Home is where the heart is

Home is Where the Heart Is Chapter One - All Alone

Sunset, and a tired witch stumbled home from a harrowing day at work. Her strange, mismatched eyes were bleary from reading countless files and writing many reports. And to make it twice as hard, all in Japanese. That was the trouble of being English and living in Tokyo........you had to work at understanding the people, the language, and worse - the writing.

The woman opened the front door of her medium-sized, messy apartment, and unreligiously dumped her bag onto the kitchen table. Slamming the door, she kicked off her uncomfortable shoes and walked into the small living room. She flopped onto the couch. Then she pulled her long hair out of the tight and slightly painful bun that she was forced to put up with, and winced at how sore her head was. She had a headache.

The large windows that faced north were lit up with the fading colours of the sun, flashing the orangey light across the walls and bathing her in the dying sunlight. It was this time of day that she liked best - when everything seemed to stop, and it felt like it was only you and the sky. Realising that she sounded like a poetic prat, something that she couldn't stand, the witch groaned and stood up, moving to open the windows.

Summer was here, and the apartment was stuffy from being locked up all day. Zacharius, her faithful cat, wondered out of her bedroom and gave a welcoming meow. At least he was pleased to see her. She bent down and rubbed his ears, before straightening and went back into the kitchen, searching for an unopened tin of cat food. After feeding Zacharius, the woman was about to go and change into her pajamas, when there was a tapping at the kitchen window.

It was an owl. Hurriedly, she wrenched open the particularly stubborn window and allowed the owl to fly in and land on the kitchen counter. Zacharius looked up from his dinner and eyed the owl appreciatively. "Don't even think about it," the witch warned, smiling. Zacharius gave the equivalent of a human sigh, and went back to eating his fishy food.

Untying the parchment for the owl, she unrolled it. No doubt it was from some annoying official, saying that she had to work overtime tomorrow. But to her surprise, it was in English. She read the first paragraph. And nearly dropped it from shock. No way.....

Reading on, her panic and disbelief grew. How did he find me? Wasn't I careful enough to hide my trail?

Finished reading the letter, the witch sank onto the kitchen stool and took a deep breath. It was impossible. She'd been found, and not only that - she'd been asked to do an impossible thing. She'd been asked to go back.

Automatically, her eyes were drawn to a particular photo frame on the shelf above the stove. A photograph that she treasured more than anything she owned. But it also brought memories. Painful ones, at that. Oh god, she thought guiltily. What should I do?

There was her job to worry about. And not to mention that she liked Japan a lot. The culture was amazing and wonderful, and she loved Japanese food. But there were so many matters that she had left untouched.......unfinished.....! It was because of her that certain people had felt sorrow. But I ran away, like a coward.......returning would be terrible. Returning to the life that I once had......I doubt I have the guts.......

Her eyes glazed over, and the witch, the woman, returned to the living room and went into her bedroom. She opened her bedside drawers and rustled through them, until she found the photo album that she was looking for. Flipping the pages, she stopped at the one photo that she wanted. The picture of a young child, a baby. He had his eyes shut and a silly, lovable grin on his face. His black hair was standing up at various places, and he was the ultimate vision of cuteness.

That boy......

She didn't know how long she stood there, holding the album, staring down at the baby photo. The sun finally set and the apartment became quite dark. Outside, the noise of traffic and the bustle of people wafted in through the open windows. Then, almost as if she had been obeying orders, the witch snapped the book shut, placed it back in the drawer, found a blank piece of parchment, and went back to the kitchen. Zacharius was still watching the owl with cunning eyes, and the owl was quite unnerved, after spending a while alone in the kitchen with a hungry cat.

"Oh, stop scaring him, Zaccy." The woman scolded, shooing him away. Zacharius sulkily left the kitchen, his tail whipping from side to side. She took out a quill and an inkbottle from her pocket and unscrewed the top. Dipping the tip of her quill into the ink, she began to write hastily.

Dear Sir........

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Severus Snape was lurking around the entrance to the headmaster's office, silently debating over whether to just go in and ask, or stay outside and continue to debate with himself. Hogwarts, without the students, was when Severus liked it best. No noise, no irritating students running around and making trouble. The only downside was that his presence was more noticeable to the rest of the staff. Luckily, no one was around to see him arguing with himself.

In the end, Snape just shook his head at the ridiculous situation, and gave the password to the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance. "Ice mice."

It blinked and jumped back, revealing the moving staircase. Snape stepped on and waited for the stairs to reach the top. When they did, he stepped off and observed the shut door. Only pausing for a moment, he rapped on the wood.

"Enter," Albus Dumbledore called from within. Severus pushed the door open and closed it behind him. "Ah, Severus. I was wondering how long it would be until you were in my office today."

"Headmaster, I received your note." Snape said stiffly, staring at the elderly man in front of him. Dumbledore's impressive beard nearly reached his knees, and he was dressed in robes of articulate detail. For such a powerful wizard, he didn't seem all that intimidating. Then again, appearances were deceiving. "I came up as quickly as I could. What was it that you wished to discuss with me?"

