Harry Potter and Unexpected Beginnings

Chapter three

Nightfall seemed warmer tonight than it had for the past three weeks. Harry sat in his desk chair lifting the cans of rocks he used as weights, sweat rolling down his face and bare chest. He was still irritated from his conversation with his aunt earlier that day, and found exercise to be a great release for his frustration. Since discovering Misty, Harry was amazed at how quickly she felt comfortable popping in and out of his room. So far today, she had brought him sweets from Honeydukes and sandwiches from Diagon Alley. Finally Harry had become so irritated with her constant interruptions of his studying, that he sent her back to Diagon Alley to purchase him a new pair of trainers and some parchment for letters; anything to get rid of her for a little while. At last, he was able to be alone, and concentrate on something other than spells, hexes and curses.

His mind began to wonder from everything his aunt had said to him earlier that day, to Voldemort and what he had seen. It had been an entire day, and still Harry hadn't heard anything from either Dumbledore or any of the members of the Order. His usual arrival of the Daily Prophet that morning said nothing about the prison being emptied, which was highly unusual. Something of this magnitude would surely hit the papers, even if the Ministry tried to hush it up. Harry had become so frustrated with pacing his room that he finally chose to do something constructive. Since he had slept through his routine of running this morning, he chose to workout in his small room. After completing his usual five hundred sit-ups, and forcing himself to accomplish another five hundred pushups, he began working on his arms, chest, shoulders and back. He was just about through his tenth set of twenty arm curls, when the front door bell rang.

Harry knew the door couldn't be any of his relatives coming home, as his aunt and uncle were in the sitting room downstairs. He had heard, as did the neighbors, the earlier argument about the progress of supper. Harry smiled again as he remembered the course of the fight. Apparently his aunt had used her sister's magic more than she wanted to claim, and was now forced to rely on her own skills to prepare the evening meal, since Harry had gained ownership of his mother's wand. The smells of burnt food still lingered in the air, even though it had been thrown out over four hours ago, and pizza had been delivered shortly thereafter. Harry also knew his cousin was home, since his walls had been vibrating with the sound of loud music for the past hour and a half. With the sound of the doorbell, Dudley finally shut off his stereo and stomped his way from his room and down the stairs. Harry was relieved that at last, he was able to think without his head feeling like a set of voodoo drums were exploding between his ears.

A sudden scream from his aunt, alerted Harry to the dangers below. He quickly retrieved his wand, throwing the door open and running down the steps two at a time. He turned the corner to the kitchen, wand raised, shirtless, sweaty and somewhat out of breath. Inside sat a pale-faced Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon standing over her fanning her face with a dishtowel, his own face purple, the veins on his neck sticking out worse then normal. Cowering in the corner beside the refrigerator was the porkley-sized figure of Dudley, his face nearly as white as his mother's, his hands holding securely to his backside. In the middle of the room stood the dark cloaked figures of Remus Lupin, Mad-Eye Moody, the green haired Tonks, and Arthur Weasley. They all turned to eye Harry as he rushed into the room, eyeing his state of attire and his wand held tightly, pointing directly at them.

"It's nice to see you, too, Harry," Lupin commented with a light voice.

"My word, Harry," Tonks began, eyeing the young man's physic. "Summer has definitely been good to you, hasn't it?" Harry felt the rush of embarrassment, realizing by the way Tonks stared at him, that he had neglected to put a shirt on, and last year's jeans were tighter than they had been a few weeks ago. He looked at Mr. Weasley, and then to Moody, aware that he should lower his wand, but a tiny warning in the back of his mind told him to stand alert.

"Smart boy," Moody said, as though reading Harry's thoughts. "Never let your guard down, even if you think you know whom you're up against."

"This is ridiculous," Tonks insisted, still admiring Harry's bare chest. "He knows who were are."

"Do I?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing on the woman. Tonks was taken back by the sudden suspicion in the young man's eyes.

"Harry, put the wand away, son," Mr. Weasley ordered gently, taking a step toward him. Harry turned his attention to the man he considered a father, feeling a twinge of guilt for having him at bay, but knowing he wouldn't relent until he knew for sure they were, who they claimed to be.

