Harry Potter and the Summer of the Dementors

Harry never did get to eat a slice of his own birthday cake. As fast as he cut it, pieces were being handed round, then people were surrounding him. Hermione wrapped her arms round him and gave him an enormous kiss; the rest of the girls queued up behind her. It was a rather breathless Harry who escaped to have his hand shaken by guest after guest; it was a full hour before he drew breath again. By that time, the party had thinned out considerably, with most of the adults having gone. There was still a hard core partying on in the other room. Harry wandered back out into the hall where this time he saw Dean and Olive standing at the foot of the stairs looking up. Not them too, he thought to himself.

But Olive turned to him and asked: "This really is your place? You own it?"

He nodded. She looked at him as if she couldn't quite believe him. Then Dean said quietly, "He inherited it from his godfather."

"Oh." She looked at him again. "But what about your parents?"

"Dead," he told her. "Killed when I was a baby."

Her eyes went rounder. "Really?" Harry nodded. "I am sorry."

"One of those things," said Harry rather tersely.

"It's a lovely house, though."

"Want a look round?"

"Are you sure?"

"No problem."

He took them up to the first floor, and showed them the rooms there. Olive was fascinated by the Quidditch posters on the wall.

"But they move!"

"More than West Ham posters do."

"Oi, Harry, watch it," said Dean.

"Remus lives on the next floor up, and Winky and Dobby in the attic."

"Dobby?" asked Olive.

"A house elf. You saw him when the cake was being cut."

"An elf?" Her eyes were round again. Harry nodded. "Wow."

"They do all the work around the house," Dean told her.

"Yeah? Then that's me then - Olive the house elf."

They laughed, then Dean said: "Um, Harry, we've a problem."

"Oh?"

"We won't be able to get home from Lavender's at this time of night - all the buses will have stopped running."

"There's a spare room next door."

"Is there? Thanks."

"What about your parents though?"

Olive shook her head. "It'll be okay."

Harry thought he'd better not enquire further. Nor ask whether they intended sharing the room. Well, they would be - not, better not go there.

He left Dean and Olive to explore the spare room and went back downstairs. There was hardly anyone left, and the last few were making preparations to go. It seemed strangely empty when finally everyone had gone. He dimmed the candles and slowly made his way upstairs. He had barely enough energy to change out of his clothes before he collapsed into bed. Sleep came at once.

He knew something was different - or wrong - when he woke. Where was he? He rolled over onto his back and stared around the room. Then it came to him. Home was Grimmauld Place now. He sank back into the bedclothes. No lessons to get up and go to. No Dursleys banging on his door. He was an adult now. And he could do just what he wanted when he wanted. He drifted off back to sleep as he was turning this over in his mind, and when he woke again it was well past ten o'clock. He knew he didn't have to get up - but he might as well. He threw aside the bedclothes and made for the bathroom. He felt much better after a shower.

He threw on some clothes and headed down to the kitchen for some breakfast. As he was pouring out some tea, Dean and Olive appeared.

"Hi."

"Hi," replied Dean. "We heard you get up, so we thought we should too."

"You didn't have to."

"Nah, but we thought we better."

"Breakfast?"

"Please."

But as Harry started rattling pots and pans, there was a pop, and Dobby appeared, looking reproachful.

"Harry Potter would like breakfast?" asked the elf.

"Er - yeah."

"What would Harry Potter like?"

"Bacon, eggs and toast?"

"And Harry Potter's guests?"

He turned to Dean and Olive. Olive was gazing with fascination at Dobby.

"We'll have the same," said Dean quickly.

"If you would like to wait at the table," said Dobby with dignity, "your breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."

"Yeah - thanks," said Harry, sitting down.

Olive stared at the sight of the little elf busily preparing them breakfast. Half way through Remus came in, and Dobby calmly prepared another plate, and then, as Olive watched amazed, floated them through the air to the table.

"When you have finished," said Dobby firmly, "leave the plates by the sink. Does Harry Potter desire anything else?"

"No, thank you very much," said Harry. The elf disappeared with a pop.

Dean grinned, and Harry looked at him and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"It's just the way he calls you 'Harry Potter' all the time," Dean explained.

"Does everyone have house elves?" asked Olive.

"No," said Remus. "Not unless you've a big house and lots of money."

"Harry has that," she said.

Harry felt he needed to explain. "Dobby used to work for someone else, but I tricked them into setting him free. He agreed to come and work for me instead."

"Who did he work for before?" Dean asked.

"Lucius Malfoy."

"Oh."

There was a silence.

"There're a lot of elves at Hogwarts," Remus remarked.

"Hogwarts?"

