Harry Potter and the Red Flame

Chapter 1

It was a quiet night outside number four Privet Drive, and inside not a soul was awake except for a dark-haired teenage boy. Harry had woken with a start and sat up in bed, trying unsuccessfully to free himself from the damp, tangled sheets. He was breathing heavily as though he had been running. The dream he had been having was bizarre. It was not the usual nightmare encounter with Lord Voldemort that ended with Harry waking up writhing in pain and grabbing the scar on his forehead. Nor was it a haunting visit from his godfather, Sirius, who seemed to creep into his thoughts lately. Thinking about him just now caused Harry to feel the familiar tightening in his chest. He started to choke and cough.

'I will not think about him right now,' Harry told himself. 'I've made it this long without giving into tears. I won't start now.'

But he missed Sirius. More than he would admit to himself, because once he did Harry wasn't sure that he would be able to pull himself out of the sadness. He wished that Sirius were still alive. It would be so nice to be able to talk to someone about the strange dreams and feelings that he was having lately.

For the dream was strange, there was no doubt about it. Harry ran a hand through his always-messy black hair as he tried to remember exactly what had happened in his dream. He had been running through the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the boarding school that he attended throughout the year. Although Harry was forced to spend the summers with his only relatives, the Dursleys, Hogwarts was the only place that Harry really considered home. He smiled thinking that in just a few weeks he would be back at Hogwarts with his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Thinking about Hermione reminded him why he was awake in the first place.

In his dream, Harry had been running down a hallway at school, chasing a woman with long, vibrant red hair. He had never seen her face in the dream, only chasing from behind. For a moment he thought maybe it had been his mother that he was chasing.

"Well, that's about as impossible as it gets," Harry thought. "Seeing as how she's dead and everything."

For the first 10 years of his life Harry had believed that his parents had died in a car crash. Only after finding out that he was actually a wizard and learning about the magical world was he told that his parents had really been murdered by the evil wizard Lord Voldemort. Harry had been the real target, but had somehow managed to survive Voldemort's attack. Harry had only found out last year the reason WHY Voldemort was after him. A prophecy had been made by one of Harry's teachers, Professor Trelawney, before he was born. He thought hard trying to remember the exact wording of the prophecy that he had heard from Dumbledore's memory.

"'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord...Born as the seventh month dies...The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...'" And then the most haunting phrase, the one that Harry had heard over and over in his nightmares. "'Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...'" Having heard about the prophecy, Voldemort decided to make a preemptive strike against the child who would supposedly be his downfall. However, his attack had only left Harry an orphan with a lightning shaped scar on his forehead, the "mark" of the prophecy.

So the woman in his dream was not his mother, but who else could it be? He had been chasing her down the hallway when she abruptly stopped. Not expecting this change in pace, Harry had almost run into her. The woman suddenly turned around and the red hair disappeared. In its place was a smiling face surrounded by bushy brown hair.

"Hermione, what are you doing here? Where did she go?" Harry had asked, looking around. Hermione had taken a step toward Harry. And this was where the dream went from strange to utterly weird. When she had stepped toward him, Harry remembered, he had felt that familiar lurch in his stomach. He had previously only experienced that feeling with Cho Chang, the girl he had had a crush on and briefly dated last year. Hermione had not said a word, only smiled, and Harry remembered thinking about kissing her. Wanting to kiss her. He had leaned toward her...and woken up. His green eyes widened and he almost yelled aloud at the memory. What in the world was he doing dreaming about Hermione like that? She was his friend - one of his best friends.

"I'm losing my mind," he thought wildly. "Absolutely losing my bloody mind!" Harry checked the clock on the bedside table, seeing only the blurry neon images. He groped around by the clock and putting on his glasses saw that it was only three o'clock in the morning, much too early to get up. Harry removed his glasses, begged himself not to have any more dreams about Hermione, and lay back down to sleep.

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Harry woke the next morning from a thankfully dreamless sleep to hooting coming from a snowy owl in a cage across the room.

"Hedwig!" He exclaimed, leaping out of bed and striding across the room. "You're back!"

It was then that Harry noticed the packages littering the floor around her cage. He had almost forgotten that today was his sixteenth birthday. Harry knew that the Dursleys would not recognize his birthday but he was glad to see that his friends had not forgotten. He had been receiving mail quite regularly this summer, although just as last summer he and his friends were forbidden by Dumbledore to include any information in their writing that could be useful to Voldemort. There was still a good possibility of the mail being intercepted by one of his Death Eaters.