"Why are you here?" Harry demanded, his attention still on Mr. Weasley, who stopped his approach when he realized the boy wasn't backing down.

"Dumbledore sent us," Mr. Weasley told him.

"He got Hermione's owl about the prison, and ordered us to pick you up," informed Lupin.

"If that's true, then tell me how I got in touch with Hermione?" Harry asked, knowing he had to have answers before he'd relent his stance.

"By Fellytone," Mr. Weasley answered.

"You mean Funnybone," Tonks tried to correct. Harry lowered his wand and smiled, relief washing over him.

"You had better explain yourself, right now, boy," ordered Uncle Vernon.

"Watch what you say to him, Muggle," Moody growled, turning to face the round purple man, his magic eye swiveling throughout the room, inspecting every corner of the house.

"Now see here, this is my house, and I demand you all just leave at once," Vernon insisted, glaring from one to the other of the room's occupants.

"We'll leave when we know it's safe," Lupin explained, taking a seat across from Petunia and crossing his legs.

"What do you mean, safe?" Vernon asked, his face deepening, making his face appear to be a giant bruise.

"The prison of Azkaban has been emptied," Tonks explained. "The Death Eaters are on the loose and looking for trouble. That usually means, they're out to kill innocent Muggles, and as you are Muggles...well, need I say more."

"This is all your fault, boy, you and those freakish parents of yours," Vernon growled bitterly. "I knew we should have turned you out, when you were left on our doorstep. Because of you, we now have these...these, eaters of death after us."

"Harry Potter may be your only salvation, Muggle," Moody insisted with a quiet tone that held more warning than any shout ever could.

"James and Lily Potter fought against the Death Eaters, and were killed as a result of trying to protect your world," Lupin told Vernon, his eyes locking with the fat man's.

"Harry has confronted Voldemort more times then you could imagine, and has walked away each time," Tonks added, anger lacing her usually friendly demeanor. "He's more a hero then you would ever dream, and still you treat him like an outcast. Harry Potter is The-Boy-Who-Lived; the only one Voldemort fears next to Dumbledore, so I'd watch my mouth around him if I were you,"

"Balderdash," Vernon growled. "The-Boy-Who-Lived? The-Boy-Who-Intruded, is more like it."

"Harry was a baby when his parents were killed, and because of his mother's love for him, he was able to defeat Voldemort when he was only a year old," Arthur Weasley picked up where Tonks had left off. "Now Voldemort has returned, and it's up to Harry to protect the world from him, yours and ours. That's a lot to ask of a young man, and still you act as though he were an outsider. He is your nephew, man. Is your heart so cold that you can't even treat him right, because of that?"

"Enough of this," Moody insisted. "We're here until it's clear to leave, so you three might as well accept it. Harry, you and Tonks go get your things together. We'll need to leave the instant we get the all clear." Harry nodded, eyeing his aunt and uncle for a brief moment, before turning to leave the room. He knew what his life meant, he knew the responsibility that was his to shoulder, yet hearing it from someone else's mouth, seemed to make it all the more real, and all the more depressing.

"You really had me worried there for a minute, Harry," Tonks told him, as she helped him pack his belongings.

"Sorry," he told her with a slight blush to his otherwise handsome features. He crawled under the bed, retrieving his hidden items before turning back to the green haired woman. "Why didn't the Daily Prophet have news of the prison this morning?"

"Because it was still occupied," Tonks told him. "The alert of the escapes came down just a few hours ago. A few prisoners were recaptured and are in holding at the Ministry, but the Dementors have turned sides, just as you told Hermione."

"How is that possible?" Harry asked, pulling a dark blue jumper across his expanded shoulders. "I saw Bellatrix telling Voldemort about it yesterday."

"I don't know, Harry, but maybe Dumbledore can explain it when we get to Grimmauld Place."

"Will Dumbledore be there?"

"Probably. He has been there all day, all the members have." Harry sat down on the end of his bed. His thoughts turned to Sirius. He didn't know if he could return to his godfather's house, knowing he wouldn't be there waiting. Tonks, seeing the look on his face, and knowing the grief the boy had yet to confront, sat down and placed a warm arm around his shoulders.