"The school Harry and I go to," explained Dean. "Hermione really gets worked up about it - says they should be free."

"Hermione? That girl I met? The really intense one?"

"You could say that," Dean told her. "She's really clever too."

But the sight of their breakfast going cold was too much: they all began tucking in to their bacon and eggs with gusto. Remus pushed his plate back with a sigh, half finished, and sat sipping his coffee whilst the three youngsters ploughed through their food.

"Hard night, Remus?" asked Harry, as he finished his plate.

Remus sighed. "Moody had that hipflask charmed so that it kept on filling up with more supplies from home."

Dean giggled.

"Can he do that?" asked Olive innocently.

"That and more," Remus told her.

"And what was with that eye?"

"Moody can see more with that eye than you might realise."

"Oh." Olive fell silent for a moment. Then: "What do wizards do - for a living, I mean?"

Harry saw Remus' face tighten for a minute. He gazed down into his coffee cup for a moment or so, then looked up at Olive.

"This one works for Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes."

Olive looked none the wiser.

"It's a shop run by Fred and George Weasley," Dean told her. "The twins who were at the party last night."

"The red haired ones?"

"That's right." Dean looked across at the table. "What do you want to do when you leave, Harry?"

Although it wasn't a question he didn't really want to answer, he was glad Remus was off the hook. He took his time, playing with his knife and fork. Finally, he straightened them on the plate and looked up.

"Probably something in the Ministry."

"Yeah? Like what?"

Harry pushed his plate away. "Not quite sure yet. Anyway - what about you?"

"Wands," said Dean.

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Wands. Y'know when we had that careers advice at the end of the fifth year?" Harry nodded, remembering his own interview, with Umbridge sitting in the background. "Well," Dean went on, "we were given all these leaflets and that. And I saw Ollivander's were after an apprentice. I've always been interested in wands. So that summer I goes along to see him. And I spent a week there. Last summer I was there a fortnight, and now I've been there all this summer. Got a job lined up for when I'm finished at Hogwarts."

Harry was impressed.

"So you've got a wand?" asked Olive.

"Yeah. We all have."

"Let's see it then."

Dean dug into his pocket. Harry remembered Moody muttering about 'elementary wand safety' and hid a slight smile. Dean laid it on the table.

"Ebony, hippogriff feather core. Black like me."

Olive picked it up and began stroking it rather suggestively, which brought no response other that from Remus, who said rather dryly: "You might have spent the night together, but there's no need to advertise it."

Olive dropped the wand rather hastily, and said to Harry, "You got one?"

"Yeah."

He dug his out his pocket in turn ('elementary wand safety!') and Dean picked it up, twirling it gently.

"What's the core?" he asked.

"Phoenix feather."

Dean looked impressed. "Not bad." He held it, weighed in his hand for a few moments, laid it down again, then: "Not bad at all." After a moment he leant low across the table, and asked in a lowered tone of voice: "Is it true that you've got You Know Who's wand?" Harry nodded. "Wow! Can I ... can I see it?"

"Sure."

Harry closed his eyes, remembering where he'd put it. In the dresser, second drawer down, on top of a pile of tee shirts. He opened his eyes and said softly: "Accio wand!"

The two pieces of wood clattered onto the table in front of them. Olive gaped yet again. "How did you do that?" she asked eventually.

"A Summoning charm."

She turned to Dean. "Can you do that?"

"Yeah - but not like that. I have to be able to see the thing to do it. Where was it?" he asked Harry.

"In a drawer upstairs."

Dean shook his head. "Nah. No way I could do that."

"Harry's just showing off," said Lupin dryly.

"Easier than walking upstairs."

"True," Lupin admitted.

Dean picked up the two fragments and started examining them. "It's - hey, this is phoenix feather too!"

"It's the twin of mine," Harry said shortly. Dean stared at him. "There's a story about that - for later."

"Is it special - that wand?" asked Olive.

"It killed my parents," Harry told her.

There was a long silence. Dean slowly put the pieces back onto the table.

"Killed your parents?" whispered Olive.

"Yeah," said Harry.

In the even longer silence that followed, Remus leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. "The thing is, Olive, magic isn't just tricks. You can do lots of good things with magic. You can do evil things too. Like hurt people. Make them do what you want them to do. Kill people." Remus paused. "There are some wizards who turn really evil. Voldemort, for one. That was his wand."

Olive looked at the piece of wood. "He's dead, then?"

Remus shook his head. "No. But we think he's on the way down. At least, we hope so." He looked over to Harry and did his best to give him a slight smile.

"It's like the real world, the Muggle world," said Harry. "There are people out there who also go around killing."

