Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Chapter Two

Spinner's End

'The Ministry was brought under more fire as the magical community tries to cope with the announcement that many hoped would never come. The Minister's office is coming under intense pressure as the magical community floods it with letters and howlers out of anger for their poor handling of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return, and their silence and refusal to accept the truth. "The rumors that the Ministry has been keeping quiet on the reappearance of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named are false," assured Percy Weasley, a member of the Minister's office. "The reappearance of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has come as just as much a shock to the Ministry as it has to the magical community at..."

Harry threw down the paper. It angered him that Fudge had chosen to act innocent in the whole affair. How could he say that, when he was told over a year ago that Voldemort had been restored to full strength? It was as Dumbledore had said on that June night; it was Fudge's love of his position that kept him from believing that Voldemort was back, all because he was scared of admitting that the world he lived in was about to change. Now he was acting as if it all came as a huge and unexpected shock.

Harry reached down and picked up the paper again, and read the last few lines of the article.

'...many among the magical community have called for Fudge to step down from his position as the British Minister of Magic. It has been met by criticism by some within the ministry who are adamant that to change ministers now in such a sensitive climate would only prove detrimental to the efforts of getting You-know-who under control and out of power. No comment has been given by the Ministers office on if he will resign."

Why had Harry ever thought that Fudge would change his tact when he finally caught on that Voldemort was back? He threw The Daily Prophet onto his bedside table, and walked over to the window.

The warm, summer air was calm and still. He scanned the cloudless sky, but nothing could be seen on the solid mass of blue. He was growing anxious for Hedwig to return. It had been just over a week since he returned to the stiff and proper Privet Drive, and each day seemed to drag on painfully slowly. Ron and Hermione had promised that they would come and get him as soon as possible, but had not yet said when that would be.

He walked over to his bed and sat with his knees hugged to his chest and his back against the wall. It seemed odd that only a year ago, he felt angry; trapped at number 4. This year, however, he felt more trapped in his mind than anywhere else. He felt that if he could just leave the solitude at Privet Drive behind, and be with his friends, it would ease his growing depression.

So many times he would awake in the night to a sound of a large dog barking. It was only the new next door neighbor's large dog to which Uncle Vernon had formed a vendetta against ("The filthy mongrel! I will rejoice the day they move out!"), but for Harry, it had always made his heart skip a beat. He half expected; half wished that a big, black, bear-like dog would appear out of the shadows. But as his mind caught up to him, he would come back to his senses and his pain would grow all the more as if someone was closing a noose around his heart.

The one thing that was making his stay truly horrible was the dead weight that had settled on him as he tried to cope with losing someone that was very important to him. He knew that wishing and hoping that Sirius would appear was in vain... There was nothing he could do.

Ron and Hermione were sending daily owls, but they were far from comforting. Though they never spoke of Sirius, neither did they say when or where they would be taking him away from Privet Drive. All they had to say on the matter was that it was not ready yet. What "it" was, Harry did not know.

And so, he sat with his back to the wall watching the last vestiges of the sun fade, and the hazy orange glow of the streetlight to appear through the open window. The large dog next door barked and Harry's heart, as it had so often did in the time he had since he returned, felt like it skipped a beat, but it was soon faded to more howls of anger from Uncle Vernon.

The sounds of night soon filled the room as Harry sat against the wall, trying to just let go, to not dwell on what had happened. The past week had dragged on as if it was a month. He spent most of it alone, waiting for a sign that the Order would be coming for him. He slept badly, partly because of the barking of the dog next door, but also because he was dreaming of the Department of Mysteries; of watching the brains soar out of the tank; the confrontation in the hall of prophecy; the battle between Voldemort and Dumbledore. He was grateful that he was not plagued by dreams of Sirius, though did not understand why he was not; was it that he dwelled so much on it in his waking moments that his mind could not stand to dwell on it any longer in the unconscious grip of sleep?

And so, late into the night he stood vigil, waiting for the sound of wings and a burning hope of leaving this place until slowly, he drifted off into slumber, still fully dressed.

***

Hedwig had not returned when Harry awoke. He rose, resigned to the fact that he would probably have another's day long wait for the letter he so wanted. The morning had dawned bright and clear as a gentle wind rustled the leaves in the trees as he got up, scanned the sky once more, and when certain there was nothing there, he made his way out the door of his room, and down the stairs.

Uncle Vernon's mustache bristled as Harry sat down at the table. He was still clearly in a state of indignation of what happened at Kings Cross station. He had taken his old stance of pretending Harry wasn't there, but his body language betrayed him. Harry grabbed a few slices of toast from the stack in front of him and ate quickly, not wanting to force his company on any of them anymore then he had to. If he had the choice, he would never return, but he knew that it might very well have been Privet Drive that had kept him alive all these years.

