Harry Potter and the Forbidden Passage

Chapter 1: Hope and Despair

Life with the Dursleys in the summer following Harry’s fifth year at Hogwarts had improved in more ways than he could have ever imagined. He had never before experienced the kind of freedom with the Dursleys he was given that summer. He was allowed to watch television whenever he liked and, unbelievably, to use Dudley’s computer and video games. Even Hedwig's squawking was tolerated reasonably. On the surface, he was treated as decently as anyone would expect normal human beings to treat one another, which was quite odd for the Dursleys.

Beyond these simple permissions, the Dursleys had tried to please Harry in other ways, such as the time when Aunt Petunia cooked one of his favorite meals and actually served him a full-sized portion of it. And even more shocking, they bought him new clothes and a new pair of glasses. The Dursleys had never given Harry anything new before in his life.

When Harry asked his aunt why she was buying him these things, she looked around the department store and answered in a furious whisper, “The neighbors have been noticing how shabbily you dress, we don’t want to call more attention to you than your freakish behavior already does." She gave him the very familiar hateful glare that he had known all of his life. "Look at these filthy rags you’ve made of Dudder’s clothing,” she sniped, pointing at the threadbare pair of jeans he was wearing, full of rips and holes.

Harry kept his mouth shut, but thought of how he had been forced to wear that same pair of jeans through several growth spurts over the past six years. Of course, what the Dursleys would never admit was that they had taken Moody’s threat very seriously. They didn't dare mistreat Harry for fear of several full grown wizards showing up on their doorstep.

The one thing that Harry appreciated more than anything else was that he was allowed access to all of his things from Hogwarts without protest. And, despite Uncle Vernon’s past objections, he could even send and receive mail by owl post. But Uncle Vernon’s face still frequently swelled and flushed red as a tomato as he glared at Harry, since he could do nothing else. And Dudley was so frightened of Harry now that he stayed out with his friends all day long, which Harry, naturally, didn't mind in the slightest.

There was only one problem, Harry couldn’t enjoy any of it. He should have been happy, but he wasn’t. He was less isolated at the Dursleys than ever before. He attended Occlumency lessons every week at Mrs. Figg’s house and there were always Order of the Phoenix members there to protect him. Usually Lupin would greet him, but sometimes Tonks or Moody. Harry had never before had such close contact with the wizarding world in Little Whinging. Yet he had never felt so lonely in his life.

In fact, Harry could feel nothing but loneliness. He had lost the ability to feel other emotions. Last year, he was emotional constantly, but now he could feel nothing. If more dementors came, there would be nothing left for them to take from him. He already felt as though the dementors had sucked his soul and he was left only with pain and grief. Sirius was gone.

Harry hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye and he still didn’t understand what had happened. What was behind the veil? Why did it kill Sirius? Why would the Ministry have something like that out in the open and raised on a platform?

Harry tormented himself night and day with these questions. If only he had found the mirror from Sirius earlier. If only he had studied Occlumency harder. If only he had listened to Hermione and not believed Kreacher. If only he had used a Time-Turner – this was the most persistent thought running through his head since returning to the Dursleys.

Harry had passed a whole room of Time-Turners in the Department of Mysteries and never once thought to use them. He had been too absorbed in his grief and thoughts of revenge at the time to think. And now it was too late. According to Hermione, the Time-Turners could not go further back in time than a few hours.

For the first time in his life, Harry found himself without hope. And without hope, he didn’t know what to live for. Part of him wished that Voldemort had killed him, so that he could join Sirius and his parents behind the veil. So that he wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that any loving family he had ever had was taken from him.

Yet, at the same time, Harry knew he had to live through his pain. If the prophecy was true, then only one person could stop Voldemort and that was him. He longed for Neville to be the “one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord,” but he knew better. He had been marked by Voldemort and he had been the one to remove the prophecy from the shelf, so he had to be the subject of the prophecy, as much as he hated the thought of it. He had an obligation to see it through.