"We're all there, Harry. It's what Sirius wanted. He asked that the house remain with the Order, if anything were to happen to him."

"I don't know if I can go back there," he told her honestly, his voice shaking slightly with hidden emotion. "It's my fault he's dead."

"Harry you can't believe that?"

"It is, Tonks," Harry told her, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. "If I had just practiced my lessons like I was told to, if I had listened to Hermione, or had more confidence in Snape to confide in him, he'd still be alive. He gave me a two-way mirror for Christmas last year, and I didn't even open it until he was gone. If I had, I could have contact Sirius and found out it was all a set up, and he'd still be alive. Maybe Voldemort would have been captured that night."

"You have to let go of this Harry, before it eats you alive. Things happen for a reason, I know they do. There's a reason why this happened, and even though we're not clear on the reason right now, we have to look for it."

"I'm all alone, Tonks. He was all the family I had. Everyone I've ever loved has been taken from me, because of Voldemort. I want him dead so badly, I can taste it."

"Revenge can be a dangerous ally, Harry, don't let it consume you. You also need to understand, you're not alone. What about the Weasleys? They love you as a part of their family, and Lupin, he loves you as a son, Dumbledore loves you as a grandson, and I used to love you as a brother, but looking at you today, I'm almost sorry you're not a few years older." Tonks ended with a smile and a wink, causing Harry to blush again. With a chuckle, she stood up and held her hand out to him, happy that he took it and stood beside her.

"You'll never be alone, Harry. And it's not because you're The-Boy-Who-Lived, but because you are Harry...our Harry...The-Boy-We-Love." Harry chuckled, and accepted the hug she offered him, feeling for the first time in quite awhile, what true affection was.

"Thanks, Tonks," he said, as he bent down and gathered the last of his belongings, tossing them in his trunk and latching the lock. He picked up his broomstick and the two of them carried his trunk and Hedwig's cage downstairs, having let the snowy owl out with instructions to meet them at Grimmauld Place. They joined the others in the kitchen, looking around with fascination as Mr. Weasley was examining every item in Aunt Petunia's kitchen with deep interest. Dudley had remained hidden, as much as a small elephant could in a sterile white kitchen, his hands still tucked behind him. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were seated at the table, glaring at the occupants, as Lupin made small talk about the weather, the price of milk and the news coming from the television in the sitting room. Moody paced silently around the room, continually looking outside in the night sky. Harry set his trunk down on the floor and looked around the room. His interest was mainly on Moody, remembering how traveling last year had been, he quickly removed his traveling cloak from his trunk and tossed it on the back of one of the chairs, to wait their departure.

The room was thick with tension, as the television signaled an emergency alert test. Moody listened to it with interest for a several seconds, his magic eye focused solely on the screen, as though seeing something that wasn't there. He then turned his attention to the sky outside, seeing an odd flash above the houses like lightening, in the clear sky.

'It's time," he said, walking toward Harry. "Tonks, signal the night bus."

"We're not going by brooms?" Harry asked, a little taken back by the change in Moody's manner, as Tonks stepped down the hallway and outside.

"Not all of us," Moody answered, turning to Arthur Weasley who was no sticking his head in the dishwasher, while pushing the buttons.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, watching Lupin stand and walk to his side, placing a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Moody feels it necessary to have a decoy. You, Tonks and Moody are going by night bus, while Arthur and I will take your belongings by broom."

"Tie his trunk on the end of his broom, and...Weasley! Are you paying attention?" Moody snapped, causing Mr. Weasley to hit his head roughly on the top of the dishwasher, as he stood up out of it, rubbing his aching bald head.

"Do you still have that broom of yours Harry?" Harry lifted his firebolt up from where he'd laid it, next to his trunk, watching as Moody's magic eye quickly scanned it, before turning back to the sky outside. "Good, then let's go," he ordered, hearing Tonks return through the front door. Arthur stopped Harry from leaving with a strong hand on his elbow, and then turned back to his oversized relatives.