Aunt Petunia was standing at the kitchen sink, staring out the window as though deep in thought. He had noticed that since his return, his aunt had been very subdued, quiet, and did her best not to meet his eyes. Though he so longed to leave, his curiosity was growing as to why she had become so quiet and distant.

She turned and bustled quickly out of the kitchen. Harry put down his toast and followed her. After he followed her into the drawing room, she looked up when he entered, and averted her eyes.

"Is everything okay?" asked Harry out of curiosity for his aunt's strange behavior as of late.

She turned to look at him again, this time, not turning away to avoid his stares. There was a very long pause in which they both looked into each other's eyes.

"I...I did not expect all this," said Aunt Petunia weakly.

"Expect what?" Harry asked, sitting down in the chair opposite her.

"All of this to happen," she replied quietly. "I didn't know that the world which I so long had tried to distance myself from would catch up to me, to haunt me again."

Harry stared at his aunt, trying to take in what she had said. He remembered back to the night of the dementor attack, when Aunt Petunia had shown herself to be more knowledgeable of the hidden magical world than Harry had ever thought.

She reached into her apron and extracted a tightly rolled newspaper that Harry recognized as an old Daily Prophet. He took it and opened it to find the paper from 3 days ago where they were reporting more on the mass revolt of the dementors of Azkaban. Clearly she had picked it up while Harry was outside trying to ease his sorrows once more by walking through Little Whinging.

"How did you know about the dementors?" asked Harry after a few minutes silence.

Aunt Petunia looked up, her face as growing red, and she looked away again. Harry had the distinct impression that there was something Aunt Petunia was hiding from him.

"You can tell me," said Harry with out hesitation. "I won't think badly of you."

There was another long pregnant pause, then aunt petunia, looking down at her feet spoke in a constraint voice. "I...I don't know how to start." Her face grew ever redder and Harry saw that her hands were shaking slightly. "I was 4 when Lily was born. I felt so threatened by her, like she would replace me in my parent's hearts. I...I know now that this was not true, but growing up I felt like I was pushed to the side, while my parents showered Lily with love and attention." A tear fell down her cheek and onto the floor. "I was too blinded to see I was wrong.

"I grew jealous; Lily was smarter than me, prettier than me... It only made me grow more bitter and resentful. And then... then, on her eleventh birthday, she got her letter, and... and once again she had beaten me at something. She went off to Hogwarts, and I was left, to hear of the stories she brought home. My parents were proud of Lily. Deep down I was angry that I wasn't the one that restored magic to the family."

"What?" Harry blurted out. "What do you mean restored magic to the family?"

Aunt petunia was still staring resolutely at her shoes. "We grew up with stories of might and magic, of adventures that our great grandfather said he had been on, where his magic saved the day. He spoke of dragons and other mythical beast. He used to tell tales of these creatures that feed on others happiness and drains them of it. He was very old when we were young, but his stories always kept us eager for more. He spoke of a prison out to sea where these hooded, happiness-stealing creatures stood guard over the most evil, foulest wizards of the age. We were enthralled by the stories he told. He spoke of a school where those of magic could learn and grow.

"I spent much of my childhood wishing, hoping that it was all real. I used to dream of taking my place at the magical school, and becoming a powerful witch like in my great grandfather's stories, and going on those adventures he had. But my eleventh birthday came and left, and I was disheartened, I was growing from the naivety of a young child, and was beginning to push those fables out of my mind. Then, on Lily's eleventh birthday, the letter came. I thought it was a sick joke of my great grandfather who was nearing the end of his life. He was so proud, as was the rest of my mother's family. He died shortly after that. From that moment on, my hatred for all things magic grew, and my resentment for my sister reached its peak. I turned my back on her, and the stories that once filled my dreams."

She stopped, more tears leaking down onto her shoes.

"So," said Harry very taken aback. "You're a squib?"

"No," she replied miserably. "No, my great grandfather was the last in the family until Lily got her letter. I doubt that with such a gap, I would be considered anything more than a muggle."

Harry couldn't help but feel pity for his aunt. There were many times in Harry's life where he was jealous of what Dudley got; he understood her completely.

"And now," Aunt Petunia croaked. "I feel like it's all closing in on me. When I found you on my doorstep, I saw Lily within you; I saw her haunting green eyes looking at me. It reminded me of every reason I hated Lily so much. But I knew that to abandon you might prove your end. As I looked into your eyes, I remembered, that in all my bitterness, there was one person who loved me no matter what."

"And that was my mother?" questioned Harry quietly.