Dumbledore smiled, his bright eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "Please, take a seat."

He sat in the squishy armchair. Albus sat behind his own desk and folded his hands. "Well, Severus. Firstly, has there been any.....changes......within the Death Eaters?"

Snape shook his head. "No. The Dark Lord himself has ordered us to stay quiet and not attract attention to ourselves. I believe that we are waiting for something."

"Waiting......I'm not that surprised. Probably plotting as we speak. And the members?"

"Just as you suspected. The same as before, and some new recruitments. A few from the Ministry itself. He is gaining the loyalty of many, even as we speak." Snape said, frowning deeply. "The treachery within the Ministry is increasing."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "I know, Severus. But there is nothing that we can do to stop it. Not now, as Fudge opposes us and refuses to co-operate." There was a short silence, as both men withdrew into private thoughts. Until Dumbledore looked up and observed Severus carefully.

The other man was - quite frankly - a wreck. Shadows under his eyes, his face more gaunt and haunted than usual, thinner, and his eyes darker than they had ever been. The stress.....the pain of returning to Voldemort's service was testing all of his strength and will. Severus was a man of constant inner turmoil, who hid behind a sneer and a cold facade. Dumbledore knew that there was no way to really help him - it was a battle that he fought alone.

"Headmaster......was there anything else?" Snape asked, breaking into Albus' musings.

"Oh, yes. I have no doubt that you are wondering who it is that will take the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year," Dumbledore said, adjusting his spectacles. By the expression on Severus' face, he was, indeed, correct. "It needs to be someone with plenty of experience, and a vast knowledge and talent in defense. I wasn't quite sure at first, but after much consideration and enquiries, I have found the best person for the job."

Snape narrowed his eyes slightly. "Who?"

Dumbledore picked up a detailed report of the person in question, and passed it over to the potions master. Snape took the parchment, and began reading it. His face changed from his normal surly scowl to, if possible, paler than usual. "Headmaster...!" he spluttered. "This - this is impossible! It can't be......."

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In a perfectly normal part of Surrey, on a perfectly normal street, there is a perfectly normal house with a not-so-normal family. This is the house of the Dursleys, and this was where Harry Potter, the boy who lived, was forced to spend most of his summer.

At this very moment, Harry was sitting up in bed with the bedside lamp on, reading through his schoolbooks and every now and then giving a big yawn. It was about 2:00 in the morning and despite his sleepiness, Harry forced himself to stay awake.

Keep awake, he thought. Better to read than to have those.........dreams......

Ever since Harry had returned to the Dursleys, he had started to have horrible, gut-wrenching nightmares about that fateful night in the graveyard.......with Voldemort. No matter how hard Harry tried to forget what happened, he kept dreaming about the frozen, empty eyes of Cedric - the ghostly figures of his dead parents.......and the terrifying, pale face of Voldemort, with his evil red eyes that glowed.....

Without realising, Harry had curled up into a ball, trying to fight off the memories. He was no coward, but he was still a fourteen-practically-fifteen-year-old boy - not as strong as he paraded to be. Shivering, Harry closed the book he had been reading ("Standard Book of Spells - Grade 4") and willed himself to think of his best friend Ron Weasley.

Harry could almost see in his mind's eye, the kitchen at The Burrow in the mornings - Fred and George causing things to 'accidentally' explode and being told off by Mrs. Weasley, Ginny giggling behind a hand, Ron groggily poking at his oatmeal, and Percy observing all of this with a disapproving look. Yes, if there was one place Harry wished he were at, it was The Burrow. There was something incredibly comforting about being in the Weasley's home - the feeling of family and being loved was one of Harry's strongest memories of being there.

Harry wondered if he would have the chance to stay with the Weasley's over the summer at all - surely he would be allowed? After all, The Burrow did have two qualified wizards living there, and one qualified witch. However, there was the fact that Dumbledore had told Mrs. Weasley it was safer for him to be with the Dursley's, at least for the beginning of the holidays. How it was safer in Privet Drive, Harry had absolutely no clue. But if there was one thing Harry had learnt from his four years at Hogwarts, it was that Albus Dumbledore was the most trustworthy wizard alive.

Unconsciously, Harry's mind slipped to Sirius, his godfather. And almost immediately, Harry felt sadness and worry wash over him. Since the events in the hospital wing after the third task, Harry had only received only one, short letter from Sirius, saying that he was safe and in hiding - at Remus Lupin's. Although this was slightly comforting, Harry had been hoping for a more reassuring note. He knew that Sirius was perfectly capable of looking after himself, but even so, Harry constantly worried about him being seen - or worse, caught.

Or maybe I'm just paranoid, thought Harry, with grim humor. That'd give the Daily Prophet a field day - the great and wonderful Harry Potter finally goes insane......

