Harry Potter and the Scepter of Ravenclaw

Chapter Three: Going Home

The evening passed, fortunately, without any "incidences." Harry, Ron, and Hermione popped back into existence in the driveway of Number Four, and, as it was mercifully already dark, no prying neighbors noticed their sudden arrival on the street. They traipsed back inside and, after a quick dinner, began to search for items that had scattered throughout Harry's bedroom (the trio had had little access to the rest of the house, so they did not search for any items outside the confines of Harry's cat flap-holding door. All in all, it was a peaceful evening, or at least peaceful until Aunt Petunia discovered one of Fred and George's fake wands that Harry had left in the downstairs store cupboard along with his Firebolt, while the three teens were gathering their stuff, which emitted a loud squawk and turned into a chicken, causing her to scream so horribly that the Aurors came once more into the house to see what had happened. This time they were not so forgiving and reminded Harry in a very stern tone of voice that Harry would start having to pay in Galleons the next time they had to respond to a false alarm.

"Well, what'd you expect, watching a house day and night?" Harry had responded angrily. "I've already told you, you can leave!" But the Aurors were insistent on their point and were eventually shooed out of the house and onto the street by Harry, Ron, and Hermione with the assurance that no more incidents would be causing the Aurors to call upon this house again. When they were finally chased out of the house, Harry slammed the door and turned around to find Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley, all three of them looking completely irate, especially Uncle Vernon, who had a frying pan in his pudgy hand and was looking murderous.

"That does it," said Vernon through gritted teeth. "I've had it! Wizards trumpeting around our house all summer, our house broken into four times, fake wands, exploding meat pies, I've had it! Get out! GET OUT!!" And he glared at Harry with the frying pan in his pudgy hand, looking like he wanted nothing better than to thump Harry as hard as he could. Hermione, sensing this in Vernon, said, "Well, Ron, I'm sure your mother won't mind if we...erm...leave a little early?"

"Right," said Ron, "we'll just go and pack our stuff, then. Harry?"

But Harry was pulling out his wand. Sixteen years of anger was beginning to pulsate inside him, and he was not going to be pushed around by the Dursleys now; he was seventeen and could now use magic if he wanted. He stood there, rigid, his wand out and pointing directly at Uncle Vernon's chest.

"Put down that pan," said Harry evenly, his wand still pointing at the skillet in Uncle Vernon's hand, whose owner looked at Harry with an expression of mingled fear and hatred on his portly face.

"And why should I do that?" Vernon chortled. "You won't use that thing against me, you're not allowed." But Harry moved his wand so it was pointing at the pan.

"Accio!"

The pan came zooming out of Uncle Vernon's stubby hand, and flew right into Harry's palm. Aunt Petunia gasped and Vernon stared, horrorstruck, as the skillet left his hand against his will.

"But...but..." he spluttered, "y-you can't use magic out of school! They'll chuck you out for sure this time!"

"Think again," said Harry, a look of ultimate satisfaction on his face now. "I'm seventeen! Remember what Dumbledore said last summer? I'm an adult now, and I can use magic any time I like! Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get my stuff and get out of here; I never want to step foot in this dismal house ever again." And without another word, Harry marched upstairs, closely followed by Ron and Hermione, leaving all three Dursleys looking as though they would like nothing better than to see Harry leave their house forever. Finally, he thought, here's something we can agree on.

"Let's go," he said darkly, thrusting his wand back into his pocket and grabbing his trunk once they had reached his room. "They think they've had it? Well, it's nothing close to the way I feel about them..."

"I know, Harry, I know," said Hermione hastily. "Let's just get our stuff and we'll be off then, won't we?" she moved to the center of the room and, making one long, fluid movement with her wand, all of the remaining items left that had been scattered in every corner of the room found their ways into Harry's, Ron's, and Hermione's trunks. Ron gaped at her.

"How did you do that?" he said incredulously. Hermione grinned sheepishly.