Aunt Petunia dabbed her eyes with her apron. "I took you because, deep down, I wanted Lily to forgive me for turning my back on her. By taking you in, though you reminded me so much of her, I was repaying the lost years to her.

"Then, last summer, the dementors, I...I felt like the wall keeping me safe had collapsed. I remembered back to the great grandfather's stories, and it reminded me the price I now pay for keeping you safe. Yet..." she dabbed her eyes again. "What could I do? I could not abandon you though the pain was still strong. You were a living reminder of the world I so longed to be apart of. And now, the world I so longed to be apart of is now in chaos. I'm scared... scared that the wall between the life I have, and the life I wanted was falling. I...I am afraid something will happen again, and this time the price will be higher."

Harry stared at his aunt for a few minutes, trying to take in all that she was saying. He, too, knew what it felt like for the wall between his two worlds to seem to melt away. All was silent until Uncle Vernon entered. Aunt petunia quickly dabbed her eyes and regained her composure.

"Well Petunia, dear," he said jovially, completely unaware of what had just happened. "I am off to the office." He kissed his wife and gathered his coat and his hat, and left with out a further word.

Harry jumped when something gripped his shoulder. He looked up to see Hedwig looking reproachful at what she saw as a less then warm welcome. "You scared me," he said weakly. She hooted quietly and held out her leg, and Harry removed the letter that was tied to it. He hastily unrolled it and read:

Harry,

Everything is ready, and mum says we are coming to pick you up tonight after sundown. They want to leave as soon as possible, and they want you to have all your things packed. Sorry that it's taken so long, but some of the order has been busy, we only just arrived ourselves. Just send Hedwig back so we know you got the letter. I can't say too much more, I will see you tonight.

Ron.

P.S. I would recommend you don't pack one of your robes, you will need it.

He had been waiting for so long to get this letter, and yet, he looked up, Aunt Petunia had already left, and deep down, though he was so glad to finally be leaving, all the same, a part of him felt guilty for leaving her. He spent most of the day up in his room. He had no idea where his aunt was, but when he had looked for her, she, too, it seemed, had left the house as had Dudley short after he had went back to pack. It did not take him long to pack and he had done as Ron suggested, keeping out one of his robes.

He wondered how they were going to leave to Grimmauld place, as he was certain that they would be returning to the Head Quarters, it was the safest place outside of Hogwarts. With a pang, he remembered that his broom was still in the Hogwarts dungeons; he had not gotten it back at the end of term. Also, why would he need to keep the extra robe out?

Aunt petunia did not return until late in the afternoon, but was nervous about speaking more of the conversation. Though Harry tried to talk to her, she bustled away saying she was busy and needed to get her work done. When Uncle Vernon came home, she was to her normal self, though Harry noticed that her eyes were red.

He decided to tell the dursleys that he was leaving after night fell, and Uncle Vernon broke his vow of silence to exclaim loudly that Harry leaving had made his day. He was soon drowned out by a chorus of barking by the neighbor's dog, to which he strode over to the kitchen window, wrenched it open, and yelled "If you do not control that mongrel of yours, I will be calling the glue factory!" He returned after slamming the window shut, agitated. Harry ate quickly and paced his room, waiting as the last vestiges of the summer sun fades away, and the orange glow of the streetlamps was the only light in the room. He hastily put on the robe they had asked him to keep out.

The house seemed to shiver with anticipation, as the Dursley's grew nervous of the imminent arrival of a gang of witches and wizards ticked nearer. Uncle Vernon was still agitated, Dudley was quiet, and Aunt Petunia stood in the kitchen, staring out the window like she had done that morning: deep in thought.

He grabbed Hedwig's empty cage (having sent Hedwig back with his reply) and heaved his trunk down the stairs and put them in the hallway. They waited in silence, Harry sitting on his trunk, and Uncle Vernon pacing; Dudley had taken refuge in his room.

The dog next door was making a great deal of racket, much more than usual and Uncle Vernon got up to yell again, but stopped dead: a group of people were outside the back door; he could see their forms through the lace curtain. He watched as one raised their wand and muttered something he could not hear through the glass. The lock clicked and the door opened quietly.

Standing on the threshold was Remus Lupin, Tonks, and Mad Eye Moody. They quickly moved and were followed by Bill Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and, to Harry's surprise, Ron. They hastily closed the door behind them. It was a few moments before Harry realized that the dog's barking had suddenly stopped. Each was carrying a broom and looking agitated. But none was more agitated than Uncle Vernon, who was eyeing Moody with a burning hatred in his eyes. "You!" he said savagely. Clearly Uncle Vernon was still angry over the confrontation at King's Cross.