Knowing his obligation was the only thing that motivated him enough to leave the comfort of self-isolation in his bedroom to attend his weekly Occlumency lesson. Every Wednesday evening after dinner, Harry went to Mrs. Figg’s house for lessons. He never told the Dursleys where he was going and they never asked him. In fact they had ignored him as much as possible. He supposed it was easier for them to pretend he didn’t exist than to be nice to him.

Harry tried to clear his head of all of the feelings of guilt and self-loathing that had been drowning him as he walked down Privet Drive. He had become much better at Occlumency once he knew how important it really was, but Snape still managed to see his thoughts occasionally. But Harry was determined to block Snape completely tonight, the last thing he wanted was to give Snape any pleasure from his pain. He crossed Wisteria Walk and approached Mrs. Figg’s porch where a tabby cat was sitting by the door.

“Hello Mr. Tibbles,” Harry called as he reached down to pet the cat, but his hand stopped in mid air. “Wait, you’re not-,” he paused, “Professor McGonagall?”

At that moment, the door opened and the cat sped into the house brushing past Mrs. Figg. Harry looked after it with confusion.

“Come in, Harry dear, quickly,” Mrs. Figg said nervously as she glanced down the street.

Harry followed her into the house and closed the door behind him. As soon as he turned around, he saw the stern form of Professor McGonagall come striding out of the adjacent room..

“Potter, are you ready for your Occlumency lesson?" she said sharply, acting as though there was nothing unusual about the situation in the slightest.

“But…but Professor Snape-” Harry questioned in surprise. Professor Snape continued to teach him Occlumency, despite his objections, because there was simply no better teacher available. The risk was still too great for Dumbledore to teach him and even if he could, Dumbledore was too busy with the Order of the Phoenix. But there was no question in anyone's minds after the events at the Ministry, that Harry did need to master Occlumency and that it was of the utmost importance in the fight against Voldemort.

“Professor Snape could not be here this evening. He had other obligations for the Order. Surely you don’t object to me?” she said sternly.

“No, I’m just surprised. You know Occlumency, Professor?”

“Certainly I am familiar with it, Potter, but my skills are nothing compared to Professor Snape's. Which is why we are not going to practice Occlumency this evening, instead we will be discussing it in theory. Now come along, I don't have all night,” she said as she walked into the living room. Harry followed and closed the doors behind them.

McGonagall settled herself on an old pale blue sofa and motioned for Harry to do so as well. “I have something for you, Potter, and I wanted to deliver it personally,” she said with a curious look in her eye.

She handed him an envelope with the familiar green handwriting and the Hogwarts seal. Harry accepted it and gave McGonagall a quizzical look.

“Your O.W.L. results of course,” she said. Harry’s heart plummeted and he was very glad he was sitting down. He slowly and reluctantly slid open the envelope as he wondered why McGonagall was here. Did she come to tell him he wouldn’t be able to take her Advanced Transfiguration classes? Or worse, did he do so poorly that he couldn’t return to Hogwarts?

Harry pulled out the piece of parchment and closed his eyes, silently praying that the results wouldn’t be that horrible. He forced his eyes open and stared at the parchment in front of him. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, his eyes grew wide with shock.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Congratulations! We are proud to announce that you have passed seven Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations. Your results are in the 85^th percentile of your class, a remarkable achievement.

Here are your results from the exams of last June:

Transfiguration - Outstanding
Potions - Exceeds Expectations
Charms - Exceeds Expectations
Defense Against the Dark Arts - Outstanding
Care of Magical Creatures - Outstanding
Herbology - Exceeds Expectations
History of Magic - Dreadful
Astronomy - Acceptable
Divination - Poor

We hope that this success will continue in your further education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Yours Sincerely,

Griselda Marchbanks
Wizarding Examinations Authority
Ministry of Magic

Harry looked up to see Professor McGonagall positively beaming at him.

“Congratulations are in order, Potter! You’re well on your way to becoming an Auror,” she said with obvious pride.

