The Traitor's Blood

CHAPTER TWO

Harry woke up suddenly as if someone had poked him really hard. It was still very dark. He reached over for his glasses. Then he realised that he was still wearing them, but at the same time he realised that he was no longer lying on his bed. He sat up and felt around himself in the darkness. He felt cool, damp grass between his fingers.

I must be outside, he thought to himself. But he knew that this made no sense. He had fallen asleep in his bed; there was no way he could be outside.

Then he heard it, quiet at first, but growing steadily louder. That unmistakable, terrible, cold rattling breath. Dementors. There were several of them, surrounding him. But he could not see them, it was too dark. He could sense them drawing closer; he could feel that familiar ice-cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. He got to his feet and instinctively felt in his pocket for his wand, drew it out in one swift movement and shouted:

"Expecto Patronum."

It was as if the darkness was swirling in front of his very eyes. The world was spinning faster and faster around him. He clutched his wand as tight as he could, while desperately trying to keep his balance.

Then it stopped, so quickly that it took Harry a moment to collect himself. He felt sick and dizzy. Slowly he managed to focus on his new surroundings. He was in the graveyard. The very graveyard where he had witnessed the death of a fellow student, Cedric Diggory, and the rebirth of the Dark Lord.

But now it appeared to be empty. Harry continued to hold his wand out steadily in front of him. He span around, trying to ensure he was alone. But as he did so, his eyes came to rest on a gravestone behind him. The grave appeared to be new and the earth looked freshly dug. Harry focused on the name carved into the gravestone: Sirius Black.

He sunk to the floor, kneeling in front of the grave as he read and re-read the name. How could this be, he thought to himself, Sirius had disappeared behind the veil in the Department of Mysteries. There had been no body to bury.

Then Harry realised that he was no longer alone. He looked up to see two people standing behind the gravestone. Harry recognised them both instantly. One was tall and thin, with a horrible snake-like face and scarlet eyes - Lord Voldemort. The other was unmistakably Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius's cousin and murderer. Both of them were laughing down at Harry. Voldemort's terrible high-pitched laugh echoed through the darkness of the graveyard. The laugh sent a searing pain across Harry's scar.

"NO," Harry yelled at them. He leapt to his feet and pointed his wand directly at Voldemort, who continued to laugh at him.

But before Harry could say anything else, the world began to spin again and the laughter faded away. He fell forwards onto his knees and fought back the urge to be sick. He squeezed his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to block out the swirling darkness that surrounded him.

The spinning stopped again, just as suddenly as it had before. Harry toppled forwards and landed with a loud THUD on his bedroom floor. He still felt extremely dizzy and his scar continued to throb painfully on his forehead. He got up off the floor and scrambled back into his bed. He listened hard for any sign that he may have woken the Dursley's. But all he could hear was Uncle Vernon's grunting snore.

Harry lay down and pulled the covers back over himself. Visions of the graveyard and Voldemort swam before his eyes, until he finally drifted back into a very restless and irritable sleep.

* * * * *

The following morning, Harry convinced a reluctant Hedwig to take his reply back to Ron and Hermione. He also gave her a short note to take to Remus Lupin, a member of the Order who had been a close friend of Sirius and Harry's father. Harry had promised to contact the Order every three days to let them know that he was safe and well. Harry had suspected that members of the Order had been watching him all summer, just as they had done last year. But he felt obliged to do as he was told and stay in regular contact.

Hedwig did not return until the following evening, but she was carrying yet another note written in Hermione's neat handwriting:

Harry,

Thanks for writing back; it was great to hear from you. Someone from the Order will come and get you on Thursday morning at 10 o'clock. We'll see you at Diagon Alley. Then someone will escort you home after the meeting. Unless, of course, you want to come back with us? Just think about it, Harry, OK? We can't wait to see you,

Hermione and Ron.

Without really thinking about it, Harry screwed up the note and threw it into the wastepaper basket in the corner of his room.

The following morning, Harry forced himself to go down for breakfast. He did not spend much time with the Dursley's anymore and he knew that they were glad he kept away from them.

When Harry walked into the kitchen, he distinctly saw Dudley's eyes widen in fear. Last summer, Harry had rescued Dudley from two Dementors, the horrible creatures which usually guarded the wizard prison, Azkaban. But the Dursley's were convinced that Harry had told the Dementors to attack Dudley. They did not understand that the Dementors had actually been sent to attack Harry, and that Dudley had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. If it had not been for Harry, Dudley would probably have been 'kissed' - when a Dementor sucks a person's soul out through their mouth. This would have been a fate worse than death for Harry's cousin. But instead of treating Harry like a hero for saving their son, the Dursley's treated Harry even more like an outcast than ever before.

Harry sat down at the kitchen table and helped himself to some toast.

"Morning," he muttered, whilst spreading jam on his slice of warm toast.

Nobody bothered to answer him, but Uncle Vernon's large face appeared to be growing redder and redder by the second, his walrus moustache twitching with anger.

"I'll be going out on Thursday," Harry continued.

"Out where?" Aunt Petunia squeaked from beside the stove, "If you're going round that silly old woman's house again, go right ahead, she's just as crazy as you are."