"Yeah, I suppose," said Olive.

"Hey, let's talk about something else," said Dean.

But the damage had been done. Harry could see that Olive was still staring at the broken wand, fascinated yet horrified. Soon Dean stood up.

"We'd better be making our way back home."

"I'll walk you to the tube station," Harry said, standing up as well.

"You don't need to."

"Easier than giving directions. And the walk will do me good."

"Yeah. Suppose." Dean looked at Olive. "Ready then?" She nodded.

Dean turned to Remus. "It was good meeting you again, Professor Lupin," leaning forward to shake hands.

Remus looked a little bemused. "No need to be that formal now."

"Yeah, well, I suppose it's habit. We enjoyed your lessons."

"You used to teach Dean?" asked Olive.

"Yeah," said Dean. "He was good."

"But you don't teach anymore?"

Remus looked down at the table. "A lot of parents didn't think a werewolf was an appropriate person to be teaching their children," he said quietly.

There was an awful silence. As it dragged on, Harry felt he had to say something.

"Come on, Dean."

"Yeah."

The three of them went up to the hall. Olive stopped. "Harry," she said, "I'm really, really sorry."

"You weren't to know," said Harry quietly. "It's just, well ..."

"Yeah. Come on."

They blinked as they stepped out into the sunlight of the square. As they walked away, Olive suddenly turned and said: "Where is it?" The house had disappeared once more.

"Good question," said Harry. "There's no going back now." She looked at him, uncertain. "Look," he said, a little awkward, "some of those things we were talking about back there - it's not all like that, you know. Not all wizards are out to get you."

"I suppose." Olive was quiet for a moment. Then she asked: "If a wizard and a Muggle have kids - which would they be?"

Harry did a slight double take, then: "I'm not sure. But I think they tend to be all one or all the other."

"Oh." Olive was silent as they walked along.

"But dodgy, this area, isn't it?" asked Dean.

"Yeah. But the yuppies are moving in a few streets down."

"Ah, right," Dean grinned.

"The Tube's just round the corner."

Harry stopped just outside. Dean and Olive turned to him.

"Thanks for the party," said Dean.

Olive gave a small smile. "Yeah, I enjoyed it."

"Don't believe everything Dean tells you when you get home," warned Harry.

He got another smile. "I won't."

She took Dean's arm, and Harry waved as they went into the station.

Harry walked slowly back to Grimmauld Place. It felt weird. No longer being in Little Whinging. No longer being with the Dursleys. Being adult now. Perhaps in some ways it didn't feel that much different, but now he was in charge of his life for the first time. Well, not exactly, since he'd still be at school, and still have to ordered around by the likes of Snape. And there was still Voldemort out there somewhere, up to Heaven knows what. And the Ministry. And the Order. Life didn't get any simpler when you grew up. It grew more complicated.

But when he shut the front door of Number 12 behind him, he felt an enormous rush of inner relief. His home. The bright hallway, already so familiar. A freedom to do what he wanted, as he wanted. To go and see Ron, or Hermione, or any of his other friends. To do ... just what he wanted to do.

The first matter he had to deal with, however, was all the owls. There was a flock of them in the kitchen, all patiently waiting his return. As he unravelled parchment after parchment, he realised that everyone had sent thank you notes from the party. The owls queued patiently as he took parchment after parchment. He could read them all at his leisure. Dobby appeared as he was half way through, tutting at all the mess the owls had left. It took him the best part of an hour to read through them. But it seemed everyone had had a good time, which was the main thing.

And he tackled his work with more enthusiasm now he could sit in his own room and do it in his own time. He visited Flourish and Blotts for more books on the Dark Arts, and went through them with Remus.

"They're going to get worried about you there," joked Remus, as Harry came back with even more books.

Harry dropped his parcel down on the kitchen table with a thump. "I think I've bought almost everything they've got."

"You know," said Remus, "if you really want to find out more, you need to get into the Ministry library."

"What's that?"

"Everyone who publishes a magical book has to lodge one copy with the Ministry."

"Really?"

"Yep. So you name it, and it's there. Mind you, finding it's something else. But if there's anything useful, the Ministry buys extra copies. Herbology books, for example. Or Dark Arts books for the Auror's library."

"That'd certainly be worth getting into."

"An opportunity may come up soon."

"Oh?"

But Remus wouldn't say any more.

And Harry had fun taking Ron into Muggle London. Ron was not exactly street wise when it came to the Big City, and neither was Harry. They didn't think taking Hermione with them would be the best of ideas either. Instead, they contacted Dean, who promised to show them some of the sights.