“But you said I need a NEWT in Potions and I didn’t get an O–“

“No matter, you scored an E and a very high one at that. You've scored well enough, since I managed to convince Professor Snape to accept you into his NEWT classes.”

“But how?”

“I have my ways," she said mysteriously. " Besides I promised that I would help you become an Auror if it’s the last thing I do, and I always keep my promises, Potter.”

“I don’t know how to thank you, Professor.” Truthfully, Harry didn’t know whether to thank her or curse her for having to spend two more years in Potions with Snape.

“Just promise me that you’ll concentrate in Potions and that you’ll come to me if you ever have any trouble with the class or Professor Snape. This is not a free ride, Potter. I expect you to work hard towards your goal and, hopefully, someday you will be well rewarded.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“On with our Occlumency lessons then, shall we?”

* * * * *

Two hours later, the lessons were finally over and Harry felt as tired and drained as if he had just left one of Professor Binns' classes. Occlumency theory was anything but exciting. When he opened the living room doors, Lupin was waiting for him. Every night after Occlumency lessons, a member of the Order of the Phoenix would walk him back to the Dursleys, and Harry was very glad when it was Lupin. No one wanted a repeat of last summer’s incident with the dementors, so Dumbledore made sure they never risked anything.

“Harry,” Lupin said, getting to his feet, “have you had a good lesson then?” He rubbed his hands together and looked a bit nervous.

“Um, it was all right, I suppose,” Harry lied, trying to sound cheerful.

After saying goodbye to Mrs. Figg and Professor McGonagall, they walked silently out of the house to the corner of Wisteria Walk.

“Harry, I know that you’re…that you’re not happy. And I can’t say that I am either. We both lost a great friend in Sirius.”

Harry walked on in silence, biting back the aching feeling at the back of his throat. “He was more than a friend,” he finally said bitterly. “He was my godfather, he was…family.” Now the ache in his throat was accompanied by a sore pressure around his eyes that threatened to burst at any moment.

“He was family to me too, Harry,” Lupin replied somberly.

Harry knew he should see Lupin's point of view, but all he could feel was bitterness and all he could think about was his own loss and how much it hurt. Bitterness turned to rage. “Do you know what I see when I look into the Mirror of Erised? Did Dumbledore tell you?” Harry said angrily. “I see my family, my parents, my grandparents, everyone who has been lost to me. The greatest desire in my heart is for a family and just when I thought I might have that, it was taken from me. And…and it’s my fault.” Harry looked away as silent tears fell down his cheeks.

Lupin stopped and turned Harry towards him, gripping his shoulders. Harry resisted and turned his head down and away, not willing to let Lupin see the tears, the tears that he had never dared to shed before Sirius's death, but had many times since. “Harry, look at me,” Lupin said, waiting for Harry to catch his eyes. “It is not your fault. Wizards far wiser and older than you have been fooled by Voldemort. You were not the first and you won’t be the last.”

They walked on silently side by side for a minute. “You know,” Lupin began, “I lost my only family in Sirius too…and my only friend. People don’t choose to be friends with werewolves you know. They’re all afraid I’ll transform them,” Lupin laughed bitterly.“I felt so lucky to have James and Sirius and Peter." He paused and looked up at the crescent moon. "I was so grateful to have friends that I let James and Sirius get away with much more than I should have so many times.” Lupin dropped his head staring at the path in front of them and sighed, “I miss them both terribly.”

Harry was touched that Lupin was being so open with him. He felt at once pity and guilt. After all, he, Harry, had many friends who cared about him. Friends who had braved many perils for him.

“I’m your friend, Professor Lupin,” Harry said quietly, feeling rather stupid as soon as the words were said.

Lupin laughed slightly, “If I’m your friend Harry, you’ll have to start calling me Remus, I’m not your professor anymore and it's rather doubtful that I ever will be again.”

"Well, you should be. You were the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had."