Harry pawed through the pile of odd-shaped presents trying to decide which one to open first. He had received quite a few more this year than in previous years. Ron had sent him a new quill and a Puddlemere United poster that featured the graduated Gryffindor Quidditch team captain, Oliver Wood. His best friend had also included a short note asking if he would like to come stay at the end of the summer and that he would let Harry know as soon as he got word from Dumbledore when Harry could come. There was of course a book, Ancient Defensive Spells and Incantations, from Hermione and a large block of Honeydukes chocolate from Hagrid. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were obviously worried that the Dursleys had not heeded the warning that they had received from members of the Order of the Phoenix at the end of last year. They had sent him enough pies and snacks to feed him until the end of the summer. The Weasleys needn't have worried though; Harry's aunt and uncle had been very cautious and contentious in their treatment of him this summer, which included making sure that he had more than enough to eat. Much to his surprise, Aunt Petunia had even taken Harry shopping to get a few clothes that fit him for once.

Harry continued to unwrap the remaining packages, noting with surprise that there was one from Luna Lovegood as well as Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister. He was not particularly close to either of these girls, but they had been involved in the ill-fated adventure in the Department of Mysteries at the end of the last school year. 'Loony' Lovegood, as she was sometimes called, was considered by most to be a very strange individual, but Harry found that he somewhat respected her for her eccentricity. If she was anything, she was her own person, and Harry could not fault her for that. Opening the present from Luna, Harry laughed as he picked up the miniature figure of a tawny lion. He was not surprised at all to see the lion begin to walk around as he put it down on the bed. Harry was shocked, however, when it began to talk to him.

"My name is Leo," the tiny lion roared, as if daring Harry to contradict him. "Your horoscope for today is that you have many surprises in store."

Harry stared with wide eyes as the lion then curled up on his bed to take a nap. 'Leave it to Luna,' Harry thought. 'Should have known it would be unique!'

Harry also received some Skiving Snackboxes and a small box of Filibuster Fireworks from Fred and George Weasley, who were now running a very successful joke shop in Diagon Alley. Harry was glad to see that they were doing well as he had played a small part in helping them start the business by giving the twins his Triwizard Tournament winnings a few years back. Ginny had obviously gone shopping with Ron for his present; she sent an Ever-Full ink bottle that matched his new red feather quill.

The Order had even sent him a birthday gift. At first glance Harry had assumed that it was just a watch. Looking more closely, Harry could see faint shadows moving on the face of the watch. There was also a small silver button on the side. Harry shuffled through the wrapping paper that he had carelessly thrown to the side, eventually finding the note that had come with the golden watch.

Dear Harry,

We hope this letter finds you happy and healthy - if not be sure to let us know and one of us will be by to set those muggles straight for you. Although we couldn't be there for your birthday this year we wanted to get you something that would be helpful now the war's started. You may have noticed the shadows on the face of your watch. That watch's made of foe glass. If any of your enemies are near to you, they'll become clearer and you'll be able to see them on the watch. Be sure to look at it often. Oh, and the button on the side will alert members of the Order if you're ever in trouble. Hope you have a good birthday.

Constant Vigilance!

Moody

Harry grinned as he finished reading the letter. He could almost hear Mad-Eye Moody's gruff voice growling at him to watch his back. Harry didn't really need a new watch, but he figured that Moody was right. This one would probably be much more useful.

As he put on the new watch, Harry glanced down and noticed that there was one more small package that he had not yet opened. He couldn't think of who it would be from. Harry bent down, picked it up, and unfolded the note attached to the brown wrapping.

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday! I hope you are doing well. I recently found this - it belonged to your mother. She dropped it when she was visiting shortly before she was killed and I never had an opportunity to return it to her. I thought you might like to have it. I'm not sure what it does, but I think it has something to do with mood.

I'm sure that this has been a very rough time for you and I want you to know that you can always contact me. If you need anything, I'm here for you.

Sincerely,

Remus

Harry quickly ripped open the brown paper. Inside was a very thin bracelet made of tiny clear stones strung together. It looked more than a bit like something Harry thought a girl would wear, but he put it on anyway. The instant that he touched it, the bracelet began to change color. Looking down at his wrist, Harry saw that it was currently dappled yellow and blue. He quickly re-read the letter, noticing that Professor Lupin had signed it with only his first name. He had always been Professor Lupin to Harry, ever since his third year when he had been the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. And now suddenly he was just 'Remus'? He wondered exactly what that meant. Harry was surprised to find that he was angry, not at the gift, but at the letter.

