tell them anything useful about anything in any capacity at all. As usual, he, Fred, George, and Ginny tried to eavesdrop and only procured bits and pieces of the conversations. All they knew was that the Order was trying to recruit more members, and there was one witch in particular they were interested in.
He finally decided to get up when he smelled the smoky aroma of sausages being cooked, but had no desire to join his unfortunate relatives, The Dursleys, for breakfast. At least he was not being forced to cook for them anymore. Enough “magical freaks”, as Aunt Petunia called them, had traipsed through their home to scare his relations into leaving him alone. He only interacted with them when passing through the hall to use the toilet or when he was made to do housework. That was enough. He looked at what Hedwig had left on his bed. It was a letter from his best friend, Ron Weasley.
Harry,
Sorry you’ve been stuck in your room all summer.
Mum said you can come stay with us for the rest of it! Isn’t that great?
If you need help getting here, just let us know. We’ll pick you up. Can’t wait to see you!
Ron
“There’s a week left before term begins,” Harry sighed. He got out of bed and packed his trunk before going downstairs. He was hungry.
“You don’t need to deal with me anymore,” Harry said, as he found there was not a single bit of sausage or toast left for him to eat, “I’m leaving tonight.”
“Not you’re not!” Aunt Petunia growled, “You’re staying right here. You’re not scheduled to go to that freak school for another week, at least.”
“Well, I’m staying elsewhere until-”
CRASH!
The noise had come from the window. And without surprise, it was an owl. Uncle Vernon began to complain and moan about the owls, and how it was Sunday, and no normal person receives mail on a Sunday. The owl that had arrived had piercing orange eyes and was holding a scroll in its feet. After breaking the seal and unraveling it, he realized this one was from Professor Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts.
Harry,
Do accept that invitation from Ron.
I look forward to seeing you soon.
And if the Dursleys give you any problem with leaving, I look forward to seeing them to discuss.
Dumbledore
Harry walked back around the house with the scroll.
“Wipe your feet!” Aunt Petunia complained, noticing all the mud on the bottom of his trousers.
“It’s not my fault it's muddy outside,” Harry retorted, “Here.”
He threw the scroll on the table, “Seeing as there’s nothing for me to eat, I’ll be leaving sooner than I planned.” Harry ignored the ranting and raving he heard behind him as he made his way upstairs. He retrieved his trunk, and coaxed Hedwig into her cage.
“We’re going to see Ron,” Harry tried to explain to her, but a few treats were more of a persuasion.
“Where are you going?” Uncle Vernon howled as he descended the stairs with his trunk and Hedwig in tow.
“Away,” Harry replied monotone, “Bye.”
“Let him go,” Aunt Petunia cried, “...the letter. Those freaks will come if we don’t let him go.”
“Hey!” Harry shouted, pointing his wand at them, feigning he would hex. He then lowered his wand, chuckled to himself and said with a wink, “See you in a few months.” The door shut behind him. He took a deep breath of fresh air, and made his way down the block. Although he was in a good mood now, the day was dreary to put it lightly, and he noticed the whole world was wet with last night’s rain. He was not sure how exactly he would get to The Burrow, but figured he would stick out his wand and hope the Knight Bus showed up.
And it did.
If he hadn’t known better, Harry would have been under the assumption that the Knight Bus was the only form of wizarding transportation available that day because the distinct purple triple decker was stuffed to the brim. Stanley Shuntpike collected his fare, and Harry declined his offer of hot chocolate.
“Where are you headed?”
“Ottery St Catchpole,” Harry explained.
“Wutchya wanna do there?” Shuntpike snubbed before he added, “We’ve got a stop in Melksham and Weston-Super-Mare, then we’ll go there.” Harry thanked him and found that there was one seat left in the back corner, so he took it before anyone else hopped on board. Much to his chagrin there were two wizards arguing nearby, and he was hoping to take a nap. Despite reclining in his chair and shutting his eyes, he could not filter out the argument that ensued.
“It’s probably codswallop! The Ministry is trying to make it look as if they’re on top of things…” the first man argued, making a smacking sound with his lips.
“Why? Because the auror is only twenty two?”
“I don’t care if he’s seventy two years old, Jacob. Look at him, he’s got suspicious written all over his face.”