"Ah, but look at who you're comparing me with. I don't know if that's too much of a compliment, Harry," Remus teased, but he was obviously pleased.

"You know what I mean," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“Actually, I hear that you are quite the defense teacher yourself. Where do you think you will go with the D.A., Harry?"

"I dunno. We won't really need it this year, will we? I mean, now that Umbridge is gone and all. Hopefully, this year's teacher will actually let us practice defensive spells."

"Well, even if you do, I don't think you should give it up, Harry. To survive what you have, you obviously have a great deal of talent in defensive magic and you may yet save more than a few lives by teaching those skills to others."

Harry nodded his head in response as they approached Privet Drive. It was late now and the street was dark and deserted. Lupin looked nervous again for some reason and his pace slowed down.

Lupin looked at him intently and finally spoke. "Harry, there’s something I need to tell you and I've waited too long to say it. You see, last summer, Sirius asked me to take care of you if anything ever happened to him. He wanted me to become your guardian in his place. I… I know I could never replace Sirius or your parents, but I would like to honor his wishes and I would be proud to take on that role. How do you feel about that?” he asked hesitantly.

“So I could live with you if I can ever leave the Dursleys?”

“Yes, but it’s more than that.Harry. I hope you’ll confide in me, like you did with Sirius. And I’d watch out for you and protect you, as Sirius and your parents would have done.”

“Just don’t die on me,” Harry said seriously and quietly, not quite willing to look Remus in the eyes.

Remus pulled him into a hug. “It will be all right, Harry,” he replied earnestly. Remus wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulder as they walked the rest of the way to the Dursleys.

“So, how are they treating you?” Remus asked, nodding towards number four Privet Drive.

“All right, I s’pose, they’re mostly ignoring me. At least they’re not yelling or worse. Hard to believe these are the same people who locked me in a cupboard for ten years.”

Lupin grimaced. “I understand why Dumbledore wants you to stay with them, but I can’t say I agree. At least you only have to put up with them for two more days.”

“What?” Harry asked in shock.

Remus smiled at Harry's surprise. "Well, Dumbledore said we could pick you up on Friday night, in time for your birthday. I thought you’d like to spend your birthday in the wizarding world this year.”

“When do we leave?” Harry asked anxiously.

“We’ll pick you up after dinner on Friday. Have your bags packed and ready.”

“I will,” Harry replied, giving Remus the first genuine smile that had passed his lips for some weeks. “See you Friday,” Harry said as he walked up to the front door.

“Goodbye, Harry,” Remus replied fondly, waiting for Harry to open the door before he Disapparated.

Harry crept quietly in the house and soundlessly closed the door behind him. He didn’t want to wake the Dursleys who usually went to bed about an hour earlier. But as he tiptoed up the stairs, he heard sounds coming from the adjoining room. Creeping down to the third step, he inched closer to the wall separating him from the living room. He breathed shallowly, making himself as quiet as possible as he strained to listen more closely. Someone was watching the television and listening to the late news.

“In other news, police are baffled by reports of twelve bodies found across Britain. Authorities have yet to find any sign of disease or foul play. Autopsies have yielded no results, but in every case, the coroner has reported a look of terror on the face of the deceased. Authorities are currently suspecting a new virus, but they have yet to find a link in this horrifying case.”

Harry's heart skipped a beat. So it had started. Voldemort was back and the deaths had begun in earnest. Harry was about to go back up the stairs to send a letter off to Ron and Hermione, but froze immediately when he heard his aunt's voice carry over from the other side of the wall.

“That was no disease,” she said.

“What was that, Petunia dear?” Uncle Vernon said.

“Vernon, that’s the way they were found.That’s the way my parents looked when I found them.” Harry had never heard anything about his grandparents. He took another step down, inching even closer towards the voices.

“The boy may be telling the truth, Vernon. He may be back.”

“Who? That Lord what’s-his-name?”

“Yes,” Petunia hissed seriously, “Voldemort.”

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