They met Dean and Olive in Leicester Square. First they took in a movie - even Ron was impressed by some of the special effects - then wandered the streets. They had to keep dragging Ron away from places which his mother might not approve of.

Olive giggled when for the tenth time they pulled Ron away.

"You've got it written all over you," she said. "Country lad up in the bright lights for the first time."

Ron, not surprisingly, was deeply offended. "Well," he said with dignity, "At least there's no way they're going to fleece me. I don't have any money worth pinching."

Olive giggled. "It's all right, you're not the only one."

It was late when they said goodbye to Dean and Olive, and later still by the tine they got back to Grimmauld Place, so that Harry was surprised to hear voices from downstairs. They went into the kitchen to find Remus with Mad-Eye and Kingsley.

"Sorry," said Remus. "We went on rather longer than we expected."

"Meeting of the Order?" asked Harry.

"That's right. I was going to tell you, but then you said you were going out, so ..." Remus shrugged.

"Oh." Harry wasn't quite sure how he felt about having his home used this way.

Mad-Eye looked up at him. "Sorry about this," he said, a bit gruffly. "Can't very nice to come home and find it full of people having a meeting."

Harry sat at the table and Ron joined him. "It's okay. It's in a good cause." Then a thought struck him. "Er - would you rather we left you to it?"

"No, it's okay," said Remus. "We were just winding up."

"So," said Kingsley, "been having a night on the town?"

"Yeah. Been taking Ron to dodgy dives."

Ron grunted. Obviously he'd taken Olive's remark to heart.

"Your first essay of the term," said Kingsley, grinning. " 'What I did in my holidays'."

"Yeah, yeah," said Ron tiredly.

"You coming back for next year then?" asked Harry.

Kingsley shrugged. "Nothing's been decided yet."

"Aren't you leaving it a bit late?"

Kingsley shrugged again. "Things are in a slight state of flux at the moment. May be clearer in a few days time."

Mad-Eye coughed loudly. Kingsley stood up and said, "Well, I'd better be getting home."

Ron caught Harry's eye. They both guessed something was going on.

"Me too," said Moody.

The two of them disappeared from the kitchen.

Remus looked at them. "Sorry, chaps, you're not hearing any more tonight. Tomorrow night, maybe. But not tonight."

Harry looked at him, frustrated, but knowing that he wasn't going to get any more from him. "Ok." He nudged Ron. "Come on. It's late, and I'm knackered."

Ron grunted again. "Ok."

"See you tomorrow, Remus."

They were both genuinely tired, and slept in late the next morning. Harry went down to the kitchen to find Ron yawning over a cup of tea.

"These country lads are more used to early nights," remarked Harry.

"This country lad prefers fields to streets."

"Providing they're not full of sheep," said Harry dryly, referring to an incident the previous year.

"Look, Harry, do you want to visit the Burrow again this holidays or not?"

"Well, since you ask ..."

"Yeah, okay." He paused. "Just as well we didn't have Hermione with us last night."

"I can just imagine." Harry was silent for a minute or two. "I wonder what all that was about when we came back."

Ron shrugged. "You used to complain about being in the dark. I'm used to it now."

"Maybe." Harry still wasn't reconciled to the idea.

They found out later in the afternoon. They were in one of the front rooms, when they heard voices from the kitchen. They hurried down to find half a dozen members of the Order milling about excitedly. Even Dumbledore was there.

Mr Weasley came over to them in a state of high excitement. His eyes were bright.

"News for you two. There was a Wizengamot meeting this morning - rather an important one." He paused, and Harry willed him to get on with it. "There was a long debate - and eventually Fudge resigned!"

"What?" they both gasped.

"Been on the cards for some time. But the way things were going, some one was going to call for a motion of no confidence, and Fudge knew he'd lose. So he went rather than being pushed."

"Wow," said Ron softly.

"So who's the new Minister?" asked Harry.

Mr Weasley paused annoyingly again. "Someone you might be familiar with, Harry. Arbuthnot."

That news did rock Harry back on his feet. "Arbuthnot? Is he on our side?"

"Come on, Harry, you know better than that. He doesn't take sides. But he's as keen to see You Know Who gone as the rest of us, so, yes; for the time being he's on our side."

"Why Arbuthnot?" Harry asked.

"He's a compromise candidate, if you like. He's made no enemies, and he's a safe pair of hands. No one was crying out for him, but on the other hand no one was against him. So he got the job."

"And what does it mean for Hogwarts?"

"Who knows? But Umbridge will be out for good."

"That's one relief. And you?"

Mr Weasley shrugged. "Haven't a clue. I've always got on well with him, but he's the sort who gets on well with everyone. Hence the job. I imagine there'll be quite a reshuffle over the next few days."

