The Silence Remains

I'm not a perfect person

There's many things I wish I didn't do

But I continue learning

I never meant to do those things to you

And so I have to say before I go

That I just want you to know

I found a reason for me

To change who I used to be

A reason to start over new

And the reason is you...

-The Reason by Hoobastank -

Chapter One - The Gift

The nights were that much lonelier at Number 4, Privet Drive.

A young man lay in his bead, his black hair looking as though he'd just finished running through the streets in a high wind, his green eyes staring at the ceiling, unblinking. His bangs fell back as he shifted a bit on the comforter, revealing a lightning-bolt shaped scar. His nose twitched a bit as he watched a spider walk across the smooth-painted ceiling.

In the corner, a snowy owl hooted softly. The young man's head turned to her, seeing her still within her cage. He lifted his legs and threw them over the side of the bed, and walked over to her, his hands coming up to undo the clasp that kept her golden cage locked.

"I'm sorry, Hedwig, I let my mind wander."

The owl looked at him, then fluttered to his shoulder. Her large yellow eyes stared into his, as though trying to perceive his thoughts. Then, as though she had seen them, she nuzzled his ear, then turned about and lifted into the air and out the open window of the young man's room.

The young man sighed, and moved back to his bed, this time sitting upon the side. The clock on his beside table read 11:59. A grin flitted across his face, but only for a moment, before the numbers fell to reveal 12:00.

"Happy Birthday, Harry Potter."

He leaned forward and reached under the bed, drawing forth a thin wooden rod. It looked a bit worn, as though someone had been using it for baton practice quite often. He swished it through the air, and sparks flew from the end of it, illuminating the room with golden light. The young man sighed once more, and placed the rod back under the bed.

"One more year."

He lay back in his bed again, this time sliding his hands behind his head, and once more tracked the progress of the spider on the ceiling.

"One more year..."

*~*~*

The Dursleys no longer considered their houseguest of a nephew a burden, and Harry was left well enough alone. Ignored by Petunia, Dudley, and Vernon alike after they had received the talking to from Moody at King's Crossing, Harry had been allowed his own space, which he used to trek from one room to another inside the Dursley's house, or to go outside. There was always a space for him at the table, and there was always enough food, but they did not speak with him for the most part. Dudley himself had only muttered "geroff" the once when Harry had stepped on his foot, which was quite an accomplishment in itself, given Dudley's girth.

Harry spent most of his time outdoors, tending the garden his aunt had long ago given up on. It was soothing, and it kept his mind from wandering back to that night deep underneath London. It was looking rather well, the garden, as Harry had torn up everything and started from scratch, creating lines of both flowers and vegetables. Tulips sat alongside radishes, chamomile beside the carrots. He took the ripened carrots and radishes to his aunt, who thanked him without looking at him, and usually placed them to the side. Harry did notice that the Dursley's ate a lot more stew than was usual, and always with the same kind of vegetables he grew in the garden.

Hedwig had not returned in two days, and Harry was beginning to worry, until she landed in the middle of some weeds he was pulling up from the ground, a wrapped package tied to her ankle. She hooted and looked up. Harry followed her gaze to see five additional owls, including Pigwidgeon and Errol both carrying a rather large package. He freed the owls from their burdens and offered them some of the worms he had found in the dirt as he was tending the garden. They all ate, and nipped his fingers affectionately.

Harry grabbed the packages he had been sent and ran inside. Ignoring the shouts of his aunt and uncle to watch the mud on the carpet, he stomped up the stairs two at a time to his bedroom. He opened the door in time to see the owls flying in through the window and finding perches. Errol landed on the floor, laying there a bit before standing back upon his claws and hooting at Harry. Pigwidgeon and Hedwig lit on top of Harry's dresser, watching him intently. The other three owls found the end of the bed and sat, as only owls can, for a rest.

He opened the package brought to him by Errol and Pigwidgeon, finding the usual assortment of pies and a birthday cake from Mrs. Weasley. There was another package within, and Harry opened it to reveal parchment. His brow furrowed as he read the paper - Fred and George had given Harry a quarter partnership in Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, which was doing quite well. They had enclosed a box of sweets, and Harry lay them to the side carefully. He had already seen the adverse effects of the twin's confections, and they were enough to give Harry a sense of caution.