"Oh," she began, "it's just some practice I've been doing since I got home for the summer. I've been waiting for this for years, you know, and now that I can do magic at home I'm doing it as much as I can, but all in secret, of course," she added quickly. "Mum and Dad don't like me using magic so much because it makes quick fixes for everyday problems, and they're not too keen on that." Ron continued to look stunned as he examined the contents of his trunk.

"Blimey, Hermione, you even got the socks to fold themselves," he said, awestruck. Hermione beamed. Harry could not pretend he wasn't impressed, either, though he did not have the chance to examine his contents because he took one step forward and stepped into the hole momentarily exposed by the loose floorboard which had sprung open as Hermione's spell coaxed spell books and quills from their hideaway under the hardwood floor, causing him to fall flat on his face.

"Ouch!" He cried in shock, rubbing his nose as he got up. Hermione hurried to him.

"Oh, Harry, are you all right?" she said, drawing her wand again.

"Yeah, I'm fine," said Harry, whose pride had been damaged more than his nose, which, incidentally, was now slowly losing blood through Harry's left nostril.

"Oh, no you're not," said Hermione, pointing her wand at his bleeding nose. "Episky." Harry felt his nose stop bleeding, and it felt considerably better.

"Thanks, Hermione," he said, feeling his repaired nose. "Shall we get on with it, then? I want to get out of here-"

"Hang on, mate," said Ron, who was bending down and looking at something on the floor. "You dropped that." And he pointed down to the hardwood floor, where a small golden locket was lying inconspicuously, as though it had always been there. But that locket meant more to the three of them than anything in the entire world. Within that locket, which Harry had kept on his person ever since he had retrieved it from the cave, contained the secret of Lord Voldemort's only weakness, and with that secret carried the charge to which Harry had committed himself, to which Ron and Hermione had pledged their help.

They had avoided talking about the search for the four remaining Horcruxes and the identity of R.A.B. ever since term had ended on the day of Professor Dumbledore's funeral. They all remembered very clearly the conversation that had taken place that morning, when Ron and Hermione had promised to follow Harry to the ends of the earth in his task of destroying Lord Voldemort, and though Harry had enjoyed their company immensely, he knew that the time must come again when they must discuss their plans. Harry had absolutely no idea where to even begin his search, but he knew that he needed to pay a visit to Godric's Hollow, where his parents once lived, to find out where Harry's fate began. He had told Ron and Hermione this, but overall they knew very little of Harry's planning and had not asked about it. Indeed, perhaps they had been hoping that he would not bring it up again, that he would just drop the task and decide to attend Hogwarts for one final year. Hermione was already thinking about her N.E.W.T. exams, but she would never have the chance to take them if she followed Harry. He looked at her, and she looked back at him rather expectantly, as though she were waiting for him to start the conversation. Not feeling that this was the time for this, Harry reached down and scooped up the locket and put it in his pocket, saying hastily, "Well...I guess...we'd better leave, then? It's almost midnight." He gestured lamely to the clock on his bedside table, which told them that their protection at the Dursley's only lasted about twenty more minutes. Hermione continued to look at Harry for a moment with an almost disappointed expression on her face, then slowly turned to look at Ron as she said, "Yes, I suppose." She sighed heavily, and then said, "We'd better take our stuff and get outside where we can Disapparate." Harry looked back at her, a mad sort of glint in his eye.

"Right, Hermione," he said, "only there's one more thing I want to do before we leave. There are some things that need to be...er...set straight. And Harry picked up his trunk and Hedwig's cage and traipsed right out the door, closely followed by and apprehensive Ron and Hermione. Upon arriving at the front door, Harry caught the Dursleys in a whispered, hurried discussion. When they saw Harry approach, however, they broke off their talk immediately and looked fearfully at him. Harry smiled ruefully. Normally he would have paused to enjoy the amusing scene before him, Uncle Vernon cowering behind Dudley, who was trying to cower behind his mother, who was trying to hide behind her husband, but Harry had something he wanted to say.