"You are to pick Harry up at the train station at the end of the school year, as usual," he ordered, seeing the anger rise further in Vernon's cheeks. "He'll be at school or with us the rest of the year, and I expect you to send him a decent present for Christmas this year. He is after all, your only nephew. You could try and show him a little appreciation for that at least." The group divided, going their separate ways. Harry, Tonks and Moody stepped out the front door and stopped near the night bus, as Moody's magic eye scanned the area. Mr. Weasley and Lupin lingered briefly in the air above them, until Moody signaled them to leave, then flew off with Harry's broom, trunk and Hedwig's cage in tow.

"Well, 'ello there 'Arry Potter," said Stan Shunpike, the big eared conductor.

"Hey Stan," Harry said, stepping in between Tonks and Moody. Stan gave a low whistle as he watched Tonks board the bus, admiring her slim figure and pretty face.

" 'Ello, 'ello," he said, tipping his cap to her as she stopped behind Ernie, the driver and turned to make certain Harry was boarding all right. "The name's Stan," he continued, ignoring the sniff of disaproval from Moody who stepped up unseen behind him. "I'll be your conductor, if there's anythin' at all you need, don't hesitate to ask."

"We won't need anything, other than your attention on the road," Moody snarled, causing Stan to jump back, nearly falling into Ernie's lap, when he looked at the man with half a nose, and swiveling magic eye. Moody reached forward, placing several pieces of gold in the boy's trembling hand. "Anyone on the upper levels?" Moody asked, watching the boy as he struggled to regain his composure.

"Only a witch, what's headin' to Scotland," he answered, clearing his voice as he tried to sound stronger than he truly was.

"Where?" Moody demanded.

"Top level. I'm sure she's sleepin' though. Haven't heard much from her since she boarded couple of hours ago."

"Up the stairs Harry, and stay away from the windows," Moody ordered, starting to walk behind the boy and green haired woman. He stopped suddenly, his eye focusing on Stan from the back of his head. "No one is to know we're on board, is that understood?" Stan nodded, looking at Harry briefly as he stopped with his hand on the railing leading up the stairs.

The night bus was unusual in many ways, mainly that there were no seats, only large brass beds and candles to light the area. On the second level, Harry and Tonks found the beds empty, situated on the outer walls, and pulled the curtains across the windows shut, then sat down on them. Harry suddenly felt the lack of sleep catching up to him, and he kicked his shoes off, leaning backwards on the bed, watching as Moody sat on the edge of the bed opposite him, his magic eye scanning the upper deck.

Harry felt a sudden weight being lifted from his shoulders as the bus sped off towards the east. He felt he was finally able to relax. The presence of Tonks and Moody were enough to help ease the tension left behind from another year at the Dursleys. Harry sighed, thinking about what Mr. Weasley had told them. He would be back next summer, even though the thought nearly made him scream in frustration. Sensing his thoughts, Tonks rolled over on the bed where she laid, her head resting in her hand.

"You do realize, Harry, that you only have one more summer with those people, before you're of age and can do what you want with your life?" Harry looked at her and blinked. That was right, he would be sixteen tomorrow, and that meant that after seventh year was over, he'd be on his own. Then a thought came to him. Would he even have a life to look forward to? Would he even live to see the end of seventh year?

Harry rolled onto his back, and looked up at the ceiling of the bus, watching the shadows from the candles dance across the darkness. He had lived for so long, not knowing what tomorrow would bring, hoping for some sort of rescue from his horrible relatives, only to discover he was a wizard, and at last felt he had found a home at Hogwart's. Now, he was facing the thoughts of having to leave that home after next year, if Voldemort didn't attack it and kill everyone within its walls first.

Fatigue finally demanded attention, causing Harry's eyes to close, his mind empty of all thoughts as he drifted into a peaceful slumber. He could feel himself on the familiar cloud, drifting him far away, the light of the sun slowly sinking into the horizon, as twilight promised a warm day's end. Harry saw a large old home, three, no four floors, pealing paint on the outside walls, windows boarded up and the ground surrounding it looking dead and long neglected. He walked through the shadows of the past, seeing the tombstones of those long gone. Something about this place looked familiar, as he passed one grave-marker after another. He stopped short at the sight of a fresh grave, and looked at the name on the gleaming stone marking the deceased. He tried to read it, but could only make out the first few words, here lies the body of Nar..., but then the rest faded as if in a mist before his eyes. He stood and looked around him, recognizing the place, but unable to remember it fully. He turned started walking away, when a tortured scream echoed from the house nearby. Harry felt a sudden urge to run, baring all his weight and newly acquired talent for speed to take him up the front steps of the house, through the old warped door and into a dark hallway beyond.