"Me!" growled Moody in reply. "Got everything ready? Good"

Moody was eyeing Uncle Vernon with the same dislike on his face as Uncle Vernon had, and for a few moments they stared at each other, shooting daggers with their eyes wishing nothing but ill for the other. Harry pulled his trunk through the kitchen where Lupin and Tonks began once again to harness it to Tonks's broom.

"I don't have a broom," said Harry warily. "It was confiscated."

"Here," said Ron. Harry had not noticed that Ron was carrying two brooms. Ron threw him the other, and with a grin, Harry recognized it as the Firebolt Sirius had given him, looking as perfect as ever. Lupin and Tonks were harnessing Harry's things to Tonks's broom again.

"Now if only I can get Quidditch back," Harry remarked, grinning. Ron looked suddenly uncomfortable. His grin had slid off his face.

"Why can't we just use a portkey?" asked Harry as he looked out at the gathered crowd.

"Can't risk it," growled Moody. "The Ministry keeps records of these things, and there are those in the Ministry we can't trust. Come on, before the spell wears off on that wretched dog. Let's go."

Harry followed them back out the door, thankful that Ron had told him to wear his robes. He turned, remembering he direction they had headed last year, but looking at the others, saw that they were preparing to head in a different course. Harry felt the cold sensation on the top of his head, and knew that Moody had disillusioned him like last time. Green wand sparks appeared among the stars and they took off, Harry following between Tonks and Ron with Lupin and Bill in the front, Moody and Shacklebolt in the back.

He watched as Privet Drive seemed to fall away, and following Lupin and Bill, they flew into the starry night. Yet again, though he was glad to be leaving, a part of him felt bad about leaving his aunt behind in the state she was that morning.

And so, they flew, Harry feeling free and happy once more. As the night grew, he started to become colder as the wind rushed past him. It became more pronounced as the flight continued. He was being taken in a different direction then last time. They were not heading towards London, but were flying instead of over towns and cities, but less populated communities.

Harry's mind shifted as they flew. He was remembering the Daily Prophet that Aunt Petunia had handed him, the one that was talking in more detail about the dementors revolting from Azkaban. As he thought about it, he felt colder. Something was happening, the coldness was growing, and it was not the coldness of the wind lashing his face; he felt it grow within him. No, they couldn't be here; not now!

"Something is coming from the left!" roared Moody as Harry fumbled, trying to pull his wand from his waistband, the cold growing all the stronger. "WE'RE BEING TAILED!" shouted Moody.

Dark shapes were moving around them, coming closer. Harry had freed his wand and pointed it at the nearest shape as it soared nearer. He focused his mind, trying to find a happy memory. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Nothing came but a feeble wisp of silver mist. All around him, the others were casting the charm around him. From their wands erupted not silver mist, but corporal patronesses. He could not make out what they were, they were circling around them. The cold was growing stronger yet, as more dementors loomed out of the dark night. The only light came from the patronesses, circling them, keeping the dementors at bay.

Harry focused his mind again, trying to find a happy thought. But in all his despair of the past few weeks, he was unable to muster anything that was strong enough. More dementors were looming out of the night. The cold was growing, and all happy thoughts were being drained from him. The shouting of the others was fading into silence, the wind was growing quiet in his ears. 'NO!' he thought desperately, trying once again to regain his composure. He raised his wand one more time, and shouted the incantation with every fiber of his being, every ounce of strength he could muster in the growing cold.

The silver stag erupted from the tip of his wand and joined the foray. He felt his strength failing him as the stag reared, pushing the dementors back. Something was happening. The dementors were being push farther away. It was as if the others patronesses were too weak to drive the dementors off alone; that his patronus, which shone brighter than the others, almost blinding, was able to aide the others in doing what they could not do alone. The dementors were fleeing, shrieking into the night.

Harry felt the happiness returning: the cold was retreating, he could hear the wind, and the others shouting around him. The stars had begun to shine once more. The patronesses faded, making the dark all the darker. By the moonlight he saw Lupin and Bill dive; instinctively, he followed, and below them, trees gilt by the silver light of the moon loomed nearer. They were heading towards an empty clearing, the ground rising fast toward them until Harry felt his feet hit the ground.

Looking around, he saw that everyone was out of breath. Harry looked around the empty clearing surrounded by a dense impenetrable forest. Harry stared around him. He was confused. He felt Moody tap him on the head with his wand, and knew that the disillusionment spell had been removed.

"We were tailed," growled Moody. "It was a gathering of dementors."

Harry turned around and saw that Dumbledore was standing nearby. He had appeared in the blink of an eye while Harry was looking around at the foreboding forest. Dumbledore looked grim as he surveyed them all.

"Welcome Harry," said Dumbledore quietly, his blue eyes twinkling in the moon light that was flooding the clearing. "To Spinner's End."