"We'll keep our fingers crossed for you."

"It'd be fantastic if you did get promoted, Dad."

"Don't hold your breath. Anyway, I think we're going to start our meeting, so we're going to have to throw you out of your kitchen, Harry."

"Fair enough," said Harry. "It's in a good cause."

"I'll come and collect you after the meeting, Ron," said Mr Weasley, "and we can head off home together."

"I'll just need a word with you first," said Harry.

"Oh?"

"About last night - there's something Ron needs to tell you about ..."

He suddenly found himself being kicked hard. "Later," he said hastily to Mr Weasley.

Ron hauled him out of the room, closed the door, and stood very close to him. They were almost nose to nose. Ron gripped Harry by the front of his tee shirt. "Not a word to Dad about last night," he hissed. "Okay?"

Harry held up his hands in surrender. "Not a word."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

"You haven't got one!"

"It's six foot under with a stake through it."

Ron let him go, then moved away and started going up the stairs. "Fudge gone. And Arbuthnot the Minister. Tell me about him."

They went back into the front room and Harry started telling Ron once more of his conversations with Arbuthnot, and of the trial.

"So what do you reckon he's going to be like?"

Harry shrugged. He remembered his conversation with Dumbledore: "Men like Arbuthnot ... their problem is that they do not make decisions on the basis of good or evil, but rather what is expedient, what they feel will 'work'. They call it pragmatism. But in pursuit of their goals, the individual is often expendable ..."

"I think we're going to have to wait and see," he said cautiously. "I hope it does mean promotion for your dad, though."

"You know what dad's like," said Ron gloomily. "If it means moving out of Muggle Protection ..."

"Yeah."

But it seemed that they hadn't been talking long when Mr Weasley put his head round the door again. "You can join us again now."

"That was a short meeting."

Mr Weasley shrugged. "Everyone's plotting in corners now. Or have gone off to set more wheels in motion."

They walked down towards the kitchen.

"So, did you have a good time in London last night?"

Harry caught the glance from Ron. "Oh, yeah," he said, "it was great. Ron really really enjoyed ..." he saw the fists balling "... seeing how all the Muggles lived."

Ron's fists unclenched.

"Really?" said Mr Weasley eagerly. "Tell me ..."

Harry could see Ron's eyes rolling up to the ceiling.

The kitchen was full of people huddling, just as Mr Weasley had said. To make matters worse, people kept appearing and disappearing. Harry was sorry to see that Dumbledore had already left, but he imagined that there would be a lot for him to do.

"Well, there's not much I can be doing for the time being," said Mr Weasley. "I'd better get back and tell Molly the news. And you can tell me all about your night out," he said to Ron brightly.

Harry caught Ron's look back at him and returned it with a sweet smile. Then both Weasleys disappeared.

Harry looked round his kitchen. The air was still being filled with assorted cracks as people came and went. Dobby was handing out tea to all and sundry. Tonks came over to him.

"Yay," she cried.

Her hair was frizzed and purple at the moment.

"Pleased?"

"Anyone but Fudge," she said.

"There's a lot of toing and froing," Harry remarked.

"Yeah. The lights'll be burning late in the Ministry tonight."

"Oh?"

"Arbuthnot will be making a lot of changes. Watch the Prophet for the next few days."

"Oh." Harry realised how little he knew of the workings of the Ministry. "Will it affect you?"

"Who knows? But changes tend to ripple down. So, maybe. But I'm not senior enough yet to be affected directly."

"Right."

"Kingsley might be though."

"Really?"

"He's quite senior in the Auror Department, so if they make changes at the top, he might well be caught up in that."

"So we may have a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"Who knows?"

The excitement went on into the small hours. Harry broke out the supplies of Butterbeer and did his best to catch all the gossip. Many of the names he'd never heard of, though.

"Jenkins as Assistant Private Secretary. That's an interesting appointment!"

But since he had no idea who Jenkins was, it didn't mean very much.

"One thing's becoming clear," Remus told Harry. "He's clearing out a lot of the Old Guard."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Oh yes. There were a lot of Fudge placemen cluttering up the upper ranks. A lot of yes men. And quite a few reactionaries. It might even," and Remus smiled, "become a little more progressive."

"And the Order?"

"No official contact, I imagine. But it's quite likely that quite a few of our people will get some useful promotions."

"Sounds good."

"Well, we'll have to wait and see."

Eventually the room cleared, and there was only Harry and Remus left. Remus gave a huge yawn.

"Too much excitement for one day. I'm off to bed."

"Me too," said Harry.