In a room, dark and familiar, Harry could see the hooded figures of the room's occupants; Death Eaters. They were gathered around a lone figure of a person, crouching on the floor between them. He tried to push past, eager to see who it was they were looking at, when the cold hissing voice of Voldemort echoed through the stillness of the room.

"How dare you turn against me," hissed the dark lord, his tone cold and filled with hatred. "You of all people know, once you have joined my forces, it is for life. Now the final dues are owed to me." Voldemort nodded to one lone-cloaked figure next to him, and Harry watched as the figure stepped forward, his hand wrapped around his wand. He pointed it at the figure, and Harry watched as the pale head of a woman raised, the fear in her voice as she began to beg the Death Eater for mercy. Without relenting the robed man raised his hand, pointed his wand full force and whispered the words, Harry still heard nightly in his dreams, "Avada Kedavra."

Harry watched in horror as the light shot out from the tip of the hooded figure's wand, striking its victim, killing her in an instant, her last breath escaping in the form of a scream, that left Harry's ears ringing with an all too familiar sound. Wide eyed, Harry looked up at the woman's executioner, watching as if in slow motion as he lowered his hood, looking down at the lifeless form before him, his cold gray eyes staring, unemotionally. Harry gasped, screaming out the name of the woman's murderer:

"Lucius Malfoy!" he screamed, sitting up immediately, his head throbbing, his scar feeling as though his head were being ripped in two. Harry grabbed his head, nearly screaming in his own agony. He could feel his stomach wrenching, as the bus twisted and swerved through the night streets. Harry was nearly certain he was going to loose whatever contents he had eaten that day, laying back on the bed with a loud groan. He felt the warmth of another person sitting next to him, responding to the touch on his arm, he looked up into the concerned eyes of the green haired Tonks.

"Harry, are you all right?" she asked, worry and fear etching her usually friendly tone. "Harry speak to me." Harry tried to form the words, but nothing came out, he tried to speak but his throat was dry and the bile in his stomach burning in his chest.

"Potter, eat this," Moody ordered, pressing a piece of chocolate against his lips. Harry did as ordered, fighting to swallow the sweet object. A few minutes passed by, before the pain from his scar started to subside, his stomach relaxing its clenching sensation. He opened his eyes slowly, adjusting them to the dimly lit surroundings. He stared up at Tonks, and then looked to Moody, who was sitting on the other side of him. Struggling to sit, Harry realized what it was he had eaten.

"I thought chocolate only worked with Dementors," Harry said in a weak tone.

"Chocolate works for several maladies," Moody told him, his magical eye focusing on Harry for several seconds before twisting and scanning the area once again.

"What happened, Harry?" Tonks asked, her hand still resting comfortably on his shoulder. Harry focused on the vision, trying to remember the sequence of events.

"I saw a grave of someone, but I couldn't read the name on it. Then I heard a woman scream and I ran to an old house," he began, feeling as if he was offering only small pieces of the story. "There was a room filled with Death Eaters, and Voldemort was torturing a woman."

"Who was it?" Tonks asked softly. Harry shook his head.

"I couldn't see her face, but she had pale blond hair. She was on the floor between them. Voldemort ordered a Death Eater to kill her and he just did it, not even acknowledging her pleas for mercy. She was begging for her life, and he just pointed his wand and said..." Harry couldn't repeat the words that still raked his soul. He had heard Voldemort using those same words on his mother, every night in his dreams, and still he couldn't bring himself to say them.

Tonks looked to Moody, who stared down at Harry. He could see concern etched in his one normal eye, and Harry felt a sudden fear race through him. He remembered what they had said about the prison being emptied, long after Harry had seen Bellatrix and Voldemort discussing it. Had this also be a vision of the future? Could this murder be stopped?