He also couldn't help but wonder about his former teacher and friend, Professor Lupin. Or, maybe it was better to call him Mr. Lupin, considering that he was no longer a professor. Despite being a werewolf, Lupin had a kind heart and treated Harry like an equal. Harry knew that under the last circumstances that Sirius and Lupin met, things had not turned out so well. He had no doubt that Moony and Padfoot were making up for 12 years of lost friendship.

Harry hoped that one day he would get to see Lupin again. The practical and kind older man had been close friends with his own father and Sirius as a boy.....which made him a pretty amazing person, in Harry's eyes.

The summer so far had been miserable. Besides getting little sleep at night, and being unable stomach much food, Harry's relatives had been treating him like a mongrel dog. They obviously hadn't forgotten the ton-tongue toffee, and Aunt Petunia now refused to let Harry anywhere near the kitchen, in fear that he would curse the food.

Which Harry thought was quite stupid, since he couldn't do magic during the holidays anyway, and besides - he thought it was pointless to ruin the food that he would have to eat. Dudley wouldn't eat in front of Harry, which was saying something, and despite the 'diet' that he had been on for a year, there was little visible change in his size that Harry could spot. Although Dudley seemed to have lost his fondness of toffee.

The moment Harry had set foot in the house, Uncle Vernon dragged him aside and glowered down at him unpleasantly. "Now see here, boy," he growled, his overwhelming bulk swelling. "If you dare put one foot out of line, and harm a single hair on Dudley's head, I will beat you within an inch of your life. Godfather or not. Understand?"

Harry had just nodded mutely and for the next few weeks had to endure the endless chores that Aunt Petunia set him. He felt like an unpaid child labourer - wasn't there a law against that or something? But who would know about his hellish days at the Dursleys, except for his friends and Sirius? No one. So Harry just grit his teeth and thought longingly of Hogwarts and the prospect of leaving Privet Drive at the end of the holidays.

Harry glanced at the clock on the bedside table and was startled to see that almost an hour had passed since he had last looked up. He was so lost in his own thoughts, that it took Harry a few good moments to register a tapping at the window. For a split-second, Harry had a wild suspicion that it was Voldemort himself, tapping on the glass, but then relaxed as he recognised the white outline of his snowy owl, Hedwig. Harry shook his head in self-disgust at his moment of panic, and got out of bed to let Hedwig in.

She flew past and landed on the top of her cage, looking extremely pleased with herself. It was when she stuck out her leg that he saw the piece of parchment attached. Quickly, Harry pulled out the water tray from inside the cage, and relieved Hedwig of her burden. She hooted her thanks and began to drink the water in earnest.

Harry stared at the letter for a moment before unrolling it and read :

Dear Harry, I know it's only been two weeks since we left Hogwarts, but I wanted to check up on how you were. I hope your aunt and uncle aren't being too horrible,

At this, Harry snorted rudely.

and that you haven't been losing sleep over the events of last term.

Harry stared at the last part of that sentence. How could she guess........?

Since I got home, I've already begun revising for the OWL's, and my parents have picked up some interesting books on advanced magic for me. It's really fascinating - and really quite difficult. I only hope that I can prepare enough for the exams........

Harry grinned. It was so......typical of Hermione to be fretting over tests that were well-over six months away. Although, personally Harry believed that Hermione wouldn't even need to study, considering her un-natural high intelligence. Turning back to the letter, Harry read on :

I got a letter from Ron a few days ago - it seems that the twins have mysteriously found the money to open their future joke shop. No one knows how they got it......I hope they didn't do anything too dangerous or stupid to get it. I don't think Mrs Weasley is pleased though......now Fred and George can continue making jokes and tricks and there is nothing anyone can do to stop them. I can't help but wonder how Ron has managed to stay alive in the same house as them all this time............

Harry often wondered the same thing. It was a wonder that Ron was alive and still in one piece after living with the twins for fifteen whole years.

Anyway, I hope to hear from you soon, and that you're safe and well.

Keep on smiling!

Love, Hermione

Below, Harry noticed a scribbled number and a PS.

PS - Harry, this is my telephone number. If you get a chance, feel free to call me - I daresay you'd like to talk to someone besides your aunt and uncle these holidays. Ciao!

Harry smiled. It would be bliss to speak to someone besides the Dursleys, who avoided all chances of a conversation with him anyway. Feeling better than he had in days, Harry folded the letter up and hid it under the rather useful loose floorboard under his bed, and went over to Hedwig. She was exhausted, so Harry stroked her gently. "Hedwig, I don't know what I'd do without you."

Hedwig hooted in reply, and slowly shut her bright eyes, dozing off. Feeling drowsy himself, Harry decided that he should do the same, and got back into bed. Somehow, he knew that there wouldn't be any nightmares for the rest of that night. Snuggling down under his old and pitifully thin covers, Harry closed his eyes and almost immediately fell asleep.

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