"I'm not crazy, and neither is she," said Harry calmly, "But no, I'm not going round Mrs Figg's. I'll be going to London for the day ..."

"If you think I'm going to waste my time carting you to London again," Uncle Vernon butt in, "Then you're sadly mistaken, boy!"

Uncle Vernon's face began to turn purple with rage. But this was common when he was talking to Harry. It was as if every conversation between them made Uncle Vernon's blood boil.

"Thanks," Harry spat back, "But I don't need your help. Someone is going to pick me up and bring me back."

"I'M NOT HAVING ONE OF YOUR LOT COMING ROUND HERE AGAIN!" Uncle Vernon roared.

The Dursley's had not experienced many positive encounters with wizards. The few times they had come into close contact had usually ended in disaster. Harry supposed he could not blame them for being anxious, but he was not going to give in to his uncle.

"I don't care what you say," Harry growled back, rising form his chair and causing Dudley to squirm uncomfortably, "Gone are the days when you could order me around. I'm sixteen now, if you hadn't noticed, and old enough to decide what I do and when I do it. I'm going to London on Thursday and someone will be picking me up at ten o'clock in the morning. If you don't want to see them, then don't be here! But you're not going to stop me from going."

"As long as you're living under my roof ..."

But Harry did not hear the rest of Uncle Vernon's lecture. He had already walked out of the kitchen, taking his half-eaten piece of toast with him. He returned to his bedroom, where he sat back down on his bed and finished his breakfast.

He spent the next couple of days in just the same way he had spent the last four weeks, sulking in his room and avoiding the Dursley's as much as possible. Harry had expected Uncle Vernon to lock him in his room, as he usually did when Harry annoyed him. But although Aunt Petunia continued to pass him his meals through the cat flap in his door (as she had been doing all summer), the door remained unlocked.

On Thursday morning, Harry woke up early and sneaked down to the kitchen to eat some breakfast before the Dursley's got up. He then returned to his room, where he sat on his bed and waited for ten o'clock. He had no idea who would be coming for him, or how they would get there. At about half-past nine, Harry heard the Dursley's get quietly into their car and drive away. This sent a wave of relief through Harry.

Finally, he heard the clock downstairs strike ten. Then, almost as soon as the tenth chime echoed out through the emptiness of the house, the doorbell rang. Harry jumped to his feet and bolted down the stairs two at a time. He would never have admitted it, but he was actually very excited to be returning to the wizarding world, even if it was just for one day.

Harry opened the door and to his great surprise, saw the familiar face of Percy Weasley, one of Ron's older brothers, beaming down at him.

"Hi there, Harry," Percy continued to smile broadly, "I guess you must be surprised to see me?"

"Well, yeah, a bit," Harry replied.

"That's OK, I don't blame you," Percy stepped inside the house and looked around with great interest. Then he looked back down at Harry, "I guess I owe you an apology."

"Oh, no, don't worry about it," stammered Harry.

He had not really thought about Percy at all this summer. Percy had sided with the Ministry in dismissing Harry's story last year, and had fallen out with his family in the process. Now that the Ministry had changed their view on the matter, it seemed logical that Percy would have, too.

"No, I really am sorry, Harry," Percy pressed on, "I was an idiot and I sincerely apologise. I've also apologised to my parents. I wouldn't have blamed them if they had rejected me. But they've been brilliant about it."

Harry found that he felt comfort in the thought that Percy had reconciled with his parents. Harry knew that Mrs Weasley would be much happier to have all of her family back on the same side together.

"So, how are we getting there?" Harry asked.

"Well, I Apparated here, of course," Percy replied, "But we'll take the Knight Bus back. Members of the Order will be keeping guard during the journey, just in case."

Percy stepped back out into the weak sunshine and Harry followed, closing the door behind himself. The day was fairly warm, but the sky was full of angry rain clouds, threatening to burst at any time. Harry followed Percy to the edge of the road, constantly looking around for any sign of someone else from the Order, but the street appeared to be empty. Percy stuck out his wand hand -

BANG.

The familiar purple, triple-decker Knight Bus appeared from nowhere right in front of them. A greasy-haired, pimply-faced wizard, who Harry knew to be Stan Shunpike, stepped off the bus.

"Welcome aboard the Knight Bus," Stan announced, "Oh, hey there, Harry! Good to see you again."

They paid Stan eleven sickles each and stepped aboard.

"Leaky Cauldron," said Percy, leading Harry to a couple of seats at the back of the lower deck.

BANG. Privet drive was gone. They were rattling mercilessly across a field, causing cows to jump out of their path. BANG. They were bustling down a busy dual carriageway. BANG. BANG. BANG. Several stops later, they arrived outside the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry and Percy thanked Stan, and stepped off the bus. BANG. The bus was gone.

The entrance to the Leaky Cauldron was almost indistinguishable. Most muggles would walk straight past it without realising it was there. Percy pushed open the door and walked inside the dingy pub. Harry followed, but before he had a chance to look around he was being suffocated by a mass of bushy brown hair.