Harry Potter and the Eye of Isis

Chapter 1 - Realization

The sun sank slowly on Little Whinging as July began to wane. Harry could compel himself to do nothing but watch from his bedroom window, feeling quite helpless, and hopeless, about life. It had only been four weeks since he'd returned to Privet Drive, though he understood now how very necessary it was for him to do so, he could not help the sense of foreboding that surrounded him.

He knew the cause of the lack of emotion within him; Sirius's death seemed so incomplete. There had hardly been time to get to know him before he was gone, falling through a veil and disappearing forever. It had been more like a simple slip of the feet then a fall in combat.

He felt anger on Sirius's behalf as well. Sirius had spent the majority of his adult life in Azkaban. His only lifeline was the knowledge that he was innocent and that he knew who had betrayed him and his friends. Once he finally escaped, his chance to kill Wormtail was taken away (by Harry himself) and he was sent on the run for two years.

It all seemed so pointless. The only true desire that Harry had ever detected in Sirius was his desire to kill Peter Pettigrew. Harry couldn't help but feel Sirius's life should have amounted to so much more than his desire to murder, and so much more than it had ended with.

To make matters worse, there had been no closure. No one, not even Dumbledore, mentioned a funeral or memorial service of any kind to remember Sirius. Harry felt that Sirius's death had been swept aside so nonchalantly that he wondered at times if Sirius hadn't just been a figment of his own imagination. Surely, he couldn't be the only person who wanted and needed to mourn the loss.

On top of that, there was a lingering thought that masked all others, making the healing of his losses impossible: the thought that he had to kill or be killed. Trying to come to terms with that consumed his days. Of course anger towards Voldemort pumped in his veins, but he had been so much more furious with Bellatrix. Her voice still haunted him.

"You have to want to cause pain."

Harry had wanted to cause her that pain but he eventually understood what she was really telling him; he'd have to enjoy it, and he couldn't imagine enjoying an act of murder regardless of who it was. He wanted to kill Voldemort, but he wasn't certain he would enjoy it. In fact he didn't even want to like it. What would it mean if he enjoyed killing someone? Even Voldemort?

Harry squeezed his eyes and shuttered at the thought. Killing Voldemort was what everyone expected him to do, expected that it was possible... but would it be?

A scratching noise at his window offered a distraction as he let Hedwig in. She had a rat in her beak and letter on her leg. She deposited her meal in her cage before sticking out her leg for Harry to take his mail.

"Thanks Hedwig." He stroked her, and then admired her dinner. "Two chores at once, what a clever owl you are." She seemed quite pleased with herself as she fluttered to her dinner.

Though Harry was glad to receive mail on a daily basis, it was, in fact, doing very little to cheer him up. The letters from Ron had been a bit distant. Harry assumed that Ron just didn't know what to say, and not wanting to pry, refrained from anything substantive. Though, he did enjoy the letter about Fred and George and a pair of Charlie's dragon hide boots. It made him smile but he couldn't sustain that flutter of glee once he had finished the letter.

Hermione, on the other hand, did try to pry. Harry, you must speak about it. Don't hold it all inside. Each letter insisted that he tell her something, anything, even if it were just to sod off. But he wouldn't give her anything to work with. Her letter yesterday had even requested the angry version of himself that bit everyone's head off in a heart beat, but he merely scribbled a note that said, Having a boring day. How are things going with you? He wasn't certain but she'd probably been cross about that one considering she hadn't sent a reply back.

Reading the letters hadn't relieved the burden of Sirius's death, and he still had told no one of the prophecy. He kept that kernel of information to himself and deteriorated along with it.

Harry sank back into his bed and opened the parchment.

Harry,

I would like to invite you to spend the remainder of the holidays with us here at The Burrow. You know that we would be delighted to have you and it would give you the opportunity to stretch your legs a bit.

You can assure your Aunt and Uncle that we will take you shopping for school and see you safely on the train.

Please let me know immediately, so that I can arrange a discreet pick up Friday morning at 8:00 o'clock.

Love,

Molly

This letter immediately lifted his spirit as he scribbled his thankful acceptance, crossed the room, and asked Hedwig if she would deliver it. He paused just as he was tying it to her leg. "I'm sorry girl, finish your meal first." He laid the envelope down and stared at himself in the mirror for a moment. He suddenly envisioned life at The Burrow. Facing Ron, and possibly Hermione, daily, they would whittle him down and want him to talk to them.

His friends were truly a great pleasure in life, but not when he couldn't bring himself to want to love or care for anyone else out of fear of what it would mean to their well being. Harry was beginning to believe that he was poison; anyone that got near him seemed likely to die, and he didn't want his friends to be next.

"At least you have friends," he finally told himself. "Mustn't be sulky."

Hedwig promptly finished her meal and let him tie the letter to her. She gave him a gentle hoot and soared out of the window. "Wait!" She returned quickly. "You can just stay there all right?" She hooted again and departed.