"You woke up screaming out Lucius Malfoy's name," Moody informed him. "Why?" Harry thought back for a moment, remembering the Death Eater lowering his hood. Harry paled as he remembered the cold, evil look in his eyes.

"It was him," Harry whispered. "He killed that woman, as if she was nothing more than a bug on the sidewalk. He just pointed his wand and spoke the killing curse." Harry lowered himself back to the pillow on the bed, closing his eyes to the sights dancing before him. Was this how it had been for his mother and father? Had Voldemort just spoke the curse and walked away, like it never happened? Harry felt the familiar stir of bile rise from his stomach again, as the bus came to a halt.

"We're here," Stan shouted up to them. Moody rose first from the bed, gathering his cloak and walking ahead of them down the stairs.

"Stay here," he ordered. "I'll let you know if the coast is clear." Harry sat up on the edge of the bed, thankful that the pain in his head had stopped. He reached for his shoes, tying them back on his feet, before standing on shaking legs.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Tonks asked, motherly concern etched across her delicate features. Harry tried to smile, but found the attempt difficult.

"No, but I'll survive," he told her.

"It's all right, come on," Moody called up to them. Harry and Tonks walked down the stairs to the exit, and smiled at Stan and Ernie.

"All right there, 'Arry?" Stan asked, concern shining across his face. Harry smiled at him and nodded.

"Fine," he said. "And thanks for the ride."

"Take care of yourself, now 'Arry," Stan ordered. "Don't want to hear no more bad stuff about you in the Daily Prophet." Harry chuckled. Was there anything bad left to say about him, that hadn't already been written?

The three stood on the sidewalk, watching as the bus disappeared back into the night, before turning to where they knew number twelve Grimmauld Place was hidden.

Harry remembered what this had been like last year, and prepared himself for the appearance of his godfather's home, as he thought the words that would make the house appear.

"The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London."

Harry waited as the door appeared between number eleven and thirteen, before he stepped toward it with Tonks and Moody as his guard. A feeling of regret and grief rose inside him, as he heard the numerous bolts and locks turn at the knock from Moody's wand. He knew what lie within the hidden house and he dreaded coming face to face with Mrs. Black's painting and Kreacher, the treacherous house elf who told Bellatrix about Sirius.

Within a few moments, Mrs. Weasley appeared within the small opening. Behind her, Harry could see the tall red haired image of Ron, who was eagerly smiling at his friend, and next to him stood an equally happy Hermione. Mrs. Weasley placed her finger across her lips to silence them, then stepped aside to allow them all to enter. Once inside, she escorted them past the covered portrait of Mrs. Black and into the kitchen, whispering orders to Ron to take Harry's trunk upstairs to the bedroom.

The kitchen was much as Harry remembered it, large, warm and filled with the aroma of cooking foods. The chair at the end of the table, where Sirius sat remained empty, and Harry felt a lump grow inside his throat as he stared at it. The whole house seemed to take on a sudden emptiness and Harry had to fight to contain his memories and sorrow. He hadn't cried since Sirius had vanished through the veil and he wasn't about to start now.

"Sit down," Mrs. Weasley ordered. "You must all be starving. I've kept dinner for warm for you." The three of them did as ordered, as Lupin and Arthur Weasley joined them from the other room. Moody frowned at them, when they joined them at the table.

"What are you doing here so soon," Moody growled. "You were supposed to take detours to confuse anyone watching you leave."

"Calm down Moody," Lupin interrupted, taking the cup of tea Mrs. Weasley offered him. "We did take detours, every twenty minutes, just as you told us. We just hurried along the way."

"Right, no point in dawdling," Mr. Weasley told him cheerfully, receiving a glare from the deformed man across from.

Harry and Tonks eagerly began eating, feeling as if they hadn't had a meal in a week. Even Harry felt his appetitive coming alive, having endured very little in the way of meals while at the Dursley's. Mrs. Weasley frowned at the way Harry scarphed down his meal, drinking the pumpkin juice with vigor.

"I don't like the way those relatives of yours feeds you," she insisted, refilling his glass for him. "I have half a mind to teach them a thing or two, about raising growing boys."