“You’re insufferable,” Jacob replied to the other man, defeatedly. Barely opening his eye enough to let even the tiniest sliver of light in, Harry shifted his gaze to try to take a peek at the Daily Prophet that the Jacob fellow held so vehemently in his hand. Unfortunately, the photograph of the auror they were discussing so passionately was crinkled beneath the wizard’s old fingers, so Harry gave up, and readjusted in his chair.
“How many more have to die before you realize that the Ministry is worthless,” Jacob sighed, folding the paper, and putting it aside, “At least this McKeely fellow is trying to do something,”
“What a muggle name.”
“That’s not nice.”
“I’m not nice.”
“Next stop, Camberly!” Shuntpike called somewhat annoyed.
“Oh bother, and this conversation was getting good,” Jacob’s friend huffed sarcastically.
“What ever happened to leisurely conversation about chess?” Jacob sighed.
Jacob’s friend asked, “Will you be getting off with me or are you still heading Monkton Farleigh?”
“Monkton Farlegih, need to see my grandchildren.”
“Fair enough. Safe home then.”
The seat was much too uncomfortable for a nap, so Harry decided to be nosy instead.
“Excuse me,” Harry asked Jacob, “is that the Daily Prophet?”
“Why yes it is,” Jacob replied suspiciously, “...are you?”
“Yes,” Harry whispered, “please don’t-”
“I won’t bring any attention to it,” Jacob whispered handing him the paper. Jacob did not let go of the paper causing a quick tug beneath Harry's fingers, “Good luck to you.” Their eyes remained locked briefly in an exchange of understanding. Although foreboding, Harry tried to be friendly, and thanked him for the well wish. He scoured quickly to look for that photograph. It was of a tall and slender man with reddish-blonde hair, slicked back and light eyebrows, a placid expression on his face, waving at reporters, as they flashed their cameras. He wasn’t at all what Harry had imagined.
..and the Ministry’s youngest Auror, Steerforth McKeeley, quickly apprehended the dark wizard upon his arrival in an undisclosed location where confidential work is being done, representatives told reporters. The unidentified criminal is set for immediate trial in the Wizengamot and potential imprisonment in Azkaban if found guilty. Possible sentencing was not disclosed. McKeeley declined to comment as did the Head of the Auror Office, Rufus Scrimgeour…
“Ottery St. Catchpole!” Shuntpike’s voice abruptly woke Harry up from his sleep. The Daily Prophet was draped across his lap, the edge of one page barely between his fingertips. Jacob was gone. Harry quickly righted himself, before folding the paper and gathering his things. He made his way quickly to the front, thanked the driver, and before he knew it, the Knight Bus had disappeared behind him. He noticed it was dark out now, but he was in the muggle part of town, and the streetlights illuminated the paper shop where the pretty girl Fred and George fancied worked. Feeling oriented, he headed southward towards the hills where The Burrow should be. Hedwig was cooing and seemed quite stuffy, so he let her fly, and told her to go to Ron to signal his arrival.
“Lumos,” Harry grumbled, lighting his way through the trees. The sounds of most likely squirrels and birds above kept startling him, but he tried to ignore it. He had a wand, and magic after all. His wand light went out. Harry angrily said, “Lumos.” Now the light was too bright, and hurt his eyes. As Harry came over the hill, he could see warmth pouring from the windows of a distant building. The Burrow. A comforting sensation filled him. He would finally be back with his friends. He would be at Hogwarts soon. This, was really home to him. As he came down the hill, a few figures appeared at the front door, their frames a shadow as candlelight trickled through the threshold. They began waving to him, and Harry began to run.
“That was quick!” George cheered.
“I left as soon as I got Ron’s letter," Harry beamed.
“They’re talking about it again, quick,” Fred’s face appeared behind the door.
“What?” Harry muttered, as he was pushed sneakily towards a door at the end of the hall.
It was ajar, so they hid behind it.
Looking as pale and as haggardly as ever, Remus Lupin, member of the Order of the Phoenix and former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts, stirred a perfect cube of sugar into his boiling hot tea, as its steam fogged the mirror like shine on the spoon he was holding.
“And the girl?” It was Mr. Weasley’s voice that asked this curious question, they instinctively pressed their backs against the wall to make sure they weren’t caught.
“You know, there’s this thing called reading,” Ginny’s voice teased, as she passed by the want to be spies, “You may want to try it some time, instead of-Harry?” They all hushed her. She blushed and locked eyes with the Boy Who Lived. He smiled sheepishly.