Harry watched her snowy white silhouette until it became enveloped in the inky night sky. He leaned out of the window grateful that he too would be leaving Privet Drive shortly.

Life at Privet Drive had been bearable. There hadn't been so much as a peep from the Dursley's. They had taken to ignoring him daily, and all reveled in the fact that Harry only emerged from his room to eat meals and use the restroom.

Harry quietly crept downstairs and rounded the corner into the kitchen.

His Aunt and Uncle were up, telling by the sound of the television and the smell of coffee.

They took no notice of him as he slid into the chair next to Uncle Vernon. Contemplating on what to say for just a moment he spoke up. "Excuse me," which actually got their attention. "Ron's parents have invited me to stay the rest of the summer with them. They can pick me up tomorrow."

"Fine by me, boy." Uncle Vernon's moustache ruffled as a sign that he clearly remembered the last time the Weasley's had 'picked him up'. "Wondered when you were going to make your way to one of your freaky friends again. Been here quite long enough don't you think?" Harry nodded only slightly at him. "They had better not blast my fireplace apart this time."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Though Harry had no idea how Mrs. Weasley intended to pick him up, he somehow doubted it would be by the floo network since she mentioned that she would be discreet.

Though Harry busied himself with packing his belongings and cleaning his room, the day still passed tremendously slow. He considered writing letters to Ron and Hermione telling them his decision, but figured it should be a surprise and would have to be since he'd told Hedwig she could stay at The Burrow.

At eight the next morning, Harry's trunk, along with Hedwig's empty cage, sat near the front door. He quietly fixed himself some toast and waited with his Aunt and Uncle at the breakfast table.

"Will you be coming back next summer?" Aunt Petunia asked in a somewhat accusing manner.

"You know that I have to," he responded and she nodded slightly.

"Yes, it keeps us safe from..."

Vernon cleared his throat quite loudly and Petunia quickly left the table, pretending to attend to something in the kitchen sink. Harry stretched back over his chair and stared at his Aunt. He was going to say something to her when a quick knock at the front door stopped him. He rose, followed by his Aunt and Uncle, and went to the door. He opened the door to find a man dressed in a pair of black jeans with a dark polo shirt and his hair combed back into a ponytail. Harry's mouth opened slightly in shock at the sight of Snape in Muggle attire (and looking quite un-Snape like).

Without being invited in, he swept Harry to the side and entered. "Manners Potter." Snape glanced at the podgy Mr. Dursley and surveyed him in seeming amusement, then shifted his gaze to Mrs. Dursley. "Petunia."

"Severus." She nodded quickly at him, but immediately wished she hadn't.

Harry's eyes, if possible, became even bigger with shock. "Hang on, you two know each other?"

"It's none of you concern," Petunia said defensively.

Harry could only look to Snape for an explanation, but realized he'd be far more likely to get an explanation from the front door. "Get your trunk Potter, we have a schedule to keep."

Reminding himself that he had no desire to remain with the Dursley's, or to upset Snape, he did what he was told, and bid his Aunt and Uncle good-bye. He followed Snape to a car parked in front of the house and was quite shocked to see that no one was in it.

"Who's driving Sir?"

"Certainly not you," he replied as he opened the extremely small trunk. However, Harry had no difficulty placing his trunk and Hedwig's cage within. Once he was done, he got into the car.

Professor Snape was obviously skilled in the Muggle world, his ability to drive a car and protect Harry turning out to be quite useful. Opening the driver-side door, Snape explained why it was he who came to fetch Harry.

Harry was barely in his seat when Snape hit the gas. "Why are you driving me to the Burrow?"

"Because Professor Dumbledore has asked me to," he said acidly. His face displayed an unpleasantness, which made Harry want to sit in utter silence for the remainder of the long drive. When they arrived in front of The Burrow several hours later, Mrs. Weasley was standing outside.

"Thank you, Severus." She smiled sweetly at him but it did little to diminish his foul mood. He simply nodded, and the moment Harry removed his belongings from the trunk, the little car disappeared down the road.

"Good to see you again, Harry." Mrs. Weasley embraced him quickly as she helped him into the house. "Ron is at Fred and George's shop today. I hadn't told him you were coming. Thought it would be best to let you get settled in."

"Thanks."

"You can stay in Fred and George's old room. Come." She pointed her wand at his belongings and hovered them up the stairs. He followed her to what would become his room. "When you've settled in, come on down for a proper breakfast."

He quickly unpacked his things, eager to return to the kitchen and a plate of food that was waiting for him. He sat and ate while she fretted about.

"Harry." She looked a bit awkward as she sat at the table. "I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything. I know how hard it is to lose a loved one, and you must feel as though... Well, when you're ready, you know I'm here."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I'm guessing that Ron has told you I have been quiet all summer, but I still need to work some things out for myself. I'm just not sure how to say what I've been feeling, and I'm pretty certain there isn't much that could be said to comfort me or make me feel any better about my lot in life." He was of course assuming that she knew about the prophecy. "Sirius being gone is one thing, but knowing that I must kill Voldemort is something entirely different."