'What exactly is he playing at?' Harry wondered. He hoped that Remus was not trying to fill up the empty space in Harry's life, not trying to take his godfather's place. Sirius was gone, dead, and it was largely Harry's fault. Remus could not just step in and make that hurt and guilt go away. No one could. And anyway, thought Harry, it was not his place to.

Harry looked down once more at the bracelet, now a black and reddish color, on his wrist next to the foe-watch. He wondered briefly what the colors meant, but supposed that he would figure it out eventually. Now that he was wearing it, he didn't think that it looked very girly. But he decided to ask Hermione when he saw her, just in case.

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Harry ran a hand through his messy black hair and gave a wide yawn as he went down the steps to breakfast. He was very tired, but didn't remember why until he was halfway through his eggs and bacon. His dream from the previous night came back to him in a flash. Harry remembered running down a hallway, the girl with red hair, and then his stomach dropped and he felt slightly nauseous as he remembered how the dream had ended with Hermione. He looked up from his plate to see his aunt and uncle looking at him in disgust.

"What's the matter with you boy?" Uncle Vernon bellowed across the table. "You're looking green. You'd better not be getting sick!"

Uncle Vernon said this as if illness was something Harry enjoyed and he was trying to bully Harry out of doing it.

"No, no, I'm fine," said Harry listlessly. Aunt Petunia was looking at him as though he might sprout purple boils all over his face at any moment. Harry could almost see her thinking that the last thing she wanted to do was have to take care of him if he was ill. He looked down at his plate and moved the eggs around with his fork. The last thing he felt anymore was hungry. "I think maybe I'll just go back upstairs and lie down for a while."

Uncle Vernon glared at him but seemed to remember the need to be pleasant. He looked around the kitchen as if a strange wizard would pop in out of nowhere at any moment. "Well, if you're going to have a lie-in all day then you'll just have to do all of your work tomorrow."

"That's fine, whatever," Harry said dully, getting up from the table and heading back up the stairs. He was feeling sluggish and haunting images from the dream were still dancing through his head. Entering his room, Harry carefully shunted all of his gifts off the bed onto the floor and lay down staring up at the ceiling. He wondered what had short-circuited inside his head to make him have a dream like that. And about Hermione of all people.

'But then,' Harry remembered, 'the dream didn't start out with her in it.'

He tried to remember the girl with the long red hair. He had only seen her from the back, and could not figure out who she was no matter how hard he tried. Yet he had the strange feeling that he did know her. There was something about her that was very familiar, something he just couldn't place. Harry wished that he had someone he could discuss this with. Normally he would tell Ron all about it, listen to him laugh and joke about it, and find out what he thought it might mean. The problem with that plan of action was that this time his nightly encounter, or almost-encounter, had been with Hermione. Although Ron had never come out and said anything at all to him about it, Harry had a sneaking suspicion that lately Ron's feelings for Hermione ran a little bit deeper than friendship. He was quite sure that if he were to tell Ron about this dream, he would be able to tell once and for all whether his instincts were right. Although he was positive that the dream was meaningless, Harry did not think that Ron would see it the same way. No, telling Ron about this could get too messy.

He wished that Sirius were still alive to talk to about things like this. It was stupid little things like this that made Harry angry that his father had died and even more angry at himself for getting Sirius.... well, he didn't even want to think about it. He needed a father or godfather or brother or someone who could reassure him that these feelings he was having were normal and that dreams like these didn't necessarily mean anything. But who did he have? Uncle Vernon? Harry could not even fathom having a man-to-man talk with him. No way. There really was no one else. He had no one.

Harry wiped at his brimming eyes and fidgeted nervously with his mother's bracelet, now black as night. His gaze fell on the letter from Remus crumpled on the floor. He could talk to Remus about these things. It would be strange, but better than Uncle Vernon for sure. But no, Remus was not Sirius and never would be. Sirius was irreplaceable, and Harry would have to muddle through and figure things out on his own, just as he had done before Sirius had come into his life.