His second package, judging by the writing, was from Hermione, and he opened this one with a bit of caution, as well. The homework planner she'd gotten him last Christmas still spouted off phrases from time to time, even while closed, and the last thing he wanted was another one of those. This one was a book - Hogwarts, A History - and Harry smiled. For the past five years Hermione had complained about his and Ron's lack of interest in reading about their school for Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was a rather nice copy, bound in leather with silver edges on the pages. He opened the cover and read her note to him:

Dear Harry,

As much as I wish I could be there with you after what happened this year, Dumbledore has told us we must remain within Headquarters. I thought I might be able to cheer you up with this book - it mentions us in it now! Wizarding books, especially history books, update themselves every five years. We are mentioned in the very end, including our adventures with the Sorcerer's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, and you are mentioned especially with the Triwizard Tournament as the final winner, along with Cedric.

I promise that we will see you soon. Dumbledore has all but lost an ear to Mrs. Weasley begging him to let you come stay with us for the summer, and he has agreed, but not yet set a date. I do believe it will be soon.

We miss you around here.

Hermione

Harry set the book on the bed, and opened the next package, obviously from Ron from the scrawl atop the box. It wasn't wrapped too tightly, but there was so much Spell-o-Tape on the paper that Harry was sure no Muggle would have been able to open it. There was a gold rectangular box, in his hand after the paper was removed. Harry removed the top and brushed aside the tissue paper. Inside the paper was a small knife. He recognized the handle instantly - it was the same his godfather had given him, only Ron had affixed a new blade. Harry lifted it from the box, and held it in his hand, feeling the weight of the steel.

His thoughts flew back to a few weeks ago, when he had been beneath the streets of London in the Ministry of Magic, and had tried to use this very same knife to enter one of the doors in the Department of Mysteries. The blade had melted, and Harry had pocketed the handle. He did not remember throwing it aside when they got back, but he supposed he had, as Ron had gotten the handle. He set the box to the side, and looked at the blade again. It was smooth, and obviously sharp. He closed his eyes, and let the tears fall as he remembered his godfather's death, the way the jet of light had entered his chest and sent him backwards into the veil. His chest shuddered with a caught sob - he didn't want the Dursley's to know he was crying - and he set the knife back into the box. He continued with opening his presents, trying to keep his mind from his thoughts when he held Ron's gift.

*~*~*

The next morning brought a shock to Harry as he was awakened by a tapping on his bedroom door.

"Yes?"

"Get up, Harry, it's time for breakfast."

Harry sat in his bed stunned. For the first time he could remember, his aunt was speaking to him in a civil tone. He hopped out of bed, still in his bedclothes, and opened the door to see his aunt standing there. Her face no longer looked as though she had just bitten into a fresh lemon, but actually seemed motherly. Harry took a step back.

"I'll be down in a bit."

Aunt Petunia nodded, and walked away towards the staircase. Harry dressed quickly in jeans and a shirt, and trotted down the stairs to see his uncle and cousin sitting at the table, as well as a man Harry had not seen since he was 12. That time, Dobby the house elf had dropped a large cake onto Mr. Mason's wife's head, and the resulting owls from the Ministry of Magic had sent both Mr. and Mrs. Mason into conniption fits. Harry paused in the doorway of the kitchen and looked between the four people already within.

Uncle Vernon looked up from his conversation with Mr. Mason and grinned. "Come bo-...Come, Harry, have a seat. Mr. Mason would like to have a few words with you."

Harry gripped the doorframe a bit harder. The last thing he wanted to do was have a conversation with Uncle Vernon's boss. He walked to his usual place at the table. Before him, for the first time, was one of the plates Aunt Petunia usually reserved for only her son, her husband, and herself. Harry's brow quirked a bit.

Mr. Mason straightened his tie a bit and cleared his throat. "Well, Harry, your uncle tells me you will be turning seventeen next year. Is this true?"

Harry looked up from his plate towards the man who rivaled Uncle Vernon in girth. "Yes, sir."

Uncle Vernon's eyes twitched a bit. He hadn't expected Harry to answer so respectfully. He straightened his own tie as Mr. Mason continued.

"Well, you're going to need something to do once you leave school. Your uncle tells me you've been attending St. Brutus' School for Incurably Criminal boys, and that you've been making some progress there. I've been employing men from that institution for many years now, as they make good, honest workers. I was wondering if you've given any thought to what you're going to do once you leave St. Brutus?"

Harry had made no expression whatsoever during this spiel. His aunt turned from the stove, sizzling pan in her hand, and watched Harry. Dudley stopped shoveling food into his mouth to do the same.