"Who says it must be you?"

"I thought there was no doubt that I am the one. Dumbledore..."

"Ah." She sighed. "Dumbledore has not told anyone about what he discussed with you a month ago. So I'm afraid I'm a bit lost."

"Oh." Harry set his fork down. "The prophecy Voldemort was after, it said that..." He trailed off for a moment as he recalled it. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."

Harry sighed. "Dumbledore let me hear it and told me there is very little doubt that I am the one in the prophecy. I guess that is especially true since I lifted it from its shelf in the Department of Mysteries."

"Well, you do fit the description to a tee." She hesitated, understanding that more was on his mind than losing his godfather.

"Neither can live while the other survives." Harry muttered under his breath. "That sums it up doesn't it? It's already come true hasn't it?"

"In many ways, yes, I would agree that it has."

"You could hardly say he's had a life since I was a baby. And you can't call my existence a life can you? I'm just the Boy-Who-Lived, and now that Voldemort's back, he's determined to make me the Boy-Who-Died."

She reached across the table placing her hand over his. "You are strong and you have already faced him five times and walked away alive. No one else can say that Harry. You're not just the Boy-Who-Lived! You bring hope to everyone; you saved our world from a Dark Lord. Everyone knows that he is back..."

"And it's my responsibility to get rid of him again." His eyes met Mrs. Weasley's. "Fate has already dictated that." Though he would give anything to just be Harry, and not have so much pressure pinned upon him.

Molly sat up straight at the look in Harry's eyes. He was indeed a great wizard and she wondered what his powers would be like when he reached his magical maturation.

"Then you must also believe that fate has dictated that for a reason Harry. If you are the one, then you are stronger than him. You haven't even reached your magus subolesco yet..."

"My what?"

"Every witch and wizard experiences it. It's very similar to puberty," she explained, "but it is a magical transformation into the wizard you are to become. Your true abilities and strengths have yet to emerge."

"Why haven't I ever heard of this before?"

"It's not addressed until a student's seventh year because most do not go through the change until nineteen or twenty."

"How long does it take?" he asked out of curiosity. "I mean is it like my voice breaking or like growing a beard?"

Molly chuckled slightly. "It's different for each wizard. Mine took five days; Arthur's took seven. Bill and Charlie each were three days, and Fred and George haven't gone through it yet, but I suspect they will very soon."

Harry nodded. "So I don't need to worry about it right now?"

"I can't tell you that for certain." She knew full well that Harry would most likely go through his maturation before nineteen. He was special, and quite powerful, and the more magic power that a wizard contained, the earlier that wizard matured. She was fairly certain they could count on his maturation to be ahead of schedule.

"Well, I'm fifteen, so it is in the near future. Let's hope I hit it before I'm faced with Voldemort again," he said with a half smile.

"Such a burden to place upon you, Harry. I now know why Dumbledore has been reluctant with pushing such information and responsibility onto you."

"I know," Harry sighed. "And I agree that I have much to deal with. I just don't know how."

"Am I interrupting?"

"Professor!" Harry gasped at seeing Professor Dumbledore standing just outside of the kitchen door.

"No Albus." Molly jumped up. "Please come in, I'll make some tea."

He sat quietly at the table, staring at Harry with twinkling eyes. "I wanted to stop by and see how you were, Harry. Your trip was fine?"

"Yes, thank you. And thanks for letting me stay here."

"Harry, I just try to do what is best for you, but I will have to ask you to stay within the grounds of The Burrow unless escorted by a member of the Order." Harry nodded. "Also, I need to ask Molly a favor regarding you..."

"Besides giving me a place to live?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"I glad to see your spirits are up." Dumbledore knew bringing him to the Weasley's would help. "Molly, I need you to teach Harry to Apparate..."

"But he's not of age yet..."

He settled her down with a wave of his hand. "Yes, yes, this is true. Normally qualified students do not begin their training until the end of their seventh year, but I think you will agree with me that Harry is quite capable of it and in need of knowing how." She nodded, unable to disagree with either of Dumbledore's points. "I think one month should be sufficient, don't you?"

"With Harry's skills, I'll be telling you next week that he's gotten it down pat."

Harry was thrilled at this prospect. "Am I going to have to take the test and get a license too?"

"Eventually," Dumbledore answered. "But until we know who we can trust at the Ministry, I'm afraid you can't take your test."

"Don't want Voldemort to know I can do it, huh?"

"That is correct, Harry."

"Professor, can I ask you something?" Dumbledore nodded at Harry.

"How did you defeat Grindelwald?"

"I knew you would ask me that question eventually Harry." He smiled.

"I was never prophesized to defeat him," Dumbledore explained. "I dare say I was quite lucky that I walked away from my chance encounter with that Grindelwald unscathed."

"You're not going to tell me are you?" Harry knew him well enough to know when he was avoiding an answer.

"I will tell you Harry, but not today."

"Good enough." That was actually satisfying to him; at least he had his Headmaster's word.