"Right," he began, looking at his aunt, uncle, and cousin. "We're leaving. I'm going to Ron's house, we're going to his brother's wedding, and I'm never, ever, coming back here. I've had enough of being locked in a room with no meals, all of my stuff locked up, acting like I'm not here, and believe me," Harry added as an afterthought, brandishing his wand like a weapon as the Dursleys shrieked and took a step backward in an almost perfect unison, "there's not a person in this house that wished that I was not here more than me. Now, get out of my way." He started toward the door, and Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley parted to form an unguarded path toward the door. Harry, dragging his trunk behind him, wrenched it open and stormed out the door, closely followed by an awestruck Ron and a nervous-looking Hermione. Once they were out of the house, Hermione said tentatively, "er...Harry? Are you alright?" Harry sighed heavily.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said in a sigh. "Let's just get on with it. I want to see your family, Ron." And grabbing his luggage, Harry took one last look at the street around him, and with one fleeting glance at Number Four, Privet Drive, Harry turned and was gone. A moment later he felt cool grass beneath his feet, and he looked up to see the Burrow, all of its stories perched precariously and looking as though it was going to fall over any second. The sight brought a joy to Harry's soul that he had not felt in over a month, and he started toward the front door as Ron and Hermione materialized behind him. They caught up with Harry as he was rapping smartly on the door, behind which Harry heard Mrs. Weasley hiss "Who's there? Go on then, who's there?"

"It's Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied. There was a shriek and Harry could hear several locks opening and the door was almost instantly wrenched open.

"Oh, Ronnie, you're all right!" Mrs. Weasley ran forward to grab her youngest son. "I'm so relieved, and Harry, you too dear," She pulled Harry into a sort of bear hug, Ron still in her clutches, "and Hermione!" Not even Hermione was spared from Mrs. Weasley's forced group hug. "Oh, I'm so glad you are all alright! I was so worried, so worried." She paused. "You're early; I didn't expect you for another twenty minutes, at least."

"Well," began Harry, "we ran into a little...er...snag. You see, Scrimgeour's Auror protection stormed down the door, and my Aunt and Uncle..." he finished his story as they all were hurried inside. Harry saw Mrs. Weasley tap her wand to the door and he heard the sound of at least four locks mending themselves once more. As he finished his story, Mrs. Weasley bustled about examining the three of them, vaguely commenting that they all looked rather thin, and then said sharply, "Well then, it's bed for you, then, we've got a lot to do tomorrow to prepare for the wedding." Harry noticed an increase bounce in Mrs. Weasley's step as she appeared absolutely elated now that the wedding was only two days away. He also remembered that this was a very different stance from the one Mrs. Weasley took last summer, back when Bill's fiancée was commonly referred to around the Burrow as "Phlegm." "Hermione, I've got you up in Ginny's bedroom; she's probably already asleep now, so you might should tread rather quietly." Harry was keen to say hello to the rest of the Weasley household, particularly Ginny, but Mrs. Weasley was giving them the "don't even think about not going to bed this instant" look, and therefore Harry traipsed up the stairs to the very top of the precariously perched house, right up to Ron's bedroom. He opened the door and walked inside to find the usual flashes of bright orange shining throughout the room as though it was on fire. He dragged his trunk into the room, closely followed by Ron. After a quick change of clothes and weary conversation, Harry and Ron both clamored into bed, Harry forcing himself not to think about Dumbledore, Horcruxes, or Ginny. He failed miserably on all counts, and therefore passed another sleep-deprived night.

The next morning Harry awoke from his fragmented sleep when something soft hit him rather hard in the face. He opened his eyes to find complete blackness; something was blocking his vision, he pushed on whatever was obstructing his view and found that he could remove it quite easily .It was pillow, thrown at him from across the room, where Ginny was standing in the doorway.

"Harry!" she said happily, "glad to see you're awake!"

"Well, not by choice, looks like," came Fred's voice.