Harry simply grinned. "Well, I have given a bit of thought to it..."

Mr. Mason interrupted him, "Well that's good, that's good. It's nice to know that younger people give thought to their futures." Mr. Mason shifted a bit in his seat. "I was wondering, Harry, if you would like to come work for me at Grummings? It would be a great place to work."

The Boy Who Lived felt the grin on his face grow a bit wider. The Sorting Hat hadn't questioned him about Slytherin for nothing. He sat back in his chair. "Well, yes, I have thought about working at Grummings, Mr. Mason."

The chubby man's face brightened up, as it had fallen seeing the grin on Harry's face. "Well! that's good news! We could begin you to work as soon as you leave St. Brutus'..."

Harry's face broke out into a smile. "Yes, yes, well, I did not say I would actually work there, now did I?"

A collective gasp was heard from Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley. Harry could only see Uncle Vernon's eyes, and they widened, with anger or fear Harry could not discern. Mr. Mason seemed not to notice.

"Yes, well, I'm sure we can change your mind. After all, St. Brutus usually assigns you a place to work after you leave the school..."

Harry's laughter could no longer be contained, and laughter escaped from his lips, much to the dismay of Uncle Vernon. Mr. Mason looked slightly put off.

"Do you honestly think I want to work for you? Much less for my uncle, who treats me as though I were a dog's droppings, fit to be scraped from his shoe? I would rather be attacked by a hippogriff!"

Harry stood as Mr. Mason watched him. Uncle Vernon began spluttering. "Now, b-Harry, it's not really that bad-"

Harry's smile was gone, along with the laughter. He could feel the anger rising in him as it did when he had blown up his great-aunt when he was 13. "It truly is, Vernon. For 16 years, you've treated me as dirt. Even with all I've done for you, work around the house, tending the garden to bring the cost of the grocer trips down, staying out of your way, you've treated me as though I were less than dirt. I refuse to work for any company that you've been part of. I have my own plans for my future. And they do not concern Grumming's Drills. Take your offer and stuff it."

Harry turned, not looking at any of his family, nor Mr. Mason (whom he could hear muttering "What's a hippogriff?"), and walked out of the kitchen swiftly. His footsteps took him up the stairs and back to his room, where Hedwig was sitting upon his bed, his phoenix-feather wand in hand. Harry stopped moving. His impulse was to grab his wand and storm back downstairs to hex his family into oblivion.

Laying on the bed, however, was a note.

*~*~*

I'm witholding my anger

Though I'd like to be the strangler

Of this punk-ass little pussy's puny neck

It's my right to insist

That he acknowledge my existence

But he just displays complete lack of respect...

-Bully by Eminem-

Chapter 2 - Fighting on the Home Front

Harry took the wand from Hedwig's claw, but it slipped from his fingers and onto the floor as he saw the letter up close. Surprise at seeing the writing on the letter caused his anger at his uncle's family to drain away, making way for another wave of sadness that washed over him, sending him to his knees.

He reached out and picked up the letter, still staring at his late godfather's handwriting. Surely this was a trick. Voldemort playing games with his head. He dropped the letter onto the floor, and grasped his wand as his uncle burst into his room.

"What in blazes-"

"FINITE INCANTATEM!"

The blue mist sparkled as it filled the room, and the jet of blue light hit the letter, sending it into the air, where it spun for a moment before fluttering back onto the bed. Harry scrutinized it. Nothing had happened. Then he turned, remembering his uncle had come in.

Uncle Vernon merely stood there as the mist faded, his face amazed at the effect the simple words had created. He blinked, then shook his head, and suddenly his face was redder than ever.

"I TOLD YOU NONE OF THAT NONSENSE IN THIS HOUSE! GET OUT! GET OUT!"

Harry merely stood there, letting his uncle's words wash over him. His aunt had appeared in the doorway in time to see the last bit of the mist fade away, and her face also became quite red.

Harry heard a fluttering behind him, and turned to see an owl with a very official-looking letter land upon his bed and proffer it's claw. He walked over to the bed and took the letter. Uncle Vernon was fuming and laughing at the same time.

"Haha, boy! That's your group of freaks! They're to come and arrest you! Then I won't have to worry anymore, you'll be with the denty-molars!"