"I think they know how, considering the size of that cousin of Harry's," Mr. Weasley pointed out. "I think he must have had most of Harry's portions for the past year, all in one week's span of time."

"Those people had best hope, I never get a chance to speak with them," Mrs. Weasley grumbled. "I can think of a curse or two I'd like to teach them."

"You don't need to worry, Mrs. Weasley," Harry told her, suddenly looking up from his plate. "I think my aunt has a curse of her own for her family to endure."

"Harry, you didn't use magic, did you?" Lupin scolded. Harry looked up, his innocent eyes conveying his honesty.

"No, I didn't," he told him. "She did it herself."

"What do you mean, Harry?" Moody asked, seeing the smile cross over Harry's features.

"I learned late one night, completely by accident mind you, that my aunt has had the aid of a house elf at her disposal, as well as my mother's wand," he clarified, watching the expressions cross each of their faces. "She remembered a spell my mother used once to create a meal for her parents, when she brought my father to meet them, and decided to use it for her own benefit. The house elf was mine as a child, and came to her shortly after taking me in."

"I'll have to tell Dumbledore about all of this," Mr. Weasley insisted. Harry glanced to him, reaching for his pumpkin juice. "I'm sure he'll have a thing or two to discuss with your aunt and uncle."

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Weasley," Harry told him.

"How's that, Harry?" Moody asked, watching him with both his eyes. Harry chuckled softly, taking a drink from his glass.

"Because I am now in possession of both objects. I confronted her about them, and demanded their return. She claims she rarely used my mother's wand, but after smelling the results of her attempts at making a roast Muggle-style, I'd say my cousin and uncle are about to go a very strict diet." The room burst into sudden laughter, as they all thought of how this woman would survive now with the lack of magic in their perfectly sculptures, Muggle home.

"What was your uncle's response to her loosing the wand?" Mr. Weasley asked, receiving an almost evil look from the young man.

"He doesn't know anything about it."

"You mean, she's been using magic all these years, and he's never caught on to it?" Tonks asked in astonishment.

"That's rich," Lupin added, with a laugh. "After the way they treated you because of your magical blood, to find out the only way they have all they do, is because of magic. I can't wait to see what their lives will be like come this time next year."

"Care to wager who will loose the most weight, between now and then?" Tonks asked Lupin with a glint in her eye.

"Hey Harry," Ron said, returning from taking his best friend's trunk upstairs and interrupting the current conversation. "Have you heard? You're back on the house team. Dumbledore told us today the band that old bat Umbridge placed on you, has been lifted. You're back on, mate!" Harry blinked several times, amazed that he hadn't thought about quiddich even once, since summer began.

"That's great," Harry said, the thrill of excitment edging its way back into his numb mind.

"We'll be unbeatable, with you back on the team," Ginny announced, as she and Hermione joined the group. Talk of school and quiddich consumed the conversation for over half an hour, until dinner was finished and the table cleared. It was nearly two in the morning before Mrs. Weasley ordered everyone off to bed. Harry stood up and looked around the room.

"I thought Dumbledore was going to be here?" he asked, watching Mrs. Weasley as she cleared the table.

"He will be in a few hours, Harry dear," she told him, glancing up to him. "He had to go to the Ministry and discuss a few things with Fudge. Don't worry, he'll be here when you wake up. Now, off to bed with the lot of you. Tomorrow's a busy day."

"All right mum," Ron said, tugging on Harry's arm, as they left the room, followed close behind by Hermione and Ginny. Once out of sight, and tucked securely into Ron's room, the three began pounding Harry with questions.

"Did you really know about the prison before it was emptied?" Ron asked him, watching the expression cross Harry's face.

"I know it's weird," Harry said. "But I honestly don't know how I did it. It all seemed so real at the time. And there's something else," Harry hesitated telling them about the vision he'd had on the night bus. The three of them waited as he cleared his throat.

"What is it, mate?" Ron asked, the look of concern and fear etching his face.

"I had another vision, on the way here," he told them, watching he expression cross their faces. "I saw Lucius Malfoy killing a woman, and a recent grave."