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Harry spent the rest of the morning trying to recover the sleep that he had lost the night before. Unfortunately, he was not very successful. Finding it impossible to get back to sleep, Harry decided to get up and work on some of his summer schoolwork. He had so far been very good at putting it off and ignoring it. Harry had a strange feeling that were he to ask, Hermione would tell him that she had been done with it for weeks. She had probably also guilted Ron into finishing his homework early also. Hermione had a special knack for nagging Ron into submission.

Harry reached into his trunk and pulled out his new quill, an ink bottle, and some rolls of parchment. He laid out his assignments and books on his bed, contemplating where he should start. He really couldn't complain - since the fifth year students had taken their O.W.L.s this year, the amount of summer work was greatly reduced. Harry had a number of essays to do for Professor Flitwick, since Charms was the only class that he was certain that he would be continuing with next year. The rest of his sixth year classes would be determined based on his O.W.L. grades, which Harry had not yet received. He had been waiting impatiently all summer to see how well he had done and was quite anxious about them, mainly because these grades would determine what career he would be able to choose after Hogwarts. Harry was sure that if he could not be an Auror, he would rather not do anything at all. Except maybe play Quidditch.

'I should be getting those results soon,' Harry thought nervously.

It was late that evening when Harry finally finished all of his Charms work. He was quite tired of hearing the scratching of his quill on parchment, and his right hand was very uncomfortably cramped. Harry gathered up all of his materials and carefully placed them back into his trunk. It had taken the good part of a day, but at least everything was done. He had nothing left to worry about except getting through the remaining four weeks with the Dursleys before heading back to his real home, Hogwarts.

Harry heard his stomach growl and looking at his watch, realized that he had missed lunch and dinner.

'Well, I'll just have to go downstairs and scrape something together,' he thought. The Dursleys had been much more lenient with food this summer. Dudley, however, was still on a limited diet, and Harry often found a sick kind of pleasure at taking second helpings at mealtimes and watching Dudley's round, piggish face contort in jealous anger.

Just then, Harry heard a faint tapping noise on his door. It was so soft that he wasn't sure he heard it at first, and then there it was again.

'This is strange,' Harry thought as he went over to open the door. As soon as he pulled it open, Aunt Petunia tumbled into his room as if trying to hide from someone.

"Close the door!" she whispered urgently, looking fearfully toward the door. Harry complied quickly and turned to face her. It was then that he noticed the cake. Harry gave her a questioning look.

"Th-this is for you," said Aunt Petunia, handing Harry a small chocolate frosted cake. He was surprised to see that it even had his name on it in white curly script. Harry looked at her with a blank, shocked expression. In 15 years, this was the first time that any of the Dursleys had remotely acknowledged his birthday.

"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Does there have to be a reason, you ungrateful boy!"

"Considering that this is the first time you've ever given me anything for my birthday, I have to admit I'm quite curious."

Aunt Petunia was still glancing at the door as if she expected it to catch fire at any moment. She was inching toward it when Harry stepped in front of it to block her. "Thank you," he said sincerely, but still not about to let her off the hook. "But why?"

Aunt Petunia looked as though she would rather sink into the floor than answer. She looked down and sighed. "You may look like him," she said scathingly, "but you are all that is left of my sister. I despised her until the day she died, and I only took you in under threat of death from....from that old....whatever you call yourself!"

"Wizard," said Harry cruelly, knowing that she was referring to Dumbledore. "What's your point?"

"I-I've decided it's time to let things go," Aunt Petunia whispered softly. "You only have one more year left with us, and then you will go off and get yourself killed like your parents or do whatever it is you people do. And what's left of my family, whether I like it or not, goes with you."

Harry was not quite sure how to respond to this. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had rarely referred to him in his presence as family. He had never really even considered them family due to the way he had been treated by them all of his life. Before he could think of a reply, Aunt Petunia stepped past him, looking down as she did so.

"What's that on your arm?" she asked. "Where did you get that?"

"It was a gift from..." he could not think of exactly what Remus would be, "a friend. He said it was my mum's once."

"It was." They both looked down at the bracelet, now changing to a deep indigo blue. Harry looked back up at his aunt.

"If you so much as breath a word about that cake to your uncle or Dudley, I promise you I will make your life miserable the rest of the summer!" she shrieked as she bolted out of the door, closing it silently behind her.

Harry sat back down on his bed and glanced over at the sleeping lion that he had placed on his bedside table earlier that day.

'Well, he certainly was right!' thought Harry as he took a bite of chocolate cake. It had definitely been a day filled with surprises.