Uncle Vernon did a bit of a dance where he was standing as Harry watched, opening the letter. He drew forth a bit of parchment and read :

Dear Mr. Potter;

Our alarms have shown that you performed an incantation ending charm at 11:23AM this morning. This is against the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Magic. Ministry officials will arrive at your house within the hour to take you to the ministry, where you will be questioned for this action and placed under arrest. Your wand will be confiscated upon their arrival. Use your remaining time to pack your belongings.

Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic

The Ministry owl fluttered out the window as Harry finished reading. He turned to his uncle, bringing his wand up to point at the fat man.

"Get out of my room, you fat tub of shit."

Uncle Vernon's face went white as parchment, and Aunt Petunia looked as though she were going to faint. The wand didn't waver, and the rage in Harry's eyes was quite evident. Not taking his eyes off the boy, Vernon walked to the doorway.

"There better not be a trace of you left when they come for you."

Harry grinned. "Don't worry."

Vernon closed the door, and Harry turned back to the letter with Sirius' handwriting. He picked it up again and placed it in his pocket. He pulled the floorboard up and took out his books and belongings, and opened his trunk and placed them inside. He opened his closet and drew forth his clothes and robes, and placed them into the trunk as well. His wand he left on bed.

"Hedwig, I need you to take this letter to Dumbledore. I'm sure he knows what's happened, but it will give him an idea of what they said this time."

Harry tied the letter from the Ministry to his owl's foot, and she lit out the window. Harry watched her for a moment, then turned back to the room. Everything he owned was inside his trunk. He sat on the bed, and drew out the letter from Sirius. Breathing deeply, he opened it and took out the parchment.

Dear Harry;

If you are reading this, it means I am gone.

I hope that even though you receive this, you are alright. We only knew each other for a short time, but the time I spent with you was worth the 12 years I spent locked in Azkaban, and the time I spent locked within my mother's house.

This has come to you as my final Will and Testament. It is short, but legal, as Dumbledore and Moody are watching me write this, and will affirm their own witness to this.

All that I have, Harry, now belongs to you. My account at Gringott's, my mother's House, and any other items that came into my posession with my mother's death, all are yours. I know this is small countenance, given what you are going through now, but it is all I have to give you.

I also wish to give you the name of your Godmother, whom Dumbledore decided to keep silent until something happened to me.

It is ironic, however, that the woman you consider to be your mother-figure is also your Godmother. Molly Weasley was asked to be such at your birth, as she had been there to bring you into the world, and James and Lilly would have nobody else to take to the task. That is why she treats you as her own son - for in a way, you already were.

Have a good life, Harry. I wish I could be there to watch you finish school, and to go into life. Don't ever forget the times we had together.

-Sirius

-Witnessed by Albus P.W.B. Dumbledore and Alastor Z. Moody

Harry heard a knock at the front door as he finished reading, and he folded the letter up and placed it back into his pocket. A moment later, there was a knock at the door, and two men in wizard robes followed Uncle Vernon into the room, looking around.

"Where is he?"

Uncle Vernon's eyes bulged. "He...he's right here." He guestured to Harry.

Harry's eyes widened as well. "Uncle Vernon, guesture them to another part of the room, quickly! They're not from the Ministry!"

Vernon's brow furrowed, and he pointed to another corner of the room. "I mean over there."

Harry drew his wand as he saw the two ministry impostors draw their own. He motioned for Vernon to get out the door. Harry leveled the wand at the nearest impostor.

"RICTUSEMPRA!"

The man fell to the floor laughing uncontrollably, and the other man turned as Harry yelled again.

"STUPEFY!"

The man didn't have enough time to cast his own counterspell, and flew backwards into Harry's dresser, falling to the floor, obviously out cold. The first man had gotten over his giggling fit and stood, aiming his want to the right of where Harry was standing. Harry grinned coldly and shouted another spell.

"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"

The man's arms and legs snapped together, and he fell to the floor stiff as a board. Harry had a quick flash of memory back to second year when Hermione had used the very same spell on Neville. He pointed his wand at his trunk, with a quick locomotor trunk incantation, and ran from the room. His aunt, uncle, and cousin were all at the bottom of the stairs, eyes as wide as saucers.

"Don't just stand there, run!"

It didn't take telling them twice. They scurried over each other towards the front door. Just before Uncle Vernon got to it, it flew open, and a man in bright blue robes with a long white beard stepped within the house, his eyes ablase with anger. Harry stopped in his tracks, his trunk bumping into Dudley as the boy tried to get to his feet.

"Dumbledore!"

*~*