"Definitely not," said George in an unconvincingly innocent tone. "That pillow has quite an aim to it, almost as if it was done by magic." He grinned at Harry.

"And there you have it!" said Fred in a mock-advertising voice, "Self-Throwing Pillows! Guaranteed to strike the intended target in the face, or it's your galleons back!" Fred, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all roared with laughter while Harry sat up, now completely awake.

"Er...thanks," he said a little grudgingly. "What time is it?"

"Eleven o'clock," said Ron, looking as though Harry were mad. "What are you still doing asleep? Everyone's getting ready!"

"Hang on," said Harry, "the wedding's today? But your mum told us it was on the second of August, not the first."

"Yeah, well, you know Fleur," said Ginny, sighing and drawing herself up to a haughty stance. "I zink eet would be bettair for us to 'ave ze wedding on ze first, of August, ze zecond eez not a good day." Mom nearly went mad, but you can't even mention the word "Phlegm" in the house anymore; Mum'll go nuts defending her."

"Strange, really," said George, "I think I like last year's version better, Mum's doting about is driving me mad."

Right on cue, Mrs. Weasley's voice came booming up the stairs.

"Fred, George, come down here now, please! You've left the kitchen in such a mess! How's that going to look when the Delacour's come over here for the after-wedding tea?" Her voice was steadily coming nearer; she must be walking up the stairs. "Food in the kitchen, gnomes in the yard, rooms a mess, so much to do, the wedding's at six! There's not enough time! If we only had one more day...oh, hello, Harry dear." Mrs. Weasley had finally reached the top landing, which now left the landing outside Ron's room very crowded indeed. "Glad to see you're awake. Fred! George! Come downstairs, now." The twins looked rather mutinous, but decided it was best not to test their mother's temper at this point in the pre-wedding preparations. "Sorry you have to wake to such a busy household, dear, but everything's just been so busy since we changed the date last week, it's just been complete bedlam here. Arthur's had such trouble getting off work, and he's not getting home until almost three...oh, and..." Mrs. Weasley suddenly swelled and nearly hopped up and down with excitement. "Percy's coming! He wrote last week, told us he would be there. It's so exciting; he said he didn't want to miss it..." She seemed almost on the verge of tears, and she bustled out of the room and down the stairs, stopping to ask Ron and Hermione if they would help clean up the kitchen, which just left Harry up in Ron's bedroom with Ginny at the threshold. She ran to Harry, who was sitting up in his bed, and flung her arms around him.

"I've missed you, you know," she said, sounding much more serious than her usual relaxed self. "I've been worried about you, about how you're doing."

"Well, I'm fine, aren't I?" said Harry, trying to keep his voice casual. "I mean, Voldemort hasn't come bursting down the-"

"I meant how you were feeling," said Ginny, smiling a little. "Don't play stupid with me; you know what I'm talking about." She leaned in a little closer. "How are you really doing, Harry? You can talk to me."

"No," said Harry, "I can't, remember? Don't you remember what I told you out on the lake? We can't be like this, we can't be together! If you are with me, he'll know, and he could kill you, or torture you, or use you as bait like he did with Sirius-"

"And don't you remember what I told you?" Ginny fought back. "I don't care. He can do anything to me, but he's not going to make us split up."

"Don't you understand?" cried Harry, standing up, starting to feel agitated. "He's already used people I care about to get to me. He already used Sirius as bait, and look what happened to him? That can't happen again, it won't happen again."

"I'm not Sirius," said Ginny slowly, starting to look slightly hurt. "You know that...this is different."

"No," said Harry again, "no, Ginny, it can't happen. I want it to, you don't know how much I want it to work, but it won't, not while he's still around. I just can't do it. I'm not...I'm not...I can't" I'm not strong enough, he thought silently, and he turned from Ginny and walked out the door to join the rest of the Weasleys downstairs, again getting the feeling that he was turning his back on everything he cared about. First Hogwarts...and now Ginny...what would be next?