"Who was it?" Hermione asked, her tone soft, as though afraid to awaken the house ghosts.

"I don't know, I didn't see her face. But he just did it, no questions, no second thoughts, he didn't even blink, he just pointed his wand and issued the killing curse. It was horrible."

"Who's grave was it, Harry?" Ginny asked, watching him closely as he shook his head.

"All I could make out was the letters Nar. I couldn't read the rest of it." The four sat in silence, until they hear the footsteps of Mrs. Weasley echoing up the stairs. Hermione and Ginny quickly and quietly stepped out of the room, and hurried across the hall. Harry and Ron waited in silence when they heard Mrs. Weasley stop by their door, then began to breath again when they heard her walk away. Harry felt more fatigued now, then he had on the bus. He quickly stripped off his clothes, crawling into bed in only his boxers, a habit he had began earlier that summer, when he realized his pajamas were too tight around his shoulders and legs.

"Holy warts, Harry!" Ron said as he watched his friend crawl into bed. "What happened to you? You look like of those models in Witches and Wizards Unleashed." Harry chuckled at his friend's obvious comparison to his recently developed form and the naughty magazine of Fred and George's they had found one night in fourth year.

"I've been running every day and working out with weighted cans. I have to be ready for my battle with Voldemort," he told him, watching his slight twinge at the mention of the dark lord's name, for the first time in quiet a while.

"You look like you run around the bloody country every day," Ron grumbled.

"No, just five kilometers a morning." Harry turned to his friend, watching as he folded his arms across his chest, the grunt of irritation snorted from him. "What's wrong?" he asked, aware of Ron's total disapproval of his new habit. Ron remained quiet for a few minutes, before turning on his side and resting his head in his hand.

"You're going to think I'm mental," Ron began softly, picking at some fuzz on the blanket pulled up across his chest.

"What is it?" Harry watched his friend's expression turn from a bright pink, to a deep red that ran from his neckline to his ears.

"It's just that, I sort of like someone, and with you looking like that, I'll never get a shot."

"Why would my being physically active have anything to do with you getting your girl? It is a girl, isn't it?" Ron grabbed his pillow and tossed it roughly at his friend. Harry chuckled, blocking the propelled object. "So, who is it?" He didn't think it was possible, but Ron actually seemed to turn a brighter shade of red.

"I don't want to tell you," he said with a slight smile. "You'll laugh at me."

"I'll bet I can guess who it is," Harry told him, watching as Ron continued to pick at the fuzz on the blanket. "Have you told Hermione you're in love with her, yet?" Ron looked up at his friend with a deep shocked expression.

"How'd you know?" he asked him. Harry couldn't help but laugh this time, tossing the pillow back across to Ron.

"Are you kidding? Everyone knows you've had a thing for her, since second year, when she was petrified."

"Do you think she knows? I'd be horrified if she knew I liked her."

"Why? I'm pretty sure she feels the same about you. Just ask her out, already. We're going to Diagon Alley soon, you can make that your first date, sort of a casual start."

"Do you think she'd say yes? I mean, what if she doesn't want to go with me? She's our best friend, and I don't want to loose that. Besides, who'll help me with my homework if she says no?" Harry chuckled again, laying down in bed and pulling the blankets across him.

"She won't say no, if you do it right. Just don't' get her angry with you."

"Sure, like that will be easy. She's always angry with me."

"Go to sleep, Ron. I'm sure you'll think of a way to ask her, tomorrow." The two were silent for a few minutes, and just as Harry was about to drift off into sleep, Ron's voice brought him back to reality.

"Harry," he whispered. "Could you ask her out for me?"

"What if she thinks I'm asking her out for myself? I could you know, and I might if you don't. Just think, all I have to do is take off my shirt and she'll be putty in my hands."

"Harry, you wouldn't do that would you?" Harry chuckled and rolled over, offering Ron his back.

"Don't worry Ron, I love Hermione, but nothing like that. Now go to sleep."

"Hey Harry," Ron whispered again. "I'm glad you're here. It's been a long summer without you, mate." Harry closed his eyes tighter, thanking whatever spirits brought him and the Weasleys together. Only with them, did he really feel like he belonged.