“Hi, Ginny. I just got here." His stomach fluttered a little as Ginny hid behind the door as well. They’re hands grazed ever so slightly.
“You’re telling me you’re not curious too?” Ron rebuttled in a whisper.
“Curious about what?” Ginny huffed.
“They’re talking about that girl again,” Ron explained.
“They always talk about that bloody girl!” Ginny exclaimed, “I think she’s a new student or something. I overheard mum talking about how she’s going to Hogwarts with us.”
“Really? Did she say anything else?” Ron asked more loudly than he should have.
“Harry!” It was Mrs. Weasley with her knowing and trying-to-pretend-nothing-was-going-on smile.
Lupin and Shacklebolt both stopped their conversation and awkwardly glanced at them as they entered the dining room. Shacklebolt scowled, and began poking his tea with his spoon creating a sharp tack noise, each time the tip of it met with the bottom of the cup.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Fred teased, sitting down next to Lupin, “Talking about that girl again.”
“Fred!” Mrs. Weasley howled.
“So there is a new student, then,” Harry interjected, hoping everyone would stay on the topic.
“There’s new students every year, Harry,” Shacklebolt added solemnly, still fussing with his breakfast, he peered up at Lupin knowingly. Lupin threw down his napkin and headed for the door.
“Remus,” Mrs. Weasley called desperately.
“I’m fine. I just need some air,” Lupin replied, adjusting his coat and ignoring them all.
“Hi Professor,” Harry tried. Lupin stopped immediately and looked at him, but not with the smile he usually would.
“How did you get here?” He asked abrasively.
“I took the Knight Bus-”
“Alone? When did you arrive?” Lupin persisted.
“Just a few moments-”
“With the way things are?” Lupin was now imploring him, his face full of concern and frustration.
“Remus, Harry is fine. He’s in one piece,” Mrs. Weasley encouraged, rubbing Lupin’s arm reassuringly.
“Right,” Remus sighed, “well, good to see you. Excuse me.”
Without further ado, everyone decided to sit at the table in silence. Harry took a seat and ate everything he was given, partly because Mrs. Weasley was the best cook he knew and partly because he was starving. The quiche tasted particularly delicious that evening, and he supposed it was because Mrs. Weasley seemed to be in such a good mood. She had been smiling widely at Harry every time their eyes met since he had arrived and every time it made his stomach churn. The face she was making reminded him of a proud mother, but that wasn’t all. There was also a knowing look, the sort of expression that gave Harry the distinct feeling that she was keeping a secret from him. A look, considering Harry’s past adventures, that he was used to seeing from adults. He ate the meal, savoring it, and decided not to press the issue.
“What’s with everyone?” Harry asked, once they trudged back upstairs to Ron’s room. The position in which he was reclining had become Harry’s trademark stance at this point in the summer, since he had practiced it so often tucked away in his own bedroom at Privet Drive.
“I dunno,” Ron furrowed his brow. Harry rolled his eyes, and then gazed at all the Chudley Cannon memorabilia that decorated his best friend’s room. The festive red and yellow colors reminded him of Hogwarts.
“So what else did you hear?” Ron begged Ginny.
“That’s it, just that she’s a student,” Ginny shrugged.
“Is anyone else here?” Harry asked, unpacking his pajamas.
“Tonks is supposed to be arriving tomorrow,” Ginny replied.
“So you did hear something else!” Ron groaned, throwing his hands up in frustration.
“Yes. About Tonks. Not that girl,” Ginny retorted.
“How about we get our supplies tomorrow?” Harry suggested to get Ron out of his wallowing, “spend the day at Diagon Alley. It could be fun.”
“Our supply lists came weeks ago, you still haven’t gone?” Ginny questioned, surprised he had not. Mail reminded him of owls, which reminded him of Hedwig, which reminded him...
“Where’s Hedwig?”
“Playing with Pidgwidgeon. When I saw her I figured you were close,” Ginny smiled. Harry smiled and stared at her far too long.
“Well you must have been traveling all day, let’s go to sleep,” Ron interrupted Harry and Ginny in their romantic gaze, deliberately walking through the two of them to break things up.
When Ron finally made it into his bedroom, Harry quickly sneaked a kiss from Ginny and bid her goodnight. Little did he know, that his world was about to